Chapter 2

~Getting Noticed~

Everything unfocused in Callie’s field of vision.

Maybe it was the crash landing on the floor, or maybe it was the Kahlua—okay, it was definitely the Kahlua—but she couldn’t see straight. The idea of looking at gay boys and seeing straight made her laugh out loud, and she stayed there on the floor, staring up at the shadows of young people on the ceiling. She could hear Dante’s friends now, chatting and laughing on the deck below, playing music she didn’t recognize.

And then there were two scrawny naked guys hovering over her. Vish tore off his condom and tossed in the garbage. She smiled, perhaps too fiercely, because the white guy, Evan, scooted in behind Vish.

“Hey, boys. That was some show.”

“It wasn’t a show,” Evan said. He sounded hurt, but Callie was too wasted to make out his facial features. “Who are you? Why were you watching us?”

Vish’s voice was softer. “Are you okay?” He even kneeled at her side, covering one hand over his naked dick. It was getting soft, but she wanted to touch it, bring it back to life.

She asked, “Who do you think I am?” It came out sounding more snarky than she’d intended. She actually wanted them to guess.

Glancing up at Evan, then back down at Callie, Vish said, “Fuck…I mean, sorry…damn…you’re Dante’s mom, aren’t you?”

Callie didn’t know why she should feel so hurt by a correct response. Maybe she was hoping she didn’t look old enough to have a university-aged son. Anyway, Dante was darker than she was. Winston was darker still. Standing in a straight line, the three of them looked a little like Nesquick syrup getting made into chocolate milk. Winston was that deep, dark mahogany tone she found so irresistibly alluring. While Callie couldn’t pass for white even if she wanted to (and there had been times, oh there had been times, in childhood especially, when she’d have given anything to pass for white) her skin was much lighter than her husband’s. Like Kahlua, actually.

Dante wasn’t exactly a fifty-fifty cut of mother and father—he was definitely on the darker side of that divide—but he had Winston’s eyes and Callie’s nose, Winston’s chin and Callie’s lips. Beyond the basic features, however, Dante might as well have fallen into their arms from a passing spaceship. He was such a strange kid.

“Yes, quite right. I’m Dante’s mother,” Callie admitted. She leaned forward, letting Vish pull her to a sitting position, and her head seemed to swirl. “I’m the mother, I’m the evil…I don’t know…” She should stop talking. She knew she was embarrassing herself, but she couldn’t seem to quit. “Does Dante talk about me?”

They didn’t answer her question. Evan just asked, once again, “Why were you watching us?”

His voice squeaked. He was obviously upset.

Why had she been watching them?

Vish lifted her to her feet and sat her down on the bed while Evan scrambled into a pair of tight white underpants. When Vish perched at her side, she let her head fall on his shoulder and, much to her surprise, she started crying. “I’m sorry, boys. I’m so sorry. I came up here, I wanted a drink, and you were in my bed and it was obvious that you loved each other so much and…Oh God, I miss that!” She was sobbing now, trying to say words entirely unsuccessfully, and clinging to Vish’s naked chest. He was so thin she thought she might break him if she exerted too much force, but she squeezed anyway, letting her tears soak his skin.

Evan seemed disgusted by this show of emotion. “Christ, lady, get it together.”

She felt so damn sorry for herself and she couldn’t contain the ache. “Why does nobody love me? I’m a good person. I give money to the homeless. I babysit for the neighbours just so they can have a few hours alone. I do nice things. Where’s my karma? Where’s the love?”

Callie didn’t expect these boys to have the answers to her questions, but, amazingly, they did. At least, Vish did.

“The love is inside of you,” he said, wrapping a bare arm around her shoulder. “All the good things you do for other people—that’s the love. It’s an exchange. It comes out of you, it goes into them. It comes out of them, it goes into you. It’s a flow. That’s how it works.”

Callie watched her tears flow down his belly and into the dark hair above his waning erection. Boys that age were always half hard, even when they’d just come. She remembered the days.

What if she were to reach down right now? What if she wrapped her fist around him and pumped? How would he react? How would Evan react?

She was too wasted and too hurt to care—she just did it.

“Dude, Dante’s mom is touching your dick!”

Evan laughed as she slid to her knees beside the bed, but she didn’t care about that either. Vish’s cock came to life as she stroked it, pulling that beautiful brown skin taut, watching the pink tip ease out a gleaming pearl of precum.

She stared at his dick while she pumped it.

His cock got hard in her hand, and that made her feel powerful.

Soon both boys were quiet and so was she.

She wanted to taste it.

Suddenly, Callie was struck with a deep sense of guilt. After her husband’s betrayal with that French bitch, how could she possibly impose such a hurt on somebody else?

Turning to Evan, she asked, “Is this…okay?”

Evan shook his head like he was infinitely amused. He motioned to Vish. “You’re asking the wrong person, lady. Vish and I are poly-pan. It’s his permission you need, not mine.”

Callie felt stupid and small, the way she’d felt about the raw food thing downstairs. Looking to Vish, she asked, “What’s a poly-pan?” It sounded like non-stick cookware.

