Archive-name: 3plus/bedtime3.txt
Archive-author: David Wolf
Archive-title: Memory of Three, A

A Writer's Choice Bedtime Story


	It's an old, old fantasy: two women, one man, making love in 
joyful abandon. I can't remember how long ago the potent picture 
entered my mind: one woman straddling my cock, a second woman 
straddling my mouth, and all three of us consumed by pleasure.
	But I'll never forget the stormy summer evening when that 
lingering fantasy at last became a delightful reality -- or the 
love with which Lois and Monica gave me, and themselves, that 
memory.
	Lois has an old-fashioned name, but her outlook is thoroughly 
modern. Her warm, bright spirit draws people of like temperament 
to her, and she has built a large circle of dear friends, all 
fiercely protective and loyal. Though no advocate of "free love," 
she loves freely, and gives herself permission to embrace her 
friends with more than her heart. Over the years many, including 
several of the women, have shared her bed and attentions.
	And yet no one who knows her would for a moment think her 
promiscuous or predatory, for she blends discretion and honesty so 
well that ruffled feathers are rare. It's clear that these 
encounters are a bonding between friends, a physical affirmation 
of the trust and affection which already exist. When I met Lois 
and was invited into that circle, I had to throw out some of my 
own old-fashioned notions. 
	But I've been well rewarded for my willingness to change. A 
year after we met, Lois and I moved in together. That was two 
years ago, and I've never been happier or more sexually contented. 
What's more, Lois's friends, who at first scrutinized me 
suspiciously, the way a father does his daughter's date, have 
begun to accept me into their embrace.
		#
	Which brings me to Monica. 
	When I first met her, at an outdoor May wedding, she reminded 
me of a girl I had admired in high school: jet-black hair, olive 
skin, and a classical Italian voluptuousness. Her large breasts 
filled her white button blouse in a most provocative way, and her 
rounded hips and full bottom made the sight of her walking away a 
powerful temptation.
	Lois noted my interest with a smile. "I'll just say one thing 
about Monica," she told me. "Be straight with her. Don't play 
games."
	I took that advice to heart. When the chance for a private 
moment arose late in the day, I told Monica plainly how 
delightfully sexy I found her. Her eyes brightened, and she 
allowed as how she had always liked tall men, and thought I had 
fascinating eyes.
	Before that conversation was done, we had shared a first 
tentative but electrifying kiss, and I had learned a great deal 
about her history with Lois. They had been close years ago, before 
Monica moved a thousand miles east. After five years in what 
Monica called "urban exile," she had just returned to her home 
town, two highway hours away from where Lois and I live.
	She had no car, so we probably wouldn't see her often, she 
said. But she hoped to see us soon, under better circumstances for 
catching up. And then she casually confided that she had always 
been attracted to Lois, though she had never quite known how to 
tell her.
	"Maybe I'll just have to seduce you both someday," she said, 
her tone light, but her smile saucy.
	Then her ride called her away, and in a few minutes Monica was 
gone. So it was left to me to report back to Lois that Monica was 
interested -- in both of us. I watched as Lois's expression 
metamorphosed, in several stages, from startled to intrigued.
	"In that case," Lois said slowly, "there's something else I 
should tell you about Monica. I think she has the most beautiful 
tits--"
		#
	We didn't talk about it, but from that point onward, a 
threesome involving Monica, Lois, and me was somehow in the air. 
No one had made any promises, but all the pieces were there -- if 
only they came together in the right time and place.
	The right time turned out to be only a month away, though at 
first it seemed like an absolutely wrong place. The occasion was 
our group's annual weekend swim-and-sing campout in a nearby state 
park. Even though Lois and I knew Monica was coming, we also knew 
that sunscreened skin, mosquito-sprayed clothing, crowded tents, 
and narrow air mattresses -- plus no privacy to speak of -- didn't 
add up to anyone's idea of ideal conditions.
	But Mother Nature intervened. It was brutally hot and humid 
all afternoon, while we were at the lake. By dinner time, back at 
our campsite, the sky was a wall of dark clouds. By dusk there was 
no mistaking the ominous rumbles, and when the wind changed, we 
knew we wouldn't escape the downpour. A few hardy souls vowed to 
stick it out, but the rest of us quickly struck our tents and 
began to gather our gear.
	Monica, though, was in a temporary quandary. She wasn't eager 
to stay, but she'd been dropped off at the park by her housemates, 
who had continued on into the city and wouldn't be back until 
Sunday. When Monica looked at us hopefully, Lois and I looked at 
each other and saw the answer we wanted in each other's eyes.
