IN THREES
Elizabeth Coldwell
The first time I saw him I was on all fours on the bed, naked and gagged with my own panties. Mitchell had ordered me to wait in that position while he paid a quick visit to the bathroom, and I was doing as I was told. Just my luck that at that moment room service finally deigned to deliver the bottle of champagne Mitchell asked them to send up when we’d first booked in, nearly an hour before.
Hearing the rap on the door and the waiter announcing his presence outside, I called as best I could through my gag, trying to attract Mitchell’s attention. He’d insisted I wait in silence till he returned, and I knew my poor backside would pay the price for this flagrant act of disobedience, but this was important. Unfortunately, the waiter must have taken my muffled noises as an invitation to come in, because the lock snicked open and he walked into the room, carrying an ornate silver ice bucket.
He said nothing as he looked at me, though I felt like his eyes were eating up the sight before him: my breasts, hanging down full and heavy; my asscheeks, already bearing the red marks of the spanking Mitchell had dished out as soon as he’d stripped me bare; my mouth, plugged with a wad of black silk. Did he know that was my own underwear, wet and fragrant from the juices that been flowing since Mitchell rang me at the gallery that afternoon and told me to meet him at the Charmont? A hot flush suffused my body, burning deepest on my cheeks and echoing the pulsing heat between my legs.
It didn’t help that the man could have stepped straight out of the file in my brain marked HOT, DIRTY FANTASY GUYS. He’d most likely shaved before he came on shift, but now the beginnings of a heavy stubble prickled on his chin. His black hair was a little too long, curling against his shirt collar, and his olive-toned skin and dark eyes spoke of a Mediterranean heritage. He made me think of all the scenarios that turned me on the most: the ones where Mitchell held me down firmly and encouraged some other man to touch and stroke me in all the ways I liked the best, taking me to the brink of orgasm and back so many times all I could do was beg and sob and promise to do whatever the two of them wanted, as long as they let me come.
“I’ll just put this down here, shall I?” he said, gesturing with his head in the direction of the antique dresser. His accent was more rainy Manchester than romantic Sorrento, but it didn’t take the level of my filthy fantasizing down even a notch.
I just nodded, barely noticing that Mitchell had returned to the room and was already fumbling in his wallet for a no doubt hefty tip. Not that he needed to buy this man’s silence. The expression on the waiter’s face told me that not only did he like what he saw very much indeed, but also that this wasn’t the first time he’d interrupted some explicit scene or other. After all, the Charmont prided itself on its discretion as a venue, and you didn’t hang on to that kind of reputation for long if you employed staff who didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut.
He left the room with slow, backward steps, taking one last good look at my naked curves and the submissive posture in which they were displayed. Even before the door shut behind him, Mitchell was unbuckling his belt and pulling it free of his trouser loops.
“What’s our rule on silence, Lucy?” he asked, not even waiting for an answer as he strode toward me. “Six with the belt will help to enforce it, I think….”
Such a harsh punishment, but I deserved it. And I wondered, in the instant before the first blow fell, whether he realized all my thoughts were of the handsome waiter lashing my backside, while Mitchell looked on and told him to make sure I really felt every single one.
The second time I saw him, I was in a packed and sweaty rush-hour Tube carriage, and Mitchell had his hand down my leggings. We’d maneuvered ourselves through the crush of commuters into the best position for some fun: hard up against the glass partition by the door, where Mitchell could play with me unobserved. The game was simple: he would do his best to make me come with his skillful fingers, and I would try to show not a flicker of emotion as he teased and probed. Sometimes he made it a little easier for me by stroking me through my jeans, the friction of his touch dulled by a thick layer of denim. I could fight against the slow buildup of sensation, eyes closed tight so I couldn’t see the smirk on his face as he worked to wring an orgasm from me.
Today, though, I had on the kind of clothing he could slip his hand into without fuss, working his fingers against the tight knot of my clit as the train rattled and jolted and tinny music leaked from the headphones of the man whose broad, T-shirted back I could see over Mitchell’s shoulder.
