#lotusbxtch

It was Santi’s only request this evening. Already uncomfortable with the black tie dress code but sucking it up since it was his best friend Will who invited him, your boyfriend was on edge. This gala dinner to benefit the foundation Will worked for was not on Santi’s list of favorite ways to spend a Saturday night, and all week he’d been surly in anticipation. 

Santi smoothes the lapels of his jacket, then adjusts the collar of the silken shirt underneath. “I fucking hate suits,” he grouses. “Not enough range of motion.”

You nearly snort in amusement. “What are you planning to do, conduct a raid while you’re at dinner?” Rolling your eyes, you continue applying your makeup. “And it’s a tux, not a suit.”

A heavy sigh leaves Santi’s plush lips. “Worse. Can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Your mirth grows with the smirk on your mouth. “Incredible what you’ll agree to do when I’ve got my lips wrapped around your dick.”

Santi groans a bit, eyes skyward as if a higher power is specifically torturing him for his transgressions. “Behave,” he bites out. “That’s all I’m asking of you.”

Pearly white teeth show as your smile turns feline. “Or what? You gonna make me?”

Santi’s eyes flash in warning. “Fuck around and find out, bebita.”

Oh, you would definitely be finding out.

You absolutely did not behave. And you are fucking around and finding out.

Away from the commotion of the gala, in the far wing of the glitzy hotel, Santi has you bent over the back of a plush couch in the lounge area of the spacious women’s bathroom. Your knees are cushioned by green velvet while he stands behind you: right hand gathering your hair into a loose ponytail, left fingers gripping onto your corresponding hip, his slacks open and unzipped but his outfit otherwise undisturbed.

You, on the other hand, are an absolute mess. Lipstick is smeared past your lipline, your lips plump and red from Santi face-fucking you earlier, and your expensive chiffon dress is hiked up past your hips. Your panties lay in a ripped pile on the floor, while your tits spill out of the front of your bodice, dangling tantalizingly. 

“You want it?” Santi teases, the head of his cock slipping around your slick entrance, lighting your nerves on fire.

“Yes,” you moan unabashedly, hips grinding backwards. “Need to feel you.”

The hand on your hip tightens. His tip disappears from you, its touch a phantom memory. The whine that escapes your throat is, frankly, pathetic.

“Nuh, uh, baby,” Santi chides, smacking your ass in the process. A desperate moan rattles your throat as your head tips back, spine arching sensually.

“Just fuck me, Santi,” you beg fruitlessly. You know he won’t give up that easily, but you’re so worked up that you’ll try it anyway.

“Not when you can’t listen to simple orders,” he rumbles. As he predicted, you refused to heed his warning, pulling every trick out of your bag to get the blood rushing from his head to his… other head. Rubbing your ass against his crotch as you passed him; trailing a hand down his back to the base of his spine; flashing him a peek at your lace panties surreptitiously; running a finger teasingly down his increasingly engorged dick under the table - you did this all knowing full well there would be repercussions. A muscle feathered in his jaw every time you taunted him. His hands clenched into fists in his pockets. You could tell you were in deep trouble with him.

You wanted to play with fire tonight, though. That was one of the reasons Santi loved you so much.

“You fucking liked it, though. Don’t lie to me,” you respond. You lean forward and open your legs further, slipping a hand between your thighs to spread your entrance wide open invitingly, and his reactionary groan has a tinge of a growl to it. 

“Really need it that bad?” he asks. “You’re going to have to work for it.” Santi’s thick tip slips around your folds again, slicked up by your desperation. You whimper, pushing your hips back to pop it snugly inside of your heat.

A hum from deep in his chest vibrates the air around you. “I’m not moving my cock an inch. You wanna come so bad, you gotta do it yourself.” 

Your head whips to him (as much as it can with him holding your hair like this). “Are you fucking kidding me?” you hiss, annoyance flashing in your eyes. His face is all hard edges and stoicism, but you see that playful glint in his gaze. He’s toying with you like a cat with a mouse. 

Fine, you think. Two can play this game.

Leaning forward a bit, you start to push your hips backwards, until you feel Santi’s free hand stop the progression of your ass. “What the fuck, Santiago?!”

“Naughty, naughty,” he croons, “you didn’t let me finish. You can only use the tip.”

You growl in frustration, manicured nails clawing into the sofa’s upholstery. “How the fuck am I going to get off like that?”

“You’ll find a way,” Santi says nonchalantly. You roll your eyes. “Best get to it then, bebita. Or I can just leave you here high and dry.”

Head spinning and needing release, you start circling your hips. Santi’s tip is big enough to stretch your walls nicely, so the pressure starts to light up your nerve endings. His hand pushes against you when your motions get too far up his shaft, and you settle into a rolling rhythm, little moans dropping from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Does that feel good?” Santi asks rhetorically, and you nod your head, tilting your hips a bit until the angle hits something delicious inside of you. A high-pitched whine escapes your throat.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Can feel you getting tight.” His warm hand snakes forward, finger swiping up some of your slick before circling your clit softly. Your legs twitch, another moan ricocheting around the space.

“Fuck, Santi,” you pant. He rubs harder, faster, and you feel your release coiling in your muscles. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna –”

Before you can get out the words, his finger leaves your nub and he pulls his hips backwards, leaving you empty.

“What the FUCK, Santi!” you nearly scream at him. “I was almost –”

Everything next happens so fast.

Santi’s large, warm hand grips your face and covers your mouth. “I have had enough of your shit attitude, baby,” he growls. His other hand pushes on your back to bend you over further, and then he swiftly fills you in one devastating stroke.

You cry out against his palm. You can feel him everywhere, your nerve endings singing loudly, that thick tip of his buried so deeply that he’s pushing right up against your cervix. Santi begins grinding his length into you, never pulling back more than a fraction before sinking in again, keeping that immobilizing pressure up. 

“Can’t do the one thing I asked you to do tonight, can’t say anything nice, just complaining over and over. Such a brat,” he chastises while his hips press into you. 

Santi leans forward and lays his body over yours. His lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to nearly a rumble. “I don’t wanna hear another word from your mouth for now unless it’s my fucking name.” The last two words are punctuated by upward snaps of his hips, making you shriek into his hand yet again. He holds himself as deep as he can, massaging every inch of your cunt, the pleasure building. But your rebellious streak rears its ugly head, and you do probably the worst thing you have the option of doing at that moment.

You bite his palm.

A shocked sound followed by a hiss leaves his lips. You bring your chest back up a bit, and petty rage fills your veins. “Maybe if you did a better job, I wouldn’t have to complain so much.”

It’s silent for a moment, just the two of you breathing heavily, and then the man actually has the gall to laugh at you. Santi makes a sucking sound with his tongue against the back of his teeth. 

“Wrong move.” 

Suddenly, your torn panties are being shoved in your mouth, and his hand is back over it. His other hand grabs both of your wrists, pinning them behind you at the base of your spine. He sheathes himself in you once again, the edge of a moan barely bit back in his throat. “If I’m so bad at it, then why is this pretty little pussy drenched, huh? Such a slut that you’re just dripping all the time?” He pulls out then feeds you just his cockhead, and the hand over your mouth moves back to the apex of your thighs. “You’re only gonna get to come when you apologize for your behavior.”

Whines muffled by the lace in your mouth can barely be heard as Santi massages the front wall of your cunt with his tip. He slicks up the pads of his fingers with your wetness, then starts circling your clit once again. This is not the first time he’s employed this sort of tactic with you; it’s so fun to be a brat with him and see what sort of pleasure he doles out with his punishment.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that all the teasing you did tonight also affected you – right now, all you can think about is how badly you want to come, and it pisses you off how fast Santi got you there.

“All you have to do is say you’re sorry, baby,” Santi sings in your ear.

Your stubborn streak flares up, though it’s tempered by your release starting to rise again. “Fuck you,” you mutter into the fabric. Retribution is swift: Santi pulls himself out of you, stops touching your clit, and spanks you sharply right on your pussy. Your head rears back briefly, your cry muffled. 

“You’re really just making it harder for yourself,” Santi tuts, then bends down to blow air over your sensitive folds. A shamefully whiny moan escapes your stuffed mouth, and you don’t need to turn around to know Santi is smirking like a bastard. “Be a good girl and get rewards. Be a little brat and get nothing. It’s not difficult.”

Furrowed brows and a heaving chest give away your neediness, but you stay silent. Another smack to your cunt lights up your nerve endings. You keen, thighs squeezing together, but Santi shoves your feet apart again and slaps your center again. Another cry, another wet slap, another cry. The sting singes your senses but has a delicious edge to it nonetheless.

His strong grip yanks your hair yet again. Full, soft lips graze the rim of your ear, releasing shivers across your pebbled skin as you moan uncontrollably. “Apologize, now,” he booms, his smooth baritone dipping lower.  You shake your head.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

Then, Santi steps back, letting go of you. The motion makes you wobble a bit on your gold stilettos. You hear the fabric of his slacks rustling and the rasp of the zipper as he tucks himself back in. His expensive black dress shoes click across the marble behind you, getting fainter. Panic surges up, swooping from your belly to your throat. He wasn’t joking.

“Wait, no!” you simper, spinning around and pulling your panties from your mouth hurriedly. Santi’s broad back, tapered waist, and shapely derrière halt, but he doesn’t turn around. Silence sits thick and charged around the both of you. 

“Please,” you beg meekly. He only turns his head to the side, his stunning profile temporarily rendering you speechless as the lust clouds your brain.

All he does is raise one brow.

The shame and frustration burns hot but makes your pulse kick into high gear with arousal. “I’m….” you start, then groan out loud. Your eyes flick to the ceiling, then back on your man.

“…I’m sorry.” Heat floods your skin.

A pause. “Sorry for what, bebita?”

A huff leaves your lips. His eyes drill into yours, staying quiet, until you can’t handle it anymore.

“FINE!” you exclaim. “I’m sorry for not behaving myself! There, happy?”

The corner of his sinful mouth ticks upwards before he schools it back.

“Good girl.” A purr, silk and velvet wrapping itself around your body, enters your ears and burrows into some feral, instinctual part of your brain. 

Santi’s warm, broad chest is pressed to yours in seconds, his fingers tracing curlicues and vines across your skin, and a whimper escapes your mouth when he traces a finger across the tip of your shoulder.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asks you softly, voice dipped in honey with an edge of humor. He runs his lips down your neck, pink tongue kitten licking as he goes. They wander back up to your ear and he bites your lobe gently before continuing. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that. I don’t think you really mean it.”

You choke back a whine; if you complain more now, he’s going to walk right back out that door. You worry your bottom lip sharply with your top teeth to keep yourself in line. He waits patiently. 

“Tell me what to do, Santiago,” you beg. “Please. I need it. I need you.”

“Mmm,” Santi rumbles. “My name always sounds so sweet rolling off that talented tongue.” He grips your hips, then pivots you around to pull your body back against his chest. “I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say this time.” Warm palms mold themselves to the flare of your ribs.

“Yes, sir,” you exhale, hands subtly shaking with desire. Santi hums his approval, then his warmth leaves your back. You bite your lip harder and focus on him through the mirror ahead of you. 

Don’t. Break. 

His steps click once again, this time towards the armchair kitty corner from the couch, and you turn your head to track his movement. Santi sinks back into it, a lion lounging, limbs loose and casual. Spread thighs beckon you invitingly. His elbow rests above his knee, assessing. 

He leans forward, eyes intense. A single word.

“Crawl.”

Unceremoniously, your hands and knees hit the cool luxury of unforgiving marble. All you can hear is your own panting breaths and the hush of your chiffon dress dragging along the floor while you slink slowly towards Santi. Shiny black leather shoes come into view; you dare not raise your gaze to his, yet.

A barely detectable purr from above you. “Let me see those eyes.”

Slowly, your vision drags from Santi’s feet, up the fine black wool of his pants, eyes catching briefly on the clear strain of his dick against his zipper. His cream tux jacket is open, revealing the white and black polka dotted silk shirt you insisted he wear “for a pop of something fun”. His golden skin sits under the contrasting black lapels, his pulse thrumming in his neck. You drag your eyes across his thick but trimmed salt & pepper beard, full lips, gorgeous nose, and then finally meet his espresso irises. The tiniest smile graces his mouth.

“Good girl,” Santi praises, and his words drip warmly down your spine. “Now, sit down and spread your legs.”

You scramble to a seated position, shoving your skirt out of the way huffily, your heels clicking on the marble when you get into position. Santi barely suppresses an arrogant chuckle at the way you put yourself on display for him.

“So eager,” he teases you. You bite your lip to keep your automatic, snappy retort at bay and breathe deeply instead. Santi audibly laughs then; your brows knit together in frustration. 

“You can touch yourself,” he says. A whine escapes your throat before you can silence it.

Santi’s eyebrows shoot up. “No? I’ll leave right now, and you know that’s not an empty threat. If you want to come, you gotta do it yourself.”

Silence hangs heavy between the two of you for a few moments as you weigh your options. He’s caved before when I’ve touched myself for him, you think, so maybe it’ll work this time, too. Your hand slides between your thighs, parting your sex for your boyfriend. Santi groans under his breath. Leaning on the other hand supporting you from behind, you press your shoulders back to put your breasts on display for him. Your thighs hinge open further.

“How do you want me to touch myself?” you ask breathily, pursing your lips a bit.

Santi’s eyes darken. “Slip your fingers inside of yourself like you want me to do.”

You bring your middle and ring fingers to your mouth and suck them inside to the last knuckle, swirling your tongue around them. Your eyes never leave his when you open your mouth and drag the tips of your fingers down your tongue. Santi’s demeanor stays calm, but his chest begins to heave a bit, betraying his arousal.

Swiftly, you slide your glistening fingers to the hilt. A broken cry tumbles from your lips. Santi’s hands grip the arms of the chair and his thighs tense. You begin to grind against your hand, your rhythm smooth and rolling, squelching sounds once again filling the space. Slick drips from you like a honeyed nectar, pooling down your wrist and onto the floor. Head thrown back, you add your pointer finger, keening at the stretch, but you can’t quite fill yourself as deeply as Santi does. You shift and whine, a soft sheen of sweat blanketing your skin. 

“Pobrecita,” Santi croons. “Not hitting your favorite spot, huh?” You nod desperately, fingers still working inside of yourself. You can see the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out the best way to proceed, then he leans back in his seat.

“Come here,” he commands, and you crawl closer to him, fingers still wedged inside of you.

He bites his lip. “Do you want help?”

“Yes, please,” you moan.

“Mmm, such a nice request,” he replies. “Get up and take your fingers out.”

You come to your feet and pull your fingers from yourself with a wet sucking sound. Without a word, Santi grabs your wrist and slips your fingers into his mouth. The heat envelops them immediately, and you moan wantonly when you feel his tongue laving your juices from your digits. You feel the growl radiating from his chest, up his throat, through your hand. 

He sucks and licks until each one is clean, and then swallows greedily. His nostrils flare at your flavor.

Santi slips your fingers from his mouth. “Pull your skirt up and let me see you,” he commands. You don’t even need him to tell you what exactly he needs to see; you gather the diaphanous fabric with shaking hands, then place a stilettoed foot on the outside of his thigh to lewdly bare your glazed slit to him. 

Without warning, he slaps the apex of your thighs with long, nimble fingers, the sting pushing a cry from your mouth and coaxing more slick to coat your folds. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” he asks.

You nod your head desperately. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praises again. Casually, he blows cool air across your clit, and you mewl, dripping more for him. His eyes meet yours.

“Unbutton my pants, pull them down, and sit on my cock,” Santi directs you. When you scramble to reach his waistband, he adds, “Slowly, bebita.” You acquiesce, dragging your movements out. Santi raises his hips to aid you in slipping the dark material down to his ankles, and his length springs free, causing him to hiss as the cool air hits it. Daintily, your knees bracket his while his hands ghost the curve of your hips. You waste no time gripping his base, lining him up, and easing his hardness into the tight embrace of your pussy. You both moan out in relief, and when the soft give of his balls hit your ass, you halt your movement. His eyes never break your gaze.

“Mmm, so good at listening all of the sudden,” he lilts playfully as you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from talking back. That damn smirk returns.

“Please,” you beg, not really knowing what specifically you want him to do.

Santi lips brush the shell of your ear while your arms wrap around his neck. “Here’s what we’re going to do, my sweet, behaved girl,” he explains. “I want to watch you work that perfect little pussy on my cock, right until you’re about to come. Do not come unless I tell you to. You’re going to hold off until I say so. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you whine, shifting your seat for the tiniest bit of friction. You hear him huff a laugh into the crease of your neck.

