a maiden's monologue.

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monkey man.

"When are we leaving?" My husband asks from the next room.

"I told you, I'm not going tonight," I remind him, as I hurriedly chop the veggies for the crudité platter we promised to bring.
"Party pooper."
"I'm sorry.  I didn't have time to find a costume."  He doesn't respond. "It's your thing, anyway," I continue. "And you can visit better with your friends.  You won't have to babysit me."  Silent, expect more chopping.  I stop. "Chris?  Are you listening?"
"Gahhh!!"  He screams, leaping out from the hallway, wearing a latex monkey mask.  
"Jesus," I gasp. "You're terrible.  The mask is kind of an improvement, though," I joke.  He rips it off, immediately.  
"Oh really?  You like Monkey Man?"  He flirts, approaching me.
"Careful, I'm brandishing a weapon."
"Then, I better stay on your good side," he winks, moving behind me.  His hands grasp my hips, pulling me towards his pelvis.  I feel his bulge against my backside, and I place the knife down to free up my hands. Grasping the edge of the counter, I lean into him, arching my back, a smile crossing my lips.  His strong hands move up my body to my breasts, which he kneads through my sweater, encouraging me to straighten.  I relax into him, my neck slackening, releasing a soft moan.  This is what I want.  Not some Halloween party.  My hair falls to the side, and I'm almost his, as he wetly kisses my neck and ear.  
"You know, we could both just stay in tonight," he breathes, and I feel the muscles in between my legs engage.  But my conscience thinks it knows better.  
"No, you should go," I say, separating from him. I retrieve the knife to finish the last of the vegetables. "Can you tell Jen I wasn't feeling well?" 
"Ooo oo ah ah!"  I look up.  He has once again donned the latex mask.  
"Here are your vegetables, Monkey Man," I say with sarcasm, handing him the Tupperware.
"I won't be late," he says, muffled by the mask.  He grabs his wallet and keys, and lifts the mask to give me a peck on the cheek.  I place the knife and cutting board in the sink as he disappears down the hallway.  More echoed monkey sounds, followed by the slam of the front door.  I smile and shake my head as I turn on the warm water.  I let it run over my hands, soaping up the sponge.  Perhaps I'll take a bath tonight.  I close my eyes, picturing it, but a noise startles me, and I cut my ring finger on the knife in the sink.  "Ah," I gasp.  The front door.  "Did you forget something?"
I grab a paper towel and wrap my finger.  When I look up, Monkey Man is standing in the archway of the kitchen.  "I gave you the dip, right?"  I open the fridge.  No, I did.  I turn around.  He hasn't moved a muscle.  Weirdo.
"Do I have to call you Monkey Man before you'll answer?"  He nods.  I smile.  We're no strangers to role play. "Have you decided to stay after all?"  I flirt, approaching him.  "Or at least, another couple minutes?"  The mask nods again.  
Paper towel clutched in one hand, I fumble with his belt.   I examine the small slits in the mask, but there is only darkness behind them.  The anonymity gives me confidence, as I unbutton his jeans, and reach down his the front of his pants.  He feels warm in my hand, as I begin to stroke him to life.  Bent forward, my hair falls to one side, first tickling, then exposing my neck.  It feels naked, and I close my eyes, longing for him to kiss me there like he did before.  I hear his breathing become laboured beneath the mask.  My injured hand unzips his fly, giving him room to grow.  Feeling him harden in my grip, I sexily bite my lip, desiring to taste him.  I look up once more to the mask, as I kneel on the cool tile.  He appears to look down at me, and I imagine an expression of desire beneath the latex.  I take his cock completely out of his pants, eyes still locked with the small slits of the mask.  I lick my lips, ready to take him in my mouth, when my eyes wander down to a completely... unfamiliar cock.  I freeze.  This is not my husband.  I look up at the mask, only to see the intruder swing.  A sharp pain in my head, and I collapse onto the cool tile.  I struggle for consciousness, still gripping the bloodied paper towel in my hand.  The last thing I see is the stranger retrieving the knife from the sink.  

Then, lights out.  

caught with my pants off.

I text my boyfriend, "Coming home soon?"  After waiting the necessary ten minutes, I unplug my laptop, and carry it into our bedroom.

Not that I don't want Daniel to come home; in fact, it's just the opposite.  I just don't want to masturbate if I can get off with him later tonight.  I would much rather share my orgasm with him, but it's a little selfish, too, I admit.  My orgasms are much better when he assists me.  And, by assist, I mean, I'm still going to use my vibrator, whether he's here or not.  It's just an issue of whether I'm getting other things stimulated, while I'm doing it.  And I don't necessarily mean sexually; that is, the smell of his skin comforting me, his deep voice arousing my mind, and our general intimacy relaxing me.  He also touches my breasts, pussy, and butt.  Everything forementioned attributing to overall better orgasms.  And, it just so happens that our sexual position of choice, is usually assisted masturbation.

