DINO

Mist forms heavy droplets on her curves. I skim through them with the pads of my fingers. One hand, tracing an outline of femininity and seduction. Irresistible. I lick them with the side of my tongue. One taste bud, reaching for the memory that eludes my efforts to stay in the here and now.

Perhaps that last toke was best left for later.

Her eyes crystallize through the vapor rising from the hot tub. Her pupils are preternaturally dark and wide, as if she registers surprise regarding the fog that softens the wilderness of the hills that surround us. But then she chuckles, deep and sure. I want to rut. I want her to want to rut. I want to be the one who makes her abandon any shred of doubt. I want her to be in the here and now. I want her to keep me with her.

Over her shoulder, I now watch Terry. He's trying so hard to be unbreakable. The moment his eyes meet mine, the truth of the confusion he conveys goads me.

I reach for her steadfastly attentive nipple; my lips caress it until she moans. And then, "Let's take this inside. Puckered nipples aside, and they are glorious, I prefer to frolic in the luxury of central heat ... and I need another scotch."

She enjoys that I guide her from the hot tub. Thorne says something to me about shrinkage and my ass. I just smirk at him. You can't show weakness in front of another man. That's his biggest folly; he's never afraid to show me where it hurts.

Karina whispers in my ear, husky and full of the effort to throw me off the track. We're inside now, standing before the stack of thick towels I placed near the fireplace before they even arrived. I have her wrapped inside one, rubbing her skin until it nearly glows. She says, "I've never seen a tattoo there before. Got to be a story behind it."

"Behind is right. As in, it's all behind me, lovely girl. Let's just say every man likes to have his mysteries. Promise me you'll try very hard to torture the truth out of me about it?"

Her voice is a vice. Her fingers drag down my chest. "Torture? Oh, I can see you're just full of naughty surprises."

"And I can see you're full of adorably perverse anticipation."

Sad old truth. I swear.

"Who taught you to talk like that?"

Elizabeth's giggle pings off the deep teal of the wall behind me. "And who put those ideas in your head, Dino?"

"Some of us, beautiful, are born to teach the rest of you how to deal with those joneses you think no one will ever understand."

"Red, just get on with it." Thorne leans against the doorway, his eyes focused on the hand that holds a pill he's trying to make a decision about. "Wait, let me get comfortable. Ladies, it appears a master class may be in the offing if we are very good children."

Karina's hand touches my ankle, strokes over my calf. I look down to find her grin is lopsided and her eyes are bright. "How about this one?"

"Ah. A natural talent for torture, I see." 

Her eyes flit to Elizabeth; Karina holds up the toy in one hand and a blue feather in the other. "Torture or ecstasy. Which is it to be?"

"I wonder," I say, my hand pulling Elizabeth over toward where Terry's gathered pillows into a freeform nest.

"Perhaps it should be Terry we test this on. Just to learn how it works?" Elizabeth says this as if waiting for Thorne to back down from a challenge.

I glance at Karina, wanting to see what this idea does for her. Her eyes stay focused inside my special cabinet for another moment before slyly looking our way. The others may not catch it, but the idea of singling Terry out to play with has a special impact on Karina. I can almost see the way her pulse romps; I don't miss how she tries to hide this.

So I go to her, kiss her neck, nuzzle into her as I turn her, whispering nasty nothings into her ear. I'm leading her in an erotic dance toward the others, insisting she own this moment just as much as I'm going to make Thorne own his when the time comes. He's going to try his damndest to hide inside himself.

Miles and miles of open road. I could dance down ever one of them and never feel one bit of shame.

Elizabeth takes the feather from Karina's hand. Thorne says, "You come near me with that..."

"Oh, the big bad man is afraid of a wee little feather?" She's sitting on his ankles. His hands are locked behind his head as he reclines on pillows. "Your cock says otherwise."

"Maybe he's ticklish." Now Karina sinks down next to Elizabeth. They raise their eyebrows at each other at Terry's deep groan as Karina shows him the toy she's chosen. "Dino, the handcuffs, if you please."

The thing is, when I wield handcuffs, they go where I want them.

And the master class begins...

I'm tending the fireplace, stoking it back to attention. Karina says I look like a pagan fertility god, the way my balls hang down between my legs as I bend over. Elizabeth says to her how it still amazes her men can walk around with their equipment getting in the way like that.

Terry's half-closed eyes are aimed at the ceiling. I doubt he gets quite as much out of looking at naked men as the ladies do.

Now I nestle into the limbs, softness and harder planes.

Someone's hand traces my hairline down from my navel. The lights from the fire spark across my closed eyelids. 

Even in the midst of intimate contact, I miss intimacy. Gen's laughter comes from nowhere except the haze of my brain. I don't think I ever once told her about the green Mustang that was the site of my aborted first attempt at real sex. If I had, she would have bought me a green Matchbox Mustang, and you know she would have fucked me senseless after I opened it, laughing at the most inappropriate moment and telling me she wished she'd been there to see it.

I wish you'd never died.

I wish it every day.

"Are you dreaming good thoughts, Dino?" Elizabeth whispers to me, her lips moving slowly against my ear. "You're smiling."

"I'm dreaming of you, honey, and what I'm gonna do with that purple tickler as soon as I rest up a bit."