“So eager,” he drawls, then bites your earlobe. You take that as permission to start, and begin to roll your hips over his, gasping at the delicious stretch of his shaft inside of you. As your motions pick up, Santi leans back further in the chair, brings his arms up and back, and rests his hands behind his head, fully enjoying the view. His abject brashness irritates you, but it’s forgotten as soon as the head of his dick hits that devastating spot deep inside of you that he practically owns. A gasp tears from your lips.

“Yes,” he praises, and you preen, moving your hips faster. “That’s it, show me how bad you wanna come.” His eyes are dark and hooded with desire.

Sweat drips down your spine and your walls pulse, sucking him further into you with every pass. Soon enough, you feel Santi’s hands return to your hips as he starts to fuck up into you. He hits your cervix and you shudder at the sudden pressure.

“You’re so deep in me,” you whine, dripping more slick into his lap, matting down the dark curls on his lap into a sticky mess. His jaw clenches as he feels you tighten further; he knows you’re close.

“Yeah?” he asks rhetorically. “Do you like me being deep in that belly? Feeling my cock in your throat?” He punctuates his sentence with a punch up into you, making you nearly scream.

“Yes,” you sob, bouncing harder on him. “Please, Santi, fill me up.”

You both begin thrusting and grinding in earnest and your orgasm quickly precipitates in your core. Your nerves pull taut as a bowstring, shimmering on the edge of oblivion. Every brush of his stomach on your swollen clit threatens your end.

“Please, may I come?” you beg, your thighs beginning to quiver. “Please!”

Santi lets out a shaky breath, and you realize he’s barely keeping his composure. “I think you’ve waited long enough,” he says. “Come for me.”

One more stroke of him inside of you acts as the match to your fuse, and you’re scarcely able to gasp in a breath before the tension snaps, radiating from the base of your spine and blowing searing pleasure outwards, ripping a ragged scream from your throat. You cling to him, cunt throbbing and clamping down on him, tears of relief trickling down your cheekbones, and cry his name over and over into his shoulder. It only takes him a few more seconds before your velvet vice grip sends him over the edge, a choked moan exiting through his clenched teeth as his cock swells and bursts deep in you, flooding you with his cum. His grip nearly bruises your sides as shudders wrack his body; your teeth sink into his strong shoulders while you both ride out the waves of ecstasy.

After your crests mellow into shallow tides, Santi’s hands relax, smoothing along your curves in a soothing manner. He kisses the top of your head gently, and in your delirious post-orgasmic haze, you jokingly pat-pat-pat the curls on the side of his head. Santi quietly snorts into your hair. You carefully dismount his lap, pressing your fingers to your core to stop the drip of his seed from you. His brows knit momentarily at the overstimulation. 

You flop onto the nearby chaise lounge that he bent you over earlier, and before you can suppress it, laughter overflows from your mouth. He looks over at you, rolls his eyes, and starts tucking himself back into his pants.

“Are you happy with yourself, Giggles McGee?” he teases. 

You nod, grinning loopily, then lay your head back. “God, I really ought to misbehave more.” When you glance over at Santi, he’s glaring at you, though you can see he’s barely containing undeniable mirth.

Santi just shakes his head. Just as his mouth opens to retort, the door to the bathroom and powder room jiggles.

Your heads snap in the direction of the entrance, then at each other in a slight panic. 

“Get in one of the stalls,” you hiss, “then leave once they come in.” Santi rushes to the nearest bathroom stall and locks himself in as you scramble to right your outfit in a presentable manner. A series of knocks shakes the entry door. 

“Hello?” the stranger calls out. “Is there someone there?”

“Oh! Just a minute, so sorry!” you nearly shriek, hurriedly searching for your panties, only to realize that Santi must have pocketed them earlier. “That bastard!” you curse under your breath while wiping away the lipstick smeared past your lipline. 

Tottering over to the door, you flip the lock and push the door open. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely to the woman. “I thought it was just one stall, but turns out I was very wrong!” Sheepishly, you grin at her, hoping she accepts your story, and relax in relief when she buys it with a slightly confused expression. When the latch to her stall shuts closed, you hear Santi exit his stall behind you. You spot him over your shoulder in the mirror while you fix your hair. 

“Behave,” he mouths at you, then sends a cheesy wink towards you while straightening his shirt collar. Santi swings the door open before you can even roll your eyes at him. 

“What a bastard,” you mutter under your breath. Pulling out your lipstick, you swipe on a fresh coat, then freeze.

An irresistible idea materializes. Checking briefly to make sure the other woman is still in the stall, you ruck up your skirts just enough to access your dripping pussy, and quickly swipe your thumb through your and Santi’s combined releases. You then hustle towards the exit.

Weaving through the gala crowd, you spot your man walking up to Benny and his girlfriend Mandy, neither of them the wiser about your bathroom antics. Santi claps Benny on the back and hugs Mandy warmly.

“Hey sunshine!” Benny looks past Santi and greets you enthusiastically. You lean in for a hug, careful not to touch him with your hand, and do the same to bubbly, sweet Mandy.

“Oh, babe, you have something on your face,” you chide with fake concern, turning to Santi, then swipe your anointed thumb across his lips. His amusement falters, and he goes stock-still as he registers what you just did. 

You smile deviously at him. “All better,” you chirp innocently. The telltale muscle feathers in his jaw as his eyes lock on yours.

“Santi, are you wearing lip gloss?” Mandy pipes up. You all stare at him as he licks his lips, fire in his eyes, no doubt tasting the evidence of your earlier escapades.

You give him your best Cheshire cat grin.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog so others can read it too! I love praise so feel free to drop some love in the comments or my inbox :) xoxo

You feel a tug in your chest as you remember Frankie’s blindingly happy smile as he kissed you in your bathroom before hopping in the shower with you. When you exited, Joel had remade the bed with new sheets and was fluffing your pillows. You’d invited Frankie to sleep with the two of you, but he declined, explaining he had to be up early to go on a hike with his Delta Force friend Will, who happened to be in town as well. He would be spending most of the day with him, since it had been years since the last time they saw each other. When he kissed your forehead good night and squeezed Joel’s bicep affectionately, you saw a flash of his characteristic reservation in his eyes. You knew Frankie didn’t want to overstep, despite your invitation, and you allowed him the space to ease into this new dynamic. 

But seeping through those delicate emotions you’ve yet to untangle is the hot flow of arousal from other memories of last night. 

Joel’s hands on you while Frankie’s tongue invaded your mouth. The feel of both of their bodies against you as they stripped you bare. Joel’s booming “Stop, Frankie”. Frankie’s desperate eyes as he admitted to only wanting to make you come over and over. Joel’s thick cock inside of you and Frankie’s hot mouth sucking at your clit. The way Joel looked absolutely wrecked as Frankie tongued his shaft. The moans of pleasure from your two loves. The feeling of their releases mixing together and dripping out of you.

Frankie, Joel, and you may be still navigating the emotional aspects of your dynamic, but the physicality is clearly on the right path.

You slowly grind your naked body against your husband’s, arousal flowing through your veins from the memories. Joel rumbles a groan, the sound vibrating his chest against your back. His hands awaken and begin tracing heated patterns across your skin. When his calloused fingers pinch and squeeze your tits, you let out a quiet moan, the sound warbled with sleepiness. Your slick has already begun to collect in your folds.

Joel gently rubs his beard across the soft skin of your neck. “Good mornin’, angel,” he purrs, continuing his exploration of your curves and causing your breath to catch on whimpers. “So needy f’me already?” His voice is grit and velvet, his accent always thickest in the morning and when he’s turned on.

“Mhmm,” you whine softly, draping your leg over the top of his, opening yourself up for him. He slides his palm down your belly to the heated pulse at the apex of your thighs and hisses at what he finds. 

“Fuck, so goddamn wet,” Joel breathes. He teasingly traces the pads of his fingers around your entrance, softly circling your clit to draw out more moans from you. Tapping his fingers softly on your slick pussy lips, he revels in the wet, sticky sounds. 

“Roll over f’me,” he commands, and you oblige, knowing exactly how he wants you. He hands you a pillow, which you slide under your hips. Joel kneels behind you, placing his knees on either side of yours and tipping your hips up to expose your glistening center to him. He parts your folds with his thumbs, admiring the view of your dripping entrance. Your husband hums in approval.

What you expect next is his thick tip sliding along your slit. Instead, you feel him lick a hot stripe between your thighs.

“Joel!” you keen, feeling yourself drip more.

A deep groan escapes his lips. “Y’still taste like us,” he says, and laps at you again. “Came so deep in ya that this pussy’s still holdin’ onto our cum. Jesus.”

Your gasp turns into a moan, and you reach behind you to thread your fingers through his greying curls while he continues to feast on you. The tendrils of an orgasm begin to wrap around your lower belly, until Joel pulls back. You whine in protest.

Joel chuckles. “Patience,” he tuts, then lines himself up at your entrance. You push your hips backwards in blind desire. He slides his length along your folds to lubricate himself in your essence and the remnants of his and Frankie’s releases. 

Then, inch by inch, Joel feeds you his throbbing cock.

You luxuriate in the warm familiarity of his girth stretching you pleasurably. Your walls pulse around him with every movement, slickening further.

Groaning, he keeps slowly pushing in. “Y’always take me so well,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ pussy was made for me, huh?” He litters gentle kisses across your back, his forearms caging you in. 

“Yes, Joel,” you whimper compliantly, drunk on the feeling of him sliding inside. “All for you.”

“What about Frankie, baby?” Joel asks. “Ain’t he allowed to fuck you, too?”

Your heart stutters, not expecting the question. Joel feels you tense up and stops the movement of his hips. 

He leans forward, closer to your face and tips your head to the side. “Look at me, honey.” Your eyes flit up to meet his own, not sure what to expect on his face. But you’re met with the warm umber of his irises, nothing but love and a little mischief in them.

“Tell me,” he implores. “Use your words.”

You inhale, insides twisting a little with warring guilt and desire. “Yes, Joel,” you answer quietly. “Frankie gets to fuck me, too.”

“Gets to?” Joel huffs in amusement. “Don’t it feel good when he fucks you? Don’t you want him to fuck you?” His eyes never leave yours. 

You’re not sure how to answer. Of course you want Frankie to fuck you. Joel knows as much from last night. He watched you spread your thighs for Frankie, heard how you moaned when the other man sunk deep into your cunt, brought you to your peak by rubbing your clit in tandem with Frankie’s thrusts. But why does he need to hear the words from your lips?

“Hey,” Joel interrupts your thoughts. You blink when you feel his thumbs caressing your hips. “If I didn’t wanna know, I wouldn’t ask ya.” He clocks your hesitation, knows precisely what your mind is churning around. 

“Do you want to stop and talk?” he asks, moving to pull out from you. Hastily, you grab his wrist and shake your head. Joel chuckles a bit, but remains sheathed inside you, patiently waiting for your words.

You take a deep breath. “Yes, Joel,” you exhale out. “I love how Frankie fucks me.” You feel Joel’s cock jump inside you, and a small gasp tears out of your lungs.

Joel is actually getting off on hearing you talk about fucking Frankie.

Joel groans, slipping himself inside you to the hilt, gripping and massaging your cheeks with strong hands. “Fuck, angel,” he curses, barely withdrawing before thrusting forward, pressing right against your sweet spot. 

A moan unabashedly exits your mouth, and Joel whines. 

“What do you like about him fucking you?” Joel presses, setting a slow but deep pace. One hand grips your hip as the other arm braces against the bed. His voice has a ragged edge to it, and you feel him throbbing within you.

“I like… I like how desperate he can be to get inside of me,” you pant, core dripping more slick as Frankie’s fucked-out expression from last night flashes through your head. Joel grunts, fingers digging harder into your skin. 

“What else?” he grits out, his own breathing heavy against your back. “Do you like it when he spreads you wide to look at that gorgeous pussy?”

You keen, cunt clenching on Joel’s length as you remember Frankie parting your thighs to watch Joel’s cum seep out of you. “Yes,” you admit. “He likes seeing me all messy. Likes watching cum drip out of me.”

Joel moans into the skin between your shoulder blades, his pace beginning to pick up. His cock massages that spot in your front wall that makes your nerves sing in pleasure. You decide to explore the observation you made last night.

“You made the prettiest noises when Frankie licked you, baby,” you croon. Joel chokes on his next moan. You feel his cock swell harder inside you.

Bingo.

“Did you like Frankie’s mouth on you?” you implore, pushing back against his thrusts to get him even deeper. Your cunt grips him, a velvet-lined vice. 

A hoarse whimper escapes his lips. “Fuck,” he grits out, collapsing onto both forearms on either side of your head, working his cock into you over and over. His forehead presses against your back.

“Use your words, Joel,” you remind him, smirking at getting to use his own lines on him.

“Yes,” Joel responds with difficulty. “It felt so good. Like when you lick me, but… different. His tongue felt different.” His hips slap sticky-sweet against the supple flesh of your ass, your slick coating the both of you.

You’re on an absolute high now. “Do you want Frankie to suck your cock?” you ask your husband. He whines in response, hips thrusting harder into you. Your pussy spasms at the delicious display of his raw power.

“Fuck… yes,” Joel cries. His pants have a whimpering edge to them. He’s coming completely undone at the thought of your boyfriend wrapping his lips around his dick. “I’ve never… I….” he stutters, grappling with the ramifications of what he’s admitting.

You shush him gently. “It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to worry about it. Just think about how it feels.” As Joel keeps pounding into you, your hand slips under your hips to rub at your clit. The dual sensations ignite the fuse of your orgasm.

“So good,” Joel whimpers. “It felt so good to be inside you while Frankie had his mouth on me.” He’s frantic now, a harmony of moans erupting from both of you.

“Joel, oh fuck,” you cry out, “you’re gonna make me come. Don’t stop!” Three more thrusts and your release bursts forth, shimmering across your limbs. You press your face into the mattress to muffle your screams, and Joel follows suit quickly. Moaning your name, he empties himself into you, loud whimpers falling from his mouth with each spurt. 

As your crests wane, you relax into each other. Joel gingerly rolls the two of you to the side, then slips out of you with a groan. He pads over to the linen closet to grab you a clean washcloth to soak up your releases, handing it to you before sliding back into bed behind you. 

“So… Frankie,” you start, tossing the used washcloth into the hamper. You’re not sure how to ease into what you both know needs to be discussed. Joel hums in response, then makes space so you can shift yourself to face him. 

“Seems like he’s done a number on both of us,” he chuckles. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, and you turn your head to kiss his knuckles. 

You nod as a soft smile crosses your lips. “Yeah, I’d say so,” you reply. “But you seemed to enjoy him too, didn’t you?”

Joel looks slightly sheepish as he nods affirmatively. “Wasn’t expectin’ that, really,” he says, “but I definitely don’t regret it. I’ve always been curious about how I’d feel with a man. How are you feelin’ ‘bout last night?”

“Wonderful,” you admit, your cheeks warming at how worshipped you felt with your two men. “It was nice being together with the two men I lo—“

You freeze up, the word getting stuck in your windpipe. Love. 

You feel the guilt rise up, numbing tingles traveling up your limbs, a growing sense of shame and unease. You shouldn’t be falling for someone besides your husband. You made vows; promised yourselves to one another. Sexual dalliances together with a third is one thing. But falling in love with Frankie felt like a betrayal. Even if it also felt as easy as breathing.

“Baby?” Joel says, pulling you from your swirling thoughts. Your brows furrow together, and you know your emotions are clear on your face because the concern painted across Joel’s features morphs into understanding when you lock eyes.

The guilt crowds your throat, thick and pressing. How could you even consider loving another man when you have this incredible, understanding person who’s stood by your side through thick and thin? This man who’s given you every part of him?

“It’s okay,” Joel reassures you. “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours.” He strokes your cheek again, your soft skin under his calloused thumb. 

You try to swallow the guilt. “I love you so much, Joel,” you start. “And I also… I think I love Frankie.” You feel the tears start to well up. Joel’s thumb continues its soothing sweep across your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you choke out.

Joel looks puzzled. “Sorry? Darlin’, you have nothing to be sorry about.” He kisses your forehead and you feel the first tears start to fall. His thumb moves to wipe them off your skin. “Thank you for trustin’ me with your feelings.”

“You’re not…” you blubber a bit, “you’re not upset?”

“No, sweetheart, no,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you’re finally voicin’ how you feel about Frankie. ‘Trust and openness,’ remember?” He quotes your wedding vows to you.