I plug the laptop back in next to the bed, and settle into the soft sheets.  Remove most of my clothing, leaving only a tank top and white ankle socks.  I'd usually remove everything if I was making love, but doing the activity solo allows me to be most comfortable, and I come easier when I'm on the warm side.  I take up a position on my end of the bed, laying with the laptop balancing delicately on my stomach, and I take out my vibrator from the side table, poised to turn it on.  First, I search for my favourite porn site.  Not that I watch too much porn anymore, now that Daniel and I have moved in together.  My masturbation time has been significantly cut down by the fact that I rarely have time alone at home anymore; and if I'm horny, I'll find Daniel over sneaking off to the bedroom by myself.  And since I'm watching alone, I don't have to be self conscious about what I choose.  This is my opportunity to watch exactly what I want to watch, and I savour it.  I feel a smile creep across my face as I saucily click the category, Anal Sex.

I fast forward, past the interview with the cameraman at the beginning, past the blowjob, even past the vaginal sex.  I stop right before the anal penetration. The part I'm looking for, is the warm up.  Something I very much enjoy myself, I look forward to watching the brief part where he plays with her ass with his fingers, or with toys; effectively warming her up before he puts his dick in it.  Not that the sixty seconds of anal foreplay they show is going to be enough for the average, non-pornography starring girl looking to engage in full on anal sex, because, to tell you the truth, it's barely enough for me to come while masturbating to it.  Sometimes I rewind, and watch it multiple times.  

The man on the video makes her spit on his fingers, instead of using lubricant.  I get mine from a bottle, squirting a healthy dollop onto the vibrator, and placing it on myself.  He bends her in half, lifting her legs, and pushing her knees up towards her shoulders.  He asks her if she's flexible, and she nods, settling into this pretzel-like position.  The man brushes the opening of her asshole with the spit, as I feel myself start to relax and bear down.  Her ass easily takes his fingers, as they disappear inside her.  She must have warmed up off camera.  I watch the delicate skin of her asshole pucker and stretch as he moves them in and out.  He asks if she can take one more.  I feel my clit harden and it feels so good, I almost shy away from the intensity of the vibrations.  

Just then, I hear the front door slam.  "Jen?"  I freeze, not knowing whether to answer.  Not that Daniel would mind if I'm masturbating; in fact, he likes to hear that I'm still doing it.  But, walking in on me, is something altogether different.  I pause the video, take the laptop from my chest, but I don't close it completely.  I'm still planning on getting off. 

"Uh... In here!"  I turn off the vibrator momentarily, close my legs, the lube squishing slightly between them.  He appears in the doorway.

"Hey, I was trying to call you... Um, are you getting off, baby?"  He chuckles, eyes alight.

"Uh... Yeah."

"Mmm.  What are you watching?" He says, interested, taking off his shirt, and joining me.  He lifts the laptop, revealing a still of a the girl's loosening asshole.  

"How embarrassing..." I say, only half joking.  

"Mmm," he says, closing the laptop and placing it on the table beside him.  "Are you embarrassed to be caught masturbating, baby?"

"Hmm," I smile, reddening.  "A little bit."

"Are you embarrassed that I saw what you were looking at?"

"Mmm.  Yeah."

"That you were looking at a girl's ass?  Hmm?"  He says, faux sternly.  

"Yes, baby," I smile, turning the vibrator back on.  He kisses me deeply on the mouth, moving down my neck, to my clothed breasts.  He removes my shirt, bending to lick my hardening nipples.  I press the vibrator against my clit, allowing myself to moan in pleasure.  He takes out his dick, and starts stroking it.  

"You're a bad girl, getting caught, aren't you?"  I feel moisture drip down between my legs, towards my ass, a blend of my own juices and the lube.  With one hand, he feels my wet, puffy pussy.  His fingers glide over my glistening folds, as I feel myself push, almost reaching out to him.  His elbow grazes my side as he jerks his cock, his voice wet in my ear.  "You need to be taught a lesson, don't you?"

"Mmm.  Yeah, baby." I feel his slick hand move down my sensitive perineum, towards my ass.  Immediately, I feel the urge to bear down.  

"So you don't do it again."  

"Mmm.  Yes."  I feel the pad of his finger trace the opening of my ass, in a circular motion, teasing it.  I feel my asshole pulsate, wanting his fingers.  He changes the angle of one of them, and it dips in slightly.  I moan, my ass relaxing to accommodate it.  

