Happily a Throuple Ch. 05

I woke with a bit of a hangover and the fuzzy-eyeball, where-the-fuck-am-I, feeling you get sometimes after too much to drink.

Then I smiled, remembering.

I hadn't opened my eyes yet, so I listened, felt, smelled, and tasted.

I could hear soft breathing, and when I listened more carefully, I realized it was just one person breathing.

I could feel the dip in the mattress to my left.

I could smell the mixed scents of Jennifer's arousal, semen, and sweaty bodies a bit overdue for a shower.

I could taste the very faint remnants of Jennifer's natural lubricants when I licked my lips to moisten them.

I opened my eyes.

I don't know why, but I wasn't surprised to find it was Mark still in bed with me.

For all of the intimacy of last night, I hadn't really spent much time just looking at him so I rolled up onto my side, propped my chin on my palm, and watched him sleep, taking in my, well, my "husband," or at least my "Husband to Be," and that thought sent a rush through my belly and I felt my 50-year-old cock stir.

I smiled as I looked down his body and thought, "Damn, that was me 20 years ago."

He was lean. His body was a runner or swimmer, although with his specific gravity, it would be a sprinter. He lacked the relatively light fat pads of a distance swimmer. Basically, of course, it was the body of what he was, an athletic guy who made his living as a high school football coach and shop teacher, leading his students and players by example.

He wasn't heavy-chested, but his pectoral muscles were well defined.

He wasn't a bodybuilder, but his abdominal muscles were well defined.

He wasn't some horse-hung pornstar, but I couldn't look away from his cock, soft now, laying to the left, nestled in the curly thatch of his pubic hair. The lines low on his belly where his thighs met his trunk, the inguinal crease to be technical, the love lines as I think of them, pointed, hell, beckoned my attention.

But first, I had to tend to hydraulic needs.

I eased out of bed, scooting in slow, careful movements, not wanting to wake him but desperate to take care of business.

I padded to the bathroom, sat to pee wanting to be quiet, and had one of those post-party urinations that are so completely satisfying.

"You know what you want to do," Lee, my cousin's wife's voice, one of the women who taught a much younger me, said softly.

"I'm not a damn queer," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I was kind of shocked to realize I had said that aloud at all.

"What's that got to do with anything?" she asked, You're part of this now, and you can't hold back part of yourself."

On some level, the thinking part of myself knew I was just talking to myself, of course. I'm really NOT crazy.

"I'm not a cocksucker," I whispered.

"Oh, don't be a dick," she said, and I could see that sneer she would have if I fucked something up when she was "teaching" me, "You're just hiding behind language now. You're IN this group thing, now go do what you want to do anyway.

I knew she was right but, Jesus, the taboo was so strong. I was straight, dammit. And "cocksucker" was SUCH a purely perjorative term.

But I knew she was right.

So I shook, washed my hands, rinsed my mouth with Listerine, and went back to bed.

I wondered, in a vague way, where Jennifer had gotten off to, but right then, well, there he was and, God help me, there it was.

I've been in locker rooms, and although the convention among men is that you don't look, sometimes you can't avoid it. And when you're in basic training, sitting on the can taking your morning dump while having a conversation with the guy sitting across from you doing the same thing, well, there's not much body modesty left.

But this was different. This wasn't a "glimpse." This was getting into bed, oh so carefully so as not to wake him, and then moving so my face was about a foot away, studying his cock.

"It's okay," I was telling myself as I looked at the way it was wrinkled at the base, soft now, lying nestled in the curly thatch of his pubic hair. I studied the corona of the glans, the odd texture of the skin there. I admired his balls, slightly oversized, lying in the loose skin of his scrotum. I had the urge to touch, or maybe to kiss, the scrotal raphe, that line that separated the two halves of his scrotum.

"It's okay," I thought again, "after all, the men in Alexander's army as he conquered the world, or in the Roman Legions as the Empire expanded beyond even Alexander's outsized imagination, the men were hardly wimps and God knows there was plenty of homosexuality in those groups."

I was so focused on what I was doing, well, what I was thinking I guess, that the slight movement in the bed and her words surprised me when Jennifer climbed in.

"It's an amazing feeling," she said, not whispering but her voice pitched low to not wake Mark, "to feel a man get hard in your mouth."

I shivered a little as her fingertips, light as a spider crawling across my back, raised goosebumps where she touched.

"Go ahead," she said in that same low voice, "while I kiss him awake."

He was soft, so I could take all of him into my mouth.

I don't know what I expected, but it felt somehow, well, natural is a good word for it. I felt him, soft but, well, firm. My tongue found the different texture of his glans and traced the groove of his frenulum where his glans met his shaft.

I turned my head, saw Jennifer kissing him, and felt a stirring in his hips as he started to awaken.

More to the point, though, I felt the first thickening, firming of his cock as his body reacted to her kisses and my mouth.

And I liked the sensation.