You nod, sniffling. “Never hiding how we feel,” you quote back at him. His lips tip up into a warm smile and he nods.

“I think… it didn’t hit me until you two were making dinner together last night,” you explain. “When I saw him next to you in the kitchen, working side by side, it just felt right. I felt the same way looking at him as I do looking at you.” You pause, looking up at him with an ache in your chest. “He feels like home. Just like you always have.”

Joel nods encouragingly. “I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?” you inquire, propping yourself up on your elbow.

Joel smooths his hand down your hair. “I’ve known since the other night when you two FaceTimed me. I could see it in your sleepy little face when you told me you liked him. That you really liked him.” He laughs a bit under his breath. “You said the same thing to me the night I knew I loved you.” 

You smile, remembering the rush of emotions you felt that night nearly a decade ago. “I was still in denial it was love because I thought you were such a bastard,” you giggle. He pinches your side softly, and you give a tiny yelp, squirming away from him, but he pulls you closer and rubs his beard along your shoulder. 

“I was a bastard,” he smirks, kissing your abraded shoulder. “A dumb bastard hopelessly in love with a woman he thought hated him.” 

“I did say that I couldn’t stand you,” you point out.

“And you remember how that ended, right?” he shoots back, growling a little as he pulls you to him. 

You roll your eyes, then kiss him. “Yes, I do. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” Joel repeats incredulously, his smile turning into a full grin. “Didn’t seem very unfortunate since you were screamin’ my name when I had my face buried between your thighs, hmm?”

Heat flushes your body with the memory. You smack him playfully. “Okay, okay, fine!” You kiss him giddily again, and the two of you lay there for a few moments in comfortable silence.

“You know,” Joel starts, breaking the quiet, “the two of you need to talk about this.”

You sigh. “Probably, but… I don’t know. Frankie has so much going on with Isabella and his career. I don’t need to be another complication in his life.”

“You ain’t a complication, darlin’. I’m pretty sure he feels similarly ‘bout you as you do towards him,” Joel reassures you.

“How do you know?” you ask incredulously. 

“He looks at you like you look at me,” he responds. 

“And how’s that?” you return.

Joel’s face softens a bit before he answers. “Like I hung the moon and stars f’you.”

Your heart flutters. You snuggle into Joel’s broad body, kissing the coarse hair scattering his chest. “Okay,” you say softly. “I’ll talk to him.”

Joel’s strong arms band around you, and he kisses your forehead softly once more. “Good.”

The rest of the morning continues in comfortable familiarity. After the two of you get out of bed, Joel makes you pancakes and bacon for a slow, lazy breakfast, then you head out to the Sunday morning farmers market in town. The two of you wind through the stalls, picking up things for dinner and refilling your pantry staples from your favorite vendors. After you finish at the market, you run some errands together and then return to the house. Joel goes into the garage to reorganize his toolbox to fit his new acquisitions from the hardware store.

As the late afternoon light filters across your yard, Frankie returns from his outing with Will. 

“Hey, stranger,” you lilt when he enters the living room, where you’re curled up on the couch with your newest romance novel purchase. Frankie leans over the back and kisses the top of your head before coming around the front. 

“Hey, yourself,” he warmly replies, lifting your feet up so he can sit down with them in his lap at the other end of the couch. “How was your day?”

“Good, just a lazy morning and then running errands ‘til we came home a little bit ago,” you explain. His hands mindlessly caress your shins, and you catch yourself thinking again about how right it feels to have Frankie in the home you share with Joel. “How was hanging out with Will?”

“It was so good,” Frankie responds, strong fingers massaging the arch of your foot where he knows you get sore sometimes. “We hiked around Mt. Tam, then got breakfast at a cafe nearby. We had so much to catch up on that we ended up having lunch there, too.” He laughs while shaking his head. You smile, rubbing his arm affectionately while he fills you in. Will is one of Frankie’s oldest friends, and it’s been hard to keep in touch with him after Will took a traveling role for the veteran’s organization he works for. You’re glad Frankie got the chance to see him; you sense some of the tension he carried this morning has melted off his shoulders.

Suddenly, in the corner of your eye, you spot a flash of black on your patio.

You gasp. “Oh my god, Frankie, they’re here!”

Frankie jumps a bit. “Who? What?” You scramble off of him and the couch, careful not to startle your visitor outside. He watches as you peek through the sliding glass door and let out a thrilled squeal.

“The crows! The crows are here!” you exclaim, zipping around the kitchen to gather what looks like a veritable charcuterie tray of foods: nuts, seeds, ground beef from the refrigerator, corn and peas from the freezer, and even a small bowl of cat food. 

The look of confusion pinching his brows releases at your words. “Oh! I can’t believe I get to see them after all this time.”

The neighborhood crows you’ve befriended were one of the first things you told Frankie about after you’d met. You’d gushed about how you’d gotten them to trust you, rattling off the different foods you’d given them (which ones they loved, and which ones they hated). Frankie felt his heart stutter in his chest while he listened to you; his smile widened the more animatedly you talked. Eventually, you’d gotten embarrassed and apologized for babbling on about your wild bird friends like a weirdo, but Frankie stopped you right then and there. He told you to never apologize for being passionate.

“I was hoping they’d come to visit while you were here so you can finally see them for yourself!” You beam up at Frankie, and he can’t help but mirror the expression.

Frankie slides open the door for you, which spooks the crows slightly. “I think they might be scared of you because you’re new,” you explain. “Maybe go watch from the kitchen window?” He nods, and then you slip through the door, tray in hand, making clicking noises with your tongue at your feathered friends to call them over. Through the window behind your kitchen sink, he watches you place the board on the patio table. You begin to toss the morsels away from you. Two ebony birds alight upon the patio, followed by three more after being summoned by the first two crows. You chat happily at them, laughing and smiling. His chest feels like it’s cracking open with the enormity of warmth he feels towards you. 

“Ahh, I see the crows are visiting.” Joel’s deep timbre breaks Frankie from his thoughts, the older man placing a glass of water on the counter. He leans his forearms on the kitchen sink’s edge to join Frankie in watching you interact with the corvids.

Frankie nods, chuckling. “She wasn’t kidding when she said they’re friends.”

Joel shakes his head, a small smile curving on his lips. “Yeah, I took a while to come around to them. I’ve never found birds particularly appealin’. But they make her happy, and I couldn’t deny her somethin’ that gave her so much joy, so I tolerated ‘em.” Joel shifts, turning to Frankie with a smirk. “And then one day I saw one of ‘em grab a damn gopher right outta the ground that had been terrorizin’ our garden for months, so I decided right then and there that they were alright.”

Both men laugh and turn back to watch you with your crows in content silence. The five birds have crept closer to you, sometimes squabbling for bites of the ground beef, while you chastise them for not sharing.

“You know, ever since she’s been seein’ you, she’s been a lot happier and less stressed with work,” starts Joel, and Frankie visibly stiffens.

“Oh yeah?” he asks rhetorically, eyes still on you, unsure of where the conversation is going.

“Mhm,” Joel nods affirmatively. “When she told me she wanted to pursue the work opportunity with the new office in LA, I was hesitant ‘cause I knew it would put pressure on our relationship, regardless of how strong it is. Would be the same for anyone in our position.” Joel stands up and rakes a hand through his silvering curls. “We balance each other out when we’re together. When we’re apart, I’m not there to help calm her down when work is gettin’ to her head. It kills me not bein’ able to help her when we’re physically separated.”

Frankie nods in agreement. He remembers one date night early on that you’d been late to because of multiple emergency meetings at work. You’d been so wound up and on edge that you hadn’t relaxed until Frankie finally dragged you out to his car, eating you out in the dark parking lot until you lost count of how many times you’d come. 

“When things with the office started looking like she might have to be down there for longer than anticipated to get things fully set up,” Joel continues, “I knew somethin’ was gonna have to change. I could feel her anxiety become palpable.” He shakes his head softly. Frankie sees a muscle feather in his jaw; it’s clear to him that being helpless to assist when you’re struggling physically pains your husband.

“Usually I can help shut her brain off by gettin’ her off,” he chuckles, “but obviously us being apart made that difficult. There’s only so much toys and videos can do.” Joel shifts on his feet and stares at the marble counter before continuing. “So we decided to try out openin’ our marriage.”

Frankie nods, allowing the two of them to sit in silence for a couple of seconds. “How did it feel?” he asks, eyes on Joel’s broad form. You’ve mentioned how possessive Joel can be towards you, which made this decision surely not an easy one for him to swallow.

Joel gazes out at you in the yard, your hair ruffling with the late afternoon breeze. He looks down at his hands and smoothes his thumbs across the grout around the sink in a self-soothing manner. “Honestly? Even though I brought up the idea first, it gnawed at me a little,” he admits. “When I married her, I didn’t want anyone but her. The first time I kissed her, I knew she was it for me.” His eyes look wistfully back up at you again. “But I did some thinkin’, talked to my therapist, and realized that it was comin’ from a place of insecurity. I was worried about it changin’ how she felt about me. I think a little part of me was worried about her fallin’ in love with someone else, and out of love with me.”

Frankie’s heart lurches, and he swallows hard. He’s seen the soft yearning in your eyes that he knows must be reflected by his own. Is he taking that away from Joel?

Joel clears his throat softly. “We set up boundaries, rules,” he explains. “We approached it like adults, y’know?” He takes a sip of water, placing the glass back down and turning towards Frankie. “She hooked up with a couple people, one night stands at first. She didn’t tell me any details, and I didn’t ask. But when she came back home after those first couple encounters, she came home less stressed. And if anything, she seemed even more in love with and appreciative of me.” 

Frankie huffs a laugh. “That seems hard to believe,” he smirks at Joel, recalling how smitten you are with your husband. 

Joel rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, a flush rising across his cheeks. It’s honestly adorable how you’re able to get such a gruff man blushing. “The first time she came back from LA after sleepin’ with other men, she pounced on me the minute she walked through the door.” He sighs, his eyes flickering briefly with desire. “I asked her afterwards if she was so enthusiastic because she didn’t enjoy herself with the other guys. She said no, that it was because it meant so much to her that I trusted her and our relationship enough to do somethin’ new.”

Frankie grips the counter’s edge. He wonders if he is betraying that trust.

Suddenly, his eyes are on Frankie again. “And then she met you.”

Frankie swallows hard; he keeps eye contact with Joel as he murmurs, “Yeah?” His heart kicks in his chest.

Joel nods silently, his molten espresso irises focused on the younger man. “I could tell right away it was different. You got under her skin, in a good way. She seemed way more grounded when she got back home from the LA office after meetin’ you. That place…” Joel shakes his head in mild frustration. “It winds her up somethin’ fierce. But I’ve only ever seen her that calm when it’s just the two of us.”

The knots in Frankie’s stomach begin slowly untying themselves as he searches Joel’s eyes. Frankie expects there to be at least a little resentment, resignation, or sadness, but none of that surfaces in Joel’s expression. It’s only warmth. Warmth, and trust.

“You know, it was me that initiated our phone session when y’all were in the hotel,” Joel admits. 

Frankie is a bit caught off guard. “Really? Have you ever… watched before? When she was with other people?”

Joel exhales a quiet laugh. “No, actually.” His gaze flicks downwards briefly, then back up to Frankie.

“I’d asked her for a few details before about other partners,” he said, “but not a full play-by-play. But there was somethin’ different with you. I’ve always been a bit protective over her. Not that I ever thought she needed it; you know as well as I do that she can stand on her own two feet.” 

He and Frankie shared a smirk at that, knowing how you hated being thought of as a damsel in distress

 “I just love her so much, and I worried other people wouldn’t treat her with that same care,” Joel continues. “When she called me because you needed proof that I was really okay with her hookin’ up with you… well, you were the first person who’d ever needed proof of our arrangement. Showed you were thoughtful and respectful, that you weren’t just jumpin’ into it without thinkin’.”

Frankie nods. “It didn’t feel right to me otherwise. If there’s another partner involved, even if indirectly, I want to make sure there’s consent all around.”

Joel’s face softens. “That’s exactly why I was completely comfortable with it. You showed you cared about her, but also our marriage. There was no thrill of illicitness in it for you.” He pauses, glancing back at you outside, and then looking back again at Frankie. “Also, I’d asked her a couple of questions about how things were with you, and she goddamn blushed.”

Now it was Frankie’s turn to be bashful. His cheeks flush hot, and he pins his gaze to the patterns in the marble. 

“Never did that about anyone else,” Joel says. “So of course I wanted t’know more. As she gave me more details, I found myself gettin’ turned on by the idea of you takin’ care of her.” He cracks a sheepish grin in Frankie's direction. “Like you said, I jus’ want her to be comin’ over and over again. Anyway, because you clearly have an effect on her, I wanted to meet you, see how it felt seein’ you pleasuring her. So that’s why I told her to put on a show for us that night. And what you showed me was how much you care for her.”

Frankie doesn’t dare look at Joel; it feels too vulnerable. “I… had no idea.” His throat works as he digests the new information. Joel being so supportive of your relationship with Frankie wasn’t unexpected, but the extent to which he does, is. 

The crows are still enjoying their feast out on the patio, and the two men turn back to observe you for a few moments when they hear your laughter through the glass. You’re giggling at one of the fledglings of the adult crows trying to figure out how to forage; it’s puzzled as to why the nuts and seeds aren’t automatically being placed into its mouth like they are when its parents feed it. Both men chuckle a bit at the scene, the momentary tension easing. 

“She is something else,” Frankie says quietly, breaking the silence. “I’ve never met someone so warm, so vibrant, so generous. Always helping out others. Always with a smile on her face. A beam of fuckin’ sunshine.”

Joel hums in agreement. “She’s just… so full of love. Bursting at the seams with it. And honestly?” He turns again to the younger man before continuing. “I think she’s got the capacity to love more than you’d expect.”

Frankie swallows hard and returns his gaze. Joel’s expression is calm and encouraging. 

“She means a lot to me,” Frankie says quietly, dropping his gaze for a moment. The knots in his stomach return, but for a different reason this time. “But I don’t know if I deserve her. I’ve got so much shit going on and –”

“I know,” Joel interrupts him, placing a warm palm on his shoulder. “But if that was really a problem, she would have pulled herself away much sooner. She knows what you have going on and she’s happy to be a part of it.”

He pauses for a moment before asking point blank: “Frankie, do you love her?

Frankie's heart jumps into his throat. He stares at Joel, trying to read his face for intentions. But all he sees shining back is a friendly, quiet steadiness, like the peaceful redwood forest surrounding their home. Not a single ounce of jealousy, anger, or sadness; just understanding and care.

He thinks back to the months he’s spent getting to know you, weaving you into his life. How you know Isabella’s favorite flavor of ice cream and the way you softly read her bedtime stories. The way your infectious laugh reverberates through the air when he tells you a new dad joke. Mornings spent on the couch with tea and coffee, you in nothing but one of his old army t-shirts. Your biting wit and sarcasm; your pure heart. The way you take no shit, contrasted by the way you give and give and give to those you love. The way his heart skips a beat whenever you catch his eye across a room. How you’ve woven yourself into the very fabric of his soul.

Swallowing again, Frankie takes a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I do, Joel.”

Joel nods, smiling softly. “Then tell her. Not that you need it, ‘cause it’s entirely up to her, but I’d like to have you around as part of our lives. I want someone else around her who loves her jus’ as much as I do.” He looks back out at the patio, where you’re finishing up with feeding the crows. You must feel their eyes on you, because you turn to look behind you at them. A warm smile lights up your face, and the golden hour sunlight gives you an ethereal halo. Frankie’s breath catches in his throat. 

You look so fucking beautiful.

Joel squeezes Frankie’s arm gently. “I’m positive she feels the same.”

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After an early breakfast in Santa Cruz, you and Frankie continued northwards on your road trip. You opted to drive I-280, the highway providing fantastic views of the lush evergreen trees and rolling hills you loved so much. Frankie couldn’t get over how wildly green it all looked, especially since he’d spent so much time in Los Angeles amongst the concrete and manicured lawns. 

You’d stopped for lunch at your favorite San Francisco dim sum restaurant, hotly debating with Frankie which one of the many bamboo steamer rounds contained the best dish - your favorite is xiao long bao, while Frankie favors black bean pork spareribs. Both of you agreed that the dan tarts were amazing, so you’d bought a few to-go for Joel to savor later. Now, you’re driving across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County, heading towards your and Joel’s house in Mill Valley.

You sigh and pull the forest green plaid button up a bit tighter around you; despite the sun peeking through, it’s still cold, per usual for this time of year in the north Bay Area. 

