Threesome Erotica
"Sidetrip," a sex story by Caroline Tigeress
My wife fell asleep reading one of those cheesy story-compilations of sex letters, varied couples or some such thing. I would buy her one every so often, sometimes we would read it together, and sometimes not.
I had little to complain about, sexually. Chelsea was an incredible woman, with a wonderful figure. She was a petite woman, which I had to admit, was a serious turn-on. I've never been attracted to huge breasted women of any kind. I was more of a butt man. A good butt in my hands while we were dancing, or even walking around in the mall, and I was happy.
We had met in college, and after I got my master's in social work, we were married. I worked as a therapist for a small, progressive agency. As I was new at my position, I worked closely with a senior therapist. She worked as a network engineer.
For some reason, on this particular night, I had a touch of insomnia. It happened to me from time to time. I turned the bedside lamp on low, and pointed it away from her. I saw the magazine and thought what the hell.
Now being a social worker, and a counselor, I had a respect for healthy, real psychology. I understood the value of how the human mind works, and how to use it. So when I saw one of those cheesy tests in there entitled, in big black letters, "are you bisexual?" I had to laugh. This of course did not stop me from grabbing a pen and taking the test.
It was the standard magazine tripe. You got x number of points for a, b, and c answers, and it ended up as some test stack at the end.
The article was well written. Far better than I had ever seen. It made me think. I remembered back to my childhood about a circle jerk here and there. Sometimes even as a teenager, my friends and I would stroke each other off.
I had never even thought much about it, as I dated quite a few girls in college.
I totaled my answers and found I had scored quite high. That was sort of spooky, and made me feel uncomfortable. By this time, I was tired, so I closed the magazine, and tossed it over to her side of the bed. I flicked off the light and fell asleep, although it took me a few minutes to settle down.
A few days came and went, and Friday night, we went out for supper. It was the Fourth of July Weekend, and we both wanted to avoid the crowds, so our plan was to stay at home and snuggle. I think she planned on some knitting and sewing, and I was going to tinker on a bowl I was turning on my lathe.
When we got home, I unzipped her as I always did and softly put my arms on her neck. One of Chelsea's prime erogenous zones was her earlobes. I guess I was thinking with my cock as it poked toward her rump.
She giggled softly and said, "Well someone's happy to see me."
I breathed in her ear tenderly and softly nuzzled the lobe. Her perfume reached my nostrils and my hands went around her tummy, pulling her tight.
She gasped, smiling and tilted her head.
I softly licked at her earrings, feeling the small hoops as they rolled in my tongue. Her hands slipped down and she stroked at my thighs.
Softly, I eased her down onto the bed and we snuggled, face to face. This was our time, our private lock away from the outside world. Our cell phones off, our home phone was unlisted and the answering machine was set to pick up on the first ring.
She inched close to me and softly licked my lips, running her sharp nails through my short, sandy brown hair. I loved having my hair touched, and she knew it. Her small hands drew my head to her, and hungrily she sucked at my tongue. My arms wrapped around her, and pulled her in tightly. God how I loved this woman. I loved everything about her.
My kisses trailed down from her lips to her chin, back around her ears. I touched at her throat, and then her camisole defied me.
Her jutting nipples poked out, like twin beacons of female sexuality, and very softly through the fabric I rolled one with a single finger.
Chel's fingers snaked into my shirt and softly stroked at my chest hair. I enjoyed the stimulus, the simple gentle caress of her touch, the power of the simple grazing of her fingers. My cock strained against my slacks and boxers.
I ran a hand down her curvaceous hips, and caught the hem of the camisole to raise it up. I felt her flat, smooth tummy, her cinnamon roll navel, then the perky pear-shaped breast came into my grasp.
She purred softly, I could feel her breathing quicken. My stiffness rubbed against my boxers and then responded to her touch, even through two layers of cloth.
Playfully I tossed the camisole over her face, and pounced at her breast. It's smooth, succulent flesh warmed my mouth, as my lips suckled hungrily at the nipple.
She squirmed and managed to peel the long, satiny garment off, wearing only her thin white cotton panties. I had to admit, I had a bit of a pantry fetish, and dipped my head down, rubbing my nose into the damp, cloth-covered muskiness.
She pulled at my shirt, and I stood. The nightstand light was on, and as I was young, I didn't have much shame about my body. I slipped the oxford cut dress shirt off, and unbuckled my belt, letting the bulge keep them up.
She scooted back on the bed, and pulled her legs up, closing her knees, and crossing her ankles tightly, turning to one side.