The room that will become my library is now nothing but canvas draped over furniture and along the hardwood floors. Painters will finish creating the Italian plaster walls next week. For now it's only in Sophie's sketches and in my ambitions.

"What is it you get up to all alone up here in the hills in this big old place?" Thorne opens a box of books he's found under part of the canvas. He runs a finger along the spines pointing up at him. "Beowulf? In the same box with three Nabokovs and I, Robot? Red, you scare me sometimes."

"Mine is an eclectic and highly refined mind." He snorts at my response. "Some of us have inquisitive spirits, unlike those whose extent of literary culture is the latest field manual."

"Speaking of inquisitive spirits..." Karina calls out from the other side of the room, where she's nearly dwarfed by the scaffolding along the wall. "What's behind this little door?"

"What door?" Elizabeth pops up from where she's been cuddled against Thorne's back.

Karina's found a door with no knob and no visible hinges. Once the painters are done with this wall, finding that door's edges will be nearly impossible with the way the plaster's swirls and patterns will disguise it. In the low light of this room, I'm surprised she could see it even now. The two women fuss around the door, knowing there must be a trick to opening it. Thorne and I watch them. The two of us feel the shift in the air.

"Close your eyes," I whisper to the women, standing behind them, my hands on their hips. I feel Terry come into the group; his hands cover their eyes as I lean forward to spring the latch of the secret door.

Taking Elizabeth from his hold, I press a hand over her eyes and walk her into the tight passageway the door hides. Behind us, I hear Thorne whispering into Karina as he softly kicks the door shut behind us. I can't hear what he says, but I catch his tone.

It's pitch black inside. I slip my hand from over Elizabeth's eyes. The woman with me is warm, supple, lithe. And willing to be enchanted now. "Take a guess."

"Dungeon," Elizabeth says. I feel her reach out with her hands to see if she can discover anything worth touching in front of her. When she doesn't, she reaches behind her to find me of definite interest.

"What kind of man do you think I am, honey?"

"The kind who'd have a dungeon, obviously." Karina's voice is partially muffled. I wonder what Thorne's doing to her.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended or pleased." I nip Elizabeth's ear.

"There you are," Karina says.

I feel her hand on my hip. I guess her other hand has found Elizabeth's body. The four of us are so close now. It's so black inside with the door shut. I can't always tell whose hands are on me.

As I hold her, Elizabeth begins to explore Karina. They whisper to each other. In my mind's eyes, I picture their lips together, moving with secret shared words. I slip my hand down between legs, feeling other fingers there first. Out of nowhere, Karina moans. It's loud and guttural. The unmistakable sounds of a woman and a man mating surrounds us. Elizabeth and I feel our way along. I drop to my knees before Karina.

What is it about blindfolds and rooms too dark to see what's happening around you? There's a sense of being out of my body. 

My tongue glides along and explores Karina's slit. One of her hands falls hard atop my head. I imagine her other hand gripping into Elizabeth for support and balance. I'm about anything but balance right now. My tongue goes lower. Thorne hisses when he registers a new touch at the base of his cock. My hands dig into Karina's hips as she moves against me, according to the rhythm Terry's setting. I return to suckle her little pouty clit, tasting the combination of old and new juices. The smell isn't what I'd order up, but it's natural. Something about the scent of sex, this close in, suddenly sharpens my own appetite. I am one for the raunchy in the right setting. Still, I prefer the more elegant experiences but that's also why I prefer being more in control of the circumstances.

My wine cellar's christening isn't very graceful. It is what it is.

Water droplets along his skin put his edges in sharp relief. He scowls in his sleep. If I touched her right this moment, I think he'd rise up from there and do something about it.

So I slip her forefinger into my mouth. My tongue wraps around it, suckling. Her eyes open. It takes her a moment to fully remember where she is. The only good light is the newly stoked fire. It turns the glint in her eyes into splintered rays as they latch on to mine. This is when I release her finger.

He doesn't wake.

She flicks her damp finger down my jaw before settling in against him and Elizabeth a bit more. 

I'd like to sleep again. It seems obscene to be awake at this moment. I can barely think, I'm so tired and sore. Yet some internal recorder won't shut down enough for me to lose awareness.

Looking around, I imagine this room in a few months. I see it settled in, established, used, experienced. The only items I know I came here with will be placed innocuously here and there, no tribute to their importance necessary for me.

Will Gen's picture be here, too? If so, it will be placed more carefully for all it appears to simply be yet another family picture. I had it restored a few years ago. Impressive what computer programs can do with an old, cracked snapshot that'd been in my wallet. It's all I have left of her other than memories. It's all of her I could bring with me to this world. What a waste.

She'd hate my need for this sanctuary. She's bust my chops for needing it. And I'd tell her the truth. That in this world, I've got to have a place to ground me, a place I can dream about on bad nights half a world away.

I wonder if she'd ever imagined what she'd mean to me.

She'd accuse me of burying my mind in the past. She's say this place won't bring me back to anything I valued. She'd laugh at my pitiful attempts to find peace.

I'd remind her that peace is only possible with a full frontal lobotomy.

That would make her laugh. Her eyes would open wide and then the lines around them would deepen. Her laugh would be from the gut. It'd make me smile.

What would you say to me, Gen, if I asked what I'm doing here in this place I'm not from? Would you at least let me have one moment to be afraid? I know, I know, honey. You'd hold me and say it's okay to be afraid but that I can't let fear control me. Ever.

