Menage

Sometimes experience and the lessons that follow need sharing.

Ménage
by David Cain

I’ve lived with two women several times in my life, although never with any delusions of polyamorous bliss. Involved with one woman, we were both lovers of the other woman and practical convenience overshadowed any kind of lingering childish jealousy. We lived a bohemian life. Sex was a daily feast.

So many men have told me that their best fantasy is one shared with two women. My response is usually encouraging, for the sake of support, but the fantasy is simply foolish. One man and two women is a woeful waste of cunt; there simply aren’t enough pricks in attendance to satisfy the variety of holes. Any man who lasts long in those circumstances has numbed his privates beforehand. The arousal level is stratospheric but the performance is doomed to crash and burn.

This situation is alleviated considerably if the women are also lovers, releasing the man from the pressure of being the only source of stimulation. Not simply willing to pretend to be lovers, but actually being lovers, the women can go on without him, if need be, give him a chance to rest, recuperate, refract and reload. Love improves an orgy.

One of the reasons the fantasy is so popular is probably because it takes advantage of the fact that group sex tends to depersonalize the encounter. With one partner, you have to look them in the eye, be responsible for them, take care of their needs, be attentive to their moods and whims. In group sex, we are only one of the crowd, someone else will take care of the gazing, the responsibility, the needs, the moods and whims. Everyone can take care of themselves. Group sex allows people to be selfish without ruining the sex.

That may be true for a house party or any other orgy with strangers but with lovers, it is far from the case. Everyone is responsible for everyone, taking the emotional interplays to whole new levels. A minefield of potential disasters, every encounter is necessarily analyzed for harms. The chemistry of a group is difficult to manage, sex makes it so much more so. Explosions are immanent. Keep your head down.

So these arrangements are always doomed to fail. They are, however, fun while they last.

One period when I lived with two women, I was studying for the bar exam. Eight hours of my days, every day for three months, were spent reading and taking faux tests, a grueling experience, so much fun I have taken two. With two women taking care of me, tending to my needs, making sure I was fed and stoned and feeling up to the task at hand.

Sitting at a desk for so long, studying intently, left me stiff but not in a good way. Silver ended every study day by giving me a deep muscle massage. I would lay naked on the table while Silver rubbed my body hard and Ella gave me a rundown on the day I had missed.

By the time the massage was done, I was loose, relaxed and rock hard. Silver shifted her approach, still rubbing but in much friendlier ways. Ella disrobed and joined in the petting while my hands found their ways first to one cunt and then another, any boob or butt in reach, teasing and caressing and fingering and pawing.

Silver sucked my cock while Ella fingered her pussy and I reached over to do the same for Ella. Each tickle of arousal sizzled electrically around the circle from mouths and hands to genitals, through the heart and mind and back again.

The massage table being high above the ground, we usually found an opportunity to move to the nearby bed, shedding whatever clothes remained. I’d shove my cock in one cunt for a few strokes and move to another. A pussy on my face, another on my staff, women kissing and licking and everything turned to white light for an orgasm that melted the mind.

Leaning back against the headboard, dazed and confused, I would watch the ladies lick and finger each other until I felt another rise growing in my John Thomas and I would push my way back into the loving fray for another round of thrusting and coming.

The study day inevitably ended with all three of us collapsed on the bed, exhausted, napping and laughing until someone felt the need for food and we turned our attention to our next loving feast.

But all good things must come to an end, so it was with the wild wood weeds.

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An Eye Full

An Eye Full
by David Cain

“I’ve got to run over to the bank, Gary. Keep an eye on things for me.” Ted saluted as he pushed open the backdoor of the restaurant.

“Sure, Ted,” said the young cook, tossing his spatula with a flip through the air. The heavy door slammed shut. “A dee os.”

Gary turned and opened the tall chrome refrigerator behind him, and inspected the boxes of frozen meat. “Should be plenty,” he said to himself, considering the evening ahead. He worked his way around the kitchen, checking for lettuce, bread and potatoes. He stirred the chicken stock on the small stove and took a quick taste.

“Hi, Gary,” said June, tying her red apron behind her waist. Walking around the chrome counter, Gary grabbed the thin brunette and kissed her. “Gary!” June said emphatically, laughing in his grasp. “Not now.”

“Ted’s gone. No one can see.” Gary nibbled her throat

“Not now!” she said, twisting free of his pawing hands. “Don’t make me report you.” June glared menacingly at the sandy-haired youth. Gary smiled stupidly.

“Aargh. You’ve won this battle, Miss Harper,” he said dramatically,walking back to start working on his soup. “But tomorrow night,after the movie, you’ll be singing a different tune, I think. Eh, my pretty? We shall see. We shall see.” Gary looked back at the waitress, and raised his eyebrows.

June straightened her black skirt beneath the thin apron and twisted her smile, as if questioning his provocative conclusion. “Tomorrow’s another day,” she finally said, and pushed the swinging doors to take her place on the floor.

