Sex and Love Read online

  “Well, I don’t want to have sex with her, so I need a solution,” he said as he played with the pit of a Greek olive left on his plate after the meal. “There has to be a way to make her understand it’s not appropriate.”

  “I’m not sure it’s considered inappropriate to walk around nude in your own home.” Megan gestured gently with her wineglass, its iridescence reflecting the gleam of the candlelight.

  “And really, Trev, how can you say you don’t want to have sex with her? She’s a fucking Playboy’s wet dream, that one. You must want to, unless you’ve gone blind.” Jude leaned back in his chair, comfortable as always with his own masculinity. Since he was usually so sensitive, I thought maybe he just knew Trevor too well and was too comfortable with him to realize he rubbed salt into a sore.

  Trevor’s eyes remained fixated on his almost empty plate, and he squirmed in his chair a bit. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with her, ever,” he continued. A bit of a flush that I didn’t think had anything to do with the wine crept up his neck. “It’s more that I just don’t want to have sex with her, right now.”

  “Aah.” I got it, even if Jude looked completely confused, and Megan showed no expression at all as she calmly sipped at her wine. It was simple really. He didn’t want to give his virginity to some blonde bimbo who had plastic tits and the IQ of a chimpanzee, one who would likely have been hard-pressed to spell his name correctly, or maybe even hers. Not that hard to understand, actually; I wouldn’t either. But I wasn’t in this situation, since I gave away my virginity to Tad, my high school sweetheart, a big, burly football player I really didn’t think would understand me and my colors at all if we were to meet now.

  Even if I was the only one who understood Trev’s rationale, it wasn’t my place to explain it. That night, the poor guy went through quite enough already, what with the unintentional outing of his sexual status and all. Not that any of us thought being a twenty-eight-year-old virgin was a bad thing at all, if it was his decision. But I knew, and the others knew, it wasn’t from lack of trying, and that’s what made the situation so delicate.

  As I watched the dynamics play out, the light bulb went on for Jude. I always found his face fascinating. The way the long, lean planes reflected everything that went on in his head, which was surprising, because his badass image looked like it held a lot of secrets. It occurred to me that the fascination might stem from feelings I didn’t want to acknowledge, but I chose never to dwell on those, focusing instead on his physical beauty. Beauty that, at that moment, was enhanced in the face that so easily traveled, visually, from consternation to comprehension to confusion, all within the blink of an eye. Finally, he got it, and Trevor saw the light bulb lodged in Jude’s frontal lobe blink on.

  “I just wish I could get it over with,” Trev muttered, and my heart experienced that going- through-the-blender sensation as I watched my friend’s face, my awkward, incredibly loveable friend, and saw the frustration and shame mirrored there. “I just wish I could just do it, you know, just so it can be done, and then I can go and fuck Lily, and Barbie, and freaking Betty and Veronica and anyone else I can get my hands on!” He laughed at his outburst and finally looked up from the table, the dark wood, which had held his gaze all night. I was struck by a thought that had tickled at me for years, the one that told me that, if Trev could just get the right moves down around the opposite sex, you know, like if he could train with Will Smith in the movie Hitch or something, he’d be beating off women with a stick. In fact, as I studied his face in profile as he ruefully laughed at himself, at the sardonic smirk displayed over sharp white teeth, the tasty, toasty skin, even the appealing way his earlobe stuck out, just a bit, I thought that, right now, I wouldn’t mind relieving him of his problem myself.

  I wondered, briefly, how he was hung, and the thought brought an extra bit of moisture both to my mouth and to my cunt, even as I chastised myself. This was Trevor I was thinking about there. Trevor, the twenty-eight-year-old virgin, who probably couldn’t find a vagina with a neon arrow pointing the way and a crowd of people shouting encouraging directions.

  Just as I took a moment to think that that was a bit of an uncharitable thought on my part, Trevor said, deadpan, “I don’t suppose either of you girls want the job, huh?” He chuckled, and I felt my face flamed into a shade of scarlet I would probably have found quite fetching if it hadn’t been on my face and the result of the dirty track my filthy, little mind took.

