The Adult Story Hub

This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001. Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration.
By Oscar Paco (oscarpaco@aol.com)

When I relocated on the west coast two years ago, I was virtually penniless.
I had moved to get as far away from my ex-boyfriend as possible. Our relationship had soured, and when I attempted to break up with him, he had grown obsessive and, in a word, scary. He stalked me, called me night and day on the telephone, and showed up at my workplace so frequently that I had been fired. I got a restraining order against him, though that had not slowed him down much. I changed my phone number, but he somehow had got hold of it. I simply couldn't get away from him.
One day at the spa, while my friend Susan and I were enjoying a sauna, I complained about how seriously deranged I thought he had become. Susan laughed and said, "Why don't you move to the coast? Surely he wouldn't follow you there. And besides, you've been complaining about getting away from the Midwest as long as I can remember. Here's your chance."
At first, I laughed it off, thinking that I would never be so bold as to make such a big change. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it began to make. I was a single woman approaching 30, my job only netted me $1500/month and promised no promotion or raise in the immediate future, and since both of my parents had died several years back, there was really nothing keeping me in the Midwest -except maybe for my friends, Susan and Trenton. When I told Susan that I didn't want to leave them behind, she told me that a move would give them a chance to visit the coast. "It's something I've always wanted to do," she said.
And it was almost as simple as that.
The only hitch was money: specifically, the amount of money that such a big move would cost. Nonetheless, I began doing some research at the library.
The way I saw it, I would want to move to a relatively big city to maximize job prospects, and I knew that I wouldn't want to live in Southern California: too hot, and I hated palm trees. San Francisco was a possibility, though I knew that it was a very expensive place to live.
My other two choices were Portland and Seattle, neither of which I knew anything about at all. But that didn't stop me from reading up on the cities, buying newspapers from there to look over the classifieds, and checking out real estate. Susan was a gem through the whole ordeal: she helped me with the planning and provided all the encouragement I needed.
I sent out numerous queries to test the market. Then, I waited. One, two, then three weeks passed with no news. I was beginning to get discourage when a small package arrived in the mail. Litmus Publishing Company was opening a new branch office in Seattle (they were based in Portland), and they had sent me literature on the company. They were looking for office staff, and it appeared immediately obvious that my decade long history of clerical work at three publishing companies in the Midwest made me a perfect candidate for the job.
I beefed up my resume and attached a charming cover letter: "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gabrielle Nesterman; my friends call me Gabby. I am the perfect candidate for Litmus Publishing," etc.
Susan was with me when I dropped the envelope in the mailbox on the corner, and I thought she was going to pee her pants with glee. She hugged me tightly, kissed me on the cheek and announced: "You'll be a Washingtonian by the end of the summer!"
And she was right: I received an acceptance letter in less than two weeks. The best part was that I would be making 25K -not a million dollars, of course, but it was much more than I had ever made. I was to begin on September 9th, and Litmus would put me up in a hotel until I could find a place of my own.
The month that followed was a blur. I began packing immediately, and I decided to have a yard sale to get rid of most of my belongings. The sale came and went: I made a whopping $2000, a figure way beyond what I had expected -enough, as it turned out, to pay for my plane ticket and leave me a small amount on the side for living expenses. I had some money tied up in a CD -about two thousand -but I wanted to save in case I'd need it later.
Because I had to move out of my apartment by the first of the month, I wound up staying with Trenton and Susan for three days before my flight took off on the third. And although that certainly made the last few days tolerable, I hated to impose on them. Naturally, they both said it would be no trouble.
Then, on my next to the last night of my life in the Midwest, an occurrence cropped up that completely blindsided me. After dinner, the three of us were sitting around the front room listening to James Taylor CDs and sipping wine.
After we finished the first bottle and popped the cork on the second, Susan lit some candles and turned out the light. We got so relaxed that Trenton laid out their futon/couch in the bed position and we lazed in a mountain of pillows. It was a familiar scene, but there was something odd about it this time. I brushed it off at first, thinking that we were all a little more emotional than usual because I was about to leave town, but when the feeling didn't disappear, I began to wonder what was going on.
My curiosity was answered soon enough when Susan sat up on one elbow and smiled over at me with a look in her eyes I had never noticed before. She placed her free hand warmly on my stomach and said, "You know, Gabby, Trent and I had a discussion last night, and we've decided that we want to give you a special going away present."
I glanced over at Trenton; his body cupped around Susan's like a spoon. He was grinning impishly, but he also had a strange expression on his face that made my heart race. I swallowed and managed an impish smile of my own and said, "And what, pray tell, might that be?" I'm sure they could hear the nervousness in my voice.
Susan began to rub her hand over my belly, then across my ribs, in a circular motion that landed her fingertips very close to the bottom of my bra. I was startled and curious at the same time: in the five years we had known on another, she had never made a pass at me, and I knew that she was desperately in love with Trenton. They had been married for six years and had been college sweethearts before that.