When the waiter got on at South Kensington, I had to look twice to make sure it was really him. He’d never been far from my thoughts since that night at the Charmont, his stubbled features permeating those idle moments in the gallery when I closed my eyes and daydreamed of Mitchell punishing me in front of a willing voyeur. It shouldn’t have surprised me to see him getting on at what was the closest Tube station to the hotel, but still I hadn’t really expected our paths to cross again so soon.
He hadn’t noticed me, or so I thought at first, as Mitchell’s fingers continued to dance over my clit. The train came to a halt, and through force of habit I looked round in exasperation at the delay, even as the driver mumbled over the intercom that we were being held at a red signal and should be moving shortly. Our eyes locked; the connection was made. No doubt if we’d been close enough to speak, he’d have made some cheesy quip about not recognizing me with my clothes on. His gaze flashed over my body, lingering at crotch level, and I knew in that instant he’d realized what we were doing. He already knew Mitchell and me for the brazen game players we were: what more could he have expected from us than that I would let my lover frig me on a crowded train?
Burning under the intensity of his stare, driven to the brink by Mitchell’s fingers, I didn’t even try to hold back. As the train jolted into movement once more, I surrendered to the orgasm that rushed through my body. Fierce. Unstoppable. Observed by a stranger.
The third time I saw him, I was in the lobby of the Charmont, and I’d been waiting almost an hour and a half for him to appear. We’d been forced to close the gallery for the afternoon, due to the need to make emergency repairs to a fractured gas main in the street outside. Instead of heading home, some impulse sent me in the direction of the hotel where Mitchell and I enjoyed so many of our kinky trysts. Located halfway between his apartment and the gallery, it was an ideal meeting place for us, but this time it wasn’t Mitchell I intended to meet there.
I could, I thought as I ordered a pot of tea from the hotel bar, be completely wasting my time. After all, I didn’t even know whether the man would be working here today. But it was pleasant to sit in the beautifully restored Art Deco lobby, with its black-and-white-checkered marble floor and softly glowing brass light fixtures, and sip strong, milky Darjeeling while I distracted myself with pleasant daydreams of the last time Mitchell and I had booked in.
Lost in a reverie in which the waiter didn’t just set down the ice bucket and leave, but came over to the bed to caress my sore, punished ass and run a finger down the crack between my cheeks to discover the wetness pooling in my pussy, at first I didn’t notice him as he walked past.
His voice, low and insinuating, almost made me slop tea into my saucer as I realized he was addressing me. “We really are going to have to stop meeting like this. People will talk.” He grinned, his hot gaze raking over me. “Waiting for your husband—boyfriend, whoever?”
I shook my head. “No, actually, I was waiting for you.”
It obviously wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting, but he only lost his composure for a moment. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes. What time do you come off shift?”
He glanced at his watch. “In about fifteen minutes’ time.”
“Good. That gives you fifteen minutes to cancel whatever plans you had for tonight.” If he thought I was joking, the look I fixed him with seemed to convince him otherwise. I went on. “Fifteen minutes to wonder just what I’m going to let you do to me. Whether I’m wet enough for you to slip two fingers inside me, or three. Whether I take it up the ass. And whether I’ll allow you to spunk in my face, or just over my tits.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “I had you pegged as a dirty bitch, but…”
“You don’t have to take me up on my offer, and you have to understand that if you do, you’ll end up fucking me on my fiancé’s bed, and he’ll be there to do more than just watch. But if you do turn me down, you’ll never be offered a second chance. What do you say?”
“Does he know about this? Is this something you do on a regular basis?” Despite all the questions, and the deliberate ambiguity I’d created about Mitchell’s role in proceedings, he didn’t sound like he was dismissing the idea out of hand.
“No, and no. But I’ll have time to let him know while I wait for you to come off shift, and believe me, he won’t have a problem with it.” I looked round the lobby as if someone might be listening to what we were discussing, but the desk clerk was deep in conversation with a middle-aged female guest, pointing out some place of interest on a map. Though maybe this would be even better with an audience, I thought as I spread my legs just wide enough to give him a clear view up my dress. A view that revealed I wasn’t wearing any underwear. I’d removed it and stuffed it in my handbag before leaving the gallery, needing to feel the breeze on my overheating pussy. I hadn’t planned to use the sight as some kind of leverage to seal the deal—in truth, I didn’t need to—but it sucked him in a little deeper, made it that bit harder for him to walk away.