"That's a good girl.  You know what I need you to do."

"Yeah, baby," I groan, feeling him enter me.  The role play is perfect.  I love when he pretends to make me do something that I so badly want to do already.  In reality, Daniel touching my ass is rather mundane, it being a weekly occurrence at least, but the dirty talk makes it seem taboo, like when he first started to touch me in this way.

"I need to touch you here, don't I?  To teach you a lesson."

"Mmm.  Yes, baby."

"Are you going to be a good girl?"  He says, plunging the finger all the way inside my ass.  I gasp, the muscles in my ass both pushing and relaxing to allow him to enter.  He vigorously jerks his cock, elbowing me in the side with each stroke.  I press the vibe harder against myself, knowing that I could come at any time, now.  He begins to wiggle his finger.  "Are you going to let me punish you?"

"Yes, baby," I say, voice quivering.

"You're not going to make this any harder, are you?"

"No!"  The liberation of saying this word, whilst completely immersed in the consent play, does it for me.  I open my ass, bearing down in the unique way that combines both pressing and opening, allowing him to stimulate that spot deep within me.  Everything contracts at once, and I cry out a guttural sound.  Daniel continues to jerk off a few strokes before letting go himself.  His glistening semen lands across my torso, expertly avoiding the sheets.

"That was unexpected," he says, breathless.

"You're telling me."
"I tried to phone you, but I guess you were busy," he winks.  I flush crimson.
"Yes, I was..." I laugh.  "Yes, I was."

feminist sex.

There is a whole new generation of women that are using alternative methods of birth control besides The Pill.  

A new generation of feminists and naturalists who realize that pumping your body full of medicine every day, when you are not even sick, can be potentially detrimental to your health.  A new generation of women who weren't around for the liberation The Pill first gave us, and are now realizing that it wasn't really liberation at all.  True feminists don't try to emulate men, but embrace femininity in all its beauty.  All its menstruating, copulating, live giving, empathetic beauty.  

But, that doesn't mean we want to get pregnant every time we have sex.  There are loads of types of alternative birth control (that don't pump hormones into your body and eliminate any semblance of a natural cycle) out there that young women haven't been necessarily exposed to every since the invention of The Pill: female condoms, the sponge, the rhythm method, the diaphragm, to name a few.  Abstinence.  But not completely.

Women today have all types of sex, not just the standard P in V persuasion, that doesn't tend to do much in the orgasm department for many women.  They have vibrators, they know their bodies and what gets them off, and they aren't hung up on the myth that their partners should do it for them.  The coital activity of choice tends to be assisted masturbation.  I do you, then you do me.  

My long term companion and I; I call him my 'partner' actually, despite being a male-female couple, lie down on our bed, in minimal clothing.  Clothing, yes, because it may not necessarily be about sex, but minimal, absolutely, so we can still feel each other's skin against our own.  Touch each other's hair, smell each other's scents, feel each other's warmth.  The sensation is so pleasurable, the feeling of being completely entwined with your hubby, that it may stop there, in this tight horizontal hug.  We sometimes fall asleep, it's so comfortable and comforting.  But, more often than not, I slowly begin to press myself against his hip, feeling a fanciful tingle between my legs as I do so.  I glance down and notice his boner, straining tightly against his shorts.  

My lips drift to his neck, face, then lips, breathing him in, tasting his slightly salty skin every step of the way.  Our mouths meet, and I feel his warm, wet tongue graze my lips.  How sexy, I think, as I turn myself towards him now, him doing the same, as if he's my reflection.  We wrap our arms around each other, pulling even more tightly into the embrace, positioning our genitals into perfect alignment.  Realizing the need, we part to ask, "You first?  Or me?"  He went first last time, so it looks like it's me.  I undress.

He kisses me the way I like to be kissed; with lips and a slight darting tongue, not the open mouthed tongue flicks he prefers to get.  It starts as soon as the kiss; he'll get his turn, after.  My partner gropes my breasts, runs his hands over my torso, down my stomach to my hips, thighs, and legs.  He bends to kiss my breasts and lick the nipples.  I feel my pussy tighten, straining to be touched, as well.  I like a little tease first.  I like to feel his large, strong, warm hands on my skin.  He tells me to get out my vibrator.  I like his confidence.

While on my side, fetching the vibe from the bedside drawer, he feels up my butt.  He kisses the back of my neck and shoulders, while grabbing each cheek in his hands, and kneading it like dough.  My asshole strains, wanting him, equally as much.  I apply a small dollop of lubricant to the bullet style vibe, and reposition myself, relaxing on my back.  My partner's lips find mine, as I place the vibe on my clit.  I moan into his mouth.  