This was our little game. It excited her to be teased, opened and then mounted. I didn't know why, I didn't care. I knew she loved it, and that was good enough for me.
I loomed over her on my hands and knees, then resumed my nursing, alternating each of her wonderful breasts. I placed my hand on her tiny butt and goosed her, causing her to squirm.
Almost forcefully I yanked the panties down, holding her legs out straight. Her soft bush of red pubic hair was such a turn on for me. She kept it neatly trimmed.
While I caressed her butt and kissed at the nape of her neck, I felt her hand slide into my shorts. She caressed my tool tenderly. I don't have an impressive member by any stretch of the imagination, being barely longer than six inches, but she never complained. She stroked my long cut foreskin, softly rubbing me. Her touch was electric, and her hand gently stroked the hair on my scrotum.
We took our time, my hands kneaded her fine, tiny ass, and her hands stroked me. We were in no hurry to climax, although I could tell she was very aroused as her stroking became a bit more feverish.
My pants drifted around my thighs. My preseminal fluid oozed freely, and she softly brought up a finger to stick into my mouth. It was from the same hand that stroked me.
I tasted my own fluid, and found it not unlike hers, with that same, sensual, musky taste. I licked her hand clean, and realized that I was so hard that my cock's head was throbbing.
I slipped back toward the end of the bed, and kicked my slacks and socks off. I pounced like an animal, grabbing an ankle in each hand, and pulling her thighs apart. Her eyes flared with passion.
My face drove straight for her beautiful purple mons, my senses taking in her exquisite flower, and hungrily I ate.
She moaned, and squirmed as my tongue lapped into her nether folds. To tease her, I even went down further and stuck my tongue into her asshole. We had talked some about anal sex when we were dating, but it hadn't come up recently. I was hoping to tease her some, and she did squirm nicely and I enjoyed tonguing into her tart rosebud.
A soft rivulet of her juices dripped down as I came back up, and she moaned lewdly.
I moved her knees to one side, and put the tip of my tool at her folds. I slid in, feeling the warmth of her tightness, my eyes closing as I pumped her.
She had excited me more than I thought, and I realized I was very, very close, far closer than she. Before I knew it, my body betrayed me, and I shot a load of spunk into her.
She was puzzled then, as I pulled out, dripping from her body and I laid my face back down. I felt the goo of my own semen against my face, and did not care, my tongue sought her pearl.
I rolled the soft peak of her womanhood in my mouth, licking, flicking and sucking hungrily. I slipped a couple of fingers into her, and softly pumped in and out of her well-lubricated box. She climaxed intensely, gasping and panting.
I smiled at her, my face covered in our combined juices and kissed her.
She nosed me and kissed me back.
"That's new for you. I guess that test really sunk home, huh?"
I looked at her quizzically.
She held up the magazine.
"Oh, that thing," I said dryly.
"Yes," she smirked. "That thing"
In my haste to crash, apparently I had stuck the pen in the magazine on the very page of the quiz, providing an instant bookmark that she perused.
She flipped it open and then commented, "you marked, 'very likely' to have sex with a man if you were in prison, or an all male environment."
I eyed it, "must have been very tired."
"I didn't know you've masturbated with other men," she pressed the point.
"As a kid. Don't tell me you never kissed another girl," I pressed the point back.
"Plenty of times. Doesn't mean I'd eat pussy, though."
I playfully pouted, making a whining sound.
She hit me with a pillow.
Unlike many men, however I never dreamed of two women in bed at the same time.
"Silly boy," she said. She yawned tiredly and snuggled into my arms once we were under the covers. I flicked off the light, and sleep overtook her.
Insomnia, on the other hand, played in my head.
I had enjoyed my times with the boys. I enjoyed them quite a bit. Most girls at the time were squirmy, nonsexual things. I liked the feeling of a cock in my hand, even if it wasn't mine.
Softly I stroked her tummy. I loved my wife, I loved the feel of her touch, yet, these feelings, they disturbed me. I also didn't like being teased by her, even though she had done it so tenderly, so gently.
To me, sexuality was a very private, very gentle thing, and the time with my wife was pleasure beyond measure.
Over the course of the long weekend I licked her, she sucked me, and I spent some time nuzzling, lapping and tonguing her butt. The best I was able to get into her was a single pinky. My mouth danced against her with feverish cunnilingus, causing her one of the most powerful orgasms I had ever given her.
Neither one of us dressed until Tuesday morning.
On Tuesday, I headed to my small desk to look over the day's caseload. I found a two-hour block on my schedule, and realized that my normal Monday conference with my senior therapist had been rescheduled to today, the day after the holiday.
