Lust

He’s an interesting kind of guy, my lover. He’s small, barely five foot five, and not exactly what you’d call beautiful. But my friend Dag describes him well: “Rob smells like sex,” she says. And he does. There’s a certain something that just radiates from him, an air of intellectual intensity, a sense of style, the way his frown frames his piercing blue eyes from under his long hair. When he shakes your hand, he touches your skin just a little deeper than most, and when he brushes by you in passing, he leaves invisible trails of inadvertent desire.

Although Rob has never outright mentioned any interest in men, and has quite a fervent appreciation for women, I can’t help but think of him as somehow queer. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a gender bender, although he might not see himself that way—he actually wears tights when he puts on his kilt and combat boots, and occasionally, the sparkle of a pretty necklace can be seen at his throat. His femininity adds an exciting complexity to his very masculine energy; he’s an unusual blend of spices, a paradox, a binary wrapped up in one person. I like the way he can talk my kind of politics and he understands that just because I am in his bed a couple of nights a week doesn’t mean he has any claim to my body or my identity—something that most of the straight boys I’ve been with tend to forget after a couple of mind-bending orgasms.

So Dag and I were having dinner the other day. She was looking her usual hot self—there’s something about wide shoulders under a crisp shirt, the perfectly sculpted line of a supershort haircut at the nape of a smooth neck, soft skin over the strong lines of a jaw, the hint of wrinkles forming at the corners of an intelligent mouth, the faint cologne, the perfectly worn jeans. Dandy butch, she is, and a beautiful one.

Out of the blue she said to me, “You know, I’m almost thirty years old and I’ve never slept with a man.” She paused, toyed with her fork. I waited. Where was she going with this? “It’s not that I’m doubting myself as a dyke,” she went on, “but sometimes I’d like to know what it’s like, you know?”

Dag got a wistful look on her face. “But I wouldn’t even know where to start. I never really thought of it before, but all my friends are women. Hell, even my car mechanic is a chick. And I can’t cruise a guy—what would we do, talk about hockey? Arm wrestle?”

Saturday night. The dinner was rich, the wine flowed freely, and there was old jazz playing on the stereo. The conversation was full of double entendres and subtle flirtation. There was nothing planned; we were just going to see what would happen.

Dinner was over; we moved to the living room, and brought a bowl of grapes with us. I snuggled into the couch with Rob on my right side and Dag on my left. Dag slipped her arm behind my shoulders; Rob fed me a grape, a burst of sweetness on my tongue. I fed one back, and one to Dag. I put a grape in my mouth, and held another one between two fingers. Something shifted in the air. Rob leaned in to bite the one from between my teeth, and Dag took my fingertips into her mouth, eating the small fruit and running the tip of her tongue over my nails, around the sensitive pads of my fingertips, trailing the edge of her teeth softly over my skin. Her hands rose to hold mine, and she held up each finger in turn, teasing with her teeth. The scent of her shampoo, her clean shirt, her leather boots swirled together with the smell of Rob’s skin, his jeans, the hint of cigarette smoke clinging to him, the wine. I breathed deep and tasted them.

There’s a particular kind of energy that can be created by three people when they have pleasure in mind. Magic swims through the tension between them, breaking boundaries, softening inhibitions. Rob kissed me full on the mouth, the kind of kiss that makes your heartbeat rise into your eardrums and your body quiver. His kiss pushed me slowly backward; I rested against Dag’s shoulder and felt her breath send tingles along my neck. In that moment, the world was reduced to sensations and small sounds, slow movements, skin, hot mouths. Rob kissed me deeper, reaching to support himself with a hand on Dag’s thigh. I felt Dag’s palms warm on my sides as I reached up to touch Rob’s chest, feeling his small, well-formed body under the soft cloth.

The kiss broke off, leaving me breathless. Rob looked up. He and Dag were inches away from one another. I felt a moment of suspense—was she comfortable enough with all this? Rob, ever tuned in to these things, simply waited. I could feel her heart beating fast behind me; I covered her hand with mine and held it, weaving my fingers through hers. She breathed in, reached up and kissed him. She was tentative at first; he followed her lead, their lips just barely touching in exploration. I shifted so that I could watch—my beautiful butch, my sweet boy—two masculinities, worlds apart, figuring out how it might all work between them, tasting one another’s difference.