He licked his lips, appearing to make some kind of internal decision. “Yeah, okay, I’m up for it. And I’m Lee, by the way.” The grin was back, stretching his lips a fraction wider than before. “Because you need to know what name to scream when I’m slapping your slutty little pussy.”
The moment he’d gone, I reached for my phone, punching in Mitchell’s number with trembling fingers. Any plans he’d had for a quiet evening in were ripped up the moment I told him we’d have a friend joining us. A friend who wasn’t in the least fazed by my filthiest suggestions.
Even as the clock ticked toward six, I still expected Lee to back out. Given time to consider my proposition, let his head do the thinking instead of his dick, would he really think it a good idea to let a stranger take him home? So it surprised me to see him strolling in my direction across the lobby, elderly leather jacket over his uniform shirt and that slow, dirty grin spreading across his face.
“Okay, I’m all yours.” He waited for me to stand. As we made our way toward the front door, my heels clicking on the marble, a waitress was already scurrying over to clear away the tea things.
We walked in silence, not because either of us was uncomfortable with the situation, but simply because we both seemed to recognize that swapping chitchat and personal information would break this weird, erotic spell that bound us. Lee had to be thinking about my knickerless state; I certainly was, all too aware that if he chose to back me up against a wall and thrust his hand beneath the skirt of my dress all he’d feel would be hot, slick woman flesh. I could almost smell my own arousal above the heavy scent of exhaust smoke and sun-warmed asphalt, and wondered whether he could, too.
Mitchell had promised to leave the front door on the latch, and true to his word, it opened at my touch. If Lee had any thoughts about the size of my fiancé’s home, or its position in a sweeping Georgian terrace on a quietly expensive street, he kept them to himself. A girl who let her lover play with her cunt on public transport had already propositioned him; why should he be surprised when that lover turned out to own a house whose worth was valued in the millions?
I led Lee up the stairs and along the landing, pausing as we reached the bathroom. “You can take a shower first, if you’d like?” I suggested, my thoughts already turning to peering through a crack in the door, watching as he got naked and soaped himself down.
He shook his head. “Afterward, maybe…once I’ve worked up a sweat.”
“Then start working on it.” I all but pushed him into the bedroom, where Mitchell waited for us, propped up against the pillows and wearing only a towel around his waist. His cock made a solid, all-too-visible ridge in the fluffy white terry cloth. He lounged like some decadent Roman emperor waiting to discover what orgiastic delights had been laid on for his personal entertainment.
Lee took a couple of paces closer to the bed and the two men regarded one another, expressions inscrutable as they sized each other up. Butterflies whirled crazily in my stomach, as the reality of what I’d engineered struck home. Beginning to consider all the ways this situation could go wrong, I was stopped in my agitated mental tracks by Mitchell’s voice.
“Strip her.”
For the briefest of moments, I thought it might not happen. Then Lee’s hand was around my waist, pulling me to him so he could tug down the zip of my dress. Keeping just on the right side of roughness, he yanked each strap off my shoulder. The garment puddled at my feet in a soft heap of Pucci-printed viscose, leaving me in nothing but nude lace bra and high heels.
“And where are your panties?” Mitchell’s tone was that of the weary headmaster confronting a recalcitrant pupil, the tone that always let me know some kind of punishment was on the cards.
“In my handbag—Sir.” I fought the urge to cover my crotch with my hands, knowing both men would be enjoying the sight of my pink mound, covered only by a thin strip of hair.
“And what kind of slut walks the streets without her panties on?” he continued.
“This kind, Sir.” The kind that does it because you love it, I wanted to add. The kind who’ll make some wild suggestion to a guy she’s only seen twice about joining her and her lover for a threesome. The kind who hasn’t been fully bared yet and is desperate to be.