I took my notes that I had made throughout the week and headed to our normal meeting place.
Tom, my mentor arrived a few minutes late. He was unshaven, haggard looking, and had red, puffy eyes.
He sat hard in the chair across from me. His breath deceived him.
"Tom," I asked. "Are you okay?"
The big mountain of a man looked at me squarely in the eye.
"I had a rough weekend. I had to move on the fly," he said.
"Oh," I mouthed. I felt like I trespassed on something. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well. So am I. It'll probably be better in the long term. One of those nasty break up fights."
"That's no fun," I said. "I didn't even know you had a girlfriend."
Tom's normally warm, gregarious self became quiet.
"Um, I thought you knew?" He asked.
I looked at him with utter innocence in my eyes.
"Steve," he said to me, "I'm bi. It was a relationship with a man."
"Oh," I said.
There was a long, drawn out silence.
He looked at my caseload, "so how are things going."
I was thankful for the change of subject and began going over the cases, two of which had me a bit puzzled. We discussed them in detail, and he offered some simple, clear-cut solutions. I was amazed at his ability to see through problems clearly.
We ended up with a good fifteen minutes out of the blocked time clear of the need to discuss cases, and our conversation drifted back to his relationship.
"I really thought this one was the one. I don't know. It's very confusing at times. I loved him, if we had continued, I probably would have ended up being gay."
I nodded, and then out of my mouth, from nowhere I said, "Attraction is about people, not necessarily gender."
He agreed clenching his hands together. "I'll be better tomorrow. I just needed to get out of the loop. You can get so close to a situation, that you're blindsided. You can't see things that are happening right under your nose."
I sensed his emotion, felt his pain. Instinctively I reached out a hand.
This big mountain man looked at me and smiled. "Thanks for listening, Steve."
"Anytime," I replied.
When I got home that evening, it came up between my wife and I. I owed a lot to Tom and his mentoring skills and Chelsea prompted, "Why don't we have him over for supper on Saturday. It'll give him something to look forward to."
"That's a great idea. Supposed to be decent weather, we can have a barbecue. Get some steaks, have some beers. We haven't barbecued yet this year."
She smiled. It was supposed to be very hot, and she loved the hot weather. We had a private back yard, and often times she would sun herself topless.
When I brought it up to Tom a couple of days later, he said he felt he would be imposing, that I was feeling sorry for him. I told him, frankly, I was, and that he needed to get out and see some faces. A quiet evening at my house. He could get his mind off life.
He reacted to my blunt statements with a sheepish grin.
"That bad, am I?" He inquired.
"Yes, you're down. Come over to my place, and take a load off. Chelsea has never met the face behind the name," I said.
"Been telling your tall tales about me, huh?" He grinned.
"Only the truth."
He cocked his eyebrow.
"Not that. Not that I care, mind you, just hasn't come up yet."
He smiled at me, I think he was relieved.
Yet, Friday night, after our passion-filled lovemaking, I confessed to Chelsea about Tom's recent breakup. She watched me as I spoke about Tom's physical features, about how masculine he was.
"You find him attractive, don't you?" She observed.
"Ah, um, I guess so," I stammered.
"Good. Let's seduce him."
"What?" I cried.
"You heard me. Put a couple of beers into him, and we'll fuck himsilly." She teased.
"I could never betray you!" I exclaimed.
"I suggested it, then again I did that knowing you never would."
I glared at her. I wasn't angry, but I could get there very quickly.
"Fine, fine. Maybe I should have been the shrink," She said.
Another night of insomnia. I envied her sleeping form.
I turned it over in my mind, Tom's strong arms, and his bushy mustache. Chel had practically given me permission.
When sleep came, about three, it was tormented, and confused. I thrashed and only awoke when Chelsea turned on the light barely two hours later.
"Are you okay?" She asked, groggily.
"I uh, uh," I stammered.
She pulled me tight, and I peeled her nightshirt off, and put my head on her breast. I listened to her breathing, and she stroked my hair.
"What's wrong, Steven?" She asked, quietly.
"I had a dream. About Tom." I said quickly.
"Steve, listen to me. I love you. It's because I love you that I said what I did."
"We're not even considering his feelings," I replied.
"All I ask is that if it comes up, you don't repress your feelings. You have a real hard time with that. I have to pull stuff out of you, sometimes."
I nodded. She was right.
"What if he doesn't want to play with you, just with me?" I asked.
"I can always go shopping," She said, playing with my hair. "Our credit cards can take a nice trip to the mall."
"You're sure about that? Wouldn't you feel bad?"
"I'd want to know every bit, and I'm not sure if I'd feel bad or not."