  It took a moment for me to realize the table had fallen silent, and the three of us, Megan, probably myself, and, good Lord, even Jude, were all flushed the same rosy color. Trevor looked at each of us in turn, puzzlement written all over his face, because our quartet routinely joked about sex, all the time, raunchy, nasty conversations that could make even the most jaded lady of the night raise her eyebrows in surprise. So why, at Trevor’s innocent little comment, were we all acting so weird?

  “Guys?” His eyes found mine and held steady. “What do you think?”

  Chapter Three

  You know that feeling, the one that appears after you’ve downed one cocktail too many and the world around you seems to move at warp speed and at the same time in slow motion? Well, I wouldn’t say I was drunk, exactly, as I perched on the edge of the lake-sized, opulent bed in Megan’s immaculate bedroom, but that was the feeling I had right at that moment, nonetheless.

  I didn’t feel like a participant in the event that was about to take place, either; instead, it was as if I was on the outside looking in, the view distorted as if seen through a layer of undulating water, and as much as I blinked, it wouldn’t come clear. Still, I saw a pretty picture, distorted though it was, and since I had no idea what to do, at any rate, I took a moment to just look.

  The artist in me couldn’t help but admire the way the light of the sandalwood and jasmine scented candles Megan had carried in from the kitchen played over the hard dips and lean planes of Jude’s face. As he stood against the dusky blue of the bedroom wall with his dark eyes intent on the triad composed of Megan, Trevor, and me as we sat, somewhat awkwardly, on the deep, forest-hued spread of the bed. When he turned his head, and his features moved from light to shadow, I was put in mind of an angel, one who had fallen from grace. It took me back, made me remember the two weeks we once spent together, weeks in which that hard, rangy body was mine to do with as I wished. The thought had me shifting restlessly on the crisp, Egyptian cotton duvet.

  The movement caught Jude’s eye; he turned to me, and the touch of hunger, which played over the corners of his lips, made me feel as if I was about to be eaten alive. He didn’t move, though, even though I felt myself lean in his direction a bit. A magnetic force pulled me closer. I watched as his eyes flicked to Trevor, and then back to me, and I wondered if he was uncomfortable with the idea of getting naked around another man. Although, with the behavior reported from men’s locker rooms, I wouldn’t have thought that to be the case. Still, maybe this was different, with the sexual edge that had been added, I mused. Then it hit me. No, I realized, his shift in limbs wasn’t intended as an entrance to our frozen tableau, but rather to observe and direct, as if the scene was part of a naughty film. Trevor’s First Time, or something like that. Despite the hilarity that edged into my consciousness, I found I was more than glad for the direction, though I was disappointed that he wouldn’t be joining in.

  Jude, I knew, had done…well, this, before. I, no matter what my reputation would have others believe, had not. In fact, the wildest time of my life, sexually speaking, of course, peaked when I was with Jude himself, so long ago. No joke, it’s been all downhill from there.

  When Jude signaled for Megan and Trevor to kiss, though, I knew that all might be about to change.

  Their first kiss was tender, a tentative exploration that demonstrated the love they felt for one another. I smirked a bit at the frothy little giggle that bubbled up, out of Megan’s throat. Both closed their eyes as their lips met. Megan’s shiny mauve lipstick
smeared onto the stubble that shadowed Trevor’s face. It was brief and sweet, the way a first kiss should be. Although I knew I had the implicit invitation to watch, I had to admit I felt a bit odd, a bit outside the circle of warmth surrounding the two, as if I shouldn’t be there. Still I stared, as the pink bows of their lips met, again and again, sipping almost politely at the first juice of lust.

  “Do you want to kiss Trevor, Desi?” Jude asked, his gravelly voice edging into the dense soup of my thoughts.

  I didn’t answer at first, needing, somehow, a moment to turn the notion over in my mind, to examine it from all angles, though I knew, ultimately, what the answer would be. “Yes.” I breathed, and nodded acquiescence; before I fully realized the implications of my answer, Trevor had a lean hand at the back of my head and held me in place as his lips, hot, wet and much fuller than I had ever expected them to be, fed on mine hungrily, as if he hadn’t just eaten himself almost sick at the amazing feast Megan had prepared. I kissed him back, the sexual frustration incited by Jude pouring out in a torrential storm, and we nipped at each other’s flesh, tangled our tongues together, gulped sensations like a fast-food meal. When after what seemed an hour we pulled away, breathless, my mouth felt bruised and well used. I flicked out my tongue to lap at it, to soothe it, and I panted like a wild animal in heat.

