Archive-name: 3plus/ann.mmf
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Ann
 
 
I know the way she thinks.  I know her mind, almost as intimately
as I know her body.  She has shy, quiet places that have greeted
me timidly, and she has assertive places that offer themselves
with the assurance that is her definitive quality.  Mind and
body.  I have thought that I know them all, as much as anyone
knows, as much as she herself knows. I have even thought, with
the arrogance that annoys her, that I know much about her that
she does not.
 
I know her.  This is what I have thought.  This is what I be-
lieved.  I believed that I could chart her progress with the high
degree of accuracy that such a craft demands, that I could pre-
dict, even predetermine her actions--the ideas that occurred to
such a splendid mind, the pleasure provided by her long, slender
body.
 
Arrogance?  She would have thought so, while acknowledging the
same failing in herself.  Did I love her for her mind?  Her mind
was not a thoroughly lovable organ, true.  There were flaws
there, her own arrogance, her volatility, her strange fits of
moodiness.  Her maddening insecurity.  And can such flaws seem
endearing?  Oh, I thought so.  They all conspired to create a
puzzling, absorbing creature that grabbed my attention and held
it, through irritation at times, and at others through affection.
 
Ann.  Did I love her for her mind?  I know her mind.  I know her
body.  Though her mind is more complex, her body is more accommo-
dating.  In her body I see none of the hard, fast obstinacies
that sometimes frustrate me.  In her body I see only an elegance
and a spareness, an odd grace particular to women of her type.
Hers is the kind of figure that some would call boyish, causing
in her an odd sort of wistfulness with their carelessness. Long
legs that have a curve of softness at the calf before tapering
into an impossibly slender ankle.  Prominent bones at her shoul-
ders, creating fascinating shadows.  Pelvic bones that challenge
the casual observer, a challenge I readily accepted.  Small, soft
breasts that she tries to camouflage by wearing clothes that
swallow her.  A tiny waist that troubles her at times, flowing
into rounded, narrow hips.  White, tender thighs.
 
No, in her body I see none of the imperfection that made her mind
such a puzzle.  Perhaps that is why I loved her body first.
 
But, yes, I loved her mind.
 
I thought I knew her mind.  We allow such illusions to lull us;
there was much I didn't see until that gloomy November evening.
 
I was going to see her at her apartment that evening.  It was
early, and the sky was gray with the anemic fall light that
shines between rains.  I was expected; I was almost always ex-
pected, always welcome, so I wasn't concerned when she didn't
answer my knock at the door.  Most probably she was upstairs in
her bedroom, and hadn't heard me.  I let myself in.
 
Sixth sense.  There are those who laugh but I have felt one at
times.  There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of
place in her apartment, no more so than usual.  She had often
told me that she and I are complementary beings: I am neat and
she is not.  The disarray, she said, comforted her.  Nothing
complicated about that, and nothing unusual about the drift of
objects accumulated on the table.  Nothing unusual in the way her
work was strewn about, drawings and sketches arranged in some
crazily logical assembly across the floor.
 
So how did I know that something was very different?  I felt it
somehow, but I knew it when I heard her cry out.  I've said that
I know her body.  I know the way it moves, the way it accommo-
dates, the way it welcomes, and the way it reacts.  The way she
reacts.  I knew that cry, knew it as almost a trophy that I had
always been smugly proud of producing, of possessing.
 
Ann has never been a quiet lover.
 
I heard her cry as I was walking up the short flight of stairs to
her room.  My first thought was one of betrayal.  This was the
more primitive reaction, the kind of thing I earnestly try to
squelch in myself.  I don't like to think of myself as such a
petty person, though Ann herself has no such compunction.  I know
what she would feel in the same situation, and, though I am
slightly ashamed to admit it, I had always thought myself more
advanced, more rational than she is.  Hearing her cry and knowing
the sudden rush of jealousy put that to rest.
 