Then she uttered a sentence that would stay with me for the next year: "We were thinking, if you were interested, that the three of us might . get together before you left." Her voice fell nervously in thick air, but the intent was not lost on me.
Granted, I was not what you might call a liberal woman, but I knew what that "get together" meant. What was more, I stunned myself by desiring it to happen. Yet something in me didn't allow me to express that desire perhaps I was afraid of lesbian contact, or perhaps I didn't feel comfortable sleeping with my best friend's husband. Whatever it was, here is what I said: "Suze, I can't. Thanks for asking ... I mean, it's an incredibly generous offer, and if I had time to consider it awhile, I might just take you up on it. But I don't think it's right for me just now."
They were very understanding and they chose not to press the issue, though it was clear when I looked at him that Trenton was a little disappointed; his eyes grew shadowy, and he had trouble making eye contact with me. Still, I reasoned that a bad sexual encounter on my last few days in town might put an irreversible strain on our friendships.
I had read an article about it in college: menages a trois are rarely equal, and jealousy is the standard development. Beware! I didn't want -and didn't need -that kind of stress in my life. I had enough to worry about with the move, the new job and the new life two thousand miles away from this very comfortable futon.
When I went into the kitchen to retrieve the third bottle of wine -I felt like we needed it now -I was amazed that my reasoning was clear-headed and responsible. I mean, I was not a prude: in college, I once made love to two men on the same evening in the same bed, though at different times; but a threesome with my best friend and her husband seemed as if it could lead to more trouble than fun. None of us wanted that kind of trouble did we?
Mainly, I think I was most nervous about sexual contact with Suze -every time my mind crossed that path, I got goose flesh. Not out of disgust really. More out of curiosity: was my best friend a bisexual? I didn't know what to think about it all. I wanted instead to get drunk as possible.
When I returned with the fresh bottle of dry red, Susan and Trenton were kissing playfully. I poured us each a glass and said, "Okay, guys, you better knock it off before you get me all hot here." At that, they looked up and smiled at me. Trenton had a hand on Susan's breast, and I could see, even in the candlelight, that he had an erection. I giggled nervously, looked away, and said, "It may be too late," then took a rather large swallow of wine. It was perfectly dry, and my mouth felt like a desert. My head reeled.
Susan smiled, then turned her attention back to Trenton, specifically to the fly of his jeans. I sat motionless and dumbfounded, wine glass in mid air, and watched as Susan deftly unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his button and lowered the zipper of his pants slowly and deliberately. He wasn't wearing underwear, as I saw soon enough, and when Susan fished around a little bit, she pulled out his penis and stroked it gently. Then she looked at me and said: "Isn't his cock beautiful?"
I shook my head without saying anything. It was true: his penis was straight and thick, and it pulsed in Susan's hand. In the candlelight, I saw a drop of precome glinting. I was a goner. My entire body flushed.
Despite my earlier reasoning, my body was responding clearly and wonderfully to the circumstance. It was all I needed to feel.
Setting my goblet on the coffee table, I did something that still amazes me: In a slinky but formal manner, I pulled my shirt over my head and then in one movement of the wrist unsnapped my bra in the front, letting the lacy garment float to the floor. The effect on the two of them was immediate.
Trenton's jaw dropped an inch, and Susan said, "My god, Gab, you have such beautiful breasts. I had no idea."
I grinned. Once, a boyfriend in college had told me that my breasts were the best-kept secret on campus. I took that to mean that nobody would suspect them to be so large, considering that I usually wore baggy clothes.
As a child, my breasts had embarrassed me because I had developed earlier than the other girls and I had developed rapidly. In one summer, I went from an A cup to a C cup. It was then that I developed the habit of wearing loose fitting cotton shirts: I preferred to have the boys look in my eyes when they talked to me.
And now, as I sat before the two, nude from the waste up, I felt like a model for a painter, a well-rounded, fleshy nude model. The sensation, I have to admit, took me by surprise. I had never been an exhibitionist, but with the two of them gawking openly at my chest, I felt a strange sense of power in my sexuality that I had never experienced before.
Quietly to myself, I signed on for life. Added to this rush of new excitation was the fact that, since I had gained weight from worrying about the trip and since the extra pounds always went to my chest, I could proudly stiffen my spine, knowing that my breasts presented a dramatic profile, especially in candlelight. I was in a new kind of kinky heaven.
Without so much as a pause, Trenton and Susan leaned forward, each taking a breast to feel and to suckle. I felt like Artemis. I threw my head back and let out a considerable sigh as they licked and nibbled on each nipple, the combinations of pleasure rushing straight to my sex. And in no time, I felt wandering hands and fingers moving in tandem to remove the remainder of my clothing.
Once my own jeans were unzipped, I stood up completely to step out of them, then removed my panties quickly and dropped them to the ground. In moments, Susan and Trenton were naked as well, and the three of us fell into one another, arms and legs caressing and nudging, until we were one moving mass of sensual skin. I had never felt so utterly naked and so utterly flush with sexuality. It was marvelous.
Surprising Susan and myself -the three of us, really I made the first serious move and knelt before Susan to gaze at her sex. Her pubic hair was dark and plentiful, and when I touched the tip of my tongue to her labia, I found that she was already quite wet. The contact drew a loud sigh out of her, which in turn caused a chain reaction. I began to kiss and lick her vagina in a fury, and Trenton lowered himself to my sex and began in earnest.
In short time, Susan was panting in an orgasm, with me close behind. The combined sounds and sensations of two orgasms so close together were clearly too much for Trenton, and he let loose with several muscular spurts, groaning loudly as he did so. The sensation of his sperm hitting the side of my calf was like nothing I'd felt before: natural, different and torturously kinky.
Not yet fully come down from our climaxes, Susan and I shared in licking the rest of his sperm off his belly, his knuckles and his thigh. I felt as if something strangely wild and free had been set loose in me, something awesome and terrible had been unchained and invited to go insane with uninhibited delight.
Almost as if by instinct, my hips moved in a bucking motion, and I discovered that I was now rubbing my very wet vagina against Trenton's thigh, soaking his leg thoroughly, pulling it toward me in such a way that it appeared I was trying to swallow him with my sex.
I felt another orgasm coming on and let out a raspy yell, "Oh, my god!" -calling out to the one general entity that could fully understand the power of the desires rushing through my loins. As I let loose a guttural scream, I heard Susan say, "She's coming again Trenton," and with that she placed the tip of her index finger against my anus.
I nearly threw the two of them off me with the force of my second climax -it was not only more powerful than the first, but it was also different, originating as it seemed from my lower abdomen, then flashing through the lower part of my body and through my toes.
Exhausted and sweaty now, I collapsed in a breathy heap against the futon, throwing my arms over my head as I did so. And to my considerable surprise, Trenton without pause placed his body over me and entered me. Our joining was rapid, frantic and focused. He was much thicker than I expected, and I felt the walls of uterus expand to allow his entrance.
He was rhythmically different than any man I'd been with, and I must say that I knew instantly at least one of the reasons Susan had fallen for him: he was incredible lover, sensing as he did how to maintain the balance with a woman. Not to overpower violently but to take firmly and lovingly.
He was the first man in my life who knew that an overly sensitive approach to lovemaking left most women unfulfilled and an overly muscular approach made them feel like an object or a toy. Trenton's pacing was marvelous and varied: he could move rapidly for a full minute, then switch gears and tilt his body in a way that maximized the texture of his penis inside my womb, slowing down to a near stop.
We made love for a good ten minutes, switching positions several times very smoothly, while Susan caressed and encouraged both of us. "That's it," she said, "I want to hear you come again." And that's exactly what I did. As I was traveling back from a third and equally intense orgasm, Trenton gripped my body forcefully and came inside me with a quiet and focused intent.
Somehow -and I had never experienced this before, either -he managed to extend his orgasm so that at one point we seemed to be suspended over the futon, breathlessly hovering over the surface in a crystal consciousness, almost out of our bodies. When at last we settled into rest beside one another, I felt fulfilled, though not entirely satiated -there was still plenty of time for that.
As our breathing returned to normal, Trenton kissed me softly on the lips, lingering over the tip of my tongue as if he were memorizing every taste bud, and said, "I think I like the way you change your mind."
We all fell out in laughter.
For the next thirty-three hours, Susan and Trenton reacquainted me with dozens of hibernating proclivities. It had been nearly a year since the last time I had had sex, so I was all but starved for the attention that they bestowed on my body. Susan, in particular, spent a great deal of time touching, nipping, cupping, sucking and licking my breasts -I discovered that she had secretly lusted after them ever since the first time we took a sauna together three years ago, even though I always wore towels. Trenton was more than content to faun over my sex, especially my clitoris.
As for me? I learned that I had some tastes of my own, and ones quite different from those I was aware of. For one, I discovered a fondness for erect nipples -men's or women's -the longer the better. Susan's are in fact exceedingly long and thick when she is excited, a state I made sure she stayed in until my departure. I also rediscovered my particular fondness for felatio, a leaning that Trenton certainly enjoyed ... repeatedly.
I found out on that next to last evening that I am what is called a bisexual, and since my move to Seattle, I have enjoyed two female lovers, though I still primarily prefer men. I received a letter from Susan the other day: they are visiting the Northwest in a couple of weeks and wondered if I had enough room to put them up for four or five days. Of course.
And I can't wait to introduce them to my new young friend, Alex. I think we'll all get along nicely.