He then takes the bottle from me, and squeezes out a bit for his finger.  I raise my legs so that he can access my ass, because that's where he's going.  Can't come without it.  Every since I first started orgasming with someone else in the room, I've needed to have my ass stimulated.  Solo, I can do without it, but with a partner, they've got to touch my ass.  Even when I think back to the first time I came, it was because I finally got my asshole touched.  And, if it ain't broke...

He massages the outside of my asshole with a lubed finger, and I already feel my muscles down there relax.  It takes a few times to learn how to use those particular muscles, and I feel like an old pro.  I employ the elusive mix of pushing and relaxing to welcome him in.  I turn the vibe on my clit up a notch, as I concentrate on what he's doing to my ass.  I might very well call him an old pro by now, we've been together so long.  And I can tell by the way he's probing my ass, not slowly and drawn out like usual, that he has something else in mind for my orgasm, besides his fingers.  He is preparing me; it's methodical, thoughtful.  Pushing his fingers nice and deep, but giving my a bit of width, too.  Quickly, though; he's careful not to overwork me.  Even though he usually stimulates me manually for my orgasms, it's clear that this act in itself, isn't intended to make me come.  My pussy tightens at the thought.  He going to fuck me in the ass.

But, it's not like it sounds.  Or like you might expect.  It doesn't go on for an hour, involve much thrusting at all actually, or resemble anything like the anal sex we see in male centred pornography.  Remember, this is my time.  It's all about me, and what I need to come.  My partner tells me to get on my knees, and stick my ass up in the air.  The veil of dominance is part of it, as well as the guise of being taboo.  Yes, we're only doing it because I want to do it, but I like to flirt with the idea of non-consent.  And no, he isn't fucking my ass as one traditionally thinks of the act, but I like to entertain the fantasy that he is.  I get on my elbows, continuing to rub my pussy with the vibrator, only stopping to turn it up a notch.  I hear him squeeze out another dollop of lube, and I feel the cool jelly touch my opening.  He then does something very essential.  He continues to squirt out lubricant, and push it into my asshole with his fingers.  He does this three times, practically filling my asshole with lube.  The anticipation is unbelievably arousing, and I feel like I could already come just from the thought of him fucking my ass.  I violently rub the vibe over myself, preparing.  

He then rears up on his knees, and strokes himself with an already lubed hand.  I can hear the squishing sound behind me, and I can't help from bearing down.  But, I wait.  I can't come yet.  

My partner then points his cock towards me, and I feel the head enter me.  It feels too big, and I rub the vibe harder on myself, giving myself permission to come whenever I feel the urge.  It isn't too big for me, of course, with all my experience, but he barely warmed me up, so I'm tight.  And let me be clear, he didn't warm me up very much because I didn't want him to.  He can fit five fingers in there on a good day.  But, believe it or not, I don't like too much anal foreplay before sodomy.  Otherwise, I don't feel his dick as intensely.  Right now, I feel it ripping through me, opening me up, and he grips onto my hips, holding me there.  Holding me against him until I come on his dick.  

I rub the vibe on my clit with total abandon, and once again concentrate on what my ass feels like.  It only takes about ten seconds before I come.  Hard.  I cry out, screaming into the sheets, then he withdraws slowly, so as not to hurt me.  

Then, it's his turn. 

sleep sex.

I call it, "Sleep Sex."

Once a month or so, my boyfriend does this.  He wakes me out of a dead sleep, either saying something in full voice, or grabbing me.  Sometimes he'll get on top of me and start dry humping me, or suddenly messily kissing me, or pressing himself into my backside.  He calls me dirty names, tells me that I can do whatever I want to him, or sometimes he says something totally bizarre and nonsensical.  All in the middle of the night.  At first I reciprocated, energized by this sudden burst of passion, and it would go on for a couple frenzied minutes, then he rolls over, and drifts off.  And I do, too.  Being in a quasi sleep state myself, it took about a year of this happening for me to realize that he was doing it in his sleep.  Sleep sexing.  

"What did I say this time?"  He would ask embarrassingly, each time I would relay a new instance of "sleep sex".  

"You said, 'Let's join forces.'  I took it to mean, like, our bodies pressing against each other."  A laugh always followed, recalling the exact odd details.

After realizing that he was asleep, I started to deal with the episodes differently.  I started to lovingly block his attempts, whispering in his ear that it was alright, I loved him, and to go back to bed.  This kind of thing seemed to work, so I eventually got into a pattern of lulling him back to sleep.  But, I missed the passion of our mid-night encounters.  Even if he was unconscious during them.  