The jumble of body parts around me moves quite distinctly. I look over to find Thorne rising from our midst. Our eyes meet. I grin at him. He shakes his head, coughs, pats his chest for his cigarette pack.

He moves a leg that's between his thighs and an arm around his knee. Then he's on his feet, stretching. His hair's so rumpled it amuses me. Thorne and his orderly hair. How many times have I caused him so much trouble with no purpose but to get that hair totally messed up?

His eyes glide over the two women. There's still confusion in those eyes. Maybe there's more than there was last night.

He heads for the bathroom.

A short while later, he comes in the kitchen, dressed already, to find me pouring four glasses of orange juice.

He drinks one down, a drowning man. Then leaves without a word.

I stand at the window, staring out into the thick fingers of fog that hold tight to my sanctuary-to-be in the early morning of Big Sur. 

ELIZABETH

I'd feel better about this if I could say that it was all for Karina.  

She has been so restless as of late... though her people were nomadic so maybe it's just in her blood.  I'm reaching, I know.  I'd be a better friend and lover if I was doing this just for her, but I'm not that altruistic.  Even a self-respecting lesbian can't fight biology.  Sometimes a girl just needs a real flesh-and-blood cock, and no amount of silicone, however realistic, will get the job done.

And quite frankly, when I do encounter the real thing, I prefer them to be attached to tall lean men with a sharp intellect, rapier wit and a taste for the sexually deviant.  In this case, the red hair and blue eyes were an unexpected bonus.  Karina knows my tastes... and I know hers.  Much as I was looking forward to the erotic evening Dino had proposed, it was my duty to be sure the friend he wanted to bring to the party would come up to scratch.  I couldn't very well saddle Karina with a pencil-dicked Gollum.  I might be a selfish bitch when it comes to pleasure, but even I'm not that cruel.  Besides, Karina would murder me, dispose of the body and then keep all my shoes.  A singularly frightening prospect.     

So I did what any good girlfriend would do in that situation; inquired about the man - and the goods - in question.  I think this 'Terry' will do well enough.  It was hard to concentrate with Dino's mouth on my neck, and harder to hear with his tongue in my ear, but it sure sounded like 'tall dark and brooding with a minor Save the World complex, and if God was truly fair, he'd have a hunchback from carrying around that Jumbo trunk.'

A brief - yet vivid - description that boded well for things to come, if you take my meaning.  If Dino hadn't been comfortable enough with his friend to answer my pointed questions, then they definitely weren't uninhibited enough to make his indecent proposal worthwhile.  I wasn't about to sign either of us up to perform for two homophobic men.  Not my bag, sorry.

I can't speak for Karina - our relationship is casual and open - but I don't sample the other bus often... and when I do, I expect a damn fine ride.  And from the way things seemed to be shaping up, none of us would walk away disappointed.

I'd feel better about this if I could say that it was all for Karina.  

You see, that's the problem with really good blow - at least for me.  Besides making me crazy horny, it takes my brain for a one way ride on Escher's Mobius strip.  It's a bit like those damned Star Trek episodes that replay the same stupid endless loop of events over and over again.  I despise repetition.  It bores me.  

And yet there I was going over the same ground in my head again and again.  Go figure.  It's probably those last lingering vestiges of Catholic guilt.  Will they never die?  Still, I can't say either of us were disappointed.  Those boys knew their stuff.  And then some.  But I knew Karina wouldn't be disappointed the second I saw Dino's friend saunter up, drink in hand, to where the three of us had already started our little party in Dino's secluded hot tub.   The introductions were made.  Terry Thorne.  God!  What a side of beef he was!  Not my taste, but Karina was going to die when she disengaged from us and clapped her eyes on Mr. Grade A Prime.  It was almost enough to make me forgive his tardiness.  And then he undressed and suddenly I was feeling all kinds of charitable.  Dino hadn't been lying about the Jumbo trunk.

Even better, his friend was charming and witty- and I swear every time he and Dino traded barbs I got even hotter.  I love it when a man knows how to use his tongue.  If nothing else, it whets the appetite to discover what else their clever tongues can do well.  They were each holding their own - and holding their own, if you catch my drift.  Though to be fair, there was certainly no shortage of empty hands.  With the touch of powder in my system, my skin was alive and crawling with pleasure.  It was like playing who has the sausage in a giant tub of fizzy champagne.  The bubbles were divine and then I got a lesson in what those powerful jets could do for a girl in the arms of the right man- or men, as the case may be.  Dino may have suffered permanent hearing loss as a result.  Terry called me a true siren of the deep.  I think he was only half joking.  Dino made reply that I am assuming was just as wry.  I wouldn't know.  With the right cocktail in her, Karina has a voice that can shatter glass, never mind her lover's eardrums.... 

So where was I again?  Ah, yes.   I do love a man who thinks.  In my experience, clever men are also the best in bed.  And it appears they've cornered the market on foreplay in the hot tub as well...  

I'd feel better about this if I could say that it was all for Karina.

Though watching Karina work over those two delicious men was certainly helping ease my conscience.  She looks so sexy with a cock in her hand.  Two is even better.  Double the pleasure - theirs and ours.  Talk about a win-win situation. 

