Come Play With Me Again Page 3

  ‘How would you like me, sir?’ I continue the game, although it’s true that he is the boss between the sheets; he decides our positions du jour, he dictates the games whenever we play, and I’m happy to let him do so.

  ‘Stay on your back. Legs all the way up and back, feet over your shoulders.’ Oh, yes. One of his favourite positions. He can see my pinked ass; my pussy, too, is on sweet display. ‘I don’t think I’m finished eating you yet,’ he remarks offhandedly. I sigh with anticipation.

  He starts on my ass, rimming me sweetly with his talented tongue. He’s bent on taking me all the way to the top tonight, I can see, and I wonder whether my ass will appear on the menu later, when he’s ready to start fucking, or whether the evening’s special will be all pussy and cock.

  He moves up to lap again, this time running his tongue between my holes, circling the lower one, then running his tongue up into the lake of my cunt, circling it then running back down, licking, lapping, humming with appreciation for the flavour I know he loves. ‘Delicious,’ he’s told me more times than I can count. ‘You’ve got the tastiest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating,’ he likes to say. ‘It’s my pleasure to serve you,’ I always reply.

  ‘Isn’t the monster getting hungry yet?’ I ask between whimpers as he keeps up the assault on my pussy and ass. I’m ready for penetration; I can’t believe he isn’t too. He’s showing amazing restraint, even more than usual.

  ‘Oh, it’s starving, but it won’t come out of its lair without a lot of coaxing. You know what you need to do, baby,’ Brad answers. ‘You know how to bring it out.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, playing coy.

  ‘You have to beg,’ he growls. ‘Beg like a little slut. Beg to be fucked.’

  So I do. I beg. ‘Ohhhhh, fuck me, baby. I need your cock. Please? Give it to me? Please? I need you to fuck me. My pussy’s so lonely for you.’ I go on like this between whimpers and panting until not even Brad can hold out any longer, his steely resolve melting in the heat of our lust.

  He slips off his jeans and his briefs, his cock fully erect and dripping again. I look at it hungrily, as if I’m ready to gobble it up, but he’s already grabbing me and pulling me farther down the bed. He arranges my legs over his shoulders now, and lowers himself into my wet and wanting cunt, and he thrusts and thrusts until we are both panting and groaning, listening to the sound of our combined wetness as he slap, slap, slaps his body into mine.

  He holds himself back until he feels me come around him, my back arching, my limbs tightening, accentuating my pleasure. Then he shoots into me so hard that I feel it: once, twice, three times. He thrusts hard a few more times and my contractions milk him the way my hands and mouth did earlier. He lowers my legs, rests on top of me. We both try to catch our breath. As I lie beneath him, enjoying his weight on my body, I think about how much our Wednesday nights mean to me, how close they make me feel to my man.

  * * *

  We regain our equilibrium and lie together talking. Suddenly, Brad decides to drop a bomb on me about last night’s poker game at his best friend Tom’s.

  ‘So, I lost last night, Dana,’ he begins.

  ‘That’s OK, honey,’ I soothe, running my hand down his scratchy cheek. ‘You’ll do better next time.’ He plays every other Tuesday. ‘Did you lose a lot?’ I ask softly.

  ‘More than I ever have before,’ he replies, and I can tell from his voice he doesn’t want to say how much.

  My heart jumps. He usually takes fifty bucks with him when he goes; sometimes as much as a hundred. I wonder how much was in his pocket this time.

  ‘How much, baby?’ I ask gently, wanting to encourage him to get it off his chest. ‘You can tell me – I won’t get mad.’

  ‘The whole hundred I had with me,’ he says, obviously having a hard time ’fessing up.

  ‘But that’s not the end of the world. You’ve lost that much a couple of times before. You’ll make it back,’ I assure him.

  ‘Well, that isn’t all. I thought I could win it back last night, and on my last bet, right before the end, when it was down to just Sam and me, I offered him something else so I could stay in the game. I had such a good hand, I was sure I would win.’

  My concern for what he has lost deepens now. What could he have bet? Our savings to buy a house? Our summer vacation at the beach? His car? What?