As if sensing my unspoken need, Lee flicked open the front catch of my bra and let my breasts fall free of the cups. Almost before I knew it, he’d caught hold of my wrists and used the bra to tie them together behind my back. Though not in my plans, or Mitchell’s as far as I knew, the impromptu bondage only served to make me wetter, more anxious for fulfillment.
Lee pushed me onto the bed. I landed facedown, my nose only inches away from Mitchell’s terry-covered crotch. With a grin, he pulled the folds of toweling away, and I gazed on the fat bulk of his erect cock, the foreskin peeled away to reveal the tender core within. My mouth watered in response to the sight and smell of him.
“Suck me,” he ordered, “and do a good job, or it’ll be the worse for your ass.”
Crawling into position wasn’t easy, my movements hampered as they were by my bound wrists. But I got myself settled over Mitchell’s dick, and ran my tongue over the head, just the quickest of flicks, to lap up the juice that welled from its tip.
“Not good enough, slut.” Mitchell slapped my ass, with a crisp, upward stroke that stung only a little. In my eyeline, I saw movement; heard the rustling of clothing being removed. I’d wanted to watch Lee undress, but the two men had contrived to deny me that treat. Who’d set this whole thing up? I wondered, as I took more of Mitchell’s length in my mouth. Who was in charge here?
Not me, that became all too clear, as I felt Lee’s hands on my asscheeks, pulling them wide apart. Helpless to prevent myself being spread for his gaze, I could only imagine how I looked to him. He’d be able to see everything, even the dark, wrinkled star of my asshole. This was what I’d wanted, to be open and available for both men to use. And now I had Mitchell’s cock in my mouth, leaking its salty juices as I sucked him, and Lee’s hand probing between my legs, tracing the length of my crease.
“So how wet are you?” I heard him murmur, echoing the words I’d used at the Charmont. “Enough for two fingers, or three?”
My only answer was a moan around Mitchell’s bulging cockhead as Lee began to open me up. I kept on trying to give Mitchell the best blow job I could, but the feeling of first one, then a second finger sliding into me proved a serious distraction. Every time I faltered in my task, Mitchell’s response was to swat my ass hard. Combined with the feeling of Lee working a third digit into my stretched, slippery hole, it was making it impossible for me to retain any shred of control.
“And the answer is three,” Lee growled in my ear. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
The fingers were withdrawn, as if he’d proved his point. Deprived of that almost painful, desperately necessary fullness, I grumbled my disappointment around my mouthful of Mitchell. In response, Lee’s long index finger pressed at the entrance to my ass. With an indecent lack of resistance, the tight ring opened up to let him in.
“Oh, yes, that’s it,” Lee said, almost as if he couldn’t believe I’d offered up my most intimate places to him so easily. What—who—had he given up to be here with us now? A takeaway pizza in front of the TV? A night out with the lads? A date with some girl who had no idea what she’d been turned down in favor of? I didn’t know; cared even less. Here I was, skewered on Mitchell’s shaft at one end, Lee’s finger at the other, obediently sucking cock like the good little submissive I was.
“Wait till you have your cock up there,” Mitchell said, conducting a conversation with Lee over my head, discussing me as if I wasn’t even in the room. I marveled at how even he kept his voice, given that my tongue was feathering over the head of his dick. “You won’t believe how tight she is.”
“I can’t fucking wait, mate….”
They were discussing the niceties of where the condoms and lube were kept, but I’d tuned them out, focused only on the task of bringing Mitchell to his peak with my mouth. Without my hands free to caress his balls and wank his shaft with the short, fast strokes that always propelled him over the edge, I had to work twice as hard with my lips and tongue. He had to appreciate the effort I was putting in, but his only reaction was those sharp spanks to my ass, designed to spur me on to suck harder. And when his hips began to jerk and I knew he had to be close, he just gripped my hair in his fist and pulled my head off his cock.
“Not yet,” he said. “I don’t want to come till your ass is plugged full of his cock.”
Guiding me by my hair, he encouraged me to look over my shoulder. I got my first sight of Lee’s naked body. Lean and honey-tanned, with just enough muscle where it counted, and a long cock, already sheathed in taut black latex, rising from a nest of crisp, dark curls. Quite a lot to take in such a small hole, but I was ready for the challenge.