Frankie clocks your movement, and smirks knowingly at the shirt. “Does he know you took it?”

“Maybe,” you purr mischievously. “He’ll know soon enough if not.”

Huffing a laugh, Frankie turns back to the road, flipping on the turn signal before hooking a right onto your residential street. Majestic redwoods line the road, towering overhead, and you sigh in relief and comfort at the familiar sight. Living here with Joel makes you feel closer to nature than your apartment in Los Angeles. The stress melts out of your bones with each breath of fresh air.

As you drive down the quiet street, you see your beautiful house appear. Slightly younger redwoods surround both sides of the corner lot property, isolated from your next-door neighbors. The two-story craftsman home is spacious but cozy, with warm-stained cedar shingles wrapping around the exterior, complimented by deep sage trim. Native plants thrive in the front yard, and smoke leisurely meanders from the chimney, lending an enchanted ambiance. It’s the perfect balance of your and Joel’s vibes: a modern forested haven.

Frankie approaches your river-rock paved driveway, pulling in carefully next to Joel’s well-worn charcoal pickup truck. Your heart swells in happiness at the sight of it. Following, however, are tiny pings of nervousness and excitement. You glance at Frankie; his expression is calm but unreadable. Typical of Frankie – his Delta Force background and introverted personality mean that he habitually retreats a bit into himself in new situations to observe quietly. Squeezing his hand, you give him a soft smile, which he returns as he squeezes your hand back and puts the car into park. It feels a bit strange to have your boyfriend in a place foreign to him but so familiar to you.

You hear your front door squeak open before you see Joel’s broad frame exit, dashing in a denim button up and his Levi’s. The double-denim outfit would look ridiculous on most other men, but not Joel; the weathered blue only enhances his rugged handsomeness. 

Popping out of the Jeep, you call out, “Hi, baby!” while bounding over to him. His eyes flit over you, an amused look on his face when he spots your overshirt.

“I was wonderin’ where my favorite flannel went,” he chuckles. “Should’a known you were gonna take it with you.”

“It’s my favorite too,” you quip back, setting down the box of dan tats for Joel on the driveway so you can wrap your arms around his neck. You press a kiss to his full lips. “I can borrow it whenever I want. Wife privileges, you know.”

Joel rolls his eyes but smiles, giving your backside a soft smack and laughing when you yelp playfully. “Get your cute ass inside. We’ll take care of the luggage, baby.” You squeal in delight and nod, picking the box back up and heading towards the house. Frankie swings open the tailgate, removing his and your bags from the back.

Joel rounds the car, and Frankie takes a breath to steady himself. Everything is going to be fine.

“Hey, Frankie,” Joel greets the other man with a warm handshake and a clap on the shoulder. 

“It’s so great to meet you in person, Joel,” Frankie says warmly. The two men look at each other for a moment, and then Frankie bends to pick up your luggage at the same time Joel does. Their hands brush at the handle and both jolt a little at the contact.

Frankie pulls back sheepishly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Ah, I’ll let you take your wife’s things, I guess,” he sputters a bit. God, why do I feel so awkward with Joel? He literally told me to eat out his wife on video chat.

“You mean our girl,” Joel corrects before smiling at Frankie warmly, lifting the case with ease and tipping his head towards the house as he walks towards it. Frankie smiles tentatively at him and nods, a bit relieved, and grabs his own bag. “C’mon,” Joel says, “let’s get these bags inside so both of you can settle in a bit before we start prepping for dinner.”

Once the guys drop off the luggage into the entryway, you and Joel lead Frankie on a tour of your house. Dark hardwood floors contrast with the muted tones of the walls, each room a different soft color. The furnishings are modern with a slight vintage flair, creating a cozy yet refined atmosphere. A wood-burning fireplace sits in the corner of the living room, a fire softly crackling inside. You explain where each of your favorite decor and furniture items came from – you and Joel tend to patronize the local thrift markets and mom & pop shops, which creates a softly eclectic feel.

Frankie runs his hand across the back of the plush cream couch as he looks up at the skylights in the ceiling. “Tons of natural light, that’s awesome,” he notes.

“That was my one non-negotiable when we were looking at houses,” you note. “Say what you want about marriage being a compromise, but that was one thing I couldn’t imagine living without.”

Joel nods. “If she doesn’t get enough light durin’ the day, especially in the winter, she gets in a bad way,” he notes. You scoff at your husband’s (admittedly astute) observation.

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Frankie chuckles, admiring the bank of wide windows across the kitchen and the sets of French doors leading out to the enclosed patio and backyard. “One time in December, I caught her sunning herself like a lizard in this little shard of light coming into my living room.”

“Frankie!” you gasp in false indignation, eyes darting between the two of them as they suppress laughter. “Not even an hour in and you’re already ganging up on me? How rude.”

“That’s our girl,” Joel smirked, clapping Frankie on the shoulder as he leads the way towards the stairs to show him the bedrooms. 

Our girl. Warmth seeps into Frankie’s heart as he follows Joel upstairs. 

While you unpack your bags, Joel and Frankie head out to the nearby corner grocery for dinner supplies and the adjacent liquor store for some of the new shipment of Japanese whiskey that the store’s owner, Bill, had set aside for Joel. 

Talking with Frankie is surprisingly easier than Joel thought it would be. He’s a bit more serious than Frankie, sure, and there’s a difference in age, but they have quite a few common interests; it turns out that both of them are football fans, for one. While Joel is a diehard Houston Texans fan, Frankie roots for the Los Angeles Rams. Despite their difference in football fandoms, they both are avid grillers. They also both fish: Joel prefers lake fishing and Frankie loves to go on ocean fishing excursions. Surprisingly, you’ve managed to turn them both into unironic fans of The Great British Bake-off – they agree that the camaraderie and wholesome nature of the show is a balm to the sometimes-cruel world.

As it turns out, they’re also similar in their values. 

“For most of my adult life, it’s just been me and my brother, Tommy,” Joel explains, shifting the grocery tote on his shoulder as they walk back to the house. “Our parents died when we were teenagers, and then our only aunt in California passed away when I was 21 and Tommy had just turned 18. He was —  is —  a pain in my ass, but he’s my brother, so I did what I could to take care of the two of us. That meant workin’ in construction to make ends meet, and bailin’ his ass out after he came back from the Army and kept getting into trouble.”

Frankie huffs as he shakes his head. “I… can relate to that on a few levels. Mi mamá raised me alone in east LA. All we had was each other. When I got old enough, I joined the Army, too. Made it into the Delta Force.” 

“That ain’t easy,” Joel notes, waving to the owner of the shop across the way. 

Sadness flashes across Frankie’s face, but he quickly schools it, the operative in him taking over. “Yeah. My teammates and I ended up out in Florida after we left. Sort of became each other’s family.” He swallows hard.

Joel doesn’t miss the shift in emotions. “My brother was in Operation Desert Storm,” he explains. “The kind of shit they experienced together sort of… trauma bonded them to each other.”

Frankie nods in agreement, then hesitates, looking unsure. Joel knows from experience with his brother that military members aren’t often keen on sharing their vulnerabilities with others. He can’t imagine it’s any easier given he’s the husband of Frankie’s girlfriend. 

They both stop to admire a miniature train set in motion in the window of a toy store. After a few moments, Joel turns to Frankie.

“I know you’ve had your fair share of difficulties, but I want you to know that you only have to tell me what you want me to know,” Joel says softly. “I’m practically a stranger, so I’m not expectin’ you to divulge your deepest secrets to me. But know that whatever you say, I won’t be passin’ judgement.”

Frankie exhales a shaky breath, clearly relaxing at Joel’s reassurance. He begins to walk towards the house once again, Joel falling into step by his side.

“I had a rough go of things after our last mission,” Frankie murmurs. He grows quiet for a few breaths, concentrating his gaze on the pavement under his feet as they walk. “To straighten myself out, I moved back to LA. Despite everything I’d done and been through, my mom never wavered in her support of me. And after a while, my daughter and her mother also moved back so we could share custody again. So, family is really important to me, too.”

He takes a deep breath, looking over at Joel, whose eyes haven’t wavered from his. A sense of recognition hangs palpably in the air between them. Joel’s never held anything against anyone who’s struggled in their life, especially if they’ve proven they can turn things around. He saw it with Tommy, and he can see it in Frankie’s countenance clear as day.

“I’m glad to hear that,” the older man says simply, giving Frankie a small smile. Although they’d met less than 12 hours ago, Joel feels far more comfortable around him than he imagined he’d be.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

The incredible smells wafting from the kitchen wake you from your nap. Stretching your limbs, you climb out from under your sherpa blanket and pad to the kitchen. You smile softly, quietly taking in the scene before you. Joel is chopping green onions on the kitchen island while Frankie mixes broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots in olive oil, sprinkling in seasoning between tosses. Pearl Jam plays softly from the bluetooth speaker. 

“Whatever you’re making smells so good,” you purr at Joel, kissing his neck and peering over his shoulder.

Joel chuckles. “That’s all Frankie, baby,” he says, motioning towards your boyfriend with his chin. “He’s makin’ us his famous roast chicken.”

You squeal excitedly. “Oh my god, yay! It’s one of my favorite things he makes!” Hopping over to Frankie, you wrap your arms around his waist and mold your body to his back, peppering kisses across his broad shoulders. He sets the bowl of vegetables down, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face you. 

“Joel mentioned that you’ve talked about it ad-nauseum so he finally wanted to try it for himself,” Frankie explains, placing his hands on your waist. “And you’ve hyped up Joel’s cheesy garlic bread, so I figured it would be a fair trade.”

You beam at Frankie, thrilled that the two of them are seemingly getting along great. “Your signature dishes! This is awesome.”

“It’s pretty much all I can make besides grilled meat and breakfast food,” Joel laughs while he mixes the garlic bread spread.

You giggle, draping your arms around Frankie’s neck as you look at your husband. “You’re lucky I like cooking; our cholesterol levels would be through the roof if it was up to you to provide sustenance.”

“And I thank the heavens every day that you do, sweetness,” Joel demures, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he walks around you and Frankie to grab the cut baguette for the garlic bread.

You turn to Frankie and notice emotions fighting across his face - warmth, admiration, and hesitation. He’s been reserved with his displays of physical affection since arriving, despite his usual habit of almost always keeping his hands on you at any given moment. To reassure him, you pull him into you and kiss his lips softly. He hums quietly and returns the kiss. Pulling back, he cups the sides of your face and caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes gentle, earthy pools of devotion. 

Your heartbeat kicks up. Emotions flood your mind as memories of the road trip play in your mind, Frankie’s eyes searching yours while you breathe each other’s air. Words unspoken seem to thicken the space between the two of you. 

The nervousness about Frankie meeting Joel has faded throughout the day — he fit so well into your dynamic with Joel that it almost felt like he’d always been there. Now, the fluttering in your stomach has more to do with why. 

Your lips part, about to bring your feelings to the surface, but before you can, Frankie shifts slightly to gently smooch your forehead, then picks up the bowl of vegetables again. Your breath whooshes from your chest quietly, your lips pressing together. He turns his attention back to cooking and spreads the produce across a baking sheet. 

“Do you mind putting another log on the fire, honey?” Joel calls over to you, sliding the garlic bread into the top oven before Frankie places his tray of vegetables into the bottom oven with the chicken. 

“Yep!” you respond, padding back into the living room to toss more firewood into the flames. With both of your men engrossed once again in dinner prep, you meander to the couch. You sink into the cushions, biting your lip while your mind turns over where your blossoming feelings for Frankie might lead all three of you.

You want to ask Frankie if he feels it too: that pull of your heart to his, the tug that goes beyond just physical chemistry. The ease with which he slots into your life, this life with Joel. Does he feel like a puzzle piece has surfaced, one that he didn’t even know he was missing until it snapped into place?

And Joel. He’s always so good at reading people, so he has to have clocked your emotions, even if you’ve been denying them yourself. He’s okay with you sleeping with other people, and clearly he doesn’t take issue with you being affectionate towards Frankie in front of him. Nonetheless, he didn’t sign up for his wife falling for another man. The guilt settles like a film over the effervescent happiness of the day thus far. Joel is the ultimate giver to those he loves… but are you pushing him past his boundaries?

After your delicious dinner in the dining room, the three of you migrate back to the cozy couch, each nursing a finger of the Japanese whiskey, the complex swirls of subtle fruit, vanilla, and toffee dancing across your tongues. The meandering conversation shifts back to your (tried and failed) attempts at the Santa Cruz carousel ring toss. 

“See, baby, I told you that chuckin’ that ring won’t do you any good.”

You guffaw at your husband’s disapproval of your carousel ring toss strategy at the Santa Cruz boardwalk.  “Oh, I’m outnumbered? You actually agree with Frankie on this one?” 

“Yeah,” Joel shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m glad someone else finally had the sense to tell you that just throwin’ the ring at the hole won’t do you any good.”

“Maybe if you quit clowning around and aimed, you’d actually make it in,” Frankie quips, and he and Joel dissolve into laughter at the cheesy pun.

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, I’ve created a monster. I can’t believe you both are so fluent in dad jokes. Clearly I’ve made a mistake bringing the two of you together.”

Joel chuckles, chuffing your chin with his finger and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Pffft, good try. I’ve known you long enough to know you love the cheese.” You roll your eyes again but can’t help a smile from gracing your lips.

You sit with your back leaning against Joel’s side, cradled by his strong bicep wrapping around your front. His fingers caress your shoulder and arm absentmindedly while the conversation shifts to Joel’s latest woodworking projects. Your feet sit in Frankie’s lap, his long, thick fingers massaging out a knot in your calf, head nodding and eyes on Joel as he listens and asks questions. Frankie’s been wanting to get into a new hobby that uses his hands, so he was excited when you told him that Joel is a lifelong wood crafter. 

Looking between Joel and Frankie, you can’t help but feel your body begin to buzz - and it’s only partially the whiskey talking. Here are your two favorite men in the world, finally together, both with you. It’s something you only allowed yourself to dream about in the dead of night, when Frankie had Isabella with him and Joel was wiped out from work. 

When you’d lay in your LA rental alone, body writhing under the sheets, thighs parted and fingertips slick with your arousal; swirling away at your center while fantasizing about your husband and your boyfriend taking turns with you, or even sharing you simultaneously. You’d bit the pillow to stifle your moans on more than one occasion as you came, dripping onto the sheets. Always assuming it was nothing more than wishful thinking, that Joel wouldn’t be keen on sharing you in person, that Frankie wouldn’t want to fuck you in front of your husband. That the three of you would never end up spending time together.

But now, it’s real. And you can’t wait a second longer to finally live your dream.

You try to be subtle at first: slipping your feet further up Frankie’s legs, shifting your body to press your breasts out more invitingly, and slowly letting your hand slide down Joel’s thigh. But Joel, if nothing else, is keenly observant, and he clocks your intentions immediately. 

His voice halts for a moment, and then a deep chuckle vibrates his chest. “Whatcha doin’ there, wanderin’ hands?” he teases you, grabbing your advancing hand gently. 

You feign innocence. “Oh, I’m not doing anything,” you blink up at him with big eyes, playing the part. “Just happy to have you two here with me.”

Joel huffs and gives you a soft sideways smile, his dimple popping at your games. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles sweetly. “Don’t you dare try to use the same tricks on me that you did 10 years ago. Naughty thing.”

His large hand shifts from your shoulder to your neck, clasping the breadth of it gently: not enough to restrict your blood flow, but enough to let you know he wants to call the shots tonight. Despite that, the action pulls a whine from your throat and makes you just as dizzy with need. Frankie swallows hard at the sight before him.

“Do you want us?” Joel asks.

“Yes, Joel,” you nearly whimper.

“Now tell me, sweetness,” Joel continues, leaning forward to murmur in your ear, “what d’ya want? Do you want us to take our time? Lay you out on the bed and take you apart piece by piece?” He presses a kiss to your jaw, sending shivers down your neck. “Or do you want us to ruin you right here, fuck you on these cushions until you’re screamin’ our names?”

The combination of absolute filth pouring from Joel’s mouth and his hand encasing your throat sets your body on fire and triggers slick to pool in your panties. You glance down at Frankie’s lap and see how hard he’s become in seconds. His pupils are blown, eyes obsidian pits of desire. There’s a part of you that wants them to take you immediately, but you know you want your first time with the two of them to be unhurried.

“Bedroom, Joel,” you breathe. “I want to make this last.”

Joel lets out a satisfied growl. “Good girl, telling us what you want. Do you want Frankie to kiss you?” Frankie’s breathing gets heavier as Joel releases his hand from you and nuzzles your cheek.