  ‘What did you lose, Brad?’ I ask again, trying not to come undone before I know what he’s given away. ‘Tell me, baby.’

  ‘You. I lost you.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I lost you last night at poker.’

  * * *

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Sam said he’d keep playing if I offered something that would be worth it to him, and I asked what I had that he wanted, and he said the only thing he could think of was you. I thought he was kidding at first, and I think, in a way, he was, but then it turned out, once he had said it, he liked the idea. They all know about our Wet Wednesdays. I’m always bragging to the guys about how hot you get, how we fuck for hours, how you take whatever I give you. So I bet a Wednesday with you.’

  ‘A Wednesday. With Sam.’ I’m not asking, just trying to absorb the concept, make sure I understand what he’s said.

  ‘Yeah, Sam.’

  Sam is our next-door neighbour. The guy who shares a bedroom wall with us and probably has heard an embarrassing total of cries, whimpers, thuds, shrieks, grunts and moans – not to mention headboard banging – from us over the years. Embarrassing to me, that is. I often blush if I run into him in the hallway on a Thursday, or some other day that follows a night of especially long and noisy sex. I’ve never heard much emanating from his bedroom – maybe he favours the silent types – and it’s true that, when he’s dating a woman, he seems to spend as much time at her place as his. Maybe, listening to us, he’s hyper-aware of how thin the walls are.

  I apologised to him once, long ago, for the noise we’d made one particularly rowdy Saturday night, and he just grinned at me in reply. ‘Oh, trust me, Dana, no need to apologise.’ His hazel eyes twinkled at me. ‘I’m very happy living next door to you. And hearing you and Brad having fun with each other? That doesn’t bother me at all.’

  I might have been creeped out if someone else had said that to me, but not when I heard those words coming from Sam. If anything, they turned me on. In addition to being a great guy and a friend, he’s tall and strong-looking and has dark blond hair that curls all over his head, and an even darker blond beard that he wears short. He is one beautiful man. I’ve often wondered why he doesn’t model for a living – that V-shaped torso, that chiselled jaw. I’ve fantasised more than once about sex with Sam, as Brad well knows.

  ‘So he’s coming here …?’

  ‘Next Wednesday, to collect. I told him it couldn’t be tonight because I needed time to tell you, and you needed time to get comfortable with the idea.

  ‘He asked what I would do if you wouldn’t go through with it, just in case I lost, and I told him that wouldn’t be a problem, that you and I have an understanding. That I make the decisions about what happens in the bedroom, and you go along with whatever I want. I told him that I knew you would let him fuck you if I wanted you to. I didn’t tell him you’d thought about it before.

  ‘And I was sure I was going to win, Dana. Really sure. You’re not going to make me welsh on him, are you?’

  Well, this is one Wednesday-night surprise that surely stands out from all the others, even the Wednesday Brad first asked me to do anal. I don’t even know what to say. And then I think of something.

  ‘So, what are you going to be doing while Sam plays with your favourite toy? Are you playing too? Watching? Going out to a movie? What?’

  ‘Sam said he’d leave that up to us, that he’d go along with whatever we wanted, except he wasn’t interested in sex with me. Which I had no problem with.’

  My guy has given away a Wet Wednesday with me, I remind myself, and I wonder if I should be m
ad about that, then choose not to be. Well, he hasn’t given me away, exactly; he’ll probably participate, knowing Brad. Maybe this will be like those other Wednesdays when we tried something new. I wonder what my own preference is, and I realise that I’d be happy with a threesome, with Brad as voyeur, or doing a one-on-one with Sam. They’d all be different experiences, and I’m interested in all of them, to be honest. But I’m nervous, too. This could be a big mistake.

  ‘Well, I’m leaving it up to you. I’ll do it, but I don’t want to make the decision about the particulars. And you need to decide whether you’re going to let Sam have free rein, or if you’re going to be in charge, the way you always are when we’re together.’

  ‘I think Sam expects whatever happens to be between the two of you. I’m fine with that. He knows, obviously, that I top you in the bedroom; I don’t know whether he’ll want to do the same.’