Mitchell unfastened my wrists from their makeshift bondage, knowing I’d need free use of my limbs for what was about to come, then held me steady as Lee clambered back on the bed, homing in on my upraised rump. I’d never been so conscious of my body: the heavy, downward drag of my breasts; the pulse beating in my clit; my nerves taut and expectant as I felt Lee’s cockhead butt at the entrance to my ass. Bigger than any toy I’d ever been plugged with, thicker than Mitchell’s so-familiar shaft, his dick pressed home slowly, relentlessly. I couldn’t focus on anything but the sensation of being stretched almost to the point of pain, even though my lover’s cock still bobbed in front of my pleasure-glazed eyes. Only when Lee stopped moving did I bend and take Mitchell into my mouth once more.
And for a moment I stayed like that, frozen so any onlooker could admire the submissive tableau I presented, filled at both ends. I’d been dreaming of this moment since Lee had agreed to my outrageous proposal, and now that it had happened I almost didn’t know how to react.
Mitchell’s cock twitched between my lips, reminding me how close he’d been before he’d called a halt to my oral ministrations. Lee’s calloused hands grasped my buttocks, his thumb stroking the soft flesh absentmindedly. That faint motion roused me from the erotic torpor that gripped me, and I began to suck Mitchell again as Lee ground his hips against my ass.
At first, our movements were clumsy, out of sync, like a machine whose gears didn’t quite mesh. Lee’s thrusts pushed me hard onto Mitchell’s length, and my teeth grazed his tender skin with a force that made him wince. I did my best to mumble an apology around his length. This wasn’t going to work, not in the smooth, well-oiled way it always had in my fantasies, and I was on the verge of relinquishing my hold on Mitchell’s dick and admitting defeat. But somehow, we managed to fall into the right rhythm, and my fears melted like ice in the summer sun. Two into one would go, it seemed.
Hot, salty cock in my mouth. Hard, thrusting cock in my ass. My own fingers free to reach between my thighs and rub at my clit with frantic motions. Lee’s throaty grunts, Mitchell’s moaning assertion that he was about to come. Too much sensation, too much pleasure.
Mitchell bucked beneath me, forcing even more of himself into my mouth. Lee never stopped thrusting, not for a moment, and I found myself drooling helplessly around the thickness of Mitchell’s shaft, eyes tearing up, as he pumped his seed down my throat.
“She’s all yours now,” he muttered, slumping back against the pillows. Lee didn’t reply, just kept plowing into me with long, relentless strokes. My eyes met Mitchell’s, and what I saw there made me glow with love for him. Satisfaction, pride and admiration at the sight I presented to him, asshole stretched wide around another man’s cock. I’d given myself to a stranger, but he was the one reaping the rewards.
“Nearly there now, nearly there,” Lee chanted like a mantra, the words gradually dissolving into incoherence as the need to come engulfed him. Hard as I tried to time my orgasm to his, excitement propelled me on and I came first, losing the battle to keep staring into Mitchell’s eyes as I did. My muscles clenched tight around Lee’s dick and that did it for him; cursing and groaning, he came deep in my ass, the condom catching every drop.
Mitchell caught me as I fell forward, holding me tight and whispering his gratitude into my ear. “If this is how you’re going to surprise me from now on, bring it on.”
Lee was lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d done.
“There’s wine chilling on the dresser,” Mitchell told him. “Help yourself. And there’s cheese and crackers, too. I thought we might all need to keep our strength up.”
I smiled to myself. Trust him to think of the practicalities, like drinks and snacks, while I’d been busy concentrating on kinkier matters. But that was why we made such a great team.
In our own way, we’d both been working to this moment since Lee had opened that hotel-room door. The first time, we’d intrigued him. The second, we’d convinced him. The third, we’d had him. Things came in threes, after all. And as Mitchell’s fingers stroked over my clit, reawaking sensations that had barely had time to die away, I was pretty sure that before the evening had finished, I would be one of them.