As if reading my thoughts, Henry guided me to a supine position and pushed his throbbing cock into my wet cunt. Damn, it felt good. Each thrust took my breath away until he had my pussy pinned right where he wanted it and we settled into a rocking rhythm.
I wasn’t one to complain, but missionary-style sex sure gets tired fast, so I was secretly grateful when Trev let slip, “Hey, Hen. Erica prefers to be taken from behind.”
“Is that right?” our buddy asked.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, slightly abashed.
Henry pulled out so I could reposition myself on my hands and knees. For ballast, I sunk my hands in a space between the sofa cushions. I looked over at Trev, who was still smiling and stroking himself, and blew him a kiss. Henry’s first thrust in the new position absorbed all the moisture I had left and I may have mentioned how much tighter this posture makes me as I heard Henry bark with mounting excitement. He sped up his delivery while Trev exploded, jacking off on his friend’s shoulder and biceps, spackling my hip with a bit of splooge.
Henry’s orgasm was quite intense, as was my own. The three of us fell into a heap on the floor and started laughing then crying then laughing some more. We all agreed another dose of wine was in order, but that first a shower would be nice.
Our friend had an old-fashioned tub with a rust stain forming an orange moustache around the drain, but it was a sizeable porcelain beauty and it was in that shower where a long-time fantasy of mine came true. The three of us were clowning around and soaping each other up, when, on a whim, I sat on the edge of the tub and waited for the guys to rinse off. Before anyone could step on a bath mat, I had Henry’s cock in my mouth again, only this time just for a moment. I turned my head a notch to suck down Trev’s cock then alternated back and forth, going down on two magnificent cocks, listening to the appreciative murmurs of friend and lover as their penile fluids escalated towards fruition. Trevor shot his load all over my breasts. Hen took longer to come but come he did all over my lap and knees. I looked down and was glad I had trimmed my coffee-brown pubic hair that morning. The hair on my head is coffee-coloured too, and Trev liked to call me his ever lovin’ cup of cappuccino.
We were all spent after that … and starving. Henry suggested going downtown for burgers then remembered my little black cocktail dress. He frowned a little. He disliked going to fancy places … unless Trevor was paying.
“Let’s grab something in North Beach,” Trev suggested, adding, “My treat.”
Still scowling, Henry said, “I’d rather we just stay in and order a pizza.” So that’s what we did.
Despite all the sexual festivities of the evening, I couldn’t imagine eating a slice of pepperoni and cheese wearing just my panties and bra. And my dress seemed content where it was scooped into a black puddle near a sofa cushion. Henry went to his room and returned with a long T-shirt for me to wear. Now it was Trevor’s turn to scowl because screwing like mad is one thing, but letting your girl wear another man’s comfortable article of apparel is another matter. It’s the mundane intimacies that always pose a threat.
Finally, I wrapped myself in a sheet and we sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor with its tasteful brocade carpet and discussed Henry’s plans.
“Yeah, well. That Alaska business is all up in the air. San Francisco is where it is … where it’s always been for me.” Henry’s face filtered an expression of such unrequited longing that I had to look away.
“Not if you’re broke, man. Look, you need to go where the money is. You said someone in Juneau offered you a job and-”
“Anchorage,” Henry spat, breaking his friend off. “And all I’m saying is: nothing in this world is ever for certain. Yesterday, I wanted to move to Alaska. Today, I think I might be in love with your girlfriend. Hell, Erica and I might even take off for the wilderness together. Live off the land like that kid in … what’s that book called? Into the Wild. Yeah, like that. How ’bout it, Erica?”
“Oh, Henry. I thought you understood this was a one-time thing. We go way back, but you don’t even know me well enough to know I’m not the outdoorsy type.”
“She gets winded when we’re out grocery shopping.”
“Stop it, Trev. And I’m in love with Trevor, your best friend. Hello!”
“Because he’s successful.”
“How dare you say something like that to me, Hen. Trev has helped you financially through all kinds of creative transitions. I never begrudged that because I think you’re a special person. I’ve never once had a negative thought about you. I thought we were all friends. Good friends. Close enough to fulfil each other’s wildest fantasies.”
Henry dropped his tonsured head into his hands and sat there thinking for a spell. When he looked up, he said, “You’re right. You and Trevor have been the best buddies I ever had, seeing me through messes when no one else would give me the time of day, and here I am trying to spoil it. Sorry.”
Trev slapped his friend on the shoulder. “No need to apologise, man.”
Trevor always has been quick to forgive, one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. We finished our pizza in amiable silence and went home.
Months later, Trevor and I received a postcard from Anchorage with nothing written on it. Of course it had to be from Henry, but we thought it strange he didn’t even sign his name. A year later we received a card from Portland, Oregon. It too was blank. A year after that, Trevor and I left San Francisco, never to return, not that we didn’t want to. Real life has a way of kicking in and taking over. We got married and moved to the Midwest to be near Trev’s family. Now, the only thing we fantasize about is having a day off from our manifold obligations. Every once in a while though, Trev will look at me with a hint of mischief in his eye and say, “I wonder what ever happened to our friend in Alaska?”
In The Name Of.
Isabelle Gray
It started with a black Sharpie pen, as we were lying in bed, drowsy and naked, watching TV. Theo and I had just finished making love, and he was basking in the well-deserved glow of his sexual prowess. “I wonder if I could write your name along the length of my cock,” he mused. “Not like, when I’m just getting out of the shower, but if my cock was really long and hard, right before we fuck.”
I shrugged, and reached for the Sharpie on my end table. Sliding my hand between the sheet and our bodies, down his soft stomach to his cock, I nibbled on his ear. “Let’s give it a try,” I said.
It took a few tries to get it right. That first night, fumbling in the blue glow from the television, Theo used large, widely spaced lettering, and could only get half my name along the length of his cock. This initial defeat, however, did not deter him. It, in fact, made this whole thing a quest. Given his days as a teenager, when a good time was playing Dungeons amp; Dragons, there was nothing Theo loved more than a quest. He would persevere. I would humour him.
We revisited the subject a few days later, while I was in my office grading papers and Theo was sitting on the edge of my desk, playing with the pens and other detritus in my pencil cup. As I scribbled notes in margins and wrote “Great job”, over and over, Theo unbuttoned his jeans, and started jerking off. He found a red marker and pulled the cap off with his teeth. Once his cock had achieved what he deemed the appropriate level of length and rigidity, he began, in smaller script this time, to write my name along the length of his cock.
I paused, watching him over the top of the paper I was reading. “Y o u ’re starting too far from the base,” I muttered. He shook his head, but ultimately, I was right. By the time he reached the tip, giggling, because the felt of the marker tickled, he had three letters left. I bit my lower lip and remained quiet, but I was thinking, I told you so.