I'm not exactly sure when we made our way inside.  It was some time after the temperature outside dropped to the point where exposing your goodies for a bit of attention also meant risking frostbite.  It was a real conundrum there for a while, though.  Who knew a man's teeth could chatter while he was simultaneously groaning in the deep pleasure of a woman's lingual embrace?  Or that a man's mouth could feel so hot on a nipple pebbled tight with cold?  But eventually it got to the point where it wasn't worth the effort anymore.  Well, that and we were all ready to see and taste and touch more of each other.  All that lovely warm water was hiding far too much.  Besides we were all after a good hard fuck and a hot tub, however decadent, only offers so much leverage....

So in we came, giggling and groping our way to where we sank into the soft, deep pile before the fire.  The room was dark and warm.  There was a thick sheepskin rug beneath us and pillows strewn around but not much else.  Our host made apologies for the unfinished state of his home.  Like we cared?  There were four of us in a tangle of arms and legs and wet dripping bodies.  There was more room to maneuver on the floor than on furniture.  We had a good laugh at the heavy dangle of Dino's balls as he bent to feed the fire.  Men look so funny naked and stooped over, don't they?  How they ever manage those floppy appendages on a day-to-day basis, I will never know.  Thank God I was born a woman!  Still, they do look rather nice from the front, especially when the orange glow of the fire makes all the various shades of reds even redder.  The impressive erection didn't hurt anything either.  Dino looked like some crude pagan fertility idol, all bronze and glowing.  I couldn't resist touching him.  I wasn't the only one.    

All the considerable touching after that sort of blended into one big blur of erotic delights.  I don't think there was anything we didn't try at least once, whether it ended in groans of ecstasy or fits of manic laughter.  I can hardly recall a single specific moment, save one.  And the image of it is not only burned into my brain, but exists like this full body memory that evokes the whole experience of sight, taste, touch, scent, and sound the instant I close my eyes.

I distinctly remember the strange blend of anticipation and shyness as Terry pulled my back against his chest and reclined into the pillows while the others looked on from where they knelt between our legs.  His hands were soft on my breasts and I was all shivery from the feel of his mouth on my neck. 

Mmmm.... wider.  I want to see that pretty pussy, honey.

Hands on my legs.  I'm not sure whose.  Terry's were behind my knees helping me open them.  Someone else's were sliding up my calves.  

Hold her open for us, Terry.

Karina's voice but Terry's touch between my legs, a thumb for my pleasure and his other fingers spreading the wetness and the slick folds for theirs.  Two mouths came next and then Terry's voice in my ear as I twisted and writhed on a pair of tongues.

Softly.  Softly.

I could barely breathe when their touch left me and I sank back into Terry's welcome strength.  He felt safe and yet his sure touch was also thrilling.  He was as much a part of what was happening as the other two.  I opened my eyes to see Dino kneeling between my spread thighs.  Karina was kneeling behind him pressed against his back, her hand wrapped around his cock, jerking it lightly as she looked at me spread wide on the altar of Terry's thick body.

Oh, God.....

She teased us all first, masturbating me with the tip of Dino's pretty cock.  I think we all groaned.  And then she made it worse, torturing us, dipping the head just inside only to pull it out again and continue the manual massage.  Back and forth, barely flitting in and out, rubbing and stroking again and again until we were one throbbing sensitized nerve with a single focus.  In.  IN.  IN!

Hhhhhooo...Fffffsssssss...... 

Me. 

Enough playing!  You're killin' me here, sweetheart.... 

Dino.

Jesus.  Just fuck her already!

Terry.

I knew I liked him for a reason.

And then it happened all at once.  Karina leaned in hard.  Dino slid in hard.  Terry rolled his hips under us all, forcing the connection deeper while Karina kissed me over Dino's shoulder.  It was like being fucked by all of them.  God!  How many times had I wished Karina had a real cock?  Now it felt like she did.... only better. 

Though to be fair, I liked Dino's driving rhythm better when she slipped away and gave him his head.  But by the way Terry started groaning and juddering under me, Karina and her talented mouth hadn't slipped far....

Who could say what exactly happened after that?  It was a long night of heaving bodies, orgasmic cries, gushing fluids and shuddering sighs that culminated in a tangle of humanity passed out in front of the fire, like the aftermath of one of Bacchus' famous feasts.  And if the way my body felt in the morning was any indication, I had deeply partaken of all the fleshly delights on offer last night.  Oh, what a glorious evening!

I'd feel better about this if I could say that it was all for Karina.

Especially now that the stars are beginning to fade and the fog has started to clear from my mind.  It's not that I feel guilty.  Well, okay, maybe a little.  There is always that part of a woman that can't help but feel like a slut after such a night, even if she went into it with her eyes and mind wide open... and even if she'd do it again in a New York minute if given the chance.  It was an incredible experience, one made even better because I shared it with her.

Only now that I've satisfied that biological craving driving me, my mind keeps going back to Karina and the fact that she seemed more into it than I imagined she would be, given how hard I had to sell her on it to begin with.  Not that I didn't expect her to enjoy herself.  She can be delightfully free and uninhibited once she makes up that stubborn mind of hers to just let go.  It's not even that I'm jealous so much as surprised at how into the men she was.  I guess I really am a lesbian at heart. 