“Yes, god, please,” you whimper. Frankie places one of your feet on the ground carefully and spreads your legs so he can crawl on top of you, kneeling at the base of your thighs. After taking off his hat, he glances up and makes eye contact with Joel, who gives the slightest nod. It’s not lost on you how close the three of you are, breathing the same air, panting with need.

You pull Frankie to your lips, hands framing his face just as he cups the base of your skull with his palm. The moment your lips touch, both of you let out stifled moans, and you melt when you feel Joel’s arm wrap tighter around you. His big paw slides over your torso to cup your breast through your flannel - his flannel - and your tank top, thumb teasing your nipple into a hard peak. 

You and Frankie continue to deepen the kiss, the arousal growing between all three of you. One of your hands glides over your husband’s meaty thigh to palm at his quickly-hardening cock. The other winds its way into your boyfriend’s silken curls, pulling lightly and eliciting a hiss from him.

He bites your lower lip and grabs your hip, grinding his length against your jeans-covered center. “Fuck, nenita,” he groans. All you can do is whine his name in response.

“Let’s take her upstairs,” Joel directs, sucking a quick hickey into your neck that makes you gasp. Frankie nods and wraps your legs around his waist while you continue to pepper kisses across his face and neck. Both men ascend the stairs towards the main bedroom with you in tow.

Once you step foot in the bedroom, Frankie sets you onto your feet and immediately starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth when you gasp. His hands slide down to cup your ass through your jeans. You open your eyes briefly to look for your husband, who’s leaned against the door frame, arms folded casually, as if this is just another Friday evening. 

Frankie bites your lip, eliciting yet another gasp from your mouth, while Joel stalks towards the two of you. He slides behind you, grabbing Frankie’s hips to pull the both of you into him, and grinds his thick erection against the swell of your backside. Frankie jumps a bit, surprised, but groans lowly in his throat. Moaning, you reach your hand back blindly to guide Joel’s head towards your neck. He chuckles, knowing exactly what you want, and sucks another love mark into the soft skin there.

You feel intoxicated, on another planet, ceasing to exist in the bounds of time and space. Just floating, a vibrating being made only of raw desire for the two men surrounding you.

“Help me get her clothes off,” rasps Joel, and the two of them work in tandem to strip you of the offending garments. Four hands pull cloth away, stroke your hot, exposed skin, glide along your curves, making you sing the sweetest song of sighs, whines, and whimpers. You break your kiss with Frankie when he looks down to pop the button to your jeans, and turn your head to the side to pull your husband’s mouth to yours, noticing the infinitesimal difference between the taste of him and the way Frankie tastes. Joel growls into you, sliding his tongue along your teeth, and you swear your legs are going to turn to jelly. Joel’s leather & spice scent intertwines with Frankie’s rosemary and cedar aroma, combining into the perfect addictive cocktail.

All you can see, smell, taste, touch, feel, is them. Your men.

Once you’re stripped bare, you look between the two of them. “Please,” you beg, and the two men nod, starting to hastily shed their own clothing. You climb onto the bed, the olive washed-linen bedding soft against your heated body. Spreading your thighs, you slip your fingers around your drenched folds, body humming with need. A needy whine escapes your lips, and Joel looks up from dropping his jeans to his ankles.

“Uh-uh, darlin’,” he tuts. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.” You withdraw your fingers but pout. Frankie smirks at your display of frustration while he whips his t-shirt off, baring his golden chest.

“Listen to Joel if you want to get your rewards,” Frankie reminds you. You part your thighs wider for him, hoping to entice him into breaking. He groans at the sight, his eyes becoming glassy. “You’re playing dirty,” he grouses.

Joel, now completely bare, looks over to see you laying your trap for Frankie. He shakes his head. “Naughty girls don’t get their sweet little cunts licked,” Joel singsongs at you.

He grabs you gently by the throat. “Listen very carefully if you want to come tonight.” You nod, your body flaring with desire at Joel’s dominance as you give him your full attention. “I’m going to sit against this headboard, and you are going to sit right between my legs, with your back to me. I’m going to spread your pretty thighs for Frankie and he’s going to eat you out until you come for us. Understood?”

You nod rapidly. “Words, sweetness,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you barely manage to squeak out. Joel murmurs approvingly, and slides himself behind you. Bracketed on either side by his strong thighs, you’ve never felt more safe.

Once the both of you are settled in position, Joel leans towards you again. “What’s our safeword?”

“Persimmon,” you and Frankie say in unison. 

Joel looks up at Frankie, slightly surprised, a devious smile curling his lips. “Such a good girl, explaining our rules to Frankie,” he purrs into your ear, and you preen at the praise. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze flick momentarily to Frankie’s naked body and hard cock bobbing proudly, and you feel his breath catch in his chest.

“If things are getting to be too much for either of you, we can slow down or stop,” he reminds both of you. With that, Joel grips your thighs with huge hands. 

“Frankie,” Joel commands gently. “Come suck on her pretty little pearl.”

Frankie’s smirk deepens, and he slinks onto the foot of the bed, crawling on hands and knees towards the two of you. You drape each of your legs over Joel’s thighs, and he uses his hands to angle you open even further. Frankie’s eyes shift between your shining center and your flushed face as he lays himself between your thighs. You feel entirely exposed, on display. 

Frankie licks his lips, and you let out an anticipatory whimper. 

“You’re desperate to taste her, aren’t you?” Joel prompts Frankie. You see your boyfriend’s dark eyes meet your husband’s deep amber ones, so similar.

“Been thinking about it all day,” Frankie admits, slowly dragging his lips and tongue from the inside of your knee to the junction of your thigh. “Driving me crazy with those tight jeans of hers.” Shivers erupt across your skin, your breathing harsh from their teasing. 

“Those are my favorite pair of her jeans,” Joel agrees. “They cup her ass so nicely.” Frankie hums, biting your thigh gently and then soothing the pinch with his tongue. You keen quietly and arch your back.

“Look at how wet she is for us,” Frankie notes with adoration, teasing the outside of your slick folds with the pads of his fingers, watching how your pussy clenches on nothing. He chuckles, then swipes his digits through your arousal and brings them to your lips. 

“Taste yourself, nenita,” he husks, and you comply, sucking his fingertips into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them. Your own sweet tang coats your mouth. He groans, grinding into the mattress, and then Joel is grabbing your chin to kiss you. Your lips part with a sigh, and Joel massages your tongue with his own, tasting your flavor for himself. His chest vibrates against your back with his growl of satisfaction. 

Frankie’s hands grip your thighs as he watches the exchange. “She always tastes so damn good,” he hums, kissing your cunt with a smack. 

Joel parts from your lips and nods. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever eaten.”

You squirm and moan, making Frankie chuckle again. “Is there something you want?”

“Does our girl need to come?” Joel croons, running his hands along the inside of your thighs. 

Nodding your head rapidly, you beg, “Please, Frankie.” You see Frankie’s lip curl into a smirk, and then he licks a broad stripe up the length of your cunt. A high-pitched whine escapes your mouth as you throw your head back against Joel’s sturdy shoulder.

“That’s right, let Frankie know how good his mouth feels,” Joel coaxes you, and Frankie starts eating your pussy with vigor. He keeps his hands on your thighs, opening you wide for your boyfriend, who’s latched onto your swollen clit and is suckling it gently while he strokes your inner walls with two fingers. 

“You’re making me feel so good, baby,” you gasp, looking between your legs at Frankie coaxing your body into pleasure. Joel’s hands briefly squeeze your thighs harder at your words. His cock presses thick and firm against your lower back, aroused at watching another man bringing you pleasure. One of your hands reaches back to grip Joel’s arm, while the other tangles in Frankie’s soft curls, keeping him locked onto your core. Finally being held by the both of them at the same time makes your head spin.

Your orgasm gathers in your bones, your breaths coming in pants as your legs start to shake. Joel slides his right hand from your thigh up your torso to your breast, flicking your nipple with his thumb until it pebbles, causing you to gasp.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan to your husband, your boyfriend doubling down on your ministrations to your folds.

Suddenly, Joel booms, “Stop, Frankie.”

The younger man immediately parts from your center and looks at your husband, eyes flashing with surprise and another, more feral emotion. You whine loudly, your orgasm beginning to fade.

“Joel,” you beg, both a question and a plea. He smirks against your neck.

“Did you ever notice how when you deny her orgasm, her whole chest and neck flushes hot?” Joel asks Frankie, almost as if you aren’t there. Your cunt pulses, desperate.

“N-No, actually,” Frankie stammers slightly, pupils blown as he looks at your naked body, a shimmer of sweat coating your skin like dew. “I… never actually deny her an orgasm.” His eyes move back to Joel, desperation tinging the periphery. “I just want to make her come, over and over again.”

Your chest heaves, dizzy with need. Fuck, this is so debauched and hot.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “Ahh, how sweet, always giving our girl what she wants,” Joel purrs. “It’s a good thing you follow directions like a good boy.” You swear you hear a moan that Frankie barely swallows. 

“Kiss her,” Joel orders Frankie, and Frankie audibly groans this time before he crawls up your body to capture your lips with passion, making you gasp. He licks into your mouth, claiming you with visceral, searing intent. You whimper against him; tasting yourself on his tongue drives you mad. As you and Frankie continue to feed off each other, Joel sucks hot, wet kisses against your throat. You keen and press yourself into Joel harder, grinding your ass against his throbbing cock. He growls a bit, thrusting his hips lightly.

“Joel, please,” you beg in between kisses with Frankie.

“Tell me what you need, darlin’,” your husband coos.

You pull away from Frankie and take a steadying breath. “I need… more. I want to be filled up.”

Joel groans at your words, biting down at the juncture of your shoulder and neck, making you whine.  “Fuck, such a needy little thing aren’t you?” 

An impatient whine escapes your lips, and this time it’s Frankie chuckling. “Tired of my mouth on you, baby?”

“Never, Frankie,” you rasp. “I could never get enough of you.” Frankie kisses you deeply again; your fingers intertwine with his curly locks as your heart flutters. Breaking the kiss, you admit, “I want to feel both of you at the same time.”

He fucking whimpers at your request. Joel smiles wickedly into your shoulder. 

“Well go on, then, sweetheart,” Joel rumbles. You lift your hips just enough for Joel to line himself up and sink into you. Both of you moan simultaneously as he fits himself snugly inside of your pussy. Pleasure sings in your veins, making you arch your back when he bottoms out.

Joel licks a line from the base of your neck upwards. “Feel better?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, biting your earlobe. You gasp wordlessly, your core clenching on his thick length, making him groan in response. “Fuck… I’d say that’s a yes.”

Frankie sits back on his heels, taking in the sinful sight before him: Joel’s thick thighs holding you up; your soft legs spread open for him; pussy split open lewdly on Joel’s cock; your slick and cream gleaming at his base. His dick jumps, his eyes trained on where the two of you are joined.

In a potent haze of arousal, you start to grind on Joel, seeking any ounce of friction to quell the fire in your core, but he seizes your hips with his large paws, halting any movement. You cry out in confusion and need.

Joel snickers, amused. “Not so fast. I didn’t tell ya to move, did I?” You close your eyes in sweet frustration, your head tipping back against Joel’s broad shoulders as you shake your head.

“I’m gonna give you what you need, sweetness,” your husband promises you, then turns to Frankie.

“Francisco,” Joel commands. Your boyfriend snaps his head from looking between your legs to staring right into Joel’s eyes. His breathing picks up, a weighted thrill cascading down his spine from hearing his full name straight from Joel’s lips.

“Give our girl what she wants. Suck on her clit until she comes. And if she moves, don’t you dare give her your mouth. Understood?” 

Frankie nods, his lips parted and soulful brown eyes full of desire. I’m so fucked, you realize in that moment. 

Your boyfriend lays between your and Joel’s legs once again, subtly grinding into the mattress. He locks eyes with you, hovering over your throbbing clit, and blows cool air across it, making you twitch desperately as you will yourself to stay still, your velvet walls squeezing around Joel.

“Good girl,” your husband growls gently, kneading your hips reassuringly. Frankie props himself up on his elbows, then brings his thumb to your clit, gently pulling back on the hood to fully expose it. Swollen, flushed with heat, and shining with your arousal, Frankie can’t get enough of the sight. 

“So beautiful, querida,” Frankie whispers reverently, then his mouth closes around your bud and sucks.

Restricted in your movements and trying to follow Joel’s directions, the flare of pleasure you experience is released by your body as a long, low moan. Frankie groans at your taste and sounds, his tongue swirling over your pearl in a precise pattern, and with the exquisite stretch of Joel’s cock against your walls, your nerves feel like they’re on fire. Your orgasm once again begins to build, slick slowly drenching Joel, his length swelling harder inside of you with every minute that passes. 

“Frankie,” you beg, “I want to come so badly. You’re making me feel so good.” His eyes flash to yours.

It’s like a switch flips in Frankie, and suddenly, your sweet boyfriend turns into a menace.

“Aww, pobrecita,” Frankie mocks lovingly, pressing a kiss to your clit. “A fat cock filling you up and my tongue playing with your little clit isn’t enough for you? So demanding for someone who has to be allowed to come.”

You gasp at Frankie’s words, not used to him being such a tease, but Joel’s dark laugh only eggs him on. Determined to pull out all the stops, Frankie flattens his tongue and traces the length of one side of your pussy, accidentally brushing right against Joel’s shaft in the process.

Your husband lets out a surprised moan and his cock throbs. His reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“Joel?” Frankie asks, eyes wide, a dozen questions conveyed in a single look.

You turn to Joel, conflicting emotions flickering across his face: yearning, confusion, vulnerability; but glazed over it all is a powerful desire. Joel’s never shown interest in other men, you remember. You and Frankie hold your breath.

One of Joel’s calloused hands tentatively moves from your thigh to tangle in Frankie’s hair, cupping his skull. You feel Frankie’s shoulders shudder. The two men’s eyes lock.

Joel gives Frankie a small nod.

You feel the relief and excitement wash over Frankie’s figure in waves. “The safeword applies for you, too,” Frankie reminds Joel gently, and Joel nods again. The three of you breathe for a moment, on the verge of exploring uncharted territory. 

And then, Francisco Morales begins to simultaneously, single-handedly, take you and Joel apart.

Frankie slides both arms under your and Joel’s legs, his hands coming up to grip the sides of Joel’s thighs from beneath to anchor him to the both of you. Joel’s cock twitches inside of you the second Frankie’s fingers brush his skin. He looks down at Frankie, his lips parted in awe, eyes dark with desire. Frankie holds Joel’s gaze as he gently licks the base of Joel’s shaft. 

Soft moans crawl their way out of your husband’s throat, his grip on your thigh tightening even more as his other hand explores Frankie’s curls. Frankie laps at it again, this time dragging his tongue further up and onto your pussy lips, swirling around your clit again. You and Joel both moan sequentially, the sweetest sounds that Frankie’s ever heard in his life. His senses are flooded with your and Joel’s essences.

He continues licking Joel’s cock and your pussy, and slowly, your husband’s resolve begins to crumble. The wet, sloppy kisses Frankie laps across the two of you leave Joel panting for more, and he struggles to remain still inside of you. Meanwhile, your head is reeling - your boyfriend is licking your husband’s dick, and he’s enjoying it. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this happening – and now, you can’t see, hear, feel anything but that.

“Frankie,” you whine, “please let me move.”

He peeks his head up from between your legs, where he’s been dutifully preoccupied. His lips shine with your arousal, and when he parts from your body, Joel groans in protest as well. Frankie smiles smugly, looking up at the two of you. “Do you think she deserves to come?” he asks your husband. 

Joel’s chest heaves against your back. “Yes,” he grits out, his voice sounding raw. “She’s been so good for us.”

Frankie looks at you diabolically, his smile nearly predatory. “Look at that, nenita. Guess Joel is gonna reward you after all.”

Joel slides his hands from your thigh and Frankie’s head up your torso to cup your breasts gently, squeezing the heft of them and working his thumbs over your nipples. You keen, and he pulls your hair to the side to brush his lips over your neck. Shivers erupt across your skin.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages. “Let Frankie see how well you ride my cock.”

You groan in relief, and shift your legs to plant your shins against the bed. Rising up, you keep your eyes on Frankie while you slip Joel’s cock almost all the way out, and then swirl your hips as you slowly sink back down. Both men moan in unison; Joel closing his eyes and throwing his head back against the headboard, and Frankie with his gaze flitting between your face and the show between your legs. 

“You look so good stuffed with Joel,” Frankie purrs, his face inches from where your most intimate parts slide together. You seat yourself further onto Joel. His fat tip kisses your cervix, teasing the nerve endings there, then he slips into just the right corner deep in you that only he and Frankie have ever found. Your loud gasp tells the men everything they need to know.

“Right there?” Joel asks rhetorically when you start to rock against it, your breath speeding up. You nod your head rapidly, mewling with pleasure. He thrusts up, meeting you with each movement.

Frankie takes that as his cue to latch back onto your puffy clit, and a hoarse whine rips from your throat. He moans in response. The vibrations from his voice pull you closer to your peak, your hips working against both Joel’s cock and Frankie’s mouth.

Moans, gasps, and whimpers fill the air. A thick fog of hedonistic energy crackles between the three of you. Every cell of your body is vibrating with pleasure. Your hand finds Joel’s own, tangled in Frankie’s hair, and your fingers intertwine, fully under the spell of the man bringing the both of you to the brink. Beneath you, you feel Joel’s thighs begin to shake, his thrusting becoming erratic. He’s right at the cusp of his orgasm.

“Frankie,” Joel groans, “Make our girl come.”

Frankie doesn’t need anything else. He swirls tiny, precise, fast circles against your throbbing pearl with his tongue, and between Joel’s cock and Frankie’s mouth, you shatter.

Spasms wrack your pussy as you squeal your two lovers’ names in succession, and both men curse. Below your thighs, you feel Frankie’s hand move to cup and massage Joel’s heavy sack, then he’s licking at Joel’s length desperately. 

“Come for us, Joel,” Frankie begs. You swear you feel Joel stop breathing.

In the wake of the moment of stillness, Joel’s cock erupts inside you, his hot seed painting your cunt. A strangled cry shoots from his lips, and his hand crushes against Frankie’s skull and your fingers. His entire body shakes, and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt your husband fall apart so thoroughly.

Frankie, drunk on your dual orgasms, laps ferociously between your thighs, drinking up the combined nectar of your and Joel’s cum. The minute the both of you begin to relax, Frankie surges up, kissing you deeply. He feeds your and Joel’s essence to you with his tongue.

You’re in an absolute haze of ecstasy.

“Please, sweetness, I need to fuck you,” Frankie pleads, his body shivering with need. You lean forward, sliding off Joel’s cock, and let Frankie shift you until you’re perpendicular to your husband, draped across the middle of the bed on your back. Your boyfriend gets off of the mattress and stalks to the side where your feet lay, then pulls you towards him by your ankles until your hips are nearly dangling off the edge. His hard cock bobs angrily, the tip glistening with precum. 

“Let me see you,” he whispers, spreading your thighs open. Your pussy is obscenely glazed with Joel’s cum, his milky spend clinging to every fold and curve between your legs. Frankie lets out a pained moan, and your breath hitches in response. 

“Goddamn,” Frankie murmurs devotedly. “You’re a goddess.” He guides his cockhead through your silky folds, both of you moaning at the slipperiness. Your head lolls to the side. Joel watches you with tired but desirous eyes, clearly enjoying Frankie taking his turn. His softened cock lays across his thick thigh, the last of his cum dripping from the tip.

“Frankie, please,” you whine, spreading yourself even wider, your cunt fluttering in anticipation. Frankie groans, then shifts forward, spearing his hardness into you in one long thrust.

The sensation makes you keen, your back bowing off the bed sheets. Frankie secures your parted thighs with a large hand clamping down on each, and he moans unabashedly at the sight of his cock spreading your walls, some of Joel’s cum seeping out. Sinfully slick heat envelops his length, and it takes everything in him not to come on the spot. 

“You’re still so tight, amorcita,” Frankie grits out, “still taking me so well.” He pistons in and out of your wrecked pussy, his thickness slicked up in your and Joel’s releases. Wet squelches from your pussy float through the air, dancing around your whines and Frankie’s grunts of pleasure. 

It’s sensorially obscene in the most delicious way.

Waves of bliss wash across your body as Frankie drives you further towards your second orgasm. Sweat shines across his strong body; it clings like dewdrops to his forehead, his dark curls sticking to his skin here and there. You grasp his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality while he kisses that devastating spot within you with his cock. Unable to resist, you snake your fingers down towards your clit, starting to swirl and press exactly how you like it. A whine breaks free from his lips when he feels you start to tighten around him.

“Nenita,” Frankie cries out, his cock swelling even harder. “You feel so damn good.” He pauses to catch his breath for a moment, then gently moves your hands to your thighs, keeping them spread for him as he swipes his thumb over your throbbing pearl. Your moan hitches in rapturous pleasure. With Frankie fully in control of your body, you surrender to his ministrations, eyes sweeping across the sight of him driving himself deep inside you. 

The bed shifts beside you, and you feel Joel pressing kisses over your heated skin. “You look so beautiful taking Frankie’s cock,” he murmurs. Your mind buzzes with warmth at his husky baritone, his lips leaving tingling trails in their wake across your forehead and neck. His calloused fingertips trace circles around your pebbled nipples, pinching and soothing repeatedly to enhance your pleasure. 

Looking up at your husband, you whisper, “Kiss me.” Joel obliges, kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue along yours, your lips and tongues dancing as Frankie continues to cause your orgasm to rise further in your limbs with every thrust. 

It’s even more perfect than you could have imagined.

Frankie moves your legs to rest upright along his torso, ankles on his shoulders, and the new angle has you breaking your kiss with Joel with a high-pitched whine. “Oh fuck, Francisco, right there,” you practically sob. Frankie leans his body into you a bit more, burying himself to the hilt each time, and Joel reaches over to rub your clit. 

Having both men focused on bringing you to climax is a heady potion. Your thighs start to shake and every breath turns into a reedy cry. “Joel… Francisco… fuck!” you moan, tightening around Frankie’s girth, his thrusts beginning to speed up as he approaches his own orgasm. “You’re gonna make me come!”

“Then come for us, sweetheart,” Joel husks, and it’s enough to have you clamping down on Frankie’s cock, finally shattering with a scream. 

Your cunt floods with slick, and when he withdraws slightly, you gush, splashing Joel’s hand, your thighs, Frankie’s cock and belly, and the bed. Frankie grits out a loud moan as he slams home, each thrust making you gush more, until he reaches his peak. He whimpers your name loudly as he buries himself a final time and unloads his spend into your pussy, his cum mixing with Joel’s inside of you, filling you to the brim. As your twin releases wane, Frankie carefully pulls out, collapsing at the end of the bed beside you, the both of you breathing hard. 

“Good girl, darlin’,” soothes Joel, kissing your neck. Tears from the intensity of your peak roll down your hot cheeks. Your senses are pleasurably muted, brain fuzzy in the afterglow. Frankie rolls towards you at the same time Joel slots himself right next to you. Laying a hand on each of their bodies, you try to ground yourself as you come back to Earth. The thick musk of sex permeates the air; all three of you breathe heavily, blanketed with endorphins. Frankie and Joel both affectionately stroke your body, their touches soothing instead of arousing. You take turns kissing each man; your mouths move slowly against each other, soaking in the intimacy.

You knew your first time together would be hot, but you didn’t predict it would feel damn near magical.

After a few minutes, Joel sits up, stretching. “Why don’t you two get cleaned up in the shower, and I’ll change the sheets?” You nod, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then gives Frankie’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. The two men hold each other’s gazes for a moment, fondness and shyness battling in their eyes, then Frankie pats your thigh.

“C’mon, bebita, let’s get you clean,” Frankie encourages you, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. He offers his hand to you and you accept the help, wiggling almost bonelessly off of the bed. Giggles bubble up your throat when you have to stem the warm flow of their seed from between your thighs with your fingers. Joel smacks your ass gently as you pass, eliciting more of your laughter as you and Frankie enter the bathroom. 

You watch your boyfriend set up the dual-head shower, perching yourself on the marble countertop across the room. Your hand is still pressed to your center, but when Frankie’s done adjusting the water temperature, he spins around, getting to his knees in front of your spread thighs. 

“Let me see,” he asks softly. You remove your fingers, letting the mixture of their warm cum seep from you like honeyed nectar. Frankie hums approvingly, then delicately laps at your folds and inner thighs to clean you up with his mouth. You run your dry hand through his curls, sighing happily, licking the taste of the three of you off the fingers of your other hand. Frankie looks up, and instantly captures your lips with his, radiantly smiling against your mouth.

The bliss, the peace, the happiness… you feel three little words rising in your throat. And you don’t know how much longer you can hold them off. 

Or, at this point, if you even want to.

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After your short but memorable stay with Santiago, you and Frankie have been on the road, spending the last few days leisurely meandering up Highway 1 towards San Francisco. You take turns driving, playing car DJ, and sightseeing as you travel north. Tanned feet on the dash, chaste kisses to the back of hands while driving, a shifting playlist between your differing musical tastes. Nights spent snuggled up in a rental or hotel room, playing 20 Questions or “Would You Rather”, kisses turning into intertwining of limbs, labored breath and fingers gripping bed sheets, the murmuring of each other’s names like prayers. 

In Ojai, you drank a little too much wine at the tasting room and biked back to the hotel with wobbly legs. Hearst Castle landed on your list for the formerly-captive-now-wild zebras (you) and to gawk at “ridiculously rich people shit” (Frankie). Ocean kayaking amongst the sea otters and sea lions in Morro Bay filled both of you with wonder. Frankie let you lead him into every little boutique shop that called your name, contentedly trailing behind you while you browsed.

Wherever you were, Frankie indulged your sweet tooth by sniffing out the best artisan ice cream shops. One time during a playful debate, you bopped your frozen treat to Frankie’s nose, giggling at his surprised expression and kissing the sticky-sweet remnants off of him before he picked you up over his shoulder. Your shrieks of joy ricocheted off the small town street until he tossed you in the backseat of his Jeep and crawled in after you, demanding a taste of something sweeter. Before you knew it, you were moaning and sighing under Frankie’s ministrations in an abandoned parking lot. The sight of his messy curls between your thighs as he lapped at your core propelled you into a stratosphere of pleasure. 

The next morning, you continued your road trip north and stopped in Santa Cruz to experience the boardwalk since Frankie had never been. Sun-drenched wood slats under your feet, the crisp, briny breeze cooling your exposed skin. You and Frankie meander slowly, eating chocolate dipped soft serve cones and curly fries, hopping onto the slightly rickety carnival rides, including the famous wooden (and creaky) Giant Dipper roller coaster. (“This thing can’t be structurally sound if it’s making all that noise,” Frankie muttered, but you still got him to get on.)

Adrenaline trickling through your veins, giddy with endorphins from the coaster, you and Frankie debate who had the best strategy for the carousel’s metal ring toss game. “You can’t just huck it like a ninja star,” he gripes about your approach, shaking his head with a smile. “You have to finesse and time it, and throw it like a frisbee so it floats in.”

“I swear, I was way closer than you were,” you shoot back. “I’ve had my whole life to perfect my technique. One of my rings hit the clown’s mouth! More than I can say about your attempts.” You stick your tongue out at Frankie, and he rolls his eyes playfully. Neither of you had set off the lights and buzzers that indicated a successful throw. He’s about to point this out when his phone trills.

Pulling it out of his pocket, his eyebrows knit together a bit before answering. “Mamá,” Frankie says into the phone, “Que pasa? Is something wrong?” He had dropped off Isabella with her for the duration of the road trip, his mother always eager to have “girl time” with her only grandchild. 

“No, no, mijo,” she responds, “Estámos bien. Isa is napping. I just wanted to call you and see how your vacation is going. You work so hard, you deserve to have this time to yourself!”

Frankie breaths a small sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, good. Well, I’ve gotta keep it short. We’re out here on the pier.”

“ ‘WE?’ ” you suddenly hear screeching out of the phone, her tone ecstatic. “Who are you with? Oh my goodness, are you with that girl?” 

Frankie winces, holding the phone away from his ear as you chuckle. “Yes, mamá,” Frankie responds, “the woman I told you about. You don’t need to yell.” He looks at you, a blush slowly creeping up his face, a sheepish smile on his lips. He mouths “five minutes” while walking towards the side of the walkway. Nodding your head with a smile, you whisper, “take your time,” and kiss his cheek, settling on a bench nearby but out of earshot of the conversation, allowing Frankie his privacy. 

“Oh, mijo, that’s wonderful!” his mother exclaims. “When do I get to meet her?”

Frankie huffs out a laugh. “Mamá, relax. You will get to meet her in time. We’re not quite there yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Haven’t you been together for a few months now?”

“Yes, but…” Frankie trails off, not quite sure his mother can handle a full explanation of your situation. Honestly, as he thinks about it, he isn’t even 100% sure what to call the two of you anymore. “It’s complicated,” he says simply.

The both of you agreed to enjoy what you had with no expectations. But “no expectations” changed over the days, weeks, months to become a desire to be around each other more days than not. Visits in the dead of night became dates during the day, morphing into waking up in each other’s arms, eating breakfast together over the weekends, bedhead and sleepy eyes and warm smiles. He thinks about the way you make him laugh, head thrown back, with his whole chest. He thinks about your playful debates, the way you tease him when he loses to you in Mario Kart. He thinks about the way you writhe under, on top of, beside him as he draws pleasure from your body again and again, your moans and gasps creating the prettiest song he’s ever heard. Frankie thinks about your soul, your heart, your innate goodness, and then he thinks about how he can’t possibly deserve any more than you already give him, despite him realizing more every day that he can’t imagine his life without you.

Frankie’s mother clears her throat on the other end of the line, and he snaps back to the present moment.

“Francisco,” she says softly. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just tell her how you feel, and see where it takes you. If she's as special as you say she is, you're going to regret not saying anything.”

Frankie looks down at his boots, and then back at you. You smile at him from the bench, your sundress fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Mamá, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“If you want something, Francisco, go for it. I always told you that you need to be more confident in yourself.” Frankie’s mother sighs affectionately. “You have done so much for your career, for Isabella… you have more than made up for your transgressions, mijito. Do this one thing for yourself. Take the risk.”

He thinks back to the beginning of your relationship, when he said he didn’t want anything serious because he was focusing on his career and his daughter. Not only was he in a stable job with room for upward movement, and becoming the father that Isabella deserved, it was because of you that he was able to achieve his goals. You’ve always supported him, encouraged him, and given him reality checks when he needed it. Not once have you asked for more in the relationship, but he never felt like you had to. He was willing to give you that and so much more. He was nearly certain that you felt the same way about having each other as a more permanent part of your lives, but without ever asking the question directly, he couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just all in his head.

Frankie swallows thickly. “You’re right,” he acquiesces. “I’ll talk to her soon, when the moment is right. I don’t want to lose her.”

His mother coos sweetly at him. “Now that’s the son I know and love! I’ll let you go have fun with your lady. I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, Mamá,” Frankie whispers, and then ends the call. 

You’re people watching at the boardwalk as Frankie approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. There’s no surprise triggered by his arms around you, just a calm ease and warmth. He presses kisses into your hair and sighs deeply. Tipping your head to the side, you return the kisses up his arm and rub his knuckles with your thumbs.

“How’s your mamá?” you ask. 

“Good,” Frankie responds, “just checking in to make sure I was having fun on my vacation.” A sheepish grin blooms on his face. “Sorry you had to hear her scream about you.”

You snicker as you stand up from the bench. “Nah, it wasn’t my ear she yelled into… But I didn’t mind at all. It’s sweet how she checks up on you.”

He grins, lifting his cap briefly to run his fingers through his hair. “She knows how hard I’ve been working to make things right with my job, and with Isabella, and she’s been pushing me to take some time off.” He sighs, looking off into the distance, and you know him well enough to know he’s doubtful of his progress.

“You deserve it, Frankie,” you murmur to him, lacing your fingers with his. You both start strolling along the boardwalk again, Frankie looking deeply in thought. “You’re always so hard on yourself, and at the very least, you deserve some time off.”

Glancing over at him, your breath catches. Frankie’s already staring at you, curls wild in the sea breeze, brown eyes warm and sparkling. Suddenly your chest feels like it’s cracked open, warm and aching. You feel the spark in your heart, and you realize that your feelings may be more than a simple affection. You search Frankie’s eyes and you can see a steady hidden layer under the warmth of his gaze as he lifts your joined hands to his lips, kissing them softly. It makes your heart do somersaults, the deeper unspoken emotions that flickered across his irises. A deep devotion that tugs at your soul.

He deserves the world.

Frankie huffs a laugh, dropping his gaze. “Everyone seems to tell me that. Guess I should stop being so damn stubborn and start believing them.” You continue walking, Frankie swinging your hands between the two of you as you settle into comfortable silence.

This is more than lust and companionship, you think to yourself. The way he looks at you, touches you with such reverence. It goes deeper than respect and fondness. Only Joel had ever given you butterflies and yet here you are, a fluttering in your gut, foreign but familiar. But what does that mean for you and Joel? 

Can your heart love two people at once?

Whoa…. wait, “love”??

You push the thoughts away with a shake of your head, determined to be present in the moment with Frankie. Bumping gently into his shoulder to get his attention, you flash him a smile.

“Wanna see which one of us can win first at the dime toss game?” you ask Frankie, and his eyes crinkle at the corners the way you love so much when he smiles in return, his competitive streak flaring.

“Sweetness, I thought you’d never ask. Prepare to lose.”

After you absolutely demolish Frankie at the dime toss (he swears they rigged the bowls he was aiming for), you and Frankie hit the road towards the cute cottage you’d booked for the night. Among the draws was its proximity to good food while being simultaneously off the beaten path. You were dying to try the seafood restaurant nearby, which was recommended to Frankie by one of his coworkers.

Per usual for the northern California coast, the fog began to roll in from the beach, casting ghostly tendrils across the road. Fog was one of the things you missed most about home while in SoCal, where it was a rarity. You roll up the windows and flip on your seat heater with a content sigh, then drape your body over the center console to grab your oversized cardigan from the back. The move makes your short dress hike further up your thighs as you reach for the soft knit. Frankie glances in the rearview mirror, spotting a flash of the curve of your ass where it peeks out of your panties. The sight has him already hardening in his pants. A quiet groan rises from his throat involuntarily, and you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

“God, hermosa, that fucking dress,” Frankie grits. “I’ve been half hard all day seeing you in it.” You say nothing, but look over at him, your smirk growing bigger as you recline the seat a bit more and stretch your body just so, making the light blue eyelet lace material ride higher up your thighs, which you spread lasciviously. 

“Oh?” you tease. “What are you going to do about it?” You see Frankie’s eyes flash with desire for a moment, but he works hard to keep his cool.

His hand inches up your inner thigh while he drives, teasing swirls with his fingertips across your soft skin. You pant quietly, your breasts heaving gently against the low, curved neckline, and bite back a whimper as more arousal pools in your cotton underwear. “Take off your panties,” Frankie gently commands.

Dragging the material down your hips and legs, you let your thighs part for him, inviting his touch. Frankie keeps his eyes on the road, calmly navigating towards a quiet backroad. His focused demeanor is a lie though; his increasingly rapid breathing is a dead giveaway. When his fingers brush against your drenched folds, he groans and grips the wheel tighter with his driving hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Frankie grits out. “You’re so fucking wet for me already.” His nimble fingers explore you, spreading the slick around, swiping a soft circle around the pearl of your clit. He plays with you, and you start to writhe. A smirk blooms on his face as he clocks your movement. Frankie loves teasing you like this, drawing things out until you buckle under the pressure of your mounting desires. But the throbbing of his cock and your soft mewling sounds are making him desperate. 

Frankie pulls the car over to a small lot connected to an overlook, its parking spaces empty since the vista point is shrouded in fog. Trees block the view of your parking spot to traffic on the road. He throws the car in park, ripping his seatbelt off, and pulls your face to his for a passionate kiss. Swallowing your moans with his lips, Frankie tangles his tongue with yours while his fingers grip the base of your skull. 

“You’re killing me with this slutty little sundress,” he pants, sliding his hand down to cup your naked sex. 

You let out a strangled cry. “Frankie, I need you.”

Frankie shushes you gently. “Get in the back, nenita. I’ve got you.” You comply, scrambling over the center console and pushing your back up against the door, legs spreading wide and fingers tracing your glistening folds. He feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get his mouth on you in the next twenty seconds. He gets out of the front seat, yanking open the driver’s side back door and shutting it behind him after he slides in towards you.

“Gonna suck on that sweet little clit of yours ‘til you scream,” Frankie growls as he crawls towards your body, pushing your knees further towards your torso so you’re opened up lewdly for him. He slides his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to wet them, slipping them out and immediately burying them to the second knuckle in your soft cunt. A high-pitched whine is ripped from your throat.

“Frankie!” you whine, eyebrows furrowing together as you lock eyes with him. The mocha richness of his eyes has given way to pits of nearly black desire, and he keeps them on you while he presses his tongue flat to your swollen clit. Your eyes roll back and you nearly scream in pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he murmurs into your drenched folds, and then buries his face into you. You weave your fingers into his fluffy curls, opening your eyes to watch him at work.

Frankie’s eyes slip closed as he rhythmically pumps his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, curving them slightly up to hit that magical spot you can never quite reach the same way as he does. He sucks your hardened clit into his mouth, nestling it between the cleft of his lower lip and an almost imperceptible divot in the center of his tongue. That sweet, talented tongue swirls in precise tiny circles with the perfect pressure, while continuing to suckle exactly how you like it. Joel may go down on you like nobody’s business, but Frankie has cunnilingus nearly down to a science. At this point, he knows the exact series of moves to bring you to orgasm, and how long it takes really just depends on how long he feels like eating pussy that day. Sometimes, he’ll lay with his face between your legs for hours.

And right now? Frankie seems to want to break his own record for how fast he can get you to come.

Within seconds, you feel your orgasm gathering in your muscles. The tight shimmer of pleasure reverberates across your skin, in your bones, through every cell in your body, suspended in time, just waiting for a release. Frankie feels you tightening on his fingers, and you swear you feel him smirk against your slick folds. He keeps going, never faltering his movements, as the feeling inside you builds.

“Frankie,” you whine again, your body starting to shake. It shouldn't be physically possible for him to get you there so fast, and yet you feel that bowstring drawing impossibly tense in your body. “Frankie, I’m gonna… I’m so….” you keen, high-pitched, your chest heaving fast. Frankie moans against your folds, pressing just a bit harder with his fingers, crooking them just right, and sucks your clit hard.

You’re lucky that the area is truly secluded, because the scream tearing out of your throat as you shatter in ecstasy is loud. Your thighs lock around Frankie’s head as he moans deeply into your pussy, drawing out your orgasm expertly. Slick weeps from your cunt, soaking his lips and chin, and he slurps down every drop. He slows and gentles his ministrations on your core until he feels your thighs relax. Pulling back, he gives your folds one last kiss before he moves up your body to hover over your face, admiring the flush lighting up your features. Frankie kisses you gently, and you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” Frankie slurs, pussydrunk on you.

“God, you’re incredible,” you murmur against his lips, kissing him deeper, the taste of your own essence making you clench involuntarily. You can feel the thick, hard line of him against your thigh. Moaning, you press yourself into him. “Let me ride you, Francisco.” 

Frankie lets out a groan as he pulls you up. You rest your knees on the backseat, littering kisses over his face as he unbuttons and shoves his jeans and boxers down. His cock smacks his belly, precum smearing on his skin. Leaning over, you lick it off, his salty taste invading your senses. Frankie groans again when you suck him into your mouth. You gently lick his foreskin and pull it down to reveal his ruddy head, the tip leaking. Slurping and suckling, you sneak a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, the action not going unnoticed by Frankie. It seems to snap him out of his trance.

“I need to be inside you so badly,” he grits out, pulling you onto his lap. The skirt of your sundress flares over the both of you. Reaching down, he brushes his tip against your folds, making you both whine. Swirling it through your combined slick and spit, Frankie presses his head into you slowly. You take over, grabbing his hand to place it over your hip, and grind down on him, letting his length slip further and further into you. Your breath hitches as he spreads your walls, always a stretch no matter how many times you’ve taken him.

Frankie drops his head back against the headrest, his hands gripping you tightly. “You’re always so fucking tight for me, querida,” he pants, his eyes glazing over with lust. His words prompt another wave of slick to leak out of you, aiding your descent down his shaft as you swirl your cunt around him. Both of you moan, and soon enough you’re fully seated on him. You lean down, kissing him passionately, and he responds in kind, slipping his tongue into your mouth to massage against yours. Your hips begin to roll and Frankie breaks the kiss, a deep rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s like hot velvet,” he grits out, grabbing your hips to buck up into you. He trails kisses down your jaw and leaves little love bites as he goes. The car is filled with the slap of flesh, the squelch of your cunt as you fuck yourself on his cock, your shared gasps and panted breaths. Frankie slips the straps of your dress down, pulling down the cups with it, your breasts spilling out of their confines. He ducks his head down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You whimper.

“God, Francisco,” you whine, riding him harder, spurred on by the way he laves his tongue over your pebbled nipple, gently catching and pulling it between his teeth. He switches to your other breast, his other hand anchored to your hip to guide your motions. His cock kisses that spot deep in you that only Frankie and Joel have ever found, and the feeling rips another moan from you. 

“That’s it, fucking ride my cock,” Frankie pants. You lean forward, changing the angle a bit until your clit catches on his belly, which triggers your pussy to clench in pleasure. 

“Oh god, you feel so fucking good in me,” you moan, grinding down harder onto him, massaging your walls with his thick shaft and your clit with the friction of his course hairs. “You fill me up so well.”

“Softest, wettest pussy I’ve ever fucked, I swear,” Frankie slurs, losing himself in the feeling of you wrapped around his length. “You feel like silk on me, nenita.”

Your clit swells with the stimulation of every roll of your hips, making your cunt clench around Frankie. He lets out a whine. Your brows furrow in concentration as you seat his length in you as far as it will go, and he nearly chokes when he feels his tip kiss your cervix.

“You’re so deep in me,” you moan, working yourself on his shaft. “Tell me how good this pussy feels.” You’re desperate to hear him lose it.

“You feel amazing,” he whines, his dick hardening and swelling even more as he approaches his high. It feels like he’s lighting up every nerve ending inside of you. At this point, Frankie’s lap is dripping with your arousal, slick squelching and slapping sounds as thick in the air as the smell of sex. Both of you are covered in a sheen of sweat. You can tell he’s getting closer, so you start fucking him harder, driving his cock deeply into you, to the point where you feel like you’re beginning to meld together, a writhing, wet, hot mess of pleasure.

“Yeah?” you ask rhetorically, riding him harder and harder. “Are you going to come for me, Francisco?” You continue to use his full name, knowing how much it turns him on when you say it. “I want you to fuck me so full of your cum; I wanna be dripping for days. I want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Oh fuck, nenita,” Frankie whines as he loses himself in your heat. “I’m gonna fuck you so full. Gonna give you all of my cum. Gonna put it right where it belongs, deep in this cunt.” You roll your hips harder, your tits bouncing with the effort, and Frankie fucking whimpers. Your pussy tightens at the sound. It always turns you on so much when he loses control.

“Do it, Francisco. Fill me up,” you pant, your own orgasm barrelling towards you. Frankie’s thighs begin to quiver under you, and you know he’s almost there, too. You grip the base of his skull with one hand while the other steadies yourself on his shoulder, and then you lean down, nipping his earlobe. He whimpers again, completely fucked out.

“Come for me, now,” you beg in a whisper.

Frankie shouts as his grip on you turns to steel, and at the first hot spurt of his cum inside of you, your orgasm rips through you. Your cunt clenches, prolonging his pleasure, as your release soaks Frankie’s lap and his cum paints your insides. You both cry out at the feeling, foreheads pressed together. Frankie leans in and latches his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss.

As you both come down from your highs, you lean into Frankie, and he rubs his hands along your back soothingly. The softest kisses pepper your face, your sweat cooling down your skin while you both heave breaths, trying to recover. You weave your fingers into Frankie’s damp curls and scratch his scalp.

“Couldn’t wait ‘til we got to the rental, huh?” you quip.

Frankie huffs a laugh and hums in pleasure at your ministrations on his scalp. “Not when you tempt me with those dresses, baby. You know what flashing me a peek under your skirt does to me.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you tease, nipping his ear.

He jerks away at the ticklish sensation, then gently bites your shoulder in retribution. “Such a tease, hermosa,” he tuts. You both begin to untangle your sweat-slick limbs, and you slip yourself off of Frankie’s cock, groaning quietly in contentment as you stem the flow of his spend from your pussy with your fingers, shuffling around, seeking your panties. Finding them in the front seat, you slip them on, pressing the fabric into your cunt to keep yourself full of Frankie. Both of you get back into the front seats.

You fix your hair as you settle back in but pause, looking up to see your boyfriend staring at you, an achingly soft expression painting his whole face. Amber eyes, golden flecked irises, striking deep to your soul.

Breath catching in your throat, vulnerability rolling through your nerves. That flutter in your heart once again.

Before you can process anything, Frankie shakes his head slightly, as if emerging from a daze. “Well I’ve certainly worked up an appetite,” he quips, squeezing your knee gently. “Let’s get some of that clam chowder.” You nod, breathing deeply and shoot him a crooked little smile. He intertwines his fingers with yours, and then puts the Jeep into gear.

A couple hours later, you arrive at the rental, Frankie bringing both of your bags in. You close the door behind the two of you, kicking off your shoes, and survey the place. A small kitchenette to the left, cute velour loveseat to the right, and through adorable French doors, the king size bed, dressed in the fluffiest looking bedding. A dresser and full-length gilded mirror complete the decor in the bedroom, everything fitting perfectly into a cottagecore dream aesthetic. The last of the natural lighting filters through the windows.

Frankie drops a quick kiss to your forehead. “I need to scrub off the road,” he says in passing while stripping off his clothes. “Why don’t you relax a bit before we decide what we’re doing for the rest of the night?”

You snort out a laugh. “Frankie, it’s not like we’re on the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon. We’ve been driving in an air-conditioned car, Mr. Drama Queen.” He laughs and tosses his hat at you, disappearing into the en suite bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Settling into the plush bed, you set Frankie’s hat on the dresser and grab your phone to catch up on messages missed during the drive, when suddenly your phone starts buzzing. Joel’s name flashes onto the screen, and you hit the green button to accept the video call.

“Hey, baby,” you coo, grinning widely as Joel’s handsome tan face appears on your screen. His umber & silver hair is damp and slicked back, likely fresh out of the shower just like Frankie will be in a few minutes. The headboard of the bed you share with Joel sits behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”

Joel chuckles. “What, can’t a man call his pretty wife just to see her face and tell her that he loves her?”

You giggle. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” His eyes soften, and then flick down the screen.

“I see you’re wearing that sundress I like so much,” Joel muses. 

You smile, extending the arm holding your phone so he can see more of your body. “Oh, this little number?” You shift onto your knees, spreading them wide and running your other hand teasingly slow from your collarbone, down the slope of your breast, across your waist, and then down your thigh, retracing your path slightly to lift the hem of the skirt. “Frankie hadn’t seen it before, and he likes it just as much as you do.” Your cheeks flush at the memory of Frankie taking you in the car, and Joel hums lowly when you break eye contact with him.

“Did you and Frankie get up to some fun earlier, baby?” You pause, unsure of where this is going, and then nod your head.

“Words, sweetheart,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He nods approvingly, a small smirk gracing his plush lips. “I could tell, you got that faraway look in your eyes like you do when you’re thinking about me fucking you.” Joel shifts his seat on the bed, and you recognize the movement as a sign that he’s getting turned on. This is a new development, you think to yourself. He’s rarely asked about sex with Frankie before. 

“Did Frankie treat your pussy right? Did he fill you up?” You nod again, your core beginning to pulse as you affirm with your words, and Joel groans.

“Let me see it.”

You choke on your breath. “What?”

This was not something Joel had ever asked before.

“You heard me, darlin’,” Joel asserts, his eyes darkening. “Let me see that pretty pussy full of Frankie’s cum.”

A full-body shiver ripples through you. “Yes, Joel,” you murmur obediently, sliding off the bed to retrieve the phone stand you use often when you’re away from Joel. You set it up on the dresser near the bed, the front-facing camera angled advantageously for him while allowing you to see him as well. Coming back into frame, you slowly unzip your dress, letting it fall to the floor. You slide your damp panties down, the heady scent of Frankie’s cum wafting up from your heated core. Joel leans back and lets out a low groan. 

You climb back onto the bed once naked, noticing Joel’s espresso brown eyes have deepened to the color of a moonless night, his pupils dilated in desire. Putting your back to the camera, you get onto your hands and knees, canting your hips forward and ass back. You rest your forearms on the bed, looking back at the camera, and snake one hand between your legs to spread your pussy open with your fingers. Joel moans unabashedly at the view, your glazed pussy glinting in the light, Frankie’s milky spend coating it and gathering at your opening. He watches as your cunt clenches at the sound.

“Fuuuuuck, darlin’, that little pussy always looks so fuckin’ good when it’s covered in cum, don’t it?” Joel asks rhetorically, running one hand down his chin through his greying scruff. You whimper in response, the movement of your contracting walls pushing a thin stream of Frankie’s cum out from deep in you, dripping onto the bed sheets. This feels so debauched, filthy, and you are incredibly turned on by Joel’s response to the sight of another man’s cum decorating your most intimate parts. 

“God, if I was there I would be rubbin’ that cream all over your swollen little clit,” Joel drawls. “Can see her peekin’ out at me. Can you flip over? Wanna see you touch her for me.” You oblige, gathering the pillows to prop yourself up, and lean back against them as you butterfly your thighs open for your husband. Holding his gaze, you slowly trace your outer lips with your fingers, feeling the slide of Frankie’s spend lubricate your movements. You swirl your fingertips through the mess of slick and cum at your entrance, then glide them up to the pearl of your clit, throbbing in anticipation. At the first touch, your breath catches on the edge of a jagged little moan. 

“So sensitive already?” Joel teases, and you see him shift in his seat at the same time that the rustle of his pants tells you he’s pulling them down. The thought of him needing to touch himself at the sight of your messy cunt makes a pang of need course through your core. 

“Let me see it, baby,” you whisper hoarsely towards the phone, desperate to see the physical proof of his desire for you, for the sight of Frankie’s desire for you. The frame jostles a bit as Joel sets his phone up on the phone stand you have in your bedroom for times like these. It’s not the first time you have had video sex while apart and it certainly won’t be the last. 

And as Joel walks backwards toward the bed again and into frame, you barely stifle a gasp.

His cock is an absolute marvel, still is after a decade of being together. Thick, long, and uncut, the sight of him always makes your mouth water and your pussy slick. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, stroking his length languidly, the gleaming cockhead a flushed pink, disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin. His gray, worn sweatpants are pulled just under his ass. Heavy, sizable balls drape over the waistband. You’ll never get tired of the sight.

“See somethin’ y’like, angel?”’Joel teases, his Texas twang always thicker when he’s aroused. His thick thighs are spread wide as he sits on the bed.

“Yes… everything,” you breathe, starting to rub your pussy again. 

“Nuh-uh,” Joel tuts, and your fingers immediately stop. “I didn’t tell you that you could touch yourself. Let’s wait until Frankie can join us to have fun.” Your body flushes with more arousal; Joel’s never asked to include Frankie before. But then again, you’d never asked if he wanted to.

As if on cue, the bathroom door squeaks open and Frankie appears, freshly showered, dark curls dripping a bit onto his broad, golden shoulders. A white towel is wrapped around his narrow waist, and he takes a moment to assess what he’s walked into.

“Babygirl, are you getting started without me?” Frankie purrs as he strides towards you, then pauses when he realizes your phone is on the stand and positioned right at your dripping cunt.

“Hey, Frankie,” Joel’s voice floats warmly into the room. “I figured you’d want to watch our girl play with herself, so I made her wait.”

Our girl.

You shiver in arousal — and something else — at the moniker. Your eyes flick to Frankie, a smirk beginning to grace his lips but a bit of hesitation in his eyes. This was all new to him, too.

Frankie moves towards the armchair situated in the corner of the room, behind where you had your phone set up. He was already adjusting himself, clearly aroused, which you took as a good sign.

“Frankie, are you okay with this?” you inquire, trying to gauge his consent to what was unfolding. “If not, I can —“

“Yes,” Frankie grits out hoarsely. “I want to watch you with Joel.” His tone sets off another wave of pleasure through your nerves.

Joel chuckles, his voice smooth and deep as whiskey. “Well, darlin’, give us a show. Go on ‘n pet that pretty lil’ pussy for us.” Planting your heels on the bed, you use your fingers to spread yourself open as another trickle of Frankie’s previous release leaks its way out of you. Both men groan at the sight. Scooping it up, you glide your way up to your throbbing clit, starting to circle it just the way you like. A moan leaves your parted lips; you tilt your head back while you work yourself. Your other hand moves to pinch and thumb a nipple, drawing it into a tight bud.

“Mmm, good girl,” Joel praises you. His hand starts pumping his cock once again at the same time Frankie palms himself through the fluffy towel. Frankie’s eyes flick from you to the phone, still trying to feel out the dynamics of the three of you. But both men can’t keep their eyes away from your soft pussy and swollen clit, glazed in your arousal and Frankie’s cum. Holding both of them in rapture while seeking your own pleasure is a heady power trip that wraps its silken claws into your brain. 

You feel like a goddess.

“Joel,” you moan, writhing in pleasure on the bed, but not quite where you want to be. “I need more.”

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” Joel croons through the phone, the soft fapping sound of him working his cock audible. 

“I want… more,” you whine, mind so hazy with pleasure that you can’t even articulate your desires. “Please.”

“Hmmm,” Joel responds, slowing down to consider his options. You look up in impatience just as a wicked smirk crosses his face.

That look always means trouble. 

“Y’told me how good Frankie is at goin’ down on you,” Joel continues, “so why don’t you let him show me?” You hear Frankie’s breath choke in his throat in surprise as a whimper escapes your lips at Joel’s words. Frankie’s eyes dart from yours to the phone and back. 

“Frankie?” you hear Joel say while your eyes remain on your boyfriend. “Would you be okay with that? Would you show me how hard you make our girl come with that tongue’a yours?” You let out a little moan at Joel’s filthy words, and Frankie groans involuntarily at the sight of another dribble of his cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, baby, you’re still drippin’?” Joel coos at you. “Frankie must’a stuffed you so full’a his cum. Do you like eating yourself outta her sweet cunt, Frankie?”

In a flash, Frankie enters the frame as he spreads your legs further apart and wedges his shoulders between them, leaving enough space for Joel to watch the action behind him. “I fucking love it,” Frankie growls in response, immediately running his tongue in a broad stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit, tasting himself and you as he swallows every drop of cum and slick you released. You throw your head back, keening.

“Damn,” you hear Joel choke out, his hand moving faster on his cock at the sight of Frankie diving headfirst into your cunt. Eager to prove his skills, Frankie works you up rapidly to your orgasm, your moans pitching higher and higher within a minute. He swirls his tongue over your clit, then slides two of his fingers inside to the last knuckle, aided by your copious slick and the remnants of his cum. Your back arches off the bed from the sensation as you cry out his name.

“Oh fuck, angel,” Joel grits out, his breath coming faster. “He eatin’ you good?”

“Yessss, Joel,” you whimper, your hand holding Frankie’s head firmly to your center. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

Frankie moans encouragingly, reverberating across your cunt, and the tether inside your core snaps. You stutter out a groan, punctuated each time your pussy spasms with your release on Frankie’s fingers. The man between your thighs laps it all up, moaning in delight. He pulls back, kissing the inside of each thigh, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel purrs at you as you catch your breath. You hear a slightly pained groan, and look at the screen to see Joel gripping the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. Hmm, that’s odd, you think. Joel usually comes when he’s decided he’s done making me come.

The realization hits you a split second before Joel’s deep, commanding voice spits out, “Again, Morales.”

Ohhhh, fuck.

You whip your head around when you hear Frankie suck in a breath as he stares at the phone, his chest heaving. Looking down, you see his cock achingly hard under his towel, his neck flushed with arousal. Frankie turns to you, his onyx eyes shimmering ferally. You know following orders gets him going, but you’re surprised that Joel clocked that about him instinctively.

In a split second, Frankie’s spread both of your legs again, pinning you open obscenely wide by your thighs. His tongue immediately begins to fuck into your pussy, the strong muscle prodding and curling just right. Your head slams into the soft mattress, a squeal leaving your lips at the sudden pleasure. With every thrust of his tongue, you feel Frankie grinding desperately into the bed, trying to stem the intense arousal building below his waist.

“Talk to me, darlin’,” Joel’s voice floats in your ear, pulling you out of the cloud of intense pleasure momentarily. “Tell me how good Frankie feels.”

“He’s so good,” you moan, alternating playing with your nipples and curling your fingers in the bedding. “His tongue feels so good in my pussy.”

“Is he as good as me?” Joel asks, his voice dropping an octave. There’s not a hint of jealousy, just charged curiosity.

“Yes, baby,” you coo, gasping as Frankie moves his tongue back to your clit and slides his fingers back into you, reaching that spot deep in you that makes your eyes roll back. “So good. Just… different.”

Joel lets out a quiet growl, his voice dripping with sex. “Good. Your pussy deserves the best.”

“Frankie,” Joel commands. Frankie lifts his head from your center, moving his thumb to replace his tongue on your clit, making your back arch again. “Have you made her squirt before?”

“Yeah,” Frankie breathes, looking back at you. “She’s so beautiful when she does it.”

“Good,” Joel rumbles. “Make her squirt for us.”

Frankie nods once, then pulls his fingers out slightly until he hits the spongy spot near the entrance of your pussy. He starts swirling the tips of his fingers against it, pressing his other hand down gently but firmly on your lower belly above your pubic bone, and then lowers his head to suck your clit back into his mouth. You keen, your body folding in on itself from the intense pleasure. Frankie moans into you, but you hear a growl rip from Joel’s throat.

“Don’t you dare hide that beautiful body,” Joel demands. “Lay back and spread your legs for us.”

You comply, barely able to shift yourself open again before Frankie starts intensifying his ministrations. You hear Joel’s slick fist jerking his cock again while he coos at you and praises you, telling you how good you’re being for him and Frankie, how pretty and strong you are.

“You can take it, angel,” Joel moans with the squelching of his cock in his hand acting as an obscene background track for your pleasure. “You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimper, your cunt making equally debauched sounds with every thrust of Frankie’s fingers. “I’m so close. Feels so fucking good.”

Frankie presses harder on your belly and sucks your clit more fervently, and your cries pitch higher. “Oh god, Frankie, you’re gonna make me come,” you whine, toes curling and thighs beginning to shake. A desperate moan from Frankie’s mouth is muffled by your cunt, making you cry out again.

“Let go for us, darlin’,” Joel grits out, his hand a blur on the screen as he approaches his orgasm as well. 

Frankie peels himself away from your drenched folds just long enough to command, “Come for us, now,” and then latches back onto your clit, sucking hard, and that’s the moment you break, nearly screaming. Frankie works you through the first wave of your orgasm with his mouth, then pulls back, slipping his fingers out of you as your release gushes out, spraying your belly, thighs, and Frankie’s torso. With every pump and slide out of your pussy, Frankie brings forth another spray of release, drenching your body and his. 

You’re barely aware of Joel’s groans of pleasure in the throes of your own, but when you come back down moments later, you can hear the edge of desperation in his sounds. You look over to the phone to see him with his teeth bared, the head of his cock an angry red, his fist slick with precum and spit. More pearly liquid slowly oozes from the slit at the top.

Joel is barely keeping it together.

“Joel, honey,” you moan, “I wanna see you come.”

Joel growls. “Francisco,” he grits out. Frankie, who’s looking at you in amazement and pride, snaps his head to the phone at the sound of his full name. You see his cock twitch under the towel.

“Get our girl messy, Francisco.”

A whimper worms its way out of your throat as Frankie whines. Unashamed and blind with arousal, he whips the towel off his waist and his cock bobs, hard and thick. You hear Joel’s breath hitch. I’ll tuck that reaction away for later, you think. 

Frankie kneels between the damp sheets under your thighs, spitting into his hand and fisting his cock hard and fast. His muscles flex with the intensity of feeling, breathing rapid. His grunts get louder and longer as he swiftly approaches his peak. You hear a long, low moan from the phone, Joel nearly delirious with how worked up he is over the scene playing out.

“Where?” Frankie moans, desperately trying to follow orders before he blows his load. Precum drips onto the sheets.

“Her tits,” Joel pants, “and her pussy. Paint her like a fucking picture, Frankie.”

“Oh fffuuuu—“ Frankie grits out just before he explodes, his release shooting out onto your nipples, the curves of your breasts, and then he’s aiming lower, coating your mound and pussy lips with his seed.

You’re dripping with yourself and Frankie, an absolutely debauched sight.

Suddenly you hear a shout from the phone, and turn just in time to see Joel shoot his load all over his chest, belly, and even some on his neck with how hard he’s coming. Every spurt paired with a moan; one of the prettiest sights you’ve ever seen in your life. 

For a moment all you hear is the shared heavy breathing of yourself, your boyfriend, and your husband, and then Frankie is kissing your forehead, your lips, and then working his way down your body. When he goes to lick off his cum from your tits to clean you up, you groan in protest.

“Too sensitive, baby,” you plead, and Frankie acquiesces, cooing at you. 

“You did so well for us, nenita,” he soothes, stroking your face and planting kisses across your eyelids. “You’re so beautiful. Let me rinse off and get you cleaned up, okay?” With your mind pleasantly fuzzy from what just transpired, you simply nod, and Frankie goes into the bathroom for supplies. You let your head roll to the side, and smile tiredly at Joel, who’s watching you with pride and love while he towels off his release from his body and hands.

“I would have licked up all that cum off you to save you from having to add another towel to the laundry,” you giggle, feeling your own juices and Frankie’s cum cooling on your torso. You run your fingers through the slick release Frankie left on your pussy, teasing your clit with the silky fluid. Your body shudders a bit with overstimulation, and Joel shakes his head.

“You just like makin’ a mess and then cleanin’ it up, you dirty girl,” he chuckles, watching you enjoy the tactile sensations.

“Stop pretending that you don’t like me like that, Joel,” you fire back with a smirk. “What is it you said exactly? Oh, right. ‘Get our girl messy, Francisco.’” You imitate Joel’s baritone, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Fine, I do love seeing you drippin’, darlin’,” Joel admits. “Whether it’s my cum or Frankie’s.” You bite your lip and giggle, basking in the glow of this new era of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t expect he’d be so enthusiastic to see you with Frankie.

The door pops open, Frankie emerging with a warm, damp washcloth for you. Although you reach for it, he tuts and gently pushes your hand away, insisting on wiping you down himself. He gently strokes the cloth across your skin, softly smiling and pressing kisses to your face and body as he does. Joel’s heart warms at the sight before him, seeing how well Frankie takes care of you.

Tossing the cloth back into the bathroom, Frankie gets up from the bed. “I’m going to get some water for us. Do you want cold water to help you cool down, or your usual water cocktail?” Frankie asks, always remembering your quirky penchant for filling your insulated water bottle first with hot water until halfway, and the rest with cold. 

“Water cocktail, please,” you giggle, snuggling further into the bedding.

Frankie grins, then lightly kisses your forehead, grabbing your water bottle off the bedside table in the process. He walks out, and you sigh contentedly.

“Wow, Frankie automatically includes Water Cocktail on his drink menu now, huh?” Joel chuckles.

You nod happily, grinning ear to ear. Laying your head on the pillow, you respond, “Yeah, he caught on fast. I think it was after the third week of seeing each other that he started asking if I wanted it instead of bringing me a glass of cold water. I didn’t even tell him explicitly, he just noticed me doing it.” You pause, brain pleasantly fuzzy in your post-orgasmic state. 

“I… I really like him, Joel,” you whisper, slowly fading as sleep creeps to you. You blink your eyes gently at Joel, who looks at you with the softest smile on his face, like you are the linchpin of his universe. 

“I know, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his heart flipping in response. “I know.”

When Frankie re-enters the room with a glass of water and your water bottle, he notices how quiet it is. You lay burrowed under the covers, gently snoring, but he notices your phone is the only one on the video call anymore. His nerves zap a bit in concern, but then he replays the recent events back in his head. Joel seemed totally tolerant - nay, enthusiastic, to include Frankie into sex earlier. He doubts Joel left because he was upset; you probably fell asleep and he needed to go. Nonetheless, Frankie pics up your phone and exits the call, tapping around until he finds your message app.

Hey, that was really fun, he types out to Joel, a tiny flutter of nerves alight in his stomach. Excited to meet you tomorrow. Have a good rest of your night. – Frankie 

Staring at the words for a moment, he hits send before he can back out or second guess himself. Frankie then climbs into bed, wrapping himself around you before sleep claims him wholly.

a/n part 2: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for your patience! I had so much fun writing it and I’m proud to be able to share it with you. For those of you not familiar with Southern/Central CA, you can view photo references here: the Santa Cruz carousel, Hearst Castle, info on Ojai, and kayaking in Morro Bay.

Have thoughts/thots, feelings, SCREAMS, asks? My inbox is open! 💌

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