“I’ll see you wanting me, my bony legged wench.” Gary said, remembering quite well the night before last when June had come over to his apartment, when she had simply thrown herself on him. Gary breathed deeply, indulging his hunger by recalling vividly the image of June straddling him on his sofa, grinding her cotton panties over the ridge beneath his trousers, lifting her t-shirt up to press her little tit in his mouth. Gary sighed and looked out the rectangular gap at the restaurant floor. June stood wiping ashtrays, talking with Alicia. If only Steve hadn’t picked that moment to come home. Gary adjusted his prick through his trousers as he stared at the thin girl, imagining the scrawny body beneath her uniform.

Gary put down his spatula and walked back to the men’s room. Closing the door, he unzipped his fly and fished out his heavy dick. A thick stream of piss shot into the bowl of the dingy toilet with a gurgle. Gary sighed as he relaxed in the release. He shook his sturdy prick when a door slammed. Gary smiled. Reaching over, he turned off the light and knelt down, carefully working his head beneath the small sink. His paper hat fell onto the floor. Gary pressed his eye to the jagged hole in the plaster surrounding the silver gleam of pipe. The trap felt cold against his cheek as he twisted to get a better view into the ladies room. She tossed a gym bag against the far wall and reached up to unsnap her jeans.

“Maureen’s changing her clothes,” thought Gary, “Sweet Jeezus.”

Of all the waitresses, Maureen was the Queen. Gary licked his dry lips, watching as she unzipped the deep blue denim. Absolutely gorgeous and unbelievably bitchy, Maureen invariably collected twice the tips any of her colleagues managed to get. She was invariably attentive, thoughtful and sickeningly sweet to the patrons. Gary longed to kiss the soft pucker of her belly-button as the creamy triangle of tummy appeared from behind the opened fly. Maureen tormented the rest of the staff with demands, insisting on perfection, tongue-lashing any bus boy who dared to complicate her mission.

She reached back and began to pull the jeans down from the back, slowly over the tightly gripped hips. Red welts of constriction marred her waist where the denim had bit her smooth skin. Gary twisted a little more, pushing his face hard against the wall, letting his cock hang into his hand’s grasp. The matted jungle of her pubic hair finally slipped into view and the jeans began to descend more rapidly. The thick scent of sex permeated the small bathroom. Gary’s prick turned to steel.

Maureen stepped out of her jeans, while Gary stroked his cock steadily, amazed at the vision. She stood up straight and folded her jeans. The lips of her cunt were a dull red, puffy, wedged between the crease of her lean thighs. Maureen placed her folded pants on the toilet and stood a moment. Gary held his breath. Long, delicate fingers played with the patch of golden fine hair, combing the curls with her coral pink nails, working the snarls from the floss. Gary noticed a faint white stain, a dried dollop of salt just below her navel. Maureen rubbed at her pussy, a quick furious flurry and when her fingers moved away, Gary stared at the pink nub of her freshly aroused clit.

“Mmm,” Maureen murmured, grinding her hips slightly, “tonight he’s going to lick me, or that’s the end for him. I won’t be left unsatisfied forever.” Gary jerked his cock wildly.

Maureen turned around. Gary’s heart pounded with a dangerous intensity as he stared at her round, high ass, white and gleaming in the sharp incandescent light. She leaned over to unzip her gym bag, pressing the scarlet lips of her pussy thick between her creamy thighs, glistening damp in the furrow. Maureen bent down further and a short burst of air erupted from within her pink hole. A thick white drop drizzled slowly down her thigh. The dark dot of her asshole winked between the heavy globes of her bottom. Gary felt the excitement welling within him, anxious to explode.

Maureen stood up and stepped into her black skirt. As she lifted the linen up over the roundness of her ass, Gary noticed the heavy pink stain of fingered slaps over the creamy flesh of her right cheek. “Oh my my” he said, imaging some hung stud fucking Maureen from behind and smacking her pretty bottom. Maureen zipped the skirt and turned around as she adjusted the waistband. Gary smiled, realizing the import of the crimson circles below Maureen’s knees. She sat down on the lid of the john and pulled black thigh-highs up the length of her lean legs.

Maureen lifted off her t-shirt as she stood again. Gary shifted to get a peek at the dark circles of her nipples, tightening in the cool air. Her heavy breasts hung low, full soft liquid tits drooping as she picked up her starched white blouse and lace bra. Gary rubbed his hard prick angrily as the last glimpse of Maureen’s beautiful secrets vanished behind the cups of her brassiere.

“She’s not wearing panties,” he thought. “Wouldn’t the guys go wild if they knew that.” Gary stroked himself, delighted.

“Gary,” said Ted as the door opened and a flood of light rushed into the dark bathroom

“No,” said Gary, trying to hide his throbbing cock while he stood. He smacked his head hard against the sink and fell back onto the floor with a scream of pain.