"Do I have a boner?"  He asked once about the episodes.  I was ashamed to say, that I don't recall, despite the numerous times this has happened.

"I... think so.  Maybe not?"

"You should grab it.  See what happens."  Of course!  I reciprocated his kisses once upon a time, but I have never actually tried to touch his cock.  Usually it's over pretty fast, and by the time I fully wake up and I'm ready to move on to third base, it's over.  It never had a chance to escalate beyond that.  I make a mental note to check next time.

About a week later, right on schedule, I turn towards him, only to switch sides, and his eyes are open, looking right at me.

"What are these?"  He says saucily, in full voice, not the appropriate whisper, which is my first indicator that he's asleep.  Secondly, he is sensually rubbing my breasts, and the phrase is vaguely cryptic, but I get the gist.  I moan at his touch, arching my back, rather than the instinctive shushing, because I remember.  This time, I curiously reach down beneath the sheets for his cock.  And to my instant arousal, I hold in my hand, a rock hard, curved boner.  Game on.

I start jerking it, and I feel pleasure at even holding the lengthy thing in the hand.  It's not often that I get to manually please my hubby, as things usually move at an exponential pace, and usually get right to the orgasm making moves pretty fast.  But, this time, he lets me.  And, he seems to be enjoying it.  Paralyzed by the pleasure, almost, like it's so intense that his body has completely seized.  Moans, or what may be more accurate, whimpers, escape his mouth that I haven't heard before.  I continue to jerk his beautiful boner at a steady pace, kissing his shoulder and curling into him.  He reacts in such a surprisingly intense way that it doesn't seem like him.  Our waking sex is definitely pleasurable, but never this severely focussed.  He also doesn't reach for his own cock, which he would naturally.  This is a new reaction to my touch, and I like it.  I feel in control of his body, for perhaps the first time ever, and my body is responding, too.  I feel my pussy strain, and my nipples harden.  He almost seems to be struggling with some internal conflict; so much so that I'm inspired to coo into his ear.

"It's okay, baby."  I feel him bucking down, searching for the orgasm, body stiffening.  I take his cue, and get into the role play, as if it's happening against his will.  I stroke him all the tighter.  "It's okay," I hear myself say again, as if it's for his own good.  I play both roles, coddling him with my sweet breath, while gripping him faster and harder.  I venture a kiss, licking his tongue and lips, but he can't seem to give me one back.  His lips are tight and shaking, and I pull him tightly against me with my free hand.  I get a slip of his demure tongue, and my pussy moistens at this small gesture.  I move down, encouraged to take it one step further, and lick his nipples.  I prop myself up on my elbow and move back and forth between them.  Another thing that he wouldn't necessarily let me do for too long, if we were awake, but I know he really enjoys it.  Small sounds escape from his mouth as I wetly lick the hardening nubs, and I feel his body buck.  Usually he warns me of an impending orgasm, but I feel him suddenly spurt, crying out louder that I've seen.  

I lay beside him, satisfied with our new experience, breathing still slightly laboured with arousal.  He blinks, and I can tell he's finally awake.  "Mmm.  Thank you, baby."

"I really liked that," I respond, watching him clean up.  I continue to hold him tightly, stroking his hair, and wonder what the dream was about. 

We turn back to our sides, and drift back off together.  

my two partners (part seven).

Emily

I can’t believe my first show is tonight.  After this, I feel like I can really focus on my career.  If my Dad stops bugging me about going back to school.

“You don’t have to worry about financing, if that’s the trouble.”

“It’s not, Dad.”

“Then, what?  Why wouldn’t you complete your degree?”

“I have a degree.  A fine arts bachelor.”

“A degree you can use.  That will actually help you get a job.”

“I can get a job.  There’s so many positions available in my field.”

“Like what, Em?”

“I could be tech-ing a different show each night, if I wanted to.  Playing gigs, producing... I’m producing a show tonight.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the show you’re producing tonight.  Out of my garage.”

“I have other things going on!”

“Why don’t you continue your PhD.  Your mother and I are willing to fully finance it.  Think of it as a scholarship.  Would you refuse a scholarship??”

“Dad!  I don’t know.  I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay, okay!  That’s all we’re asking.”

I spend the day clearing out the garage, and laying carpets down like Scott suggested.  Despite my mom’s protesting, I borrow couch cushions and pillows from around the house to line the walls.  I move my drum kit up from downstairs, bring our kitchen chairs out in the garage, and unfold as many lawn chairs as I can find.  Seating for about fifteen.  Everyone will probably want to stand, anyway.  I tie balloons to the tree out front.