But was I jealous?  I stopped to ponder this as I had stopped on
the stairs.  Did I want to go down the stairs again and handle
the situation with my typical nonchalance, with what Ann calls my
typical brick wall approach?  Did it even matter at all?  Or did
I want to continue on to her room?  Did I want to confront her,
confront her lover?  Did I simply want to see whom she had cho-
sen--because there has never been any doubt in my mind that she
is the one who will choose, always?
 
And could I deny that I was becoming almost unbearably excited by
the whole situation?
 
The feeling of betrayal and hurt died as I stood there on the
stairs as other, more interesting, feelings replaced them.
Curiosity.  Astonishment.  A grudging respect.  And, well, tear-
ing lust.
 
The heat that had spread through my body as I imagined the scene
decided me.  Was he dark or fair?  I knew how she would look; the
pink of her newly-warmed skin and the wide-eyed look of surprise
that came over her in moments of excitement would not be new to
me.  But her lover?  What kind of man had she chosen?  I pictured
her astride his body, her head tilted so she could watch his
face.  Her beneath him, her ankles resting on his shoulders, her
hands caressing his face.
 
These images clouded my mind so that I couldn't remember walking
up the rest of the stairs once I found myself at her door.  I
turned the knob and opened the door, feeling the blood pound in
my body as I heard her sigh, a low, long sound that evoked other,
more familiar scenes.
 
And did I expect the two of them to leap apart like guilty teen-
agers upon the arrival of a parent?  They didn't.
 
She was lying on her back, knees spread wide apart, arms above
her head, crossed at the wrists.  He was curled at the foot of
her bed, with his head between her thighs.  Apparently they
hadn't heard me come in.
 
Or so I thought.  Ann had.  She turned her head slightly to look
at me, opening her eyes slowly, disoriented but aware.  Her face
was flushed with the force of her recent orgasm, and the smile
she directed at me did nothing to diminish the urgency I felt.
My cock felt uncomfortably stiff as I saw her tremble under the
efforts of her dark-haired lover.
 
And I know the way she thinks.  I know what she was thinking as
she looked at me.  She was challenging me, testing me.
 
You have always wanted this.  You've wondered how I would move,
how I would sound, how I would look with another man.  Stay and
watch, my darling.
 
She knows the way I think.
 
The man continued his oral exploration, and from the way Ann
reacted, he was sufficiently skilled.  I moved closer to the bed
so I could see his face, and Ann obligingly spread her legs wider
to improve my view.  His eyes were closed as he worked on her,
concentrating.  I always preferred to watch her as I ate her.
Perhaps he didn't know the lascivious joy that her face revealed
from time to time, and how arousing that could be.
 
I could see the pink of his tongue as he licked her and teased
her, finally moving from the slickness of her lips to her clit,
causing her to breathe another sigh of contentment.  I watched
him as he flicked it back and forth experimentally, then brought
his lips together and began sucking it.  Her hips began to move,
and her head turned slowly to the side, her mouth slightly open
as her breathing came faster.
 
I wondered if he knew how much she loved having a man put his
fingers inside her as he made her come with his tongue.
 
And I could see her nipples hardening, see her legs tremble as
her excitement mounted.  She opened her eyes to look down at the
man as she has done with me, but he didn't meet her gaze as I
would have.  He missed it, missed that look of astonishment and
delight that came over her face as her orgasm began, as she
gripped the sheets and cried out once again.
 
Once her tremors had subsided, he moved his face away from her
cunt and looked up.  I expected some show of surprise, but there
was none.  He smiled slightly at me, and I knew he had seen that
I had, without really being conscious of it, started to stroke
the hardness of my cock through the fabric of my pants.
 
He looked away from me, though, and turned his attention to Ann's
breasts, now flushed an eager pink.  His lips closed around one
nipple as he tested how sensitive it was.  Ann looked at me
again, this time smiling openly at me.
 
Do I please you?  Is this what you thought it would be?
 
Much more, much more.
 