And damn if my own cock didn't respond.

I was remembering every blow job I ever had. Thinking of how a little number named Jeanine had done a thing with her tongue that seemed to wrap around it like a warm, damp, slick snake. I tried, but I couldn't figure out how that worked.

Another student, Lori, who I remembered fondly, had been almost anorexic, hell, probably WAS anorexic she was so damn skinny, but she could take me to the back of her mouth and then swallow hard, working my glans, until I was so close I couldn't breathe and then pull off quickly and use her hand to finish me, accepting my ejaculate in her hair and on her face, smiling up at me as she did.

My gag reflex triggered, though, so I settled for just holding him in my mouth, my lips tight on his cock, my tongue caressing his shaft with each time I pulled off slowly.

In that position, I could look up and see Mark and Jennifer kissing, making love, and I thought how beautiful they looked as I slowly brought him along with my mouth while my hand lightly caressed his hips and belly.

I realized her womanscent was strong in the air and pulled off, reluctantly releasing him. I kissed his balls and then moved up, tickled Jennifer's back, and whispered, "He's ready for you."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," she hummed, smiling and kissing me, "He's ready for you, too, Baby."

She moved with that grace only a gymnast can achieve and got free of both of us.

She was grinning, a wild look on her face.

"Me on the bottom," she said, grinning, "you," she touched mark on the forehead, "on top," she brushed her fingers across his lips, "leaving this for David."

His eyes got as big as I suppose mine were.

Then he smiled, kissed her, and said, "As you wish," in his best Westley from The Princess Bride voice.

She kissed me, smiled, and rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and said, "Don't let me down."

Mark grinned and said, "Never."

As he started to move into position, his knees between hers, it seemed somehow natural to move closer so I could guide him to her. I tested her pussy with my finger and found her hot and wet and slick. As he moved closer, I held his erection and lightly brushed her outer lips with his glans, ensuring an easy penetration. I couldn't resist lightly caressing his ass as he entered her. Their shared soft moans were musical.

"Easy, Baby," she said to Mark in a soft voice, "don't hurry."

He stopped his movement then, nestled inside of her. When he kissed her, she caressed his back with her left hand while, with her right, she reached for mine.

"He gets this," she said, smiling past Mark, who nuzzled her neck, "and I get these," she finished, cupping my balls in her hand and lifting them gently.

I scooted forward a bit, kind of kneewalking, until my erection brushed against his hair and almost came right then as I felt her tongue move, lightly parting my balls.

I took a deep breath and pressed my fingers into his hair, twisting and pulling his head up.

I felt like I was looking in the mirror. I could see him struggling with the same things I had discussed with the ghost of Lee earlier. I knew, just looking at him, that he was having the same internal discussion.

I stroked his hair then, smiling when he looked up at me.

I smiled, lightly traced the shape of his cheek and his lips with my fingertips, and said, "You are mine now, show me."

I could almost see the decision made as he smiled and opened his mouth.

I watched, fascinated, as for the first time in my life I entered a man's mouth. I watched his reluctance turn to acceptance and then to joy as his lips and tongue found my shaft, my glans, all of those sensitive spots only a man knows. In that sense of timing women seem to know down at the DNA level, just as I felt my control starting to fail I felt Jennifer's tongue pressing, separating my balls so she could take one into her mouth giving me that not-quite-pain a truly excellent practitioner of the art of fellatio can give.

I wanted to make this last. It was a First, and I expected it would be a very important first.

Jennifer understood, and in that instant, I realized just how much more experienced, well, maybe "experienced" isn't the right word.

Let me try again.

Jennifer understood and started to ease the pressure she was applying, and as she did, I realized just how much more worldly about this odd arrangement she was.

But as she did that, eased the pressure to slow down what was happening, Mark tried to take me deeper, swallowing hard as he pushed forward, wanting to accept me into his throat, swallowing hard to defeat his gag reflex.

And failed.

Several things happened simultaneously.

I came, and in that almost involuntary thrust broke Mark's control when I ejaculated into his throat.

Mark threw up, drenching my erection and the side of Jennifer's face with vomit.

Mark came, I knew that as I watched his ass clench.

Jennifer turned her head, threw up, came, and farted.

I couldn't stop. My body was locked in the throes of completion, my fingers locked in his hair unable to stop as he gagged, the vomit pouring out of his nose for several seconds until I could pull back.

Jen yelled, "Jesus CHRIST, get off."

But I couldn't, and he couldn't. Hell, we were knotted up like a couple of dogs.

As the full-body spasm released me, I pulled out.

Mark gasped like a drowning man breaking the surface.

And Jennifer got the giggles.

It started low at first, and it was infectious. It caught me first and I was chuckling as I watched her progress from giggles to belly laughs. When her laughter was so strong she was trying to do a situp against Mark's weight the involuntary clenching of muscles deep in her belly pushed him out.

He was laughing too, by then.