Or maybe it's just that I can't yet admit to myself it wasn't the men that she seemed interested in.  It was Terry.  Specifically.  She definitely tried to hide it, but I saw her.  Felt her.  I watched her with him- and with us.  When she was with us, she was with all of us.  But when she was with him, there was this part of her that made me feel like she was keeping something back for him and him alone, even though we were just as much a part of the sex act as he was.  More worrisome still was how careful she seemed to be to go out of her way to include us all equally.  She wouldn't have done that unless she was consciously thinking about it instead of just going with the flow like the rest of us seemed to be doing.  Pretty odd behavior for someone who keeps insisting she's sworn off men for the foreseeable future.   

I suppose I could be reading more into it all than there really is.  We're not exclusive and Karina is the last person I know who's in the market for a man.  It's just a feeling.  Call it intuition.  Whatever.  Maybe it's just my old Catholic guilt spilling over onto her too.  Maybe.  But I wouldn't put money on it. 

My own insecurities side, I can't wait until I can debrief her over espresso and biscotti after we leave.  This was a night that definitely deserves to be dissected, rehashed and relived..... There are points to debate and ribbons to be awarded for size, stamina, creativity and all around performance.  And somehow, I don't quite imagine we will agree....

KARINA

All cats are black in the dark.  Isn't that what they say?  They also say that in darkness, truth hides.  I don't believe that one either.  I've always found darkness to be more revealing than even the brightest light.  Maybe that's because people stop hiding when they think others can no longer see them, or maybe it's because that rich blackness forces us to use our other senses to find those hidden truths.

That was what this little party was supposed to be about- for me, at least.  Liz, as usual, had her own agenda... and as usual, I used it to my own advantage.  Recently there was something - or rather someone - who had left such a singular mark on me that I couldn't help but to want to blunt his memory for the sake of my own sanity.  I wanted a night to lose myself in sensation and it was going to take a pretty tall order of eroticism to even begin to blur the edges. 

A naughty weekend getaway was just what the doctor ordered.  If it feels good- do it.  If it looks erotic- watch it.  If it sounds good- listen.  If it tempts you- taste it... try it.  Everything you want... and even some things you don't.  You can't have it both ways.  Not in reality.  There are so many more levels to sex when multiple partners are involved.  It's like the difference between chess and 3-D chess.  Sometimes simplicity is what you want.  Sometimes you want the mindbend.  I like it.  Not so much for the physical mechanics involved, but for the cerebral flip that comes along with it.     

I don't mean that silly sort of sex masquerading as a foursome where two exclusive couples trade partners half way though.  That's consensual voyeurism for the mutual satisfaction of all parties involved.  And I don't mean where one person satisfies multiple male partners with any and every available hole.  That's several individuals having simultaneous yet singular sexual experiences while someone else acts as a semen receptacle.  The males may as well be masturbating and the receptacle may as well just be rolling around with two or three dildos for all intents and purposes.  The end result is the same....unless degradation and humiliation are also the desired result- and though I have plenty of kinks, that is not one of them. 

I am talking about the real thing.  Mutual involvement.  A buy-in on a mental level.  Equal involvement, a flow of give and take between all parties involved.  Balance.  Cooperation.  Sensuality.  Freedom.  How can it be a real or cohesive experience if half the parties are so homophobic they go out of their way to avoid even the most innocuous of touches?  And on a simpler and more personal note- where is the fun in that?

There is something about a true group dynamic that changes things.  A touch between two lovers is just that- a touch.  But in a group?  Is it just a touch when others witness it?  Or when someone else is directing it?  Or if it is executed purely for the pleasure of a third or fourth party?  And what about arousal?  It becomes something more when it is shared.  One touch can inflame the whole group, for different reasons, in different ways, and can be savored with so many different senses.  I wanted that absolution.  Freedom- not from guilt or shame, but from a memory.  And I was selfish enough to let Liz think she had twisted my arm to get me to agree to participate.  You see, Liz likes to be the naughty one.  Or at least she likes that perception.  She would be shocked if she knew how deep the darkness in me truly ran.

As it turned out, I was right.  Not all cats are black in the dark.  One was red.  One was blonde.  One was brunette.  And one was Terry fucking Thorne.  Of all the hot tubs in all the world....  Pardon.  Ecstasy makes all the blood rush from my brain to my vagina.

So.  Options?  

Run?  No.  Too obvious.

Confess?  Not likely.  That was not a truth I wanted to explore, darkness or not.

Lie?  It's not like I wasn't familiar with bending the facts to fit a particular situation...

But as it turns out, I went with secret option four.  

Terry Thorne terrified me and the best way to kill any possible burgeoning attraction between us was simple.  Put my best game face on and have the most sensual, raunchiest sex with his best friend and a woman while he watched.  Better still, enjoy myself with them while he watched and was aroused by it.  There is no way back from that transgression.  I know men like him too well.  They like a bit of dirty on the side, but would never consider anything serious with a woman who was so.... free.... with his best friend.  

And I do mean free.  Despite my rather traditional upbringing (and in the face of my father's best attempts to the contrary), I don't have any hang-ups about sex.  Just about intimacy.  Bodies, both male and female, are beautiful and it should be a crime not to revel in the pleasures they can bring us when the time, the place, and the people involved are right.  Nobody is young forever.  At the end of the ride, I would rather regret the things I have done than the things I haven't.  And tonight the list of the things I have done was about to grow by three. 