“What in the hell is going on in here?” he heard Ted shout. Voices of howling laughter and enraged shrieks echoed through Gary’s aching head. Another light went on. Someone shoved him deeper into the bathroom and helped him to stand. The door had been closed, but the laughter continued to pour through the thin wall. “Get your pants on and then get your ass into my office,” growled Ted.

Gary sat down in the plastic chair, his face blazing with shame, his thoughts lost in the buzz of confusion. Ted began to yell at him, profoundly, angrily, seriously, speaking a language of fury that Gary hardly understood. He heard Ted tell him he was fired and he stood up to go. The other cook, Jack, ran over as Gary picked up his jacket.

“Were you peeking Maureen? I want to hear.” Jack whispered quickly.

“Back on the line, Sampson” howled Ted.

“Lucky shit,” said Jack with a laugh.

Gary walked between the racks of cups, glancing over at the floor of the restaurant. June glared murderously at him. Gary tried to think of something to say, but pushed open the back door and stepped outside.

As he walked home, Gary’s spirits sank. A dry wind bit at his face. He climbed the stairs to his apartment. Everything, it seemed, had gone wrong. Gary dreaded looking for another job, applications and interviews which would want to know why he had been fired. He could still hear the laughter, could still feel the heat of his shame. June would never forgive him. She cared too much about appearances to let something like this slide. Gary tossed his keys on his dresser and fell despondently into bed.

“Fuck,” he said. “What an awful day.” Gary hugged his pillow for a moment, trying to drown out the sound of the mocking laughter, the ridiculous moment when he’d been lying on the dirty bathroom floor, his dick shriveling with the pain, hearing the girls screaming at him, furiously.

And he remembered the bend, the beautiful moment when Maureen had bent over to pick up her skirt, when the lips of her pussy shimmered just two feet away, so wet, so hungry, so soft and so fine. Gary unzipped his pants and he smiled.

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required course

Straining at gnats and swallowing camels is a required course in all law schools.

Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

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Inspired

Inspired
by David Cain

I stood beside the futon while Silver sucked my cock. I relaxed in a stable stance to enjoy every pleasure she dispensed so eagerly, so expertly, so deliciously.

“I have some friends,” I said in a low, deliberate voice, making sure she could follow my words while she busily worked my steel hard erection, “who want to come over, smoke a bowl, you know, pull out their cocks.”

“Interesting,” she said, returning to her task, her enthusiasm rising, betraying her obvious interest in my revelation. She couldn’t really say anything, occupied as she was, but I knew what she was thinking. “Tell me more,” she thought.

“Glade, you know about him.” He had posed his erection next to an air freshener can, to give perspective to the picture. It is remarkably easy to disguise the actual size of a man’s penis in photographs. Glade was a man who understood.

“There’s the black guy from Africa, so you can count on an accent. Silver has a thing for accents. Don’t we all?

“Some younger guys, all ready to blow a joint and get nasty with you.”

Silver groaned, sucking deeply and I groaned, losing control. Silver gulped down my lusty cream and licked my twitching dick until all my powers subsided.

Things ended there, as I knew they would. Some days Silver is in the mood for a blow job and her pussy stays out of reach. The seed had been planted. Great sex goes on for days.

The next morning, Silver fed the dogs and fixed coffee while I worked on my blogs. I soon met her in the kitchen and she met me with a big mug of java. I rolled a joint, lit it and passed it on to Silver.

“So tell me about the guys,” she said, a thick grey cloud escaping her smile.

“Glade is ready to come over anytime. You’ll have to take a look at the rest.”

“Interesting,” she said. Silver says that a lot.

I stopped by the futon, later that evening. Silver reached over and played with my cock. She stroked me for a while, teasing me into action and then began to suck.

I mentioned the guys again. Silver tore off her yoga pants and began playing with her sopping wet cunt. Soon I sat down on the futon and she took my dick deep while raising her ass high. I reached under the futon for a box of toys and pushed a slut plug in her ass. She began to orgasm as I pushed a buzzing vibrator against her swollen clit. She sucked me and then quit to concentrate on her orgasms and then sucked again.

Fucking her with heated abandon with the vibrator and butt plug and came on the tit pressed around my cock but I lost none of my excitement and kept thrusting the toys.

“Fuck my ass,” she finally said.

“My pleasure,” I responded, getting off the futon and behind her. My thick, rigid member slid into her pussy and then up her loosened asshole.  She came and came and came.

“I’ll talk to the guys,” I said as we rose from the futon.

“You should do that,” she said and skipped happily away.

 

 

 

 

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unreasoned instinct

Jill, a government is a living organism.  Like every living thing its prime characteristic is a blind, unreasoned instinct to survive.  You hit it, it will fight back.

Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

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the classics

How are you on the classics?  Ever read H.  G.  Wells’ The War of the Worlds?”

Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

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sole owner

By our laws, Smith is a sovereign nation in himself – and sole owner of the planet Mars.”

Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

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