Seduction (4 page)

Doing my best to ignore the pulse that had begun to beat between my legs and telling myself not to be so ridiculous, I tried to compose myself. Then I sat back down at the table and helped myself to another glass of red wine. You’re drunk, I said to myself. I shook my head and looked up to grin at my boys.

“Fabulous breasts,” said Sam, making me blush. “I never really saw the point of tits until I met you, my darling. But now when I look at those puppies sitting up and begging for attention, I’d almost like to play with them.”

Whoa! So maybe I’m not the only one thinking about sex! I mean, Rick and I had always enjoyed exchanging campy, witty banter, but tonight the chat was moving beyond that into definite flirtation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” countered Rick. “I’ve been friends with those tits for years. If they’re going to be ineptly groped by any gay man, I think by rights it ought to be me.”

The three of us were giggling madly by this point, but there was something deadly serious about the way Sam looked at me. He really was checking out my breasts. To my embarrassment, but also my secret delight, I felt my tits harden under my top. I hadn’t worn a bra, and my nipples began to poke through my slinky silver tank top. Sam licked his lips, quickly and subtly. Rick watched Sam with a hungry look on his face. I blushed; this sexually charged atmosphere with Rick was brand-new territory. I was turned on, but somehow it felt wrong. Or did it feel right, but I wouldn’t allow myself to feel it?

We left the restaurant soon after that, all quite tipsy. On the way home, we had a heated debate about whether the waiter had been checking out Sam, Rick, or me. I insisted that a man that good-looking and well dressed couldn’t possibly be heterosexual. Rick, on the other hand, insisted the waiter must be straight because he had never seen him out clubbing (apparently he knew every gay man in the world).

“I’d have definitely remembered that fabulous ass if I’d seen it before,” said Rick.

“Well,” replied Sam, “it’s possible that he was checking all of us out. I mean, we are all three of us outrageously attractive. And anyway,” he went on, rather sober now and with a sly, sidelong glance at Rick, “not everyone picks just one type and then sticks with it for life. Some of us can be attracted to boys and girls. Sometimes in the same night.”

Boys and girls? The same night? My mind raced. So was Sam bi? Did my beloved Rick know this? Did he mind? I was completely flustered and confused. And, more to the point, I thought rather selfishly, if he does dig girls, is he attracted to me? But even if he was saying that he found me attractive, it was probably only in a superficial, aesthetic way rather than a sexual one, right? And even if he genuinely fancied me, it didn’t matter. He was off limits. He was my best friend’s boyfriend, and that made him as unattainable as you can get.

I was still musing over this dilemma (hypothetical, of course) when we reached Rick’s flat, a lovely little apartment. Outside, the lights of the pier illuminated the horizon, voices giggled and shrieked, and Friday night was just beginning for many people. But I was tired and more than a little overwhelmed. I made my excuses and went to bed in Rick’s spare room.

The boys weren’t so quick to go to sleep, though. Through the wall I could hear them talking in low, rumbling voices and giggling. Then there was silence, and I knew that they were putting their hands on each other’s bodies, unleashing the tension that they’d been building up all night. I could just picture them slowly undressing each other, peeling tight T-shirts and designer jeans off slightly sweaty skin to reveal two golden rippling torsos they would press together. Their cocks would be slapping each other in a play fight, their balls against each other’s thighs as they kissed urgently, lips and teeth clashing. In my head, I replayed this imaginary film of Rick and Sam fucking, my own body growing hot and aroused as I did so. Their muffled noises next door turned to grunts and moans, a live sound track that made my pussy swell with desire.

Funny that in all the years I’d lived with Rick, I’d never actually heard what he sounded like during sex. We’d always had enough room and privacy to make as much noise as we liked without disturbing each other. But this, this was a new sound, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. The louder the guys got, the more aroused I became until I eventually made myself come. I parted my pussy lips with my fingers, leaving my clit exposed. Just ten seconds of light fondling and I came hard, biting down on my lip to suppress my own moans of delight. Waves of pleasure radiated from my clitoris, at last relieving the tension that had been building up all night, since the first moment I’d set eyes on Sam.

As my climax subsided and my breathing and pulse rate returned to normal, I padded over to the window and forced it open, letting the warm zephyr blow my hair and bring me back to reality. I got back into bed, enjoying the salty tang of the sea air, and closed my eyes while Rick and Sam continued. As I drifted off to sleep, it occurred to me that perhaps I was meant to overhear them. Perhaps they—or at least one of them—wanted it that way.