"You're not a big jealous person, are you?" I asked.
"Should I be?" She replied. "You going to leave me for him?"
"Chel," I gasped. "Never."
"Then I have nothing to fear, do I?"
I said nothing, and sleep overtook me, thanks to her soft touch.
The next afternoon, about four, the doorbell rang. Tom was wearing a pair of mid-thigh bright red shorts and a white t-shirt with a buttoned open shirt on top of it. He carried in one hand a half case of beer, and had a big grin on his face. It was clear he needed to get out.
My wife was dressed in her daisy Mae ultra-short shorts, and a thin top. I had on just a pair of shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt.
Tom shook my hand happily and hugged me tight, something he had never done before. When he hugged her, he was the perfect gentlemen.
The two of them hit it off, and as I threw steaks onto the grill, the summer sun beat down on us.
Cold beer, good food, and good conversation ensued. He had peeled off his shirts to bask in the hot sun, and I remarked on his physique.
"Thanks, man. I have to say, I love doing the gym thing. You want to talk about an interesting social environment. You see it all there."
"Really?" Chelsea said.
"Power lifters, weekenders, silent devotees, cruisers."
"Cruisers?" Chelsea asked.
"Mostly gay men, but some lesbians. I've been hit on a couple times."
"Ever take them up?" Chelsea inquired.
"Thought about it, but never acted on it. I like cerebral people. Attraction is a thing of the mind, to me." He said.
I was on my third beer, and the topics drifted aimlessly, until our current war on drugs came up. I laughed heartily at it, calling it a farce.
"Glad you think that way," he said. "I brought dessert."
We both looked at him oddly, and he laid an eighth out on the table in a baggie.
"Wow," Chelsea said, her eyes lighting up.
"Damn, I don't have a pipe or anything," I replied.
"Not a problem," Mike said.
From his key ring, he twisted off what I thought was a decoration - some sort of metallic mushroom. A quick re-arrangement of the base components and a pipe became evident.
"Now that's clever," I said. He filled it up, and we passed it around.
The buzz was mellow, and soft. The sunset, and the stars started to become visible. A sliver of moon rose.
"Have to say, Steve, you were right. I had to get away. He hurt me a good one."
I was sitting next to him and said, "Yeah, I know. I'm here for you, man."
He nodded and Chelsea reached out and stroked his leg.
"We'll both be here for you, if you let us," she said.
He looked down at her hand, and then at her, and without saying anything I rubbed his shoulders.
"Damn, you've got some good hands," He said.
"Thanks," I said. I spoke nearly into his ear, and I could feel him smile.
"I am worried about something, though." Chelsea said.
Tom looked at her.
"You've had a lot to drink, and we're all pretty stoned. Why don't you crash with us tonight?"
"I couldn't," he said, putting up a hand.
"She's right," I rubbed his shoulders intensely, his warm flesh feeling wonderful in my hands. He wasn't like Chelsea, he had muscles, meaty, man muscles that my hands liked to feel.
I smiled as his neck and back arched back into the rubbing.
"Ah, I, uh, don't really want to be a bother," he said.
I looked down, and saw that I was hard. Hard as a rock. Softly my hands ran down his back. His mouth opened to speak and softly Chelsea slithered forward to him, and softly put her hand on his chest.
"Let us take your worries away. Let us take your cares," she whispered.
"Steve, uh, I mean, uh."
"I'll be honest, Tom, I've never touched another man the way I would like to touch you. We're all a little drunk; we're all a little high. We're also all consenting adults. There's a guest bedroom if you feel uncomfortable." I peeked over his shoulder my neck resting on him, and looked down. His tool poked fabric up, speaking volumes for him.
Chelsea rubbed at the hair on his chest. "Say no," she said. "I'll stop."
He gasped, "Yes."
Softly, I put my lips to his ear. Unlike Chelsea, he had no earrings, and like her, he found the sensation exquisite. I had never touched another man with my lips.
I felt him shiver, and leaned him back into my arms. I watched Chelsea scoot forward, into him, and pulled off her top. Those beautiful pear breasts were free, and she softly rolled each nipple in a hand in a display of coming events.
Solidly I held him as she draped herself on him, putting her left nipple into his mouth. I leaned forward against him and took the right into mine.
She groaned gutturally, lewdly.
I felt his hand reach back to about where I was for some additional support, and he brushed my hardness. His wrist went to one side of it, and I could tell on the small picnic bench we were having some balance problems already.
Chelsea pulled back, and I saw both nipples glistening with saliva. I felt the slightest twinge of jealousy as I realized that one of those breasts had not been in my mouth.