And Ann's nipples, while I am on the subject, are rather respon-
sive.  She has been known to come simply from having them
touched, though I haven't seen it happen.  So it came as no
surprise that she reached out for my hand as her lover worked on
one breast, and placed it on her other, closing my hand gently
around the soft warmth of it.  Her skin was smooth and warm, and
she sighed with approval as I began to stroke her, caressing her
nipple with my palm.
 
I know how she likes to be touched.  She's shown me, whispered it
to me.  How did he know?  He did know, though; I could tell by
the slow smile that spread over her face as he moved his mouth
away from her and mimicked the motions that I was using.
 
Ann looked first at him, then back at me.  As if through some
agreement among the three of us, she sat up and unbuttoned my
shirt, removing it with a mischievous glance at the man beside
her on the bed.  Her hands moved then to the zipper of my pants,
and soon I was kicking them off.
 
I felt enormously uncomfortable standing there naked in front of
Ann's stranger.  I am not a modest person by nature, but I had
never been placed in such a situation.  Strangely enough,
though, my discomfort served only to increase my excitement.  I
wondered what he was thinking as he looked at me, so obviously
aroused.
 
Wonderful.  You are wonderful.
 
Ann's smile told me much as she pulled me down to sit next to her
on the bed.  The dark-haired man was stretched out behind us, and
I paid him very little attention as she placed her hands on my
face and kissed me with growing degrees of intensity.  Soon she
was sliding her hands over my chest, stopping on every pass to
toy with my nipples.
 
She knows how to touch me.  Her fingers on my skin felt deli-
ciously cool against my warmth and eagerness.  I must have sighed
with relief when she finally wrapped her hands around my cock,
because she looked up at me with a questioning gaze.
 
The best I could offer her was a smile as she began caressing me
with her hands, with a gentle, light pressure as she moved up and
down.  I must have been absorbed in the feel of her hands, be-
cause it wasn't until I felt his mouth close around my nipple
that I realized that Ann's lover had moved around to where we
were sitting.
 
I wish I could describe the erotic thrill that jolted through my
body as I watched him lick my skin, closing his lips to
suck--this was the first look I had allowed myself at his face,
and his brow was furrowed as though he were concentrating.
Pretty boy, I thought, looking next at Ann.  Her motions had not
ceased, and I felt an unusual shock of excitement as I realized
that she was becoming more aroused by watching the two of us
together.
 
As if by mutual decision, the two stopped at the same time and
rearranged themselves.  Ann leaned down to put her head in my
lap, and the man moved behind me, putting his arms around my
chest and continuing his stimulation of my hard nipples.  I could
feel his tongue flicking my ear as Ann's began to explore my
cock, and all I could think about was the relief that I would
feel once this pressure in my body had been released.
 
And it was impossible to focus my attention on either one of
them; the sensations were that good.  It was as if my entire body
had been reduced (or amplified) into one huge pleasure center,
where it was immaterial who did the pleasing.  I felt Ann's lips
tighten around my cock as it slid deep into her mouth, and I felt
his fingers on my nipples give a sudden hard squeeze.
 
Too good.
 
When Ann began using her hands in concert with her mouth, my cock
felt tremendous and swollen, and I thought to ask her to stop.
But I wasn't able to; the man behind me had turned my head and
began to kiss me.
 
There was something inherently strange in this, I thought, but it
did not diminish the pleasure I felt at all.  It was new and
exciting to feel the harder, more definite kiss of a man, and not
the yielding, melting kiss of a woman.
 
I liked it.  I liked feeling his lips on mine, and I liked the
feel of his tongue in my mouth as his hands wandered now over my
shoulders and into my hair.
 
It was Ann who stopped, because I couldn't have stopped her at
this point.  She waited until the man had broken our kiss to look
at her expectantly.  Following his lead, I looked at her, too, as
if for instructions.
 
And I found those instructions.
 
You've always wanted to know what it's like to suck on a man's
cock.  You've said so.  I've told you I'd like to watch you do
it.
 
Do it.
 