  I think about Sam in charge of me in bed, the way Brad always is. Telling me what he wants me to do and how he wants me to do it. Making all the decisions. Calling the shots. Oh, yeah. Sam can top me. Sam can definitely top me.

  ‘Well, then, tell Sam I’m game, and he can top me if he wants. Tell him I’d like it if he does. If I see him first, I’ll tell him. The rest you’ll need to decide for yourself.’

  * * *

  A few days go by. I see Sam in the hall and ask whether Brad’s spoken to him yet about next Wednesday. He nods and smiles at me. I blush a little, wondering what he’s thinking.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it, Dana. I sure won the jackpot this time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I answer, blushing darker. ‘Actually, I’m looking forward to it, too.’ Might as well be honest with him. He raises one eyebrow, and his smile turns into a grin.

  ‘We usually get home around six and have dinner before … playtime. You want to come over and eat with us?’ I think it will feel less weird if he actually has dinner with us than if he just shows up at the door for his appointment to fuck me.

  ‘Yeah, that’s good. I can be there around six.’

  I let myself into the apartment, drop my stuff and sink onto the sofa. I’m really going to do this. On Wednesday I am going to have sex with my next-door neighbour. And, as far as I know, my boyfriend is going to be there too.

  Wednesday rolls around. All day, all I think about is sex with Sam. I’ve seen him washing his car in the summer without a shirt on, in just a pair of cutoffs and flip-flops. I wonder what his cock will be like. I wonder what it will be like to be fucked by someone who isn’t Brad. I haven’t been fucked by anyone else in almost six years. That’s a long time.

  I wonder whether doing this will make me feel like a slut.

  I realise I really, really want to feel like a slut.

  * * *

  On Wednesday it’s Brad’s turn to pick up dinner on the way home. He’s stopping at our favourite sub shop. We debated getting ribs from This Little Piggy, but Wednesday is usually about bringing home something we can eat quickly and easily before getting on to the business of playing. We decide we’re not going to change the routine just because Sam will be there. Who wants to be wrestling with ribs and trying to get the smell of barbecue sauce off our skin before our orgy? Or should I call it a gangbang? A threesome? A one-plus-one-plus-one-some? The correct nomenclature eludes me.

  The doorbell rings. Sam’s here before Brad. I open the door and he comes in with two sixpacks, which I take from him to put in the fridge. As he is about to hand me the beer, he leans down and kisses me. He’s a good kisser, just as I’d always imagined he’d be.

  Sam’s lips are soft, and that’s how the kiss starts. It’s long and slow, and I start to relax into it. As his tongue finds mine, the kiss becomes more insistent. Suddenly my clit starts twitching and I can feel myself getting wet. His mouth tastes like peppermint. Sam pulls me closer, circling my waist with one arm while he still holds the two sixpacks, and I feel his erection starting to push out the front of his pants into my belly. When he releases me, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then take the beer from his hands. Whew!

  I put the bottles into the fridge and tell him to make himself comfortable. He’s been in our apartment a million times, but suddenly it feels strange to have him here. I wish Brad would get home. Or I wish Brad wasn’t coming back at all and Sam and I could just go into the bedroom and start fooling around. I feel like we have to wait for Brad, because how weird will it be if we start something and he walks in? I wouldn’t want to walk in on my boyfriend and another woman, even if I’d agreed ahead of time to the two of them having sex. I don’t want him to feel as if Sam and I want to fuck each other so much we can’t even wait for him to arrive.

  Finally, he shows up; it turns out he decided to bring home burgers and fries instead. We all hang out in the living room and eat, although I’m so nervous, all I have is half a burger and I have to stop. I get a Coke out of the fridge to settle my stomach. I hang out in the kitchen by myself for a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts.

  Brad understands. He gives me a few minutes alone, then brings his and Sam’s plates into the kitchen. He puts them on the counter, then pulls me into a hug. ‘You sure you’re still up for this?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah. Actually, I am. This just feels kind of weird right now, know what I mean?’

  ‘Yeah, I understand. I told Sam to go on into the bedroom for a minute, that we’d be right in.’

  ‘OK. Let’s do it.’