Steve turned to me. "I didn't know you were bi?" He said.
"I've been dwelling on it for a while. It all sort of fell together," I admitted.
He licked his lips and reached his face toward mine. I smelled his musk, the spice of his after-shave. I felt his breath.
Our lips met.
His thick brush of a mustache touched me, and I shivered. His lips were powerful, thick things, and I felt the tip of his tongue against my lips.
It was my first kiss with a man, and it sealed my fate forever.
I suggested the bedroom lest we fall on our collective asses, and both of them agreed. My wife took the hand of each of us, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, still topless. The crimson lava lamp on the dresser was the only light source. She looked up at us and said, "Guys, you're over dressed."
I grabbed at his shorts, and he grabbed at mine. We laughed at each other as our cocks came free.
Chelsea softly grabbed them both. Tom's cock was about the same length as mine, she stroked them both simultaneously.
He leaned into me more, pulling me into his arms, and we kissed languidly.
I felt her rub our cocks together and then her small, hot mouth with its quivering tongue roll over our collective heads. Chelsea wasn't really that much of a cocksucker; she did it to please me. It felt good though, and she bobbed her head back and forth between us.
Softly, I felt Steve rocking against me, and we kissed deeply. Chel's tongue and mouth went from being inquisitive to hungry and she tried to suck both dicks into her mouth at once.
Steve's tongue felt so good in my mouth. It felt natural, and his chest was wonderful for my hands to feel. I worked my way down and then palmed his prick in my hands. It was like electricity, and I gently stroked him as Chel worked on the tip, sucking greedily.
Steve tipped his head back and started to gasp, grabbing at Chel's head. I watched the sweat glisten on his body and my lips went to one of his nipples, and sucked it hard.
"Hell, yes!" He cried, and fired a gooey load into Chel's mouth. I heard her gulping and choking as her throat fought to take his load. She had to pull away and gasp for air.
"Jesus H. Christ, you're a helluva cocksucker, for a woman!"
We both stared at him.
His knees were buckling and he spun around, sitting next to her, panting.
She looked at me and winked, a tendril of his semen dripping from her lips. I had to admit I felt odd seeing this.
"What do you mean?" Chel piped up.
"Men suck differently than women," he said, catching his wind.
"You're serious," I said, looming in front of him.
Wordlessly he leaned over and stroked me.
My mouth parted as I received his manual pleasure. He then he took the whole six inches into his throat without missing a beat.
"My god," I said. I was being deep throated without a second thought.
Chelsea's mouth opened wide.
My eyes dilated as he started sucking harder, far harder than Chelsea had ever done. His mouth moved back and forth quickly and I felt a hand grab at my ass.
I began panting involuntarily and felt his other hand stroke my testicles. This was by far the best blow job I'd ever had.
I grabbed his head, and fucked it literally, his mustache brushing my pubic hair. Sweat trickled down my balls and my thighs tensed. I bucked, and fired one of the strongest loads I'd ever shot, spraying the back of his mouth. He swallowed every fucking drop. My knees too, went weak, and I sat on the other side of my wife who was watching intently.
"That was incredible!" I squeaked.
He grinned and then nuzzled Chel.
"Why don't you slip out of those cutoffs, Chelsea," he said.
Chelsea did not need to be told twice. As she stood we looked at each other, grinning. She barely got them past her ankles when bodily we tossed her on the bed. Each tongue took one side, and we softly started at her ears, and neck. Working in tandem, like brothers, our hands roamed her beautiful breasts.
She moaned as we softly traced down, mouths returning to each teat. Our kisses were tender, and soft. It was like a switch, going from his body, to hers. I knew I had to be softer with her, than with him, and we flicked her nipples hungrily with wanton tongues.
I felt his hand work with mine down her tummy and then to the bareness that was her pubis, she had shaved herself bald between last night and today. Somehow, she knew it would turn me on, and wanted to surprise me.
I watched Tom hungrily suck on her nipple and felt his fingers work with mine, dilating her tightness, moving as one unit, back and forth into the depths of her wetness.
Long, loving, gentle caresses, fingers and thumbs stroking her clit and inner folds proved to be too much, and she started panting like a dog in heat.
We worked her faster and faster, and her body rocked against the hands, our mouths sucking hungrily her wonderful nipples.
Her butt arched into our fingers and she squealed louder than either of us had as her climax came, flooding our fingers with the wine of her nether regions.
She gasped and cuddled us both, each under the arm.
I slept well that night. The first time in a,very long time.
Originally published September 2007 - "Sugar & Spice"