Charlie wore his dark hair long, his grin lop-sided, his shirt collar open. Blue, blue eyes, was the feature most people noticed first time they met him; and a lazy sensuality, that made you think of hammocks, and sunshine, and maybe Coltrane or Mingus playing quietly in the next door garden.
When those who knew him thought of Charlie, it was usually in fact sex that they thought of; not necessarily sex with Charlie, you understand, but more a generalised heightening of desire, a sense that perfectly ordinary conversations, perfectly everyday encounters, could lead, sometimes with surprising speed, to sex.
In truth, there was not much that Charlie really achieved in his twenty-five years. But this alchemic ability to transform drab daily life into a firework display of fucking makes those of us who knew him remember him as though he had been a dominant figure in our lives.
So, said Charlie, slouched on the long burgundy leather sofa at Rumours cocktail bar in Covent Garden. It was early afternoon, a Saturday, about two o’clock. Alicia and I had been at the bar since lunchtime, working our way through the cocktail list. Not drunk, by any means, but probably more relaxed than we’d been for a while. Work was going well for both of us – Alicia a bond broker in the City, me a very junior creative at Sacchis.
Charlie didn’t have a job, didn’t seem interested in finding one. Bit of family money, and a quarter share in a house in Earl’s Court. Not enough to make him a fully-fledged Trustafarian, but enough for a twenty-five year old not to have to worry about money. Charlie had said he’d join us for lunch, but had only just got there. Typical of Charlie.
Anyway, Alicia and I had had a good couple of hours, and she lay against me on the sofa. If she’d been a cat, she’d’ve been purring, I thought.
So, yeah, Charlie said, I’ve decided I’ll be a photographer. I reckon that’s a good job for someone like me. He reached in his tattered beige canvas bag and produced an old Nikon F2, a little battered around the edges, the black paint worn away and the brass body showing on the curves. I bought it this morning. Rather nice, isn’t it? Second hand, of course, but I felt it had character.
I looked at Alicia, snuggled against me on the other sofa. She laughed. Charlie, don’t be thick. You’ve never even held a camera before. You’ve got no idea how to take photographs.
Anyone else would have looked hurt. Charlie grinned. Al, he said – he was the only person who called her Al, and she didn’t seem to mind. Al, there’s lots of things you don’t know about me. I was in the camera club, actually. He laughed. No, serious, you’ve got me there. But I reckon I could learn to do this properly. I just need to decide what sort of snaps I’m going to make. Whadja think, Ben? He twirled the ridiculous pink umbrella from his Daqiri between his fingers. That summer we all drank daft cocktails with ludicrous bits of wood and fruit and garden furniture in them, danced to ridiculous music and wore baggy trousers and grandpa shirts with no collars. And we fucked like rabbits. Well, says Charlie, and he slipped the scarlet maraschino cherry between his lips, and then slowly pulled it out again, his tongue caressing the small hard sweet ball…
Alicia and I were entranced, and I watched Charlie’s eyes hood slightly as he calculated the effect he was having on us. Then that lopsided grin again, and the moment of pure lust passed like a skein of cloud across the afternoon sun. Well, as I think I was saying, said Charlie, thing is, I’d like to photograph people, really; beautiful people, really; and that’s lucky, ‘cos I think I know quite a lot of beautiful people, and I think some of them won’t mind me photographing them. He looked at us, first Alicia, then me. Then Alicia again. The adrenalin pumped, a dopamine surge, and I felt Alicia in the crook of my arm, quivering. Charlie had that effect on people.
Alicia and I had known each other since university, but had not been together long; maybe three, four months at that point; we’d met again skiing at Verbier over the Easter, and found that we hit it off. She was beautiful without being pretty; mid-length, bob cut dark-blonde hair, a straight, strong nose, wide eyes, a well-proportioned face, with quizzical eyebrows, quick to show criticism or amusement. She was funny, sharp and funny, and that was what made her special, that I’d fallen for her more because of who she was than how she looked. I thought that meant maybe I was growing up a bit, and I was chuffed about that.
Alicia had a cute body, too; pert, sensual; perky little tits that always seemed delighted to see the light of day when I unclipped her lacy bra. Long legs, long, smooth legs, which Alicia liked to wrap around my waist and pull me into her when we fucked. A dark-blonde little bush, perched above her cunt lips without swirling down around the lips themselves; I liked that a lot, liked it much more than getting bush between my teeth. And a delicious ass, a delicious, welcoming ass; that was our big secret, that Alicia just loved to be fucked in the ass, from behind. In those days before Cosmo told the world about the joy of anal sex, we thought we were the only straight couple in the world who knew the pleasure of a hot hard cock in a tight dark asshole.
What about you two? Charlie asked. Alicia, how about you being my first model? And Ben, you would come along, too? Alicia shifted in the crook of my arm. Well, Charlie, that’s a thought. What sort of photographs, though? I suppose we could start with some portraits, Charlie said, then see where it goes from there. Your apartment, Ben, has nice light, in the late afternoon. We were silent for a while, thinking about what was being suggested. An electric charge surged through our little group, and I felt my cock stirring in my trousers. Would I have to get undressed? said Alicia. Is that the kind of photographs you have in mind, Charlie?
If you wanted to, said Charlie, if you wanted to. He cocked his head to one side, quizzically, as though judging Alicia anew. He had met her through me, and although I was conscious of his irrepressible flirtatiousness, I had not thought of him, really, as a threat. I mean, he was charming, of course, and good looking, and carried himself with a certain swaggering sexual confidence that I had seen turn women who should have known better into quivering bundles of lust. But Alicia was my girl, and Charlie was my mate, so it seemed that I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.
Charlie looked around the bar. Not so many people as usual for a Saturday afternoon in summer. We could see how it goes, I suppose, he said. He slurped the last dregs of his Daquiri, making a rather uncouth, childish sound. Shall we see how it goes? What do you think, guys?
My apartment was close by, off Shaftesbury Avenue. We took a taxi there, in silence, Alicia and me on the back seat, Charlie on the jump seat facing us. I was a little unsettled by the speed at which things were moving, but it wasn’t till we got to the apartment that the reality of what was happening began to sink in. Not that I was sure I knew what was happening, of course – so far all we had was another of Charlie’s crackpot employment schemes, and a rather surprising enquiry by my girlfriend about whether she should take her clothes off. But it felt like something was happening – felt like events were slipping a little fast out of my control.
Charlie paid off the cab as I unlocked the door, and we walked up the dark narrow stairs to my apartment. One big bright room, facing west across Soho, afternoon light streaming in through the high windows, curtained only with thin muslin. A kitchenette, open to the rest of the room, and a bathroom. One wall lined with books and records, a couple of framed prints on the other walls. Stripped wood floorboards covered with rugs from my journey to Pakistan a couple of years before.
I opened a bottle of cold Australian Chenin Blanc from the fridge. It seemed the right thing to do. Charlie took the second-hand F2 from his disreputable canvas bag and measured the light through the viewfinder. Apart from a low, wide bed, my apartment was furnished only with a pair of heavy leather armchairs and a coffee table. Sparse, indeed, but it suited me well. I was not one to entertain at home – there are plenty of good restaurants in my part of London, between Covent Garden and Soho, and any entertaining I did do at home usually involved me and one other, and usually ended up with both of us in bed. High ceilings, and a cheval mirror on a stand. The walls painted plain white, and the room full of light.
Charlie pulled one of the chairs towards the window, and measured the light again, holding up his hand and pointing the camera at it, tilting his hand left and right, up and down.
Charlie, you look like you know what you’re doing, I said, as I poured us all wine. Alicia seemed nervous. She fished in her handbag and lit up a cigarette. Charlie smiled, a sly, sideways smile.
Why not just sit here, Alicia? He said, gesturing to the chair. Glass of wine, that’s nice, and the smoke wreathes around your face just… so. Make yourself comfortable, of course, just relax. No pressure, my dear. He used these rather archaic endearments, and many people found them part of his charm.
Alicia lowered herself into the armchair, tucked her legs up under her. I leaned against the sideboard that divided the kitchen from the rest of the room, and admired her feline movement as she curled up in the chair. Charlie knelt between Alicia and the window, and framed her face, the camera held vertical. Good, he said, yeah, that’s very pretty. Don’t look at me, look towards the window. Yeah, great.
The motor drive whirred, click click click. Alicia stretched back, hands behind her head, and re-crossed her legs; she was relaxing, I could tell, and there was the first curl of a smile playing her lips. She’s enjoying this, I thought. Her nipples cast tiny shadows on her pale green cashmere jumper, and I thought, she’s turned on, I know that smile, she’s ready to play. I moved my cock in my trousers, for it was constrained as it hardened.
Charlie moved a little closer, then to one side, so that he was not blocking the light falling on Alicia’s face. He’s a sexy bastard, I though, with a little frisson of jealousy. He is flirting with her through the lens. Guess that he’s got what it takes to be a good photographer, after all.
Alicia pulled her feet up, and the slit up the side of her cream jersey skirt fell open, her long tanned thigh visible, and Charlie pulled back to encompass the effect. How about, you know, if you’re comfortable, he said, how about just parting your legs, a little, you know, yeah, like that, that’s very nice, very good. I wiped my brow. A sheen of sweat had appeared there, because I could see that not only had my lovely Alicia parted her legs, a little, like that, but that while one hand stayed at the back of her neck, moving gently, her eyes had half closed, her other hand, or the fingers of her other hand, actually, were caressing her own thighs, moving slowly, in circles, spiralling up her leg, and the cream skirt falling away.
Ah, said Charlie, a satisfied, long-drawn out, A-a-a-h, yes, now, I think this is working rather well, and he moved in a little closer with the camera, then up and poised on one knee.
I took a long sip of wine, and wondered at the nexus of emotions, jealousy, desire, aesthetic pleasure, the wine broadening and heightening them all, that swirled in my head and my loins.
Just look away from the camera, again, dear Alicia, I think that one of, yes, click click that’s very nice, I that one of the most fundamental differences between porn and erotica, if you know what I mean, is the degree of engagement with the camera – I’ve always found that a direct gaze into the lens makes an image more pornographic, so less erotic…
But, says Alicia, her voice husky, thick and deep like treacle, her eyes still half closed, hand now at the vee of her thighs, her fingers now easing the gusset of her knickers aside, the pink lips of her cunt overflowing the hem, one painted-nailed finger teasing her clitoris, but, Charlie, this is not pornography, is it, this is portraiture, why, Charlie, you assured me, it was only portraiture….
And I swear I could see a wave of pleasure pass through her body, the kick of her feet, a sway of her spine, and ending in a wide circular movement of her head.
Now, now, dear, said Charlie, gently now, don’t get too excited, how about we change the angle, a little, and let’s think, it is the jouissance, in Kristeva’s phrase, the playfulness, the disguise, remember, that makes such a difference at times like these… The fall of your clothing, the hint of sex, that is what I think we need to explore. The margins between dream and reality, between lust and desire, between the seen and the not seen. Let’s pretend we are making a new kind of erotic photography, shall we? Maybe something a little more subtle than your common top-shelf stuff.
Now Alicia turned, facing towards me, kneeling on the chair. The cream skirt clung to the line of her buttocks, and she lifted it slightly, to expose her thigh, the muscles taut. Arching her back, her breasts above the back of the chair.
That’s good, said Charlie. Ben, you’re going to be in this next sequence, I think, are you happy with that? I had no voice, just a thick curl of lust in my throat. I nodded.
Narrative, narrative is important, said Charlie, coming round behind Alicia; Ben, you’re turned on, of course, but this seduction is being driven by Alicia – I think it would be silly to pretend otherwise, wouldn’t it? Yes, Ben, lean now against the side there, and take a sip of your wine, just watching her at the moment, Alicia, where are your fingers, where would be comfortable, A-ha, well, if you’d just, let me see, let me just pull you skirt down a tiny touch, so that we can see that you are frigging yourself, of course, but more by inference, just your rather pretty, narrow wrist visible under the hem of you skirt, I think we’ll wait a while before we see your fingers and your cunt lips again. Remember, we are after erotica, not porn.
When Charlie said cunt lips, Alicia shivered again, and she growled, I swear it, growled at me, like a cat.
Click click, said Charlie’s camera, behind her, her ass to camera, her eyes locked to mine. Ben, said Charlie, looking through the lens of his camera, that’s a big boner, are you excited, my old friend? I certainly am, and he looked at me with a frank, amused grin, utterly disarming, Yeah, of course I’m turned on, this sexy chick showing me her fanny, and the knowledge that you two will fuck this excitement off before too long, too, that turns me on. He looked back into the viewfinder. Pretty hot in here, or is it just me?
We all laughed. Steamy, actually, I think would be a better word, said Alicia.
So Ben, the narrative is this, Alicia, tell me if you’re not happy with the idea? Charlie took a sip of wine. Can I have one of those smokes, Al? Ta. Right, the story is that you, Alicia, want to try a threesome… bit blunt, of course, but let’s start there. I’m your partner – dreadful word, but let’s keep it loose. Ben is a bloke you fancy, he’s a mate of both of you. You’ve got him over here, -- Ben, you OK with this so far? – but he doesn’t know I’m here. You plan to seduce him, get him going, then I’ll appear from behind the arras, in best Shakespearean fashion, and, well, you know, shake my spear. Whaddya think about that so far?
There was a long pause. Cigarette smoke wreathed us, and the clink of Alicia’s wine glass set down on the wooden floor boards.I broke the silence. Uh, Charlie, how far do you expect this to go? I was a bit nervous – I mean, I was pretty keen on Alicia, and I knew Charlie’s power from old, knew that once he got his way with Alicia, even if I was there too, I might lose her to him.
Also, the old male paranoia, what if his cock was bigger, fatter, faster than mine? What if he was a better lover? I looked at Alicia, enquiring. What do you think, Alicia?
She had settled back into the chair, and the sexual fury that had heated the apartment moments before faded a little. Alicia straightened her skirt, prim now, a frown on her face. Her fingers moved to her lips, a gesture that she used when she was worried, a sort of soft chew on her knuckles; she looked at her fingers in surprise, and I understood, they smell of her cunt juices.
Maybe the moment has passed already… maybe Charlie blew it, by spelling it out.
Charlie moved to the window, looked out across the Soho rooftops, smoking, camera in the other hand. Let this moment breathe, Charlie, I thought, let’s mull this one over in silence. Is this what we want? Is this just a couple of lunchtime cocktails, get carried away, then realise that maybe we didn’t want to be carried away quite that much?
Alicia stood up, and came over to me. That’s good, that’s nice, a bit of solidarity.
You want this, Ben? she asked, softly. You want to go through with this?
Maybe. I’m not sure. What do you think?
Maybe we should put the camera away, have some more wine, see how things pan out, the three of us can always pop round to the spaghetti house and have dinner if it doesn’t happen.
My cock had softened.
I don’t want to spoil anything, said Alicia. Charlie was still silent, still with his back to us, staring out of the window. Very calm on the surface, but I knew him well enough to know there was a fire burning there.
How about a slightly different narrative, Charlie? Alicia said. This was becoming more like a brainstorming meeting at the office, working out how to keep the client happy. Oddly business-like, in fact, for a fuck-fest.
How about Ben is my partner; we’ve engaged you, a professional photographer, to come and photograph us, just normal, him-and-her portraits. But we get a bit carried away, and you snap on, and suddenly you’re photographing us fucking, and then, well, then we’ll see what happens next. She paused, and smiled at me, a come-on smile. I’d like to be photographed fucking Ben, anyway; what about that, boys?
Charlie still had his back to us, but he had moved to the music system, and was lowering a Frank Sinatra LP on to the record deck. He powered up the amp, and as the first swirling strings of Misty shimmered from the speakers he turned back to us. He was smiling, though there was something a little forced in the smile.
Yeah, Al, that’s good… Yeah, I think that would work.
Of course, I thought, he’s no longer completely in control. For all his laid-back attitudes Charlie is a total control freak. Now this one is slipping away from him; Alicia’s suggestion has relegated him from ringmaster to hired stagehand. Hmm. He won’t like that much, will he? Of course, if he’s in this just for the opportunity to have a threesome with us then he’s not going to sulk for long. Better to go with a story that Alicia can feel comfortable with than to push on with one that doesn’t really suit us.
So, sez Charlie, how do you see this playing out? Let’s try it.
I sat on the big armchair, and Alicia perched, demurely, on the arm of the chair. Her hand rested on my shoulder, and Charlie knelt in front of us, and raised the camera to his eye.
Yes, that’s very cute, he said.
He’s sulking, said Alicia, with a smile. Shall we give him something to cheer him up? She took my hand, and rested it on her thigh, under her skirt. Charlie took another couple of pictures, and Alicia leaned over towards me and kissed me, gently, then ran her tongue up my cheek and licked my eyelashes. I turned towards her, and my fingers slid under the lace of her knickers and into her pussy. She sighed with pleasure, and ran her fingers very lightly over my cock, hard again in my trousers. Charlie watched us through the viewfinder, but he had stopped taking pictures.
Charlie, we’re paying you for this, said Alicia, remember the narrative? Don’t sit there dribbling, do your work. Charlie grinned at her, and moved in for a close up of her face, pressed against mine. Her cunt flushed with juice under my fingers, and she raised her hips, to allow me to remove her panties, a moment of confusion, the elastic taughtening as it caught around her knees. I laughed nervously, as Alicia kicked off her shoes, and reached to help her panties around her ankles.
Charlie’s voice, now thick, constrained, Al, why don’t you kneel astride Ben? he asked. In my own time, Charlie, in my own time, Alicia said, maintaining control. I slid down in the chair a little, and with my fingers now streaming from her cunt juice, slid my thumb into her asshole, very tight, and worked it in a gentle circle as my fingers thrust into her pussy. Alicia sighed with pleasure, and ground her pelvis against my hand.
Jeez, said Charlie, kneeling close to us, that’s fuckin’ delicious. Click click, click click, Alicia just pull your skirt up a bit, I want to see your ass, jeez, yeah, very fuckin’ nice.
Alicia unbuttoned my shirt, the first two, three buttons slowly, then faster, the last ones virtually ripped away, her hands on my belt as I frigged her cunt and asshole with my hand, then unbuttoning my fly, pulling my trousers down – thank god for the loose baggy trousers I wore in those days – kicking them off, across the room.
Hey hey, said Charlie, rubbing his cock through his trousers, this will never do, can’t have a man naked except for his socks, you’ll have to do something about that. We all laughed, nervous, a bit, the charged atmosphere flowing in electric currents between us and around the room. Alicia moved a little, but not so much that my fingers were not still deep inside her, and I reached down to pull off my socks. Strange, to be naked in front of another man. I glanced down at my cock, hard and full, and wondered again how it would compare with Charlie’s.
Don’t undress, Al, said Charlie – we need to keep something hidden, I think, and your body shows through your lovely clothes very nicely. Where do you usually go from here, guys, ‘cos it looks like you know what you’re doing, and I don’t think I really need to direct you much more.
Well, said Alicia, I think, and she straddled my cock, I think I would like to feel, hand on my rod, guiding, I think I would like to feel this, other hand holding her cunt open, inside my, oh, God, that feels, lowering her weight onto me, feels, so, fucking, good. Yes, indeed it did, I thought, eyes closing, reaching behind her, under the soft jersey wool of her skirt, running my forefinger down her ass crack, right round into her wet pussy, her lips swollen, the sleek, oily wetness lubricating my cock, then my finger, then bringing my finger back and sliding it into her tight ass hole. Oh, yes, she purred, that is very good, and her back arched to let my finger go deep into her, the softness against my finger tip.
Wow, said Charlie, wow, indeed, that is pretty to watch. He stood, straightened his cock in his trousers where it bulged. I think another angle may be called for now, moving round beside us, camera against his eye, maybe a high angle, like this, so that I can see my friend Ben stretched in his rapture, and my friend Alicia crouched above him like an incubus, her skirt hiding the action but the action indisputable none the less.
Alicia moved against me, up and down, forward and back, my cock and my finger against her pleasure, and now I inveigled another finger into her ass, widening the aperture, driving my two fingers into her, past the second knuckle, and she panted softly with pleasure. Click click, goes Charlie’s camera, click click, beside my ear for a wide shot of Alicia’s face, neck arched back in pleasure, my body stretched beneath her.
A movement, and I opened my eyes to see that Charlie had moved close, the bulge of his still trouser-ed cock near my head; Alicia, too, opened her eyes, and saw the same thing. Her rolling, thrusting movement slowed a little, and she looked at me, a quizzical glance, a raised eyebrow, and I knew what she was thinking, and nodded. Charlie’s face still hidden behind the black box of his Nikon, click click, click click.
Her hands came away from behind my neck, and she straightened her back, sitting now upright on me, still moving a circular, rolling round on my cock and fingers, pressure first on one, then the other. Alicia’s hand moved to Charlie’s thighs, and I saw him look down at us, in surprise, then with a grin of pleasure as Alicia unzipped his trouser and pulled out his cock. Almost despite myself I measured it against my own – and felt a surge of relief; no bigger, I thought, maybe a fatter, purpler head than mine, a more pronounced curve to the shaft; so, after all, a cock is just a cock.
Alicia smiled up at Charlie, and ran her tongue along the length of his rod, two, three times, and the purple head swelled. Mmmm, she said, her mouth full of his cock, her lips stretched thin to take him in her mouth, mmmm, pulling her face back, that is very… then she took him deep in her mouth again, words unnecessary in the face of the very obvious pleasure on her features and his. For a moment I felt a brief shiver of jealousy again, a peturbation in my soul, at the pure pleasure on my girlfriends’ face as she sucked another man’s cock just inches from my head; then was overwhelmed by the pleasure I felt; I had not really ever thought of how the image of my Alicia being pleasured by another man would affect me, and was surprised to realise the sexual thrill of it, the pornographic, voyeuristic delight of seeing the face that I knew so well, the lips that I had seen wrapped around my own cock, penetrated by another man’s long rod. It was like looking at the perfect porn, where the image was of one’s own beloved.
Curious, I thought to myself; maybe that’s the hidden secret of successful pornography – maybe the voyeurism is the crucial sexual dynamic. Maybe the porn merchants half-realise this, and that is why the male models in hard-core porn are so often faceless, faces cropped out or turned away from the camera, so that we can imagine this is ourselves, the male consumer; but the true thrill would be to see one’s own lover in the picture. In those innocent, pre-internet days, that was a small revelation. Now of course everyone with a digital camera and a web address can put their lover and themselves out into the world.
Charlie was moving slowly back and forth, not forcing himself into Alicia’s mouth, but moving with her own movement, as she drew his shaft deep into her mouth. I felt the surge of sperm move from my balls, and withdrew my cock from her, and Alicia looked down at me, still holding Charlie’s cock in her hand. Don’t come yet, my hero, she said, don’t come yet, there is a long way to go yet. Let me suck you, for a while, she said, and slid from her position astride me to kneel on the floor in front of me. Charlie reached for his wine glass and took a long drink, tipping the glass to drain the last; then undressed, precise, quick movements, shoes, socks, shirt up over his head, trousers unbuttoned and dropped to the floor, bare now. A good body, I thought, as Alicia’s mouth closed over my cock, and I could feel her neat little tongue rolling round my cock-head as she took my rod down her throat.
She rested on her elbows, ass up in the air, legs slightly apart, both her hands cupping my balls. The leather seat stuck to my naked ass, and I shifted slightly and sat up, reaching down Alicia’s long back to hold her buttocks apart, holding her skirt up around her waist, slipping my finger back inside her areshole, turning my finger in a wide circle that I knew she loved. She moved one of her hands away from my balls and reached between her legs, her fingers caressing her pussy. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on my cock. I felt the surge of come again, and Alicia looked up at me a smiled, for she could taste the spunk. She withdrew my cock from her mouth. Cold shower, Ben? she asked.
Charlie, naked, cock erect, had his camera again, moved in close and caught the moment of her smile, the wicked gleam in her eye, the glistening pearl of spunk at the eye of my cock, and grinned. Nice shot, big boy, he said, but hold off for a while, unless you’re up for coming twice this afternoon. A challenge, a very male, alpha male challenge, indeed. A momentary reaction to the challenge, a discomfiting worry that if I came now I might not be able to come a second time. I felt the sperm sink back to my balls, and shook my head; No problem, Charlie, no worries on that score, mate.
Good, he said, glad to hear it; but my dear fellow, the lovely Alicia is unplugged; we must do something about that, mustn’t we, Alicia? He moved behind her, knelt behind her, parted her cunt lips with his right hand, and guided his cock into her with his left. Alicia, still kneeling in front of me, gasped, her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she leaned forward and took my cock in her mouth again, moving on my shaft faster now. Her fingers were still in her pussy, and they too were moving faster, Charlie’s cock up her cunt and my cock in her mouth, rocking to and fro, pushed forward on mine as she was pushed forward by Charlie’s thrusting pelvis, her fingers blurring over her clitoris.
I just love your ass, Alicia, Charlie drawled, driving his cock slowly into her pussy. Always have done, since this bloke first introduced me to you. It is really very, very pleasant to be pumping you like this from behind.
Oh, Charlie, stop being so fucking pompous, said Alicia, stick your fucking fingers in my fucking ass, for God’s sake, NOW!
I laughed involuntarily at the look of shocked surprise on Charlie’s face. His head jerked back, almost as though he had been slapped; but then that slow, sly grin reappeared, and, looking directly at me, he licked his fingers, with a deliberate, sensual movement, the tip of his tongue visible between his first and second finger, as though he was licking Alicia’s cunt, then the tips of his fingers going deep into his own mouth. They emerged dripping with saliva, and he held them up to me, a triumphant gleam in his eye; raised an eyebrow, as if to say, well, what choice do I have?
And, hand palm up, third and fourth fingers and thumb curled back out of the way, he rammed the two wet fingers deep into her ass.
Alicia’s turn now, to show shocked surprise. She pulled forward, her eyes suddenly wide open, and then thrust herself back against Charlie’s cock and fingers, and held there a moment. That, boys, is good, she said, that cat-on-heat growl again. But there’s one thing, she said, moving now slowly on Charlie’s cock, my rod in her hand, there’s one thing that would be even better. Or should I say two things?
Here it comes, I thought; here it comes. Any moment now. Charlie looked pleasantly confused. What could that be, my dear, he said, rocking on his knees, penetrating her with long slow thrusts. This is pretty damn good, I must say, just as it is, right now. I watched, curiously detached, over the peach curves of my lover’s buttocks, the length of Charlie’s cock sliding into her cunt, her mouth sucking greedily on my cock.
She took her mouth from my prick. Charlie, don’t tell me your imagination has failed you? Ben, you know what I want, don’t you?
Oh God, I knew, I knew: we had talked about it, fantasised about it, virtually ever since our first night together. It had first come up over a beer at the pub in Dorset, the first time I had seen her after we got it together in France; a stilted conversation, which I had tried to un-stilt by telling Alicia how much I had enjoyed making love with her on holiday; which had then turned into a conversation about what each of us liked doing in bed, or elsewhere: from there to a vague, generalised conversation about fantasies.
And when she had said, taking a long pull on her Budweiser, I’ve always wanted to have a cock in my ass and another in my cunt, at the same time, I’d taken her by the hand, led her, fiercely, without gentleness, out into the pub’s back garden, deserted fortunately, for there was a cold late-winter wind that April evening, turned her to face the wall, she giggling nervously, but not sure what was going on; and there, in that cold pub garden, I unbuttoned my fly, pulled up her skirt, and stuffed my rampant cock in her ass. No subtlety, no compassion; had she wanted to, she could have accused me of rape, I’m afraid. She didn’t, of course – instead she came, almost immediately, in a ripping, roaring howl, and I shot my spunk deep into her ass, almost as immediately.
That’s when I knew Alicia was the girl for me.
Alicia got up from where she knelt on the floor, pulled her jumper up over her head, undid the button on her skirt and dropped it to the floor with a clever little sashay of her hips. Now the three of us were naked.
Charlie, she said, let’s move to the bed, lie on your back, yes, like that, with your head near the side of the bed, good, now, she knelt astride his face, now, I’m going to suck your cock again, taste my cunt juice on your cock, and I’m going to, like this, going to lower my pussy over your face, ‘cos I want to, ahh, that’s great, I want to feel your tongue in my slit, oh, oh, that’s very nice, her voice now muffled as she lowered her face to his rod, and Ben here, Ben is going to show you, Ben, come round the back, Ben is going to broaden your imagination, Charlie, then you and he are going to make this girl scream….
I moved, at Alicia’s command, behind her, looked down at Charlie’s shock of black fringe bobbing under her ass; he was looking up at me, and I felt a curious sense of power over them both, him pinned beneath her with the weight of her pelvis grinding into his face, her in the classic position of animal submission, ass in the air, legs spread wide, licking the length of his cock like an ice cream.
Charlie’s hands were on Alicia’s buttocks, and I saw the understanding dawn on his face, a moment of doubt, then that broad Charlie grin again, then clasping a buttock in each hand, he held her ass open for me. I smiled down at him. Yeah, Charlie, that’s the way, and maybe you’ll get a chance next, if you’re lucky, I said, exulting in the power.
Then I ran a wet pair of fingers up her crack, and moved my cock to follow them. The head of my prick slid up her crack, passing over her hole; back down again, Charlie’s face hidden by my balls, and I could feel them brushing against his hair. Alicia’s hole opened, the muscles relaxing, her sphincter opening of it’s own accord, and my cock slid into her, first the purple glans, then the length of my shaft, and Alicia cried out, now, screamed with pleasure, and I held my cock deep in her ass and felt the frantic flickering of Charlie’s tongue in her cunt, and watched her long straight back arch and her head bobbing on Charlie’s cock. His hands held her buttocks apart still, and I delighted in the sight of the pink wealds where his nails dug into her ass. Then I slowly pulled my cock back until it was almost out of her hole, then, even more slowly, rode her down, my rod disappearing between those exquisite, pale, smooth skinned buttocks again…
Fuck, said Charlie, oh fuck, that’s amazing, his voice a muffled blur under her pussy, God, Al, you’re drowning me with your cunt juices, it’s fucking delicious. I want a go, I never butt fucked before, is it good, Ben, is it good?
You’d not believe how good it is till you tried it, Charlie, I said, but you’ll have to wait a while, my friend, ‘cos I haven’t even got into my stride yet.
OK Ben, don’t be greedy, Alicia said. Come here, lie on your back, Ben. Charlie, you can get up now.
So in control. So much the one in control. Charlie’s cunning design, his calculated plans, seized in an instant by Alicia, who was ordering us for her pleasure, irresistible.
Chill, Charlie, I said, she’s got us by the balls; he smiled at me, at the pun and the complicity. We’d better do what the lady says, and I extracted my rod from her asshole, and noted that it was clean, clean and pink and shiny. That’s good, I thought, it can be quite off-putting for an anal novice to find that his cock is covered in shit, but that won’t happen this time. I lay down beside Alicia, kissing her shoulders, then her face, and rolled onto my back. My feet rested on the floor, my butt at the edge of the bed. Quickly, as if not to waste a second, Alicia was astride me, and I held my cock up so that she simply had to lower herself onto it.
Charlie stood up, and watched, despite his urgency, my cock disappear into Alicia’s pussy. He stroked his cock, hard as a piece of carved wood, priapic and triumphant. I saw, over Alicia’s shoulder, a bead of spunk at the end of his rod, and thought, hmm, whose going to come first? Then, returning, as it were, the favour, I reached forward and held Alicia’s buttocks open. Charlie knelt this time, licking her asshole, moistening it for his entry, then stood behind her, looking down at us both. Alicia shivered and I felt the pressure of her cunt walls against my deeply-plunged cock, and held still.
First the pressure on my rod, the pressure as Charlie’s cock-head pressed against Alicia’s asshole; then the pressure spreading along the length of my shaft as he forced a passage into her. Alicia gasped, and then sobbed. Oh, fuck me, you bastards, oh fuck me she breathed, oh, for fucks sake, I’ve got a cock up my cunt and a cock in my ass, what I’ve always wanted, oh fuck, that is amazing… she lay still, I lay still, the magic of the moment almost too good to bear, as Charlie drove his rod slowly, endlessly up inside her. Yeah, he said, panting yeah yeah, yeah, Oh fucking YEAH! Why have I never done this before, for heaven’s sake, he cried, it is so tight, so grasping…
Slowly I began to move, watching Alicia’s face, wracked by pleasure, a look of intense concentration, moving herself carefully so as to keep both cocks inside her. The spunk was surging up from my balls again, and I moved faster, trying to keep pace with Charlie’s thrusts into her ass, and Alicia arched her back, her eyes opened wide with shock and astonishment, her nails digging into my shoulders. Charlie held her waist, standing behind her, pumping her ass with his cock, and I knew that we were all right on the edge.
Alicia came first, as was her right, given that in the end she was the one who had controlled the whole play. She screamed aloud, a long, wracking, sobbing scream, her back arched, eyes wide open, and I felt her cunt grab my cock like it was forever. Immediately I felt Charlie’s thrusts increase in speed, and I propped myself up on my elbows, Alicia still coming and coming above me. The sight of Charlie’s rod pounding into Alicia’s ass, and the sensation of his cock separated from mine only by the wall of Alicia’s cunt, was enough; my balls burst, jets of hot spunk shooting up deep into Alicia’s body. And then with a great cry Charlie came, too, banging her ass as though the Day of Judgement had come and this was the last fuck he’d ever have, and I swear, though obviously it is impossible, that I felt the punch of his spunk through Alicia’s cunt wall, felt the surging hot liquid as it jetted deep into her ass, and she was still screaming and arching and howling oh fuck me fuck me you fucking bastards fuck my cunt and fuck my ass and make me come to kingdom come….
And afterwards? Afterwards we lay in a tangled heap of sweaty bodies, gasping and laughing and entwined, until Alicia pulled herself upright, the cooling spunk dribbling down her thighs, and said, Thanks, boys, that was very nice. Now I think I’ll take a shower.
Charlie and I lay on on the bed for a minute longer listening to the sound of rushing water from the bathroom. For a minute we were separated by an embarrassed silence, then Charlie sat up and said, she’s got us by the balls, huh? Nice one, Ben. I’m fucking starving. Shall we grab some scoff? And the moment of embarrassment passed.
We ate well, that evening Charlie, and Alicia, and me.