 

 

 

I awoke at nine a.m.
to the smell of frying bacon. I was touched; Rick remembered my absolute favorite weekend breakfast: a fried-egg-and-bacon sandwich on lightly toasted white bread. Without knocking he burst in with the sandwich and a glass of orange juice on a tray.

“Breakfast in bed for my lady,” he said, placing the tray on my sheet with a flourish.

“Thanks, honey,” I said, suddenly conscious of my lace nightie, in which my breasts and nipples were clearly visible and, at the sight of Rick in his crisp white trunks, were getting erect again. I tried not to look at his tight pecs, at the faintest trace of a love bite above his left nipple, at his strong, broad thighs or his bulging biceps, and I especially tried not to sneak a glance at his dick, although the outline of it was clearly visible. This was madness. Rick and I had seen each other in our underwear a million times, but now that I’d heard him fuck, now that I’d rubbed my clit until I came while thinking about him and Sam, I felt like I’d crossed an invisible line and that things would never be the same between us. I felt like we’d actually had sex. Most of all, I was convinced that Rick somehow knew all this, that he could read my mind.

But once I’d showered and we’d had a walk along the beach to blow away last night’s cobwebs and hangovers, things were back to normal. It was a glorious, hot day, and the three of us laughed and joked together, free of the dark, sexual undercurrent of last night’s conversation. By lunchtime, I’d pretty much forgotten about my masturbatory fantasy, although I was reminded again that afternoon.

I don’t know whose idea it was to take a cooling dip—it might have been Sam’s. The boys went in first, and seeing them waist-deep in the turquoise sea, briny water dripping down their defined torsos, I felt last night’s desire return. I decided to join them, reasoning that the cold, refreshing water would calm me down and take the edge off this desire that was threatening to spill over into obsession.

The sea was indeed cold, but it didn’t dampen my desire. The boys teased me mercilessly, picking me up and throwing me in the water. The more I squealed, the higher they threw me. They dunked me, picked me up, and swung me around. Laughing and breathless, I tried to escape, but I was no match for two such strong men. Sam crept up behind me and pinned my arms behind my back while Rick tickled me, making me writhe and splash as I giggled uncontrollably. Rick knew exactly where I was ticklish, knew that the slightest touch on my sides or my neck were absolute torture. So why was he paying such close attention to the underside of my breasts, my inner thighs, and the backs of my legs? He was caressing my hottest erogenous zones, the parts of my body that seemed to have a direct link to my pussy, making it throb and come alive.

As Rick’s hands traveled quickly over my body and Sam’s chest and cock pressed into my shoulders and the small of my back, the agony of being tickled was replaced by the hot, urgent tension of arousal that has no easy way of being gratified. I stopped laughing and broke away from the boys, striking out and swimming strong strokes to take me away from them. I tried to clear my head and work out how to decipher these mixed signals. They seemed pretty serious and I wondered if this was their roundabout way of moving this forward. But how? I was wildly attracted to both guys, but did they want a threesome? Just Sam? Just Rick?

But then it could be that all the flirting, teasing, and touching was completely innocent. And if I said something, if I showed I was taking it seriously, it would mean at best taking the wind out of everybody’s sails for the rest of the weekend, and at worst running the risk of offending the guys and ruining the best friendship I’d ever had. My mind was no clearer as I turned to swim back to shore, and seeing Sam and Rick waist-deep in the water sharing a slow, lazy kiss didn’t help. The sight of Sam’s long, pink tongue idly exploring Rick’s lips created a fresh wave of heat between my legs, and I couldn’t help but wonder if their dicks were getting hard just below the waves.

Once on shore, I decided to play it safe. Yes, I was sexually frustrated, but the facts were this: I was a straight woman. These guys were gay. That meant they didn’t “do” women. So I would keep my feelings to myself, enjoy the rest of the evening, and either take care of myself with my own right hand, or, hopefully, find a straight guy to fuck when we went out tonight.