“Polyamorous and pansexual,” Vish explained. He was panting a little, obviously enjoying her palm’s smooth, measured motion against his cock. “You know what that means?”

“Huh?” She’d drunk so damn much. What were they talking about?

“Poly means we’re non-monogamous. Evan and I love each other, but we’re totally okay with fucking other people. It’s all cool.”

“Oh…” She tightened her grip around his cock, pumping harder as Vish leaned back against the bed. His dick pointed straight up at the ceiling, and she wanted to watch him come like a geyser.

Evan spoke next, startling her. “Pansexual is when you’re into all genders, you don’t discriminate. That’s us.”

Callie didn’t feel totally up to processing everything they’d said, but they’d definitely conveyed that this was okay. If she wanted to suck the cock before her, the boys would not object.

Her mouth watered for that hard young meat. Usually, she would have exercised a certain amount of decorum. She would have traced her tongue around that full pink tip in slow, lingering circles. She might have teased that sensitive slit at the base of his head. There were a lot of precursors she might have let this boy enjoy.

Not today.

Today, she was too damn hungry for cock.

Holding Vish’s dick by the base, Callie swallowed that hardness whole, all the way down to her fingers. It triggered her gag reflex, but she recovered before she could toss her cookies—or, rather, her Kahlua.

She eased up a little, wrapping her fist around the bottom of his shaft and pumping slowly. Her head started moving between Vish’s legs, and she sucked without thinking too much about what she was doing. It all came naturally, by now. Callie loved giving blowjobs. When she was young, she loved cocks, cocks of every shape and size, every colour, straight or curved.

God, that seemed like such a long time ago.

Vish’s cock was a goodly size, and straight as an arrow. He tasted faintly of latex because of that condom he’d worn with Evan, but she was glad he hadn’t put another one on for her. That wasn’t PC, she realized, but she didn’t give a damn. It was her body and she’d do whatever the hell she wanted with it.

Callie loved the sensation of smooth flesh against her palm, inside her mouth. She loved how cocks were soft on the outside and hard on the inside. She never could wrap her head around that—it was a beautiful contradiction.

This was the messiest BJ she’d given in as long as she could remember. She was salivating like crazy, and it dripped down his shaft, over her fingers, and all the way down his balls. With her free hand, she had the choice of either creeping under her skirt and stroking her unbelievably wet pussy, or fondling those big balls.

Vish made the decision for her by pushing back on her shoulders. “I gotta fuck you. I just…I gotta do it.”

She looked up at him, keeping his cockhead between her lips. His dark eyes blazed with such intensity that she couldn’t have said no even if she’d wanted to.

But she didn’t want to say no. She wanted him to fuck her.

Hard.

Callie turned around, letting Vish’s cock fall completely out of her mouth, to seek out Evan’s approval. She was sure that he hated her. Why? She didn’t know why, she just thought he must.

Before she could draw her gaze up to meet his, it got stuck between his legs. Evan hadn’t put on anything more than his tighty whities, but through them she could clearly see the outline of a very fat, very erect cock.

Reaching out, Callie grasped the elastic and pulled his underwear down, or at least tried to. It felt strange to be so uncoordinated. Callie hadn’t had this much to drink in…God, she couldn’t even remember how long. The buzz felt great, but she wished her hands would work properly.

Evan laughed and she looked up into his eyes. They weren’t mean or judgemental, not at all. They were kind, helpful, encouraging. When he pushed his underwear down and kicked them half way across the room, Callie realized Vish had gotten up from the bed. He was standing at the night table now—at her night table—stretching a thin sheath of latex down his hard cock.

Callie was torn.

Two boys. Two cocks.

Where should she look? What should she do?

When Evan ran a hand across the top of her head, she found herself gazing straight at his dick. It was fat, all right, with a serious curve upward. She remembered now how much she’d always loved sucking shorter cocks—less chance of gagging, more opportunity to savour the experience. Her husband’s had been so goddamn huge she could hardly stand to have it in her mouth. Deep-throating was absolutely out of the question.

A sour taste took over when she thought about Winston.

Fuck him! If he could screw around, so could she.

Evan leaned back against the low dresser, the one with the rusting old mirror attached to the back. When she rose to her feet (with Vish’s help), he pushed candles and knickknacks to one side. Hopping on the sturdy wooden dresser, Evan opened his legs wide. God, he was skinny—but his cock was fat. She loved it. She loved him.

Her legs would not have supported her if Vish hadn’t been there to keep her upright. He held her tight around the hips while she struggled to pull up her skirt and pull down her panties.

God, she wanted this. She needed a good fuck right about now, and she’d learned from watching Vish earlier that muscle didn’t make the man.

“Get inside me.”

Her words were slurred, but he didn’t hesitate. His sheathed cock streamed across her massively engorged pussy lips, and she let out a moan when he smacked it against her clit.

And then Vish asked, “What’s your name?”

Shame mixed with thrill as she realized she’d sucked off a total stranger, and she was about to suck off another. She felt like a huge slut, and that felt good.

Her heart seemed to beat in her pussy as she said, “I’m Callie.”