I saw Rob’s eyes close, his nostrils flare ever so slightly, as Dag pulled him into the kiss, reaching up to bring him closer, her fingers tightening in his hair. I couldn’t turn away; I was riveted. Rob’s hand came up from her thigh and moved slowly, exquisitely, from my hip; up my belly, the hot skin of his palm slipping against the thin nylon of my shirt over my breast. He began to tease my nipple through my shirt, his expert fingers stroking gently, sending waves of excitement through me. I made a sound of pleasure and Dag’s body responded instinctively; she pushed her hips against me as Rob explored her mouth. I felt the seam of her jeans hot against the small of my back, her belt buckle pressing into my spine. I watched her take Rob’s lip between her teeth, worry it, as Rob closed his eyes and let his mouth open slightly. I was so close to them, I could have joined their kiss just by raising my lips, but I let them enjoy it alone for now.

Dag’s hand moved up to my breast, and she started in surprise when she touched Rob’s hand there, breaking off the kiss with a chuckle. The logistics of threesomes are always fascinating to negotiate. I wriggled out of my warm spot between them and stood as Rob leaned in to nuzzle the side of Dag’s neck, the soft skin leading up to her ear. I unbuttoned my shirt partway as she moved to feel his tongue against her neck, and then I straddled Dag’s muscular thigh and held my breast to her mouth. She began to suckle it hungrily, and I ground my crotch into her leg as her talented teeth made my pulse race.

Small flowers of blood bloomed under Dag’s skin as Rob’s mouth worked her throat. I pulled away from her lips and quickly began to undo her shirt. My fingers fumbled in my urgency and Rob took over, gently unhooking each button from its hole. Dag was pinned under the two of us; I ran my fingers through Rob’s long hair, pulling against his scalp as he deliberately undid the last button. Modest about her breasts, Dag wore a simple sports bra to keep them out of her way—she’d once told me that her ties lay much better when her chest was minimized under the men’s shirts she wore. But despite the incongruity of a man’s fingers brushing against her nipples, they were visibly hard through the stretched cotton, and he spread her shirt open to thumb them with both hands. Dag writhed under me, letting out a low groan as I kissed the corners of her mouth and Rob rolled her nipples between his fingertips, ran his nails over them through the stretchy material. The silver of his thumb rings glinted in the low lighting against the square, solid joints of his small hands.

Rob, I realized, had a hard-on straining against his jeans. I moved my attention to him for a moment, sliding down so that I was kneeling on the floor. I ran my finger up the inside of his thigh and he spread his legs; I pressed my knuckles into the bulge at his crotch and rocked my hand back and forth. He raised his hips to meet me, his torso still turned toward Dag and his face now buried in her breasts; he was tonguing one stiff nipple and then the other. With my free hand, I did the same to Dag as I had just done to Rob, and she too spread her legs to let me rub her through her jeans. I got into a rhythm, my hands against the twin spots both pulsing with the heat of their bodies.

Dag cupped her hand under Rob’s chin, bringing him up to attack him in breathless, open-mouthed kisses before she pulled his shirt over his head. She gripped a handful of his hair, and brought his throat toward her, biting and kissing from his face down to his collarbone, then down his chest, smooth with just a small patch of fine hair down the hollow of his sternum. She ran her teeth over the fine links of the thin silver chain around his neck, and began to chew his nipples. He let out a ragged moan, and I felt his cock jump under the denim.

Keeping one hand on Rob’s cock, I started to unbuckle Dag’s jeans with the other as she leaned into Rob, running her short fingernails over the skin of his rib cage while she mercilessly worked at his tender flesh. I quickly realized that their positions would make it almost impossible to get anywhere, so I decided to break the moment.

Rob’s hair was messy and Dag’s face flushed. We hurried to the bedroom, where Dag quickly removed her boots and shucked off the remainder of her shirt. I stripped and hopped onto the bed. I sat against the headboard with my legs spread and motioned for Dag to sit with her back to me. She leaned against me and stretched out her legs; Rob kneeled over her, slipping the end of her belt out of its clasp and popping open the buttons of her fly, one by one. She tensed for a moment—second thoughts? No—maybe—but I could see she didn’t want to stop. I could smell her cologne in the short hairs on the back of her neck, and as Rob gently pulled her jeans and boxer briefs down her thighs and dropped them on the floor with her belt clanking, I whispered in her ear, “Beautiful boy—my boy, he’s going to taste you.”