	"Why don't you come home with us?" I said. Monica's hopeful 
smile widened into a happy one. 
	On the drive home, the sexual tension filled our Accord like a 
glowing cloud. We talked about everything but sex, yet I could 
hardly think of anything else. It was hard to keep my eyes on the 
dark, rain-slick highway. The fingers of lightning fracturing the 
sky outside reflected the electric atmosphere inside the car.
	When we reached our townhouse, Lois opened a bottle of white 
wine, and I loaded the CD with jazz and Latin rock. We'd been 
building up erotic energy for hours, just as the thunderstorm 
raging outside had built through that sultry afternoon. But still, 
there was no hurry. I understood -- there was no need for haste. 
We had a night and a day together ahead of us.
	Finally, with sheets of rain hammering the living room 
windows, Lois set aside her empty glass, reached out to squeeze 
Monica's hand, and bent to kiss me. "Let's go upstairs," she said.
	We undressed by the warm light of one small lamp, and met in 
the middle of the queen-sized bed. Monica kissed me, then Lois, 
long deep kisses that seemed to drive the temperature in the room 
higher. The two women were a study in contrasts: Lois taller, 
catlike, her skin pale even after the day's sun, her hair a honey-
blonde cascade to mid-back -- Monica darker, her eyes jet like her 
hair, her lips as soft and inviting as her hourglass figure. Their 
scents mingled in my nostrils in a delightful confusion.
	Lois reached out and gently caressed the dramatic curves of 
Monica's breasts, which were even fuller and more luscious than 
her clothing had betrayed. "See?" Lois murmured to me, as though 
reading my thoughts. "Didn't I tell you?" Her fingertips grazed 
Monica's nipples, making the other woman shiver and close her 
eyes. My cock, already jutting upward, stiffened at the sight.
	I tattooed a line of kisses along Lois's shoulder, then cupped 
and cradled Monica's brown-tipped globes in my hands, enjoying 
their weight and warmth. Lois bent forward and experimentally 
teased a nipple with her tongue. When I did the same, Monica 
moaned and laid back on the bed, cradling her breasts in her own 
hands and offering them up to our mouths.
	We were quick to accept the invitation. Monica's nipples rose 
rewardingly under the eager attention we gave them, lips and 
tongue and nipping teeth. She squirmed on the black bedspread and 
made quiet mewling sounds of pleasure. At one point Lois and I 
pillowed our heads on Monica's breasts as we kissed, sloppy hungry 
kisses that seemed to arouse Monica almost as much as they did us. 
	Hands were everywhere, the unexpected touch part of the 
strange wonderfulness of three together -- exploring the familiar 
and the unfamiliar in turn and at once. Monica's fingers in my 
hair, Lois lightly stroking my now-throbbing hardness, my own 
hands firmly squeezing Lois's ass cheeks, the way I knew she 
liked, or tracing lines across Monica's belly and inner thighs, 
looking to discover what she liked.
	Before long, I slid down along Monica's body, kissing my way 
to the apex of her thighs, and parted her dark fur with my tongue. 
Her taste was complex, her fragrance intoxicating, and I happily 
buried my face there and began to give her the very best of my 
oral talents. Her clit swelled gratifyingly under my tongue just 
as her nipple had, and soon the whole bed was moving with Monica's 
ecstatic contortions. But, not long after, her moaning, from which 
I'd been taking my cue, seemed to stop.
	When I glanced up, I saw why. Lois had taken inspiration from 
what I was doing to Monica, and moved around to where she could 
lower her own wet pussy onto Monica's mouth. Lois's eyes were 
closed, her lips parted, her fingertips pinching her own nipples 
as she rode Monica's tongue in a haze of delicious sensation.
	Monica was pinned to the bed at one end by Lois's silky lips 
and at the other by my mouth. In between, she arched her back and 
clawed at her own breasts, squeezing them harder than I would have 
thought she'd enjoy. But Monica was at that point of arousal where 
pain and pleasure merge, and I began to tongue her faster, to suck 
gently on her swollen clit. Suddenly she let out a gasping, 
moaning cry that even Lois's thighs could not muffle, and Monica's 
body jerked in powerful spasm.
	Monica was near-faint in afterglow, and Lois moved from her to 
me, nudging me onto my back and lowering herself onto my cock. Her 
inflamed pussy was like a hot velvet glove sliding down over my 
hardness, but she was so wet that there was barely any friction. 
She leaned forward to let me suck her nipples, and rocked up and 
down on my shaft with a voracious, ferocious energy that brought 
me right to the edge of orgasm.