I climb the stairs back up to mine and Kyle’s apartment, and flop on the couch.  

“Ready for the party?”

“It’s a show.”

“Oh.  Ready for the show, then?”

“I need to wait for a friend of mine to bring his equipment.  Otherwise, yeah.”

“Have I met him?”

“I don’t think so.  No.  It’s pretty new.”

“Cool.”

“Your friends are coming, right?”

“For sure.”

“Good.  Thanks.  I better not have gone to all that trouble for nothing.”

“What, cleaning?”

“Mm, hm.”

“Good thing it wasn’t in here.  That would be too much work.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea for next time, though.”

“What?”

“A show in our living room.  We could call it, The Living Room Series.”

“Cool, sis.  You’ve got all the ideas.”  I adjourn to my bed room, for a series of orgasms.  Mostly as a stress reliever.  I think about the sweaty bodies being pressed together while watching a band.  I picture someone fucking me in the middle of the writhing crowd, but it’s so compact and loud, nobody is even noticing.    

“Hello?”  I hear Scott, from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hello!  Hey!  Be right down!”  He’s gotten a bandmate to drive him, and help haul equipment.  They’re already unloading the gear into the garage.  “Hey, I’m Emily.”

“Mike.  I’ve seen you around, eh?”

“Yeah, probably.”  He’s a heavier set guy, but cute nonetheless, with a blonde beard a toque on.  He adds a tom-tom and a cymbal to my set.

“Looks pretty good,” Scott says, as he half hugs me, his other shoulder carrying his bass.

“Yeah, I got as many fabrics and things as I could find.”

“Cool.  One good thing, is we can drink our own booze.  Save some cash.  Was a huge selling point when I was telling people.”

“Yes!  Exactly.”  Didn’t even think of it.  “Meaghan coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Kyle’s friends start to file in, filling up the space, and I grab some chips and pop from the kitchen.  Johnny and Mark are here from Folly, but no Jer.  I only asked them to play in hopes of having Jeremy over to my house, but still no luck there.  When I recognize Meaghan from her pictures though, I remember that I have something else to concentrate on tonight.  Other than hosting.

“Welcome everybody, to my... garage.”  I say on mic.  The small room laughs.  “Seriously, thank you so much for coming out, and thanks to Scott for helping me set up.  We have a really great show for you this evening!”

Meaghan is lovely.  She has a great smile, and uses it often.  She loves to watch Scott play, and is really into talking to me.  She asks me everything trying to learn as much about me as possible.  I’ve already heard a lot about her from Scott, so I just watch.  The sound is still shit in here, despite all the rugs and whatnot, so I can barely hear her anyway.  

She doesn’t wear any makeup, and doesn’t need to.  She does wear big earrings, and a pretty blouse.  She looks effortlessly beautiful.  Not too much taller than I am, and just as slim, but she carries it differently.  Like a dancer.  Does she dance?  I think Scott said that.  After his set, he turns the laptop music back on, and joins us.
"Great set!"  Meaghan says before I can. 

“Looks like you two are hitting it off!”  He replies. 

“Well, I’ve heard so much about her, so I thought I’d let her find out a little about me.”  I start.

“We’re having a nice talk,” Meaghan says to him, and he bends and kisses her on the mouth.  Her lips look soft.

“Meaghan was just telling me about...”  I start, but realize that I can’t finish it, because I couldn’t hear her.  I can’t believe the sound was so bad in here.  Oh, well.

“Her PhD.  That’s what you said, right?”

“Oh.  Yeah.  We’ll see.  I have to really think about it.”

“It’s a huge decision.”  Meaghan continues.

“Yeah.  I might just want to do shows, and stuff.”

“Playing shows definitely have benefits,” Scott winks.   

“Like what?”  Meaghan flirts, hand on a hip.

“Like... all the PUSSY!!”  He jokes, grabbing her waist.  We both laugh, and she slaps him.

“Where were we?”  She tries, playfully pushing him away.  I don’t need a whole night of questions to figure out that I would fuck her in a second, whether Scott was involved, or not.

“I don’t know, to be honest!”

“Me either.  Scott, do we have more booze?”

I drift away for a while, talking to Scott’s drummer, Mike.  I grill him about his technique, and process.  With Scott at the other end of the room, in Meaghan’s arms, Mike shows me a little more interest than before.

“You’ve seen us play before, right?”

“Yes!  I have.  A few times.”

“Thought I recognized you,” he says, scratching his beard.  “This is your house?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”  Before I know it, Scott interrupts.

“We’re taking off!”

“You are?”  I say, genuinely surprised.  I thought... well, I don’t know what I thought.  I guess I thought that we were going to fuck.