  For those of you who may be criticizing how it was I could be so turned on by Trevor, when I openly admitted my continuing attraction for Jude, I say bollocks to you. There was no rule that said a woman could only have sexual thoughts about one mate at a time. Ask any woman who’s ever been in a long term relationship.

  And Jude was there, after all, watching. Always watching.

  “Desi, kiss Megan now,” Jude commanded, and for a moment I thought of telling him to get real. It’s such a cliché male fantasy, really, watching two girls make out, and after all, Megan and I were there to help Trevor lose his virginity in a warm, loving environment, not to get it on with each other. But the hunger and naked excitement in Trevor’s eyes gave me pause; it was obviously something he wanted so badly to see he could almost taste the sweet flavor on the rough surface of his tongue. And though I couldn’t see Jude from where I knelt, in Trevor’s lap, I’m sure his expression was just the same.

  Tentatively, I crawled across the bed, the fabric of my red dress pulling tightly against the breasts that had never needed the restraint of a bra, and the material chafed at my nipples, causing them to pebble, small and tight. Megan did the same, and when the matching cupid’s bows of our mouths met, I heard muffled groans from deep in the throats of both men.

  It turned me on.

  I could hear the breath of both men, as my mouth played over Megan’s, as my fingers tangled in the long fall of her golden hair. I couldn’t say I found kissing her sexually exciting in itself, but the power it allowed us to wield made me feel like Aphrodite, like a geisha, like a highly cherished courtesan. So I threw myself into it, nipping and stroking, our tongues mating, and was rewarded with the unmistakable sounds of clothing falling to the floor. The rasp of a zipper, the soft whispers made by cloth on skin. Not being able to see, sound was the only sense engaged and gave the scene a dreamlike quality, a sweet floating sensation. And even hearing it, knowing it, a frisson of shock jolted through my system when hard male flesh, hot enough to melt my candy-colored dress, grasped me around my waist and covered me from behind.

  Although it had been so long since I had seen his body, I knew instantly that it wasn’t Jude touching me, not his anxious fingers tugging at the dozens of frustrating buttons that traveled the length of my spine. I allowed Trevor to undress me, and inexperience made his fingers falter. I was slightly surprised at the tiny, very tiny, yet intense trickle of disappointment that wound its way through my bloodstream, blood that pumped hot and hard regardless. I supposed Jude was with Megan, touching her in all of the plump, generous places he always admired so openly, but when I yanked the ropy coils of my red tresses from the tangle of Trevor’s fingers to look, I saw Megan alone on the bed, a Rubenesque vision of beauty in the soft light, her soft linen blouse open to reveal generous breasts encased in swatches of pale pink lace, breasts that seemed to be quivering for the touch of a hand, of a mouth, of anything.

  Gingerly, not sure how I was going to feel about it, I leaned over and took one of the rosy crests into my mouth, suckling gently through the lace.

  Megan groaned, and I thought that it wasn’t so bad. Though it made me feel like a baby suckling at the breast of the earth mother, an odd thought, I think, to have when in the midst of a menage, I decided that, if it brought such joy to a man, it was definitely something to tuck away into the back of my mind.

  I fell forward suddenly, my somewhat pointed chin disappearing into the succulent folds of Megan’s flesh, when I was entered roughly from behind. Once I righted myself, my weight braced on my hands and knees, I discovered it wasn’t the expected cock impaling me, but rather fingers, three of them, I thought, as I could feel each digit moving separately within my pulsating walls. The exploration was anything but elegant. I even winced when the hand delved a little too deep. Once I was wet, slick and shiny from the bumps against my clit that I was sure were accidental, it felt good, really good. I felt the familiar trembling of my thighs that always accompanies sexual arousal for me.