Rob was kissing up the inside of her ankles, up the smoothness of her calves, rubbing into the tender spot behind her knee. He breathed the scent of her, worked his way up her thighs. His long hair spilled over one of her legs as he bent his head to her center, breathing, warming her still more with his hot mouth, almost touching her but not quite. I kissed the side of her face, smoothed my hands over the soft curves of her wide shoulders, cupped her small breasts. Rob’s hands pressed her thighs further open, the shiny mother-of-pearl and obsidian of the rings on his middle fingers gleaming against her creamy skin. He dipped his face down, tasting her gently, parting her folds with his tongue. She breathed in sharply through her nose and moved up to meet his mouth, letting him dig deeper into her, feeling him lap at her clit, spreading further to let his tongue probe into the parts that had never been penetrated by anything male.

He closed his eyes and feasted, twisting his tongue against her and teasing her until she made high-pitched noises of wanting, then working one finger into her and stroking that soft place inside while his tongue moved quickly against her clit. Dag’s body tensed; she dug her fingers into my calves, into his bent shoulder; she threw her head back, forehead beaded in sweat, and thrust against Rob’s diligent mouth and came, sobbing, a red flush spreading over her breasts. Rob laid his head on her thigh and stroked her belly as she rocked, her face contorted.

Rob raised himself up. He moved to Dag’s face, brushed his nose against her cheek, and ever so politely—though a bit out of breath—asked in her ear, “Dag, can I fuck you?” She looked at him, a bit wild-eyed, and simply said, “Yes.”

He stripped off his jeans, reached into his back pocket for a condom, and tore it open. He knelt in front of her, rolled it onto his swollen cock, and stroked the tip of it against her moist opening. She breathed deeply—not reluctant, but nervous, if I was reading her right. Dag had told me about when she’d lost her virginity with another woman; obviously it had been nothing like this. While I could see a question passing over her face, I could tell she was hungry to feel him inside her. She pushed upward toward him and he slid home easily against the slickness he had left on her with his mouth, coaxed out of her with his tongue. Dag let out a moan.

Rob didn’t waste any time—meeting no resistance he began to fuck her deep and long, pulling almost all the way out before ramming back into her willing cunt again. She met his strokes with her own, and before long they were two bodies pulling and grunting and sweating. I was crushed against the headboard by Dag’s back; all I could do was watch them and crave to be closer somehow. Their nakedness was right in front of me but tantalizingly out of reach.

It was a violent dance, a hard rutting; Dag’s strong hands gripped Rob’s ass and slammed him into her, and Rob clenched his teeth and hammered her as though he were an animal in heat. As Dag began again to moan, she grabbed him by the jaw and started talking. “That’s it, fuck me hard, bitch. I’m telling you to fuck me harder.” Hearing that seemed to crank Rob up another notch. Dag let out a strangled yell and began to convulse against him, and Rob gave two last hard thrusts and choked on a cry of his own, his face twisted in ecstasy as he orgasmed in Dag’s pulsing cunt.

Rob collapsed onto Dag’s chest, his arms trembling, and Dag hooked her ankles around his knees and held him close. The world was still for a moment, just breathing and heartbeats and our dizzy coming down. Then Dag reached up to tenderly stroke the side of Rob’s face. “If you don’t mind,” she said quietly, “I have something to attend to.”

Rob slipped his softening cock out of her and rolled to the side, his chest still heaving. Dag sat up, and I finally took a full breath after being pinned by their weight. Dag turned over onto her stomach and, finally, happily for me, slipped two fingers into me and began to flick her tongue over my long-swollen clit. I was on the edge of a come already, and when Rob opened his eyes, he scooted over to me and slipped one of his own fingers alongside Dag’s palm and gradually into me, then a second one. They moved inside me in tandem, stretching me open. The intensity of the combined penetration, along with Dag’s skilled tongue and the sudden shock of Rob’s thumb pressing into my asshole brought me to an explosive orgasm, waves of heat crashing over my body as the two beautiful boys worked my pleasure.

When I’d stopped coming, Dag pulled me down and wrapped her arms around my waist, holding me close. We could barely move. Rob slid off the bed and trotted out of the room, reappearing a few seconds later with the bowl of grapes. He lay on his side and fed us each the cool, juicy fruits one by one, while Dag brushed her hand back and forth over his shoulder blade. She trailed her finger down his spine, and he shivered, arching up to her touch like a cat being petted. He looked up at her shyly, and Dag caught his eye, then grinned down at me.