For some women such an experience is all about their sense of vulnerability, of being dominated by two virile rutting males and being the object of their singular desire.  Some women, like Liz, get off on the illicitness of the encounter itself.  For me, it's about creating and savoring a sensual adventure that would be impossible to build or experience without the others.

Still, I can't help but wonder if we are both black cats to them?  Do they compare and contrast us the way we can't help but do to them?  Smoother.  Rougher.  Thicker.  Thinner.  Longer.  Heavier.  Saltier.  The list of adjectives goes on and on...

Obvious physical differences aside, (I am taller, my breasts are smaller and my hair is longer) what differences can they not help but notice between us?  If they closed their eyes, could they tell us apart by taste?  By touch?  By our reactions?  By the way we touch them?  By the liberties we allow them with our bodies?  By the tightness and depth of our cunts?  By the way we give head?  By our skill at making them come?

I confess it is a game that enthralls me in all arenas.  In the dark, I can't always tell which one of them is touching me.  Kisses are a bit easier.  Terry's lips are fuller.  Dino's are softer.  Liz's are wetter.  I can tell when they fuck me, though.  Liz is Liz.  She always touches me on the thigh first like a doctor's warning before they go and stick something up you.  Dino's inward slide is ridiculously smooth.  Terry's got more drag due to that delicious bit of surplus skin that creates such erotic friction inside a woman.  He's also far less.... 'cautious' would be putting it mildly.  One might also substitute impolite or rough.  If pressed, I might even suggest feral.  I'm not sure how I feel about that.  Physically it feels good.  Mentally it feels like war.... and this is one case that I can't afford to lose.

I like it best in those rare moments when everyone's sensuality seems to coalesce at a singular point in time, when all walls are down and we are simply easy enjoying each other openly without fear or hesitation.  Isn't that a true state of Grace?  I like the quiet conversation in such moments, too.  Not the 'Fuck her harder, you bastard!' sort of stuff you hear in bad porn, but the real dialogue that happens in that lazy tangle of arms and legs.  Which isn't to say some variant of those words was never uttered, just that I prefer the inane yet more revealing comments that come before.

(Yes, I can.  I discovered I could do it in college.  I'm double jointed.  No, really....)

(So you never knew you liked that, honey?  You've got an adorable wiggle and an even cuter backside.  Let's just see if we can get you to do that again, shall we?  Come on, man.  You have got to feel this....)

(What?  No!  Oooohhhhh.  That tickles!)

(Wow.  That really turns you on.  Look at the way he's dripping.  I agree.  It does look hot.  Don't worry.  I'm sure he'll share...)

(You don't work out?  How can you have tone like that and not work out?  I hate you...) 

(Of course I bloody like it.  What man doesn't?  Do it again, baby, and let's see if you can really get a rise out of me...)  

(I love all that stuff.  Freckles.  Moles.  Birthmarks.  Tattoos..... I have one... want to see?)

(Can you feel both of us inside you?  In a minute, he's going to start moving.  You'll like it.  Trust me.....)

(Mmm....You smell like coconuts...Great!  Now I'm hungry....)

We were all recovering from the first round of orgasms.  There is a lot of room for play when the initial jitters are over and the threshold for how much pleasure one can stand before they snap is so much higher than before.  That's when the real fun begins. 

The men were sprawled out side by side on their backs like lazy lions.  I liked how they weren't afraid to let their legs touch, though I'm not certain they noticed as Liz and I were doing our best to try to make them roar.  Liz was astride Dino's thighs.  I was sitting on Terry.  We were just teasing at first, switching our caresses between the two of them.  Her hands and my mouth on one of them and then my hands and her mouth on the other so that neither of them could anticipate what or who we were going to do next.  We jerked them, egging them on.  Trying to get them to rub themselves together.  Not that our teasing did any good.  They did exactly what they wanted to do.  Men like them never really give up control.

But I think it got to them.  It sure as hell got to us.  Liz stopped and there was this one intimate moment when the world sort of slowed as she wiped the clear fluid dripping from Dino's prick across my lower lip with her thumb.  And then she kissed me while they both watched.  And then we kissed Terry.  Together.  Could he taste his friend?  That wasn't the reason we kissed him.  Well, it wasn't the reason I kissed him, but I can't be sure about Liz.  She has an uncanny way of ramping up a situation without ever realizing what's really going on.  All our eyes met after, flicking back and forth.  Arousal.  Amusement.  Annoyance.  Assurance.  Aggression.    

One moment we were teetering on the edge.  The next we had slipped cleanly over and lost ourselves in a sensuous sea of carnal excess.  I felt Liz's touch between my legs and blushed as I watched her trail her wet fingers over Terry's open lips.  His eyes were holding mine as he sucked her fingers but he put his hand on Liz's neck and guided her lips down to his friend's crotch.  Did he want to watch Liz give him head?  Or did he just want to keep me from taking her place? 

Did it really matter at that point?  Dino was groaning.  I think Liz was making the most of the old finger trick.  I wanted to watch but Terry's hand was on my neck now, guiding me down to taste myself on his lips and tongue.  I could feel Dino's hand slipping down past the small of my back where it gripped a round handful of flesh and squeezed.  Hard.