“I’m Vishram.” His hair was tousled from fucking, but his face was quite handsome—fine features, clear skin. He was a good-looking guy.

“Evan.” He was attractive too, though more cute than handsome. There was something androgynous about his face, like it could have been a girl’s or a guy’s, but his dick said everything she needed to hear.

That was all the introduction any of them seemed to require. Callie was bursting with joy, but her head felt so damn heavy she let it fall into Evan’s lap. Her mouth found his dick instinctively, and its girth pleased her almost as much as the sweet taste of his precum.

As with Vish, she didn’t go for any of the niceties. She took him all in as he sat on the dresser her in-laws had given them. She wrapped her lips around his shaft and sucked the hell out of him. It was enough to make him arch against the mirror and let out a groan.

If Callie thought she was wet before…

“You ready for this?” Vish asked from behind her.

The heat of his pelvis baked her ass, and she met his gaze in the mirror, nodding frantically. She didn’t let Evan’s cock leave her mouth.

“Fuck her,” Evan said, grasping her hair with both hands.

She prayed he wouldn’t pull too hard.

But Evan was gentle, rocking her head slowly on his fat cock while Vish entered her from behind. The sensation of being filled made her knees weak but her legs strong. She felt sturdier now than she had all night, and she ramped up her efforts on Evan’s dick, bucking in time with Vish’s thrusts.

Callie moaned around the cock in her mouth. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me harder.”

Miraculously, Vish understood and went at her like a madman. He held her hips so hard she was sure she’d have bruises the next day. It was all meditation, one cock in her mouth, another pummelling her from behind, moving hard, moving fast.

Vish reamed her wet pussy until she couldn’t tell whether the heat was hers or his or theirs. She couldn’t remember the last time her pussy had become so juicy, so ready, all on its own. With Winston, she’d had to use artificial lubes. It felt great to rely solely on her body to produce what it needed.

“God!” What was she doing, fucking one guy, sucking another? These were Dante’s friends—it would surely get back to him.

Shut up, brain! Callie wanted to enjoy this experience and she wasn’t going to let an overactive mind ruin it. She thought all that Kahlua would have taken care of her conscience, but maybe she was wrong.

Or maybe she just needed more booze.

Or maybe she just needed to suck harder and fuck faster.

Yes, that was it. She gobbled Evan’s curved cock right to the base and moved her head up and down on him fast as she could manage. Her lips felt incredibly engorged as they slid up and down the boy’s erection, and she found she could watch in the mirror if she glanced to one side.

Callie nearly came on the spot when she caught sight of Vish fucking her from behind. His flat belly rippled with every thrust, and she wished she could see what he saw: his dick sliding in and out of her juicy cunt, all very rapid, all bound to culminate in an explosion of orgasms.

They were so young—she was amazed they’d lasted this long. Though, she could only guess how many times the two of them had gone at it before Callie arrived.

When Evan started to whimper, Callie plunged down in his lap again and again, sucking so hard it ought to hurt. She reached between her legs to stroke her forgotten clit, and that was all it took. She was so on edge, so ready, so aroused that she came in time with Evan. Her pussy fluttered and hugged Vish’s cock hard while Evan filled her mouth with hot cream. She’d never liked the taste of cum, but his actually wasn’t too bad. It had a certain sweetness to it, and it wasn’t too heavy.

Evan whispered, “No more, it’s too much,” and set Callie’s head against his smooth thigh. Evan’s balls were shaved—she could see them clearly from this angle. She liked that. She wanted to lick them, but she knew he’d be too sensitive at the moment. His dick was still pumping out small jets of cum, and she watched in fascination while Vish continued to pound her from behind.

“Are you playing with your clit?” Vish asked, though he must have known. He must have felt her fingertips brushing his hot shaft as it reamed her.

Callie nodded against Evan’s thigh. “I’m going to come when you come.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.” It was good to be drunk. She could let go. She could say things she normally wouldn’t, and do things…with people…with anyone… “Fuck!” She scoured her clit. “I’m gonna come so hard!”

“So come!” Vish pounded her in double time, and her pussy felt so hot, so full of cock and friction that she knew she wouldn’t last.

She started slapping her cunt, slapping her clit, and she didn’t know why, but it felt incredibly. The sting made her pussy muscles clamp down, and that did it for Vish. He dug his fingers into her hips and lunged forward, knocking her up against Evan, who in turn knocked his back against the mirror. It didn’t break, thank God, but it occurred to Callie she probably wouldn’t notice if it did, not now. She was too much lost in sensation, drowning in the depths of her pleasure and theirs.

It felt so good, so damn good.

Her clit felt too sensitive to touch now, and she almost wished Vish wasn’t wearing a condom. She wanted to feel his cum leaking down her thighs as he pulled out. There was so much more she wanted of these boys, but her legs were wobbly again and Vish couldn’t keep her upright any longer.

He pulled her to the bed—her bed—and the boys got in at her sides.

Her panties were gone, but she was still wearing the skirt and the blouse she’d put on that day for work. She thought about taking them off, but…sleepy…oh, suddenly she was just so tired…