  We go in, and Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed in his jeans. He’s taken off his shirt, shoes and socks. He gets up and comes over and kisses me. Brad and Sam stand across from each other and pass me back and forth between them. For a while, the three of us just stand in the middle of the floor, the two of them taking turns kissing me. The heat and electricity in the room are so palpable, I feel as if sparks are going to start popping around me, like something is going to burst into flames. Maybe it will be me.

  Brad undresses me and opens the drawer where I keep my T-shirts. He’s taken everything off me except my bra and panties. He looks through the drawer and takes out my very favourite Wednesday-night top, an old green T-shirt of his that I’ve redesigned with a pair of scissors, cutting off the sleeves, cutting most of the shirt away so that it looks like it has both a racer back and a racer front. When I put it on, my breasts are completely exposed, and the bottom is cropped to just above my navel. He takes off my bra and slips the shirt on me, then turns me around so Sam can see. ‘What do you say, Sam?’ he asks. ‘Panties on or panties off?’

  Sam runs his eyes up and down me. He looks at me critically, like he’s a fashion designer and I’m a runway model, and this is the most important decision he’s had to make all day. I almost start laughing, his expression is so serious, so unexpected. Finally, he looks at Brad. ‘Off.’

  Off come the panties. ‘You won her fair and square,’ Brad says, as if I’m not even there. ‘You get first dibs for the evening. I’m going to hang back and watch for a while, but I’ll probably take a turn later.

  ‘In case you’re wondering, we do just about everything on Wednesday nights. Dana likes to be spanked, if you’re into that. All the usual stuff. She’ll tell you. She’s terrific in bed, Sam. You won’t be disappointed.’

  I smile at him. I’ve just been given an outstanding performance review. It makes me feel good to know that my man is so satisfied with what I give him. I hope he’ll be OK with what he’s about to watch.

  Sam puts me on the bed. I think he and Brad have talked a lot about what Sam should expect, because he is already taking the upper hand, positioning me, not asking me what I want, what I like. It occurs to me that the stuff Brad has just said to him is more for my benefit, to put me at ease, to let me know what to expect. I’m grateful for it.

  Brad sinks into the chair in the corner and Sam strips down to his skin. His erection is big – longer than Brad’s, although not quite as thick, I don’t think. He looks just as I had imagined he would, like he ought to be
posing for Abercrombie or something. Abs for days. I can’t wait to take his cock in me.

  He puts me on my back and starts licking my clit right off the bat, and I moan with pleasure. When his short beard scratches the inside of my thighs and roughs up my slit, I don’t even care – I’m too focused on the riot he has incited in me with his tongue. He teases me relentlessly until I feel like I’m going to come. Then he reaches up with his fingers and pinches my clit, and I do.

  I don’t know whether it’s the excitement of sex with a new man, or the knowledge that Brad is watching from across the room, or just Sam’s mind-blowing technique, but I am coming hard, really hard, like rockets shooting off in my cunt that blast through my body and exit from my fingers and toes.

  All of a sudden, Sam pulls on a condom, climbs on top of me and slides in while I’m still coming. His long cock reaches all the way up into me and, when he starts pushing in deep, I can feel every thrust hitting my cervix. Oh, God. Every time I feel the impact, my pussy clenches. I start to tighten up inside, but Sam just fucks me right through it until I open up, and I realise he’s just going to keep on fucking me until he makes me come again.

  When I’m getting close, he calls out to Brad, ‘She’s going to come pretty soon, man, and I’m about to come, too. How about when I do, I pull out and you push right into her, fuck her until she comes again? You want to do that? We’ll just tag-team her over and over until she can’t take any more.’

  I feel like I’m going to come just listening to Sam’s words. The idea that my cunt is going to be battered again and again by their two hard cocks until I collapse arouses me in a way I couldn’t have imagined. That, and the way they talk about me like I’m a thing, a toy, a piece of meat, the slut I wanted to be tonight. I wait to hear what Brad will say, whether it will bother him that Sam’s taking over, making decisions for all of us. But Brad’s cool. He seems to like the idea.

  ‘Sure. Hang on – give me one minute.’ I look over and see Brad peeling off his clothes, then wasting no time getting over to the bed.