She pushed the man onto his back so that I could situate myself
comfortably.  I had never really looked at a man's body when he
was excited, much less touched one, and it's not the same as my
own.
 
Much nicer.  Ann has always been attracted to short men, so he
was not very tall, but I could see how beautifully proportioned
he was.  His arms were firm, though not overly muscular, and his
legs were slim and graceful.  His chest had only a slight plume
of hair, and he had a flat, smooth abdomen.
 
Oh, and the way his cock stood out, stiff and solid, against the
whiteness of his skin.
 
I wanted to touch him all over, to know what it was like for Ann
when she touched a man.  First down over his shoulders, then down
his sides.  His nipples were not as sensitive as mine, so I moved
on.  Down over his hips and the plane of his stomach.  His
thighs, outside, then inside.
 
And I could tell that my touch excited him more.  I reached out
to touch his cock, and he took my hand in his to guide me.  As I
felt his hardness, his excitement, I became eager to have him in
my mouth, to know how enormous that pleasure can be, to know at
last.
 
His cock was heavy and hot in the coolness of the room.  I leaned
down and began as Ann always did, because it seemed to be a good
starting place.  I licked down the length of his cock, stopping
at the head to rub him against my tongue.  His sharp intake of
breath assured me that I was not the only one who enjoyed this.
I licked him until his skin slid easily against my hand.
 
Then I closed my lips around him tightly, very conscious of the
size and girth of his cock.  It wasn't long, but it was clear
that that was not a concern.  I took him into my mouth slowly,
letting his cock slide along my  tongue, careful not to graze him
with my teeth.  Ann sometimes did that when she was eager.
 
I sucked on him, then, gently at first, but then harder as his
hips began to move in response to my touch.  I can't begin to
describe the powerful feelings that were happening in me as I
felt his cock plunging into my mouth.  I felt hot and  cold and,
yes, in control.
 
His breathing was coming faster, now, and I could feel by the
motion of his body  that he was about to come.  I was so caught
up in his rhythm that I wasn't concerned, wasn't ready for him to
stop.  The whole universe seemed to have been condensed into this
man's hard, straining cock.
 
Ann stopped him, though, by the first word any of us had spoken
since I came in.  "Stop," she breathed, eyes bright and face
flushed.  It was clear that she had been enjoying the sight of us
together; her arms crossed over her chest as if to hold herself
back from interfering or joining in.
 
She reclined on the bed, spreading her legs wide.  I could see
her excitement there, see the pink eagerness that overpowers the
shyness in moments of arousal. She was slick and ready, and he
accepted the invitation that she extended him with enthusiasm.
 
And it was strange; I felt a bit left out of it all until I saw
her level gaze directed at me as he positioned himself above her.
 
Haven't you thought about watching me fuck another man?  I know
you've wanted to.  I know you've wanted to have me after someone
else has.  Let him come inside me.
 
You watch.
 
The sight of the two of them as he slid his cock into her slowly
was unbearably gorgeous.  There are those who think of sex as a
ridiculous act, but I am not one of them.  These two were beauti-
ful together, and I found myself wondering whether she and I
moved so well with each other.
 
He teased her for a long time before he finally adopted any kind
of rhythm, but by then I think she was too far gone to care.  In
certain moods Ann becomes almost mechanical in her orgasms; it is
impossible to tell where one ends and another begins.  She was
coming over and over again as he slammed his cock into her, and
if I watched closely I could see that his cock was covered with
her wetness.
 
She has never been a quiet lover.  Her sighs and her little gasps
of surprise recalled countless erotic images, with her and with
others.  My cock felt uncomfortably hard, and I took it in my
hands and began masturbating as I watched the two of them.
 
It wasn't long before Ann was almost crying in her arousal, and I
knew that he would finish soon by the determination on his face.
"Come inside me, please.  Do it hard," she whimpered, and with a
long sigh of relief he did, continuing his thrusting as her body
tensed against his.
 
By this time I was avid for some release, so as soon as he moved
away I touched Ann, touched the warm, flushed skin of her cheek
and told her, "I want you now. I don't want to wait."
 
She opened her eyes and offered me a weak smile.  She spoke to me
for the first time since I had entered.  "As you wish," she told
me, sounding breathless and flustered.
 
It would be difficult to capture the eroticism of tasting her
juices mingled with his, as I did when I bent to lick her.  The
scent of her excitement was heavy and fresh, and I attacked her
cunt with my tongue and my lips, not really conscious of much but
the sounds she made and the way she moved as I teased her, plung-
ing my tongue deep inside her, then licking her clit slowly and
deliberately.
 
And she was coming again, coming still.  I felt her hips rock and
her body tense, and she finally edged away from my mouth as she
does when the pleasure becomes too intense.  "Come on," she
whispered, looking at me, glowing with a flush that was almost
feverish.  "Hurry," she urged, as I unfolded my body in prepara-
tion to enter her.
 
I needed no more coaxing.  I placed her ankles atop my shoulders,
because this has always been her position of preference, and I
intended to please her as I pleased myself.   I went inside her
deeply on the first stroke, because she was so slick and ready.
 
The wetness and the warmth of her cunt gripped me and squeezed me
convulsively as I slid my cock in and out of her swollen lips.  I
watched her face as she climaxed yet again, and her fingers
worked at her nipples, which were stiff and pink with her arous-
al.
 
As beautiful a sight as she was there beneath me, I couldn't help
losing myself in my own excitement.  I moved faster and more
regularly in and out of her, feeling the pressure mount in my
body, climbing to a higher peak than I had yet felt that after-
noon.  Her hands came up to squeeze my nipples, and I was almost
blinded with the pleasure of her touch.
 
"Stop," she said once again, and her command puzzled me.  But she
was serious, as serious as she could be in her present state of
unceasing arousal.  I stopped, withdrawing with some disappoint-
ment.
 
She placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me onto my back
with a surprising strength.  She straddled me then, taking my
cock deep inside her, coming down upon me hard.  I think I must
have laughed.
 
She is really a delightful creature at these times.
 
And her hands continued to play at my nipples as she moved on top
of me, moving slowly, tilting her hips on every stroke to in-
crease her pleasure.  She moved as though she were using me, and
I loved the look of concentration that crossed her face as she
worked toward another climax.
 
It happened, and as her body shuddered she collapsed, pressing
her body flat against mine, while continuing the motion of her
hips.  It wasn't long, though, before she regained her equilibri-
um and returned astride me, moving now with determination to help
me find the same release that she had been enjoying.
 
I put my hands on her hips to guide her motions, and we soon
found a rhythm that  began my climb to the peak of my arousal.  I
could feel the pressure mounting inside me, again, again, almost
painful.  I could feel the familiar churning with in my body that
meant that I was about to come.
 
And with the childlike cry that always amuses her, I did.  I felt
myself shooting deep inside her, felt the muscles of her cunt
caress me as my cock and my entire body trembled with my orgasm.
She moved a bit more, satisfying herself and completing my pleas-
ure, before she finally collapsed on top of me again, my cock
still deep inside her.
 
Time passed, and we stayed like that, with my arms loosely around
her as we both regained our breath.  I must have slept, because I
next found myself alone in the bed.
 
Ann sat in a chair near the bed, watching me as I had slept, an
unreadable expression on her face.  There were many questions I
couldn't answer, many things I wanted to ask her.  Something in
her face prevented me, though.  Her look was enough.
 
You wanted this.  I wanted this.  Don't question it.
 
You enjoyed this.  I enjoyed this.  He enjoyed this.
 
No questions, please.
 
I thought I knew how her mind works.  I thought I knew her.  It
wasn't until that evening that I learned how little I actually
know.  It wasn't until that evening that I began to understand
how much she was her own creature, with desires and ideas inde-
pendent of mine.
 
It was certainly nice to have met her.
 
--