Before I knew it, we were riding them with breathless abandon.  I'm not sure exactly how it happened.  They were below.   We were above.  It was one heaving, writhing tangle of humanity as flesh rubbed and muscles strained.  I came on Terry's prick with Dino's hand between my legs.  Liz was rocking and convulsing on Dino while Terry did wicked things to her anus with his thumb.  Nobody closed their eyes.  It was as close to perfect group sex as I'd ever come.... and yet no matter how hard I'd tried to sever it, I could still feel the tenuous threads of our primal connection pulsing between Terry and I... even when he wasn't looking at me with lust and rage. 

I felt it even when I slipped off him and curled into Dino's side, helping Liz to disengage and caressing the soft spent prick that slipped from her swollen wet vulva.  It was disorienting to have my every sense so totally full of them and to be so painfully aware of him.

Is it too late to request a recess?       

He bit me, you know.  Terry did.  While we were in the dark in Dino's little room of secrets.  The others don't know.  It hurt.... and yet it was wildly erotic.  We were standing.  He was taking me from behind.  Dino was kneeling in front of us doing devilish things with his tongue when that latent violence in Terry just seemed to boil up as we all got closer.  That's when I felt his teeth, a strong sharp bite on the back of my neck.  I whimpered in pain but it made me come.  I'm not sure why.  I'm not sure I even want to know. 

Why did he do it?  To punish me for my transgressions with his friend?  To hurt me because I didn't live up to what he wanted?  To mark me because he was feeling territorial?  You know, for someone used to knowing all the answers before I ask the questions, I left there still in the dark about all the things that really matter.

TERRY

The drive up to Dino's place always affords me some space for self- examination. It may be something to do with the quiet up there, the untouched beauty of the scenery, and that sense of sloughing off my outer skin and getting in touch with my inner self that this journey always brings to me. Or maybe it's because I'm usually up there for the purpose of misbehaving and my Catholic guilt is already kicking in.

Every time he ropes me in for one of his little soirees, I swear on leaving that it will be my last. Not that I ever fail to indulge liberally of all these occasions have to offer. Very much the opposite. But what seemed like a good idea in the throes of passion usually makes one cringe in the cold sobriety of the next day. My problem is, however, I'm a sucker for misbehaviour, and that's the truth. I possess a gene for sexual experiment that is quite as well-developed as anything O'Leary possesses, for all my feigned disapproval - and I always have.

Of course I do. I'm a man. We're all rather smutty little boys at heart. Every last one of us.

What kept me occupied this time, however, was trying to clear my mind of the lingering baggage from my real life. Baggage. A bad choice of words, I agree, to describe women with whom I have shared some time - but you know something? A guy can be as sexist as he likes in his own head. And invariably is.

This week had been a particularly raw one for me: Sophie, Uma and Grace all offering me their own particular challenges: three different women who all deserved better from me in their own ways. It has to be a record. The White Knight lets down not one damsel in distress - but three, in a matter of days.

Man, did I need some oblivion tonight. I intended to let my hair down so far that I couldn't use my brain cells for at least a week.  It might just give them a rest cure.

As I pulled into his driveway, still cluttered with various vehicles and supplies left by the builders, I noticed the cars lined up. A couple were from Dino's collection of expensive toys but one had to belong to the women. Or to one of them. It was a neat little BMW sports car, ice blue, top down: classy, European - and definitely the sort of plaything for a woman of some discernment.

One of the ladies inside was already appealing to me. Maybe O'Leary had broken a habit of a lifetime and actually rounded up some playmates with more than single brain cells each? You never know.  Not that I had ever complained in the past about the lack of challenging conversation in his hot tub. My mouth was usually occupied most of the time - or engaged in heavy orgasmic groaning. It isn't particular conducive to intelligent debate.

That thought fired me up. I ripped off my tie, surged through the unlocked front door, helped myself to a malt en route- and made my way to the inner sanctum.

There was an eerie feel about the place, swathed as it was in dust sheets, smelling of fresh paint and chemical cleaners, my footfalls ringing loudly on bare floorboards and marble surfaces.  A distant laughter led me to my destination. At the door I stopped, stiffened my resolve (my genitals could take care of themselves), stuck my chin out, put a breezy smile on my face - and sauntered in as if I regularly stripped naked before an audience that included my best mate.

Let the show begin, Terry. There's only one way to approach a situation like this- with a giant-sized set of cojones. Which fortunately I possess....

I hid behind Lizzy. 

Not that I thought for a moment that Felicity/Karina/the lawyer woman, whatever she was called, hadn't pegged me even before I dropped my shorts. But to save face, I had to conceal it - and Lizzy gave me the opportunity to do just that. Lizzy's a beautiful girl. Not that I would probably recognise her now if I saw her on the street again - which is unusual for me - but I knew she was beautiful. She had everything on the tick list for desire - and then some. It was just that I couldn't really see anything but Karina.

She wasn't really my type anyway.  Lizzy, I mean. Well, she was female. Some might say that's all it really took, but I do have a blueprint somewhere in my head. Long-haired, slender, small-breasted women, sinuous and leggy. Lizzy was voluptuous, solid - and from the way she gave head, I imagine she would make a great brass player. That won me over. She also holds a man's dick like she wouldn't bother to wash her hands afterwards. I like that in a woman. Her swollen lips painted in my come were an added bonus.