That Saturday night Rick and Sam took me to a recently-opened club. It was under the old arches on the seafront, and one look around told me that my chances of pulling a hetero man were roughly nil. Inside, it was dark and cavernous with a vast dance floor and lots of little warrens and cubbyholes. Green and pink lasers bounced off silver disco balls, and high-energy dance music was playing at a volume that seemed almost to shake the room. The atmosphere was fun, unpretentious, and sexually exciting, even if I wasn’t the right gender for these clubbers. We had a couple of drinks at the bar, and then the three of us made our way onto the dance floor. With one cheesy disco hit after another keeping us dancing, eventually we all grew hot, sweaty, and tired, three more sizzling bodies in a sea of beautiful people.

I raised my arms above my head as the opening bars of my favorite dance track, a sleazy, suggestive tune with a heavy beat and sexy lyrics, filled the club. I closed my eyes and let the music take me over, swaying my hips in time with the beat. I rolled back my head so that my long blond hair trailed over my shoulders. Before I knew it, Rick was dancing behind me, so close that I felt his belt buckle digging into my back. His arm wrapped itself around my waist, a familiar touch, electrifying now that it was suffused with sexual tension. In front of me, Sam moved closer, his eyes level with Rick’s over the top of my head, his hands on my waist, his dick just above the waistband of my skirt. The three of us danced like that for the rest of the song, the guys moving in closer and closer so that by the end of the tune, my swollen, gyrating pussy was wedged in hard between their two thighs and cocks, compressed like a flower between the pages of a book. This had to be deliberate. And if it was teasing, it was cruel. Couldn’t they see what they were doing to me? My pussy was on fire, every inch of my skin tingled, and frustration and desire must have been etched into my facial features. If this was a joke, it had gone too far.

But then a large, smooth hand on my breast and warm breath on my neck made me realize that it wasn’t just a playful joke. Rick and I had always flirted but only in the way a gay man and his fag-hag can—totally harmlessly. This was making me wet—there was surely something real in it. Sam cupped my breast, bent his head to my ear and said, “You know, you’re very beautiful. You’re enough to turn two gay men straight. For the evening, anyway.”

I didn’t need to reply. My nipple hardening between his thumb and forefinger betrayed how thrilled I was. I blinked, speechless, wishing I could see Rick’s face to read his expression. Instead, I felt his warm breath on my neck and his voice in my ear. “Come on, Kyra,” he said. “You must know what you’ve been doing to us all weekend?” I whipped my body around 180 degrees to face Rick, unsure of what I would find. I saw him lean in to kiss me, and my mind began racing a mile a minute. Something was happening now. The most important friendship in my life was about to change forever, and I didn’t know if I wanted it to. What if it was weird? What if it was awful? When he kissed me, deep yet tender, with the stubble on his jaw scraping sexily against my cheek, it felt only natural. I wanted more of it. While he kissed me, Sam’s hands slid in between my body and Rick’s, kneading my tits, finding my braless breasts under the flimsy stuff of my top, caressing them with an expert touch for someone allegedly a stranger to female flesh. As Rick’s hard-on pressed into my stomach, I felt the stirring of Sam’s cock in the small of my back: two big, hard cocks. The power and desire in me were so overwhelming that I’d have taken my clothes off and fucked the pair of them on that dance floor if they had asked me to.

But they didn’t ask me to. Instead, as the song ended, the three of us momentarily drew apart, all looking at each other in the eye and gasping, half-laughing at our own daring, half-panting with desire. “You know the best place to take this?” said Sam, grabbing my hand and then Rick’s. “Outside.”

The three of us edged through the sweaty, heaving bodies on the dance floor. By this time I was so turned on that every stranger I brushed against sent a fresh wave of desire pulsing through my body. When we finally emerged into the cold, gray light, we didn’t discuss where we were going but instinctively knew we were heading for the pier. Underneath it were a few tumbledown beach huts and nooks and crannies that afforded momentary privacy for lovers who just couldn’t wait to get back to their house or hotel room.

The tide had washed the beach clean, and the three of us stood facing each other on the damp, sparkling pebbles, hidden from public view by an upturned boat. Sam was the first to move. He reached out and touched my breast tenderly, respectfully, and so softly that I sighed and threw my head back in ecstasy. He traced a finger from my nipple all the way up my neck, making me shiver with desire, and then moved in to kiss me. His kiss was rougher than Rick’s had been, more urgent and greedy, but his skin was smoother and softer. I struggled to keep my balance as his kisses grew more desperate and probing, and his hands began to pummel and pull my tits, twisting the nipples through my top and making my whole body sing with pleasure and anticipation.