“Bye, Emily!”  Meaghan waves, giving me a big, gorgeous smile.  What a good looking couple.  I’ll just have to wait, I guess.

“See you later?”

“Yes.  Thanks again for everything!”  I turn, and it looks like most of Kyle’s friends are going into the house.

“Looks like the party is heading upstairs,” Mike says.  I follow him inside.

Meaghan

Finally!  I’m going to meet Emily.  I can’t wait!  Scott’s already gone over there to help her set up, and I’m left to trip over my own excitement.  I take an hour to decide on what I’m going to wear; something that looks pretty, yet still slightly dykey.  I end up going for a flowy, natural look.  I blare music, take a shot of rye to loosen up, and put the rest of the mickey in my purse. 

I take transit, since Scott and Mike went with the equipment, and arrive a little later than I would’ve liked.  The small gathering is in full swing, sounding like a party twice it’s size in the cramped garage, with an interesting mix of mostly gay guys, super straight bearded musicians, and the only girls; Emily, and I.  I barely get to say hello to Scott and his bandmates, before Emily gets onstage and begins hosting.  I’m grateful for the minutes she’s up there, as I get a good, unapologetic, first look at her.  She’s wearing kind of an odd outfit, with a short sleeved collared shirt and kerchief at her throat, but is very cute, nonetheless.  Scott knows how to pick ‘em.  I love her soft looking, short brown hair; heart shaped face, and small stature.  She looks quite a bit younger than she does in her pictures, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Her youthful, excitable energy mimics it.  

After the opening band takes the stage, she beelines over to me, and I can't believe I'm finally meeting the real Emily.  I feel like I've been stalking her online for so long.  

"Hi!!"  She mouths excitedly, waving.  She could have said it out loud for all I know, but perhaps too quietly for the loud room.

"Hi Emily!  So nice to meet you!"

"You too!  I've heard so many good things about you," she says a little louder, making deliberate eye contact with me.  

"It's all lies," I flirt.  It feels so good to be courting a woman again.  And such a cute one, at that.  She laughs.  "What did Scott say about me?  I'm wondering what he says behind my back," I joke.  

"Oh, just that you're an actor, and stuff like that.  And how great you are!"

"Oh, yeah?  I'll have to thank him later," I wink.  "Well, I was looking at some of your pictures online.  So, I've been creeping on you, too!"

"Ha!  No worries!"  

"The one of you in a Halloween costume.  I was actually expecting a French maid tonight.  So, I'm very disappointed...!"  She laughs again.  I continue, eager to eat up the lag in the conversation.  "Just kidding.  You look cute.  Not French maid cute, but..."

"Oh, thanks!  I don't know what I'm wearing.  It all made sense it my head.  I was going for some sort of garage theme."

"Totally nailed it," I laugh.

"Well, you look lovely.  I like your top!"

"Thanks."  Grasping for the next thing to say, I catch her small dark eyes bearing into mine.  My confidence momentarily leaves me, as I avert my gaze towards the band.  I remember the Mickey in my purse, and take it out for a shot.  "You drinking?" I ask, offering the bottle.

"Sure," she says, reaching for it.  I like the intimacy of sharing a drink.  She could have grabbed a cup or wiped the rim, but she didn't.  We're practically kissing already.  

We watch the opening group, chatting mostly about the band that's playing; Folly is their name.  As they wrap up, Emily doesn't realize for a second, that it's time for her to go back up.  When she gets there, her patter is too short for the next act, Scott's band, to set up behind her.  She introduces them, we clap and holler, then there's a half minute of dead air, until Scott reaches towards the laptop to play some music from it while they finish setting up.  Well, there's a first time for everything.  

Scott set is great, as usual, despite the odd choice of venue.  Emily mingles for most of the headliner set, but sits back down with me on a lawn chair for the last song.

"So, is this party celebrating anything?"  I ask.

"Well, it's more of like, a series of shows I want to produce here in the house."

"Cool!  How many people do you share it with?  It's pretty big."

"Oh, it's my parents' house.  The shows are going to be fundraising for these youth classes I want to... Shit!"

"What?"

"I forgot to saw something!  And get cover charge from people!"

"You could still say something... And maybe pass a hat around after?"  I offer.  Pretty funny that she forgot the main reason for the "show", but I let it slide.

"Hey!  That's a great idea!"

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," I flirt.  "What are the classes going to be like?"  I ask.  "Do you know?"  I add, realizing that she may not have even thought that far.  She looks a little stunned for a second, then recovers.

"Oh, the youth classes!  Not sure yet.  They're going to contain music lessons, music history, maybe theory, improvisation..."