	But, reaching down to where we were joined, Lois seized my 
cock at the root and clamped her fingers around it in an iron 
grip, staving off my explosion while she rode me to her own. Her 
almost agonized cries of joy and a warm, spreading wetness between 
us declared the intensity of her release.
	By this time, Monica had sat up, and was biting her lower lip 
and watching us intently. "Is there any of that left for me?" she 
asked hopefully when Lois, emerging from her flushed haze, finally 
noticed her.
	Lois shimmied playfully atop her impaler. "Feels like it to 
me," she said, leaning forward to kiss me. "What do you think, 
sweetheart?"
	"By all means -- it's only polite," I answered with a smile.
	So Lois gave way, moving to the side and helping Monica kneel 
astride my hips, even guiding my cock inside her friend's hungry 
opening. The differences in texture, in temperature, in enveloping 
sensation, between the two women was remarkable. But Monica was no 
less exciting than Lois had been, especially when she began to 
enthusiastically bounce up and down, her muscles milking my cock 
and driving all coherent thought from my mind.
	I scarcely noticed Lois moving until she was at my head and 
above me. But when I looked up and saw her glistening crimson gash 
descending toward my mouth, a shiver of delight ran through me. 
When her lips were sealed against mine, my tongue tasting her 
exotic dew, I was transported to heaven.
	It was the picture out of my fantasy, only better -- because I 
had always seen it from the outside, and now I was in the middle 
of it. I licked Lois eagerly, thrust my cock deep into Monica, and 
asked for nothing else but for it to go on forever. It couldn't, 
of course, for there's no way to store that kind of sexual 
electricity, to endure such exquisite stimulation, for long.
	All too soon -- and at the same time, none too soon -- I was 
lost in a storm of my own, flooding jets of come into Monica and 
sending a lightning charge of pure animal pleasure from my arching 
body into both my partners. I think that one, maybe both, of the 
women came for a second time soon after, either from what I had 
given them or from what they had been doing to each other.
	But it wasn't important enough to ask about as we collapsed 
into a happy, fragrant huddle of warm, tired bodies. All that 
mattered was how close we felt in that moment, and how lovely -- 
and loving -- it had been.
		#
	There were three more episodes of erotic exploration -- in 
different rooms, moods, and combinations -- before Monica was 
picked up by her housemates late the next day. But the time I 
remember most fondly was early Sunday morning, when I awoke first, 
savoring both the warm contact with the sleeping women on either 
side of me and the memory of what had happened in that bed the 
night before.
	Monica was the next to awake, and turned to snuggle closer to 
me. The snuggling gave way to soft sleepy kissing, and then to 
wide-awake caresses and short-breathed sighs. Both of us were 
eager to go farther, but reluctant to exclude Lois, a late sleeper 
by nature, and loathe to give her a rude and uncomfortable wake-up 
surprise. But Lois stirred enough as Monica and I were purring at 
idle to become aware of what was going on.
	"Is it all right if I borrow him for just a little while?" 
Monica asked, reaching across me to brush a lock of hair back from 
Lois's cheek. 
	"Sure," Lois said with a heavy-lidded smile. She kissed me on 
the shoulder and murmured, "Go ahead, it's okay," as she burrowed 
back into her pillows. It was more than permission -- it was 
confirmation that the warm bond among the three of us was still 
there, that there were no regrets or second thoughts.
	This time, the love-making was simple and straightforward. 
"Please fuck me," Monica whispered, and shifted in the bed so that 
she could open her legs and invite me atop and inside. Leaning on 
my hands, I thrust my morning-hard cock into her with long, slow 
strokes, deep to the hilt and then pulling out until only the tip 
of the head joined us. After a time, I dropped to my elbows so 
that I could once more enjoy her wonderful breasts and large, 
suckable nipples. Monica's arms went around my waist to hold me 
close and deep, and she seemed to welcome my weight on her.
	Then, as our movements grew gradually more energetic, and we 
both began to draw ragged, gasping breaths to fuel our pounding 
hearts and blood, Lois edged closer, still sleepy, and curled 
against us, holding my hand, resting her head on Monica's arm. She 
had no energy for any more, but joined us as three, and basked in 
the sensual halo surrounding us, smiling with an inner 
satisfaction as first Monica, then I cried out our joy and our 
release.
	Strange as it may sound, I felt, somehow, as if I'd been 
making love to both of them again. And I knew, resting back on my 
pillow, that these were two special women with whom I was sharing 
an extraordinary weekend and feeling, and I counted myself a 
lucky, lucky man.

==================================================================
A version of this story was published by VARIATIONS in September,
1991 as STORM OF DESIRE by Drew Parsons. This is the original
unedited text, as the author meant it to be read.
==================================================================