  I turned over, flopping onto my back the second I was free. Panting slightly, wanting an orgasm but feeling, somehow, that being too greedy for it wasn’t proper menage etiquette, I placed Trevor’s hands on Megan, urged him to undress her, not wanting anyone in the room to feel left out. I didn’t feel the same worry for Jude, as I gazed over the mass of trembling flesh and entwined limbs to meet his eyes, aching with something I couldn’t understand. His hand was wrapped firmly around his erection, thrusting forward from the thick thatch of curling black hair, and stroked up and down in firm, even motions. My eyes caressed the sight, the thin, pale skin lined with blue veins. The need to taste him overcame me, to feel the flavors of salt and tang spread over my tongue as I sucked. But when I moved to get off the bed, to cross the room and take him in my mouth, Jude shook his head at me, and his face told me he wouldn’t be dissuaded.

  “Stay,” he said, and I obeyed, though obedience had never been one of my finer points. I didn’t have much time to think about doing otherwise, however, because Trevor suddenly, spread my legs, and the scent of latex from a condom intensified as it rubbed against my flesh. I had a short but cranky moment at being torn away from the intense moment with Jude, but Trevor’s incredible and somehow sweet awkwardness reminded me of the reason we were all there, after all. Poor guy. After a few unsuccessful attempts on his part to enter me, to finally feel the sensation of a woman’s pussy milking him dry, I reached a hand down between our bodies to guide Trevor’s cock into my cunt, desperate for something I couldn’t identify. I didn’t think, however, it was related to Trev and the overeager thrusts of his cock.

  I was granted a moment of clarity as Trevor thrust into me. The thought crossed my mind that I was okay with Jude not touching me, as long as Megan was in the same boat. It wasn’t a rational thought for sure. Megan was one of my best friends, as was Jude, and what he and I had was over long ago. But any woman would tell you that there was nothing rational about the mix of sex and emotion, so I wasn’t overly worried at the direction my thoughts took. Certain they’d pass with the flare of heat consuming us all. Still, I did my best to clear my mind and to enjoy the body I was permitted to touch, to sample and to feast upon. For otherwise, I knew I’d be doing Trevor a grave disservice.

  It wasn’t hard to do, really, when Trevor took a moment to brush my hair off my face, to smile and assure me he knew it was me he was inside. To demonstrate the gratitude he felt to me, and to all of us, for letting him experience this momentous occasion with us, the people he loved most in the world.

  Reaching out with my right hand, I laced my fingers with those of Megan’s left; she shifted to her side and used her right
hand to trace the contours of Trevor’s backside as he moved inside me, making us a circle, a ring, the universal symbol of love and devotion. I began to enjoy the feel of Trevor’s cock inside me. While not long, it was thick and stretched my thin inner walls, forcing them to absorb the little shockwaves of sensation that accompany intercourse. Since I wanted the night to be about him, and not me, I held back my moan of disappointment when the building tension between my thighs stuttered and went silent. Instead, I gently shoved him off me and onto Megan, who had waited so patiently and was likely ready, more than ready, to have Trevor to herself.

  I shifted on the bed, getting out of the way of the two bodies moving as one beside me. Looking up, I found Jude staring at me, licking his lips. His gaze pinned me, and I couldn’t breathe. Where had these feelings come from, I wondered. Had they been dormant for all of these years, waiting for this one evening to spring free? Or were they new, tiny buds eagerly looking for their place in the sun?

  Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe they were rooted only in the situation, in this one unreal night, but I wasn’t sure I cared. Because as I stared back at him, our very deepest selves caught in a contest of wills, while the air thickened and grew heavy around us with the scent of sex. I knew at that moment, I would give anything to be with him.

  I heard the noises made behind me, the soft, pretty little sighs and the deeper, satisfied grunts. I felt the tug of the sheets under my bottom as the movements picked up the pace, as Trevor learned, truly learned, the meaning of the word fuck. But I couldn’t bring myself to look, to watch the erotic scene played out so close to me that the occasional limb grazed my flesh, because to look would be to break the hypnotic trance between Jude and myself. I was so caught up, punch drunk by the throbbing between my legs Trevor had been unable to assuage, I felt sure I would die if the connection broke.