"Sounds great!  And, you're going to teach?"

"Uh, yeah.  I think so.  Or I might get people."

"Do you have any experience?"  

"Not really.  Like, I have a degree in music, and might go for my PhD, but... "

"Really?  Wow!  Good for you."  Now, that's genuinely impressive.  Especially from her, who seems so young and well, kind of flighty.  Not many people in my and Scott's circle have a PhD.  Most of my friends have worked with me at some point, and are either actors, or waiters and bartenders, as well.  And Scott only hangs out with other musicians.  "I could never do all that schooling."

"Yeah, I don't want to, really... But, my parents are pushing.  They'll pay for it, obviously."  Not so obvious to me.  I paid for all my own tuition and expenses.  Going for a PhD is a little different than three years at college, though.  

"Well, it's good to have a backup plan.  There aren't many people lucky and hardworking enough to have full time work in an arts field.  Scott's truly an anomaly.  Like, me, for instance... I'm just not willing to hustle constantly and have this inconsistent lifestyle.  I mean, I love acting, but I'm not going to through my nicely balanced life in flux for it.  I need to go somewhere each day and work, you know?"

"Yeah!"  She says, but I may have lost her.  It is a little hard to hear in here.  Just then, Scott's band finishes up, and we clap and cheer.  Scott wipes his forehead, and joins us.

"Great set!"  I say.

"Looks like you two are hitting it off!"

Shortly after, I'm feeling a little drunk, happy with the first impression I've made on Emily, and ready to call it a night.  I'm not that much of a party-er, I admit.  I mean, I go to some of Scott's shows, or have a quick drink after a shift, but at the end of a day, I always look forward to going home and sharing my bed with Scott.  Even more so, tonight.

We stumble through the front door of our apartment, locked by our lips and pelvis', dropping our jackets and bags, and kicking our shoes to the floor.  With the overwhelming potential of the fthreesome fresh in our minds, we walk in parallel, side stepping down the hallway as we furiously devour each other's mouths.  We litter our clothing, leaving a trail behind, perhaps with the subconscious thought that Emily will be able to find the bedroom this way.  Scott falls on top of me on the mattress, and I feel his weight press satisfyingly into me.  We peel off the last remnants of our clothing while squirming, sandwiched together over the sheets.  The warmth of his skin spreads through me, making me feel comforted, relaxed, and urgently desiring, all at once.  Then I feel his cock.  He slides over my pussy, and I tilt my hips so that he finds me.  We groan into each other's mouths as he easily enters me, and despite trying multiple times to get up on his hands, he's pulled down again and again so that I can feel his body close to mine.  I encourage him to give me his weight, craving to be crushed by him as he crashes into me.  I moan in his ear, kissing his neck and holding his head against mine, his sounds are muffled by the pillow beside me.  I feel him approaching orgasm, and as he pulls out, I immediately feel his absence, not only in me, but on me.  The sweat evaporates from the front of my body, as Scott lays beside me, continuing to jerk his cock to climax.

I turn on my side, curling into him, whispering into his ear.  "You want to fuck Emily, don't you?  It's okay baby.  I want you to."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah baby.  She wants a big man on top of her, giving her his big dick, doesn't she?  She wants your big fucking cock, doesn't she baby?  She wants a big man on top of her..."  He groans, releasing his load onto his stomach.  We both breathe easy.  

"I only want you, baby," he says after, kissing me on the mouth.

"Mmm, I know my love."  

I get up to pee, and by the time I get back, he's cleaned up.  We fall asleep in our bed, together.

my two partners (part two).

Scott

I put on my suit jacket and lean onto the bar, eager to get a beer before I have to be onstage.  I scan the crowded, dimly lit room for my bandmates, not that I’d necessarily recognize them; I haven’t even played with three of them before, besides a quick rehearsal beforehand.  I’ll be using charts, as I’m similarly unfamiliar with the tunes, but it’s all part of the job.  Watch, and learn.  I can’t make the guys out in the throng, anyway; not a bad attendance for a corporate fund raiser.  
However, my eye does go to a certain girl’s face.  Kind of heart shaped, with fair skin, a small mouth, and dark, intense eyes.  I’ve definitely seen her before at shows, and I’m reminded of my mandate from Meaghan to find and approach cute women.  So far, has been a tough go.  All the girls we know that are interested, are currently in exclusive relationships.  I had Meaghan approach women for a while, even create an online profile for herself, but I was never into anyone she showed me.  Maybe I’m just picky.  Maybe I’m not as into this threesome thing as she is.  Or maybe, I’ve already got the perfect woman.  So, she encