Authors: Samantha Kane
“I’m going to come,” he said through gritted teeth, “hold on. Hold on to me.” He wasn’t sure whom he was talking to, and didn’t care. He didn’t want either of them to let go. The heat of his release spun out from his balls to race up his cock and then the utter relief of his climax washed over him, sending chills across his shoulders and down his arms as he shuddered and his cock jerked, buried deep inside Anne.
“Brett,” she wailed, then she leaned down and bit his shoulder as her legs became a vise around his waist and her sex gripped him so tightly in rhythmic convulsions he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Yes,” Freddy hissed. His arm snaked around Brett’s waist, pulling both Anne and Brett in against him, and Brett could feel his hips jerking. There was a warm wash against Brett’s fingers, and with wonder he realized it was Freddy’s release. He made a fist, holding the slick moisture there, rubbing his fingers together, relishing the proof of Freddy’s climax against his skin.
When it was over, when they stood there trembling, Anne limp and heavy in Brett’s arms, a glorious weight, Freddy’s arms wrapped around them both, Brett knew he’d never known a happier moment, never felt so complete as he did right then, and he never would.
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Retreat From Love
March 13, 1811
Anne,
I frigged my cock to thoughts of you last night. Perhaps I shouldn’t write that down on
paper, but who is going to read this, after all? Certainly not you. I was lying in my cot, the fire
dying, the night chill creeping in, idly wondering what I could do to keep warm. And there you
were, thoughts of you filling my head and my cock.
Bertie says you are beautiful, with curly black hair and blue eyes. Other than that, I know
very little. Bertie is not the best at description. According to him everything about you is
“typical” or “normal” for a woman. What does that mean? How can anything about you be
typical or normal? You are extraordinary—in your letters, in my head, in my heart.
I imagined your mouth on me. I haven’t actually done that often, once or twice with the
whores here. It was good, but when I imagined it was your mouth it was all I could do not to
shout with the acute pleasure that struck me. Would you do that, Anne? Would you kneel at my
feet and suck my cock into your witty, beautiful, smart mouth? Suck it until I released deep in
your throat? Swallow what I gave you? For some reason this act seems so much more personal,
intimate than even the sex act. Why, I don’t know. I only know I dreamt of your mouth. When I
came I nearly bit a hole through my lip to keep from crying out your name.
I dream of other things as well. But last night…last night it was your mouth.
Brett
* * * * *
“I am absolutely stupefied by the fact that I am lying here naked with the two of you, a balmy summer breeze tickling my cock.” Freddy made the comment languidly because that was how he felt.
The three lay on the blanket again, still naked but mostly dry from their watery escapade. Brett lay on his back on one edge, his eyes closed, his hands loosely clasped against his stomach and his ankles crossed. Anne lay between them in almost the same position except she had her legs bent, splayed open wantonly to catch the breeze.
Freddy lay on his side with one knee bent up, resting on one elbow, his cheek resting on his fist while he idly played with a lock of Anne’s damp hair.
Anne cracked one eye open to look at him. “Stupefied. What a good word for it.
Although the breeze is playing with something quite different between my legs.”
Brett chuckled without opening his eyes.
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“
Vive la difference
,” Freddy said with a lusty little grin. Brett laughed again.
“Oh I adore witty banter afterwards.” Anne sighed. “I haven’t had that since Bertie.”
Brett blindly reached over and patted Anne’s thigh. Anne raised an incredulous eyebrow. “That’s it? A pat on the leg? This is the extent of your witty banter?”
“That’s Freddy’s forte,” Brett murmured. “I fuck senseless, he makes witty banter.”
Freddy laughed. God, he hadn’t felt this good in years. Brett had actually fucked Anne. With him. They’d let Freddy, no, they’d wanted Freddy to be a part of it. They’d loved having him here with them. Brett was even better than he’d ever dreamed. He was so big, so strong, so tender and yet so forceful. He’d given Anne everything she’d asked for, but he hadn’t forgotten that Freddy was there. Freddy shivered at the memory of Brett’s fingers brushing across the sensitive head of his cock as he’d thrust into the hot, soft mound of Anne’s plump bottom. They’d been so amazing together, so right. Freddy was glad just to be able to watch them, to touch them.
Anne laughed with that throaty purr that fired Freddy’s senses. Oh, she wasn’t done, not at all. Freddy grinned and pulled gently on the hair he was winding around and around his finger.
“Ow!” Anne playfully batted his hand away. She smiled and reached for his hand again, pulling it up to kiss his fingers. There was a catch in Freddy’s throat at the tender gesture.
“I never imagined that you and I would ever be together, Anne.” The statement snuck out before Freddy could stop it.
Anne shrugged. “To be honest, Freddy, I didn’t either. But when I saw you here at the pond everything in me went, I don’t know, alert, aroused.” She looked at him, a little bemused. “I actually didn’t feel right about it at first, lusting after you. After all you are younger than I am.”
Freddy snorted. “Three years. That seemed insurmountable at thirteen and sixteen, but hardly noticeable at twenty-three and twenty-six.”
Anne closed her eyes, a wicked grin on her face. “No, hardly insurmountable now. I am eminently mountable.”
Brett choked on a laugh. “I stand corrected.
You
and Freddy make the witty banter.”
“Ah,” Anne purred, “it speaks.” She rolled over onto her stomach and rested her chin in her hand while she traced patterns on Brett’s chest with her index finger. “And how old are you, Brett?”
Freddy saw Brett tense. Oh Lord. Anne had managed to ask the one question sure to ruin their perfect afternoon. Brett felt he was ancient compared to Freddy.
“Uh, uh, uh,” Anne admonished, tweaking Brett’s chest hair. She rubbed over the spot when Brett flinched. Freddy couldn’t blame her for fondling his chest. Brett had a glorious chest, heavy with muscle, his pectorals covered in a thick mat of dark curly 86
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hair, his dark brown nipples peeking through. Freddy had long wanted to rub his face all over that chest and bite those tempting nipples. He would content himself with watching Anne do it.
“Don’t do that,” Anne continued in a stern voice.
“Do what?” Brett asked defensively.
“Retreat inside yourself again,” Anne told him. “You do that all the time. So I know that there are all sorts of things brewing in here,” she flicked a finger against his skull and Brett quickly raised a hand to cover the spot, “but you become Lord Stoic and cut up all stiff on us.”
“I do not.”
Freddy coughed to hide his laugh at Brett’s tone and expression. He sounded like a recalcitrant schoolboy.
“Yes, you do. Freddy, tell him.” Anne turned and held out a hand to Freddy, who scooted closer and kissed her fingers.
Freddy nodded. “Yes, old man, you do.” Brett scowled at him. Freddy sighed. “I’m afraid you hit on one of Brett’s sore points, my dear. He thinks he is infinitely too old for me. That’s been his excuse all along.”
Anne laughed, clearly thinking it a joke. When she realized Freddy was serious, she turned incredulous eyes on Brett. “Surely you aren’t serious, Brett? Is that why you two are not lovers? I got the impression this was the first time you’ve shared a woman as well. Why? Because of your age?”
Brett’s face closed up. He grabbed Anne’s hand, stilling her fingers on his chest. “I will try not to retreat inside myself, as you put it, Anne, but I will not discuss my relationship with Freddy.”
Anne jerked back as if burned and Freddy could see the hurt in her face. She yanked her hand out of Brett’s and started to stand. “I can see I’ve overstepped my bounds. I thought we were all friends, but apparently I’m just a convenience. Do come around when you need my sex again.”
Freddy pulled on her arm and she fell back on the blanket. Brett rubbed his face and then yanked her over onto his chest.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed and tilted his head back to look past her up into the sky.
“That didn’t come out right.” He chewed on his lips for a moment and then looked back at Anne. “What I meant was that I…I can’t talk about it.” He shook his head. “You’re right, there’s a lot brewing up here.” He tapped his forehead. “Most of it I don’t wish to think about right now, if ever.” He raised his head and kissed Anne’s cheek. “You must admit that I am older than both of you. One look at me and you can see that.”
Anne pulled back and made a slow perusal of Brett’s body laid out before them like a sexual picnic. She lingered here and there, and Freddy could see Brett’s cock going from semi-hard to stiff. Anne ran a finger down its burgeoning length and Brett sucked in a breath.
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“I see a man.” Anne spoke matter-of-factly, but her voice had taken on a husky quality that had Freddy’s heart pounding. “You have a scar, or two,” Anne continued.
She ran her forefinger over a long scar on his upper arm, one he’d already had when Freddy met him. Anne softly kissed the scar, and Freddy saw a shiver race over Brett’s skin. Then she turned to Freddy and found the fresh scar from his recent gunshot wound. She leaned down and kissed it tenderly and it was Freddy’s turn to shiver. “But so has Freddy.”
Anne turned back to Brett. She looked down and ran her fingers over the ugly scar marring Brett’s thigh. She leaned down and ran her lips over the scar, and Freddy watched the tip of her tongue slip out and trace the still red line of it. Brett’s entire body tensed and he reached down and gripped Anne around the back of the neck.
She smiled, a secretive woman’s smile, as she turned and regarded him over the rising column of his cock. She ran a finger along that rampant cock, and Freddy trembled with Brett. Brett’s cock was pale with a dark head that matched his nipples.
The contrast was mesmerizing as a thick vein pulsed along the shaft.
“Scars or no scars, all your pertinent parts seem to be working, old man,” Anne teased. She got a thoughtful, concerned look on her face, and Freddy’s heart tripped over its own beat. “But perhaps I ought to examine you more closely, just to be sure.”
Anne dipped down and delicately insinuated her nose in the thick nest of dark curls surrounding his cock and sniffed appreciatively. “Mmm,” she purred, “you smell delicious.” She rubbed her cheek against his stiff cock and Brett groaned. “That seems to be right.” She turned and rubbed her nose on the same spot and Brett jumped. Anne laughed softly. “Hmm, good reflexes.”
By this time Freddy couldn’t control his own amusement. He let the smile he’d been fighting loose and he laughed. Brett turned glazed eyes to him. “Freddy,” he groaned.
Freddy swallowed audibly at the need in that one word.
“What do you want, Brett?” Freddy asked him. “Tell us. Tell us what you need.”
Brett shook his head and Anne gently nipped the side of his cock and then licked it.
“Ahhh,” Brett yelled, but not in pain. The sight of Anne’s sharp little white teeth against that firm, hard cock made Freddy gasp and his stomach clench.
“Tell us,” Anne whispered, her lips fluttering over Brett’s cock.
“You,” Brett ground out, “I need you.”
Freddy felt a painful clutch in his stomach and he started to roll away. Brett’s next words stopped him.
“I need you to take me in your mouth, Anne, while Freddy fucks you.”
Freddy’s head whipped around and his gaze slammed into Brett’s. Freddy saw the truth there. Brett was not lying. That really was what he needed. Freddy’s head felt as muddled as if he’d been drinking all day. He was drunk on Brett’s desire.
“Oh God, Brett,” Anne moaned. “You say the sweetest things.”
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Anne’s comment broke the moment between Freddy and Brett, but neither man
minded. They both laughed a little breathlessly and Brett ran a shaking hand over Anne’s hair. “Does that mean you’ll do it?” Brett asked her, his voice as shaky as his hand.
Anne turned mockingly shocked eyes to his. “You actually have to ask me? I thought you knew me better than that by now.”
She ran the tip of her tongue from the root of his cock to the flared head and Brett gave a shout as he arched his back. Freddy couldn’t catch his breath. Brett was so incredibly handsome, so desperate and arousing in his need. And Anne, God she was gorgeous, her legs pulled up underneath her, her curvy bottom turned up as she bent over Brett’s cock, lapping it like a cat with cream.
“I think that was a yes,” Freddy told Brett, and he was shocked at the low timbre of his voice, the tremble that gave away his own needs. Brett turned to him but couldn’t speak. He could only bite his lip and arch his neck as Anne licked him once again, and then he nodded.
Freddy ran the palm of his hand down Anne’s back, from nape to rump. He felt each bump of her spine, his fingers splayed wide. She was so small his hand encompassed nearly the whole width of her back. He went back to the top and ran just a finger slowly down her spine again, riding each bump like a wagon over hilly ground.
Anne shivered and moaned, and she broke out in gooseflesh though the day was quite warm. Freddy couldn’t help but smile at how responsive she was to such a simple touch.
“Do as he asked, Anne,” Freddy commanded softly. “Take him in your mouth.”
“God, yes,” Brett groaned out.
Anne’s breathing was ragged as she paused with her mouth over the head of Brett’s cock, her lips just barely parted. She hung there for what seemed like eons and Freddy could feel the tension in himself and Brett climbing higher with each trembling breath she took.