I'd moved on from malt. The champagne was flowing but there was also an array of other substances, 'whatever you desire', as the man once said. The girls were snorting coke and ingesting ecstasy; Dino had tossed a few tabs. I lit up a joint. I wanted oblivion but I'm not comfortable with the loss of lucidity. A softening round the edges is more my drug of choice, a blurring of the inhibitions that bedevil. The buzz hit my brain; the charge hardened my cock.

I remember dropping my head back and catching Karina's eye. I ran my thumb over Lizzy' lips and sucked. Karina fixed me in her cool gaze - and kissed her friend lewdly, noisily feasting on the remnants of my recent ejaculation. It felt like a gauntlet had just been thrown down.

They always make out it's a man's fantasy: two women making out and then working him into the mix somewhere. You know what? I guess it is. I've never had sex with any woman I cared about and not imagined at some point watching her suck pussy for me. Until that night. I don't know what was wrong with me. But Karina's interest in Lizzy just made me angry. I wanted to push in between, prove something to her. Prove what? That I could do what Lizzy was doing? Like it was nuclear physics or something?

Christ, I don't much like what she's doing to my head.

Dino gave us all one of his master class performances. I'd die before I admitted this to a bloke, but it's impossible to take your eyes away from another man's hard-on, especially when it's glistening and ramming in and out of the woman you're holding down. Something to do with latent homosexuality or active competitiveness? Take your pick. Probably a bit of both.

Well, I wasn't exactly holding Lizzy down, but I was using enough force that she couldn't have closed her legs and kept him out if her life depended on it. It's disturbing when you think back. There are so many elements of rape in that sort of gig - except it isn't rape. The women were egging us on, Karina was assisting. It was consensual. But Dino and I were using our strength and all of us were responding to the vulnerability of one naked exposed woman. It's not a pleasant trait in any of us.

She was tonguing me before I even realised that Karina had slipped down beneath the rutting couple and now had me in her focus. That's when the lights went out. I don't know exactly what happened next until I realised we were putting on our own live show while Dino and Lizzy watched, slumped exhausted on top of each other.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. Karina. It was like a cobra and a mongoose. Our bodies were doing things only lovers have the right to do while our heads were sparring in some bizarre sexual battle. Every time she made me feel good, I turned the tables and pushed her harder, expecting her to relent, call mercy, raise her hand and say 'enough!' But she didn't. The opposite. She whispered things that had no place in that sordid setting.

So I fucked her harder still.

This is not how I treat women. Except it is. It is how I treated her this time - and back in that hotel room, too. I took her as I wanted her on both occasions - and it felt real. I didn't give her the Terry Thorne Experience, the one I roll out for other women, the show guaranteed to take their breath away and have them cheering me on.

Who am I? What do I really want? 

Or is it more a case of what do I really need?

I don't need Karina Mareva, that's for sure. Compared to her, Uma would be like Snow White. Actually Uma always was. Pure and innocent to me. If you forget the manner of our break-up - which I never do - then every moment with her was an idyll of conventional romance. I was gentle with her and she adored me. Well, she did in my head. What was going on in hers must have been something else entirely.

A thought struck me as we four lay there in the dancing candlelight, awake and satiated, bacchanalian in our interwoven naked limbs and body parts, way past any semblance of modesty.

What exactly made me want a romantic idyll with a woman anyway? 

What if Karina was showing me that something very different was now rocking my boat?

Yet, I still wished to be the man I used to be. With the added knowledge that I now possess. Something about women always letting you down in the end. Then I might just be whole again.

...If she kisses that woman's breast again, I'll walk out. It makes me feel nauseous. I don't want to watch but I can't stop myself. It's like a train wreck.

No, not nauseous. It makes me feel violent.  I want to hurt someone.

Whew! Where did that come from?

Dino, say something funny. Before I disgrace myself...

He didn't. Instead he seemed to find his second wind. This time, he was after Karina. I was vaguely aware of Lizzy moving in on me, her hands working to get my interest going again. I say vaguely, because I could not take my eyes off the other two. He was touching her. He was touching Karina. The latent violence I had felt when we had fucked rose up inside me, roaring like an angry beast. I wanted to drag him off her, hit him hard, pull her away, take her for myself...

I thrust Lizzy from me, rougher than I intended; she fell back onto the writhing couple, but they barely seemed to notice. Mumbling something about having to leave, I staggered to where I had dropped my pants, thrust them on, shoved my arms through my shirt, picked up my jacket, sat down heavily to put on my shoes - but my eyes were still fixed on the scene inside, where Lizzy had given up on me and joined the others in a sinuous troilism of flesh.

Nobody asked me why I was leaving, where I was going, whether I was all right. I doubt if they even cared. Dino would put it down to Terry having one of his moody turns, Lizzy was more interested in her friend than me, anyway - and Dino had a dick if the two of them got bored. Karina? I presume she was making a point. The show was going to go on with or without me.

I had to get out. Christ, if I hadn't, I swear I would have hit someone, or broken a few of the expensive objets d'art. I was still only half dressed as I hit the front of the house, almost jogging to the welcome refuge of my car - and escape.

I saw the sporty little Beamer. It belonged to Karina. Of that I had no doubt. I'm still not quite sure why I did it.  Something about having to have the last word, even if no one inside was listening.

I pulled out my business card and a pen, scrawled a comment on the back and tucked it behind the wiper. It read:

'In the unlikely circumstance that you get out before spring...Call me...'