"Oh, Christ," I managed, rolling out of bed, still laughing so damn hard I could barely stand, "you two get a damn shower while I change the sheets."

It took a while, we were all laughing in the nearly hysterical hilarity that can follow such an event, but eventually I got them moving toward the bathroom.

"One of you had better be there to wash my back when I'm done," I said, still laughing, watching them move toward the shower in that staggering way of people who can't seem to stop laughing.

Well, it wasn't like I had a lot of control myself.

I laughed as I got the pillow case off of the pillow I had used, which is to say the one not too badly puke-soaked. I laughed and almost got sick myself as I worked the soaked pillow case off of the other two pillows. Then it was a matter of folding pillow cases and the top sheet into a sack made from the fitted bottom sheet, and carrying the stinking bundle down to the basement where the washing machine and dryer lived.

I had a bad second when I almost missed a step and fell down the damn stairs, but I caught my balance and made it to the basement without a broken neck. I added some Tide and OxyClean, and loaded the washer, made sure the water was flowing, and headed back upstairs, still chuckling.

Upstairs I smelled coffee and saw Jennifer in the front room with the television on, watching some silly Hallmark movie, as if once you've seen one you haven't seen them all. She smiled, gave me an across-the-room salute, raising her cup, and smiled as I walked across the room to kiss her.

"Good morning, Bride-to-Be," I said.

She looked about 12 sitting there, cross-legged on the couch, her wet hair hanging and no makeup on.

"Good morning, Husband-to-Be," she said, smiling, "you stink. Go shower."

I laughed, took a sip from her coffee and noted it was hot and black.

"As you wish," I said, mimicking Mark's words from before as I turned and headed for the shower.

Mark was standing at the vanity when I got to the bathroom, using my WaterPik, and I just watched for a few seconds, mildly jealous as I remembered when my ass was that tight and round.

His eyes met mine in the mirror and I moved close, the tip of my soft dick touching the crease of his ass as my hands started at this hips and ran slowly around until I felt the ridges of his abdominal muscles and then down until I felt his soft dick and balls in my hand.

I nuzzled his neck and whispered, "You owe me a back washing."

He nodded, the WaterPik buzzing as he carefully flossed.

I stepped into the shower as he finished, got the water going and stood, just letting the hot water sluice over my head and run down my body, relaxing me.

I felt the breeze as he joined me, and then strong hands soaping my back.

"You know," he said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the water, "with some work we can trim this up," as his hand jiggled the belly I had put on over the past decade.

I leaned my head to the side, offering my neck, and said, "Well, shouldn't one of us be soft and round."

He chuckled and gave my belly another squeeze.

"Well," he said, "there IS that," and I was surprised to feel him getting hard against my ass.

I arched my back and pushed against him.

I caught his hand and kissed his palm.

"I'll never say 'no' to you," I said over my shoulder.

He chuckled and nipped my earlobe drawing a little yelp from me.

"You're a bit of a slut, aren't you, Baby?" he asked, and I felt him hardening against me.

"If that's what pleases my Husband-to-Be," I said.

He laughed then and turned me to face him.

"What we do for the love of a woman," he said.

I laughed and kissed him. It was a good kiss, there in the shower with the hot water running over us.

"And for the love of a man," I said as I broke the kiss.

His eyes held mine for a long ten-count before he smiled, gave me a quick kiss, and said, "Yes, Baby, and for the love of a man. Now let's get you cleaned up and go see what our Bride-to-Be has in mind."

It was pure sensuality as I stood, passive, well, mostly passive, while he washed me.

His hands were gentle as he washed my face first and then my hair. When he got to my body they were less gentle. He washed my back first, making me squeal when a soapy finger slipped up my ass for a second. Then he turned me, on his knees now, and lifted each foot in turn, making me squeal and giggle as he washed between toes, tickled arches, and found several ticklish spots.

In that position my dick was about two inches from his nose and he kissed it.

He washed it, probably more thoroughly than was strictly necessary, but then moved up to my belly when I felt the first stirrings.

He finished and kissed me again before turning off the water. We dried each other among much giggling and it hit me that we both were acting, well, "girlish" I suppose is a good word for it.

"Okay, Baby," I said, recovering from my most recent bout of giggles, "let's go find our Bride-to-Be and see what the day holds."

And I realized something as I said that. In our throuple, Jennifer was the Alpha.

She wasn't in the living room so we went into the kitchen, the only other room in which I thought we would find her.

I watched, interested, as she stirred awkwardly at one of my oversized salad bowls.

Finally, I couldn't take it any more.

"Quit torturing those poor eggs," I said, taking the spoon from her hand and tossing it into the sink.

I walked her to the small kitchen table and seated her.

"You two talk while I see if I can rescue these poor eggs and make breakfast," I said.

"He'll make a good wife," Mark said as I turned and started to the now-abandoned bowl.

I turned, blew them a kiss, and set about rescuing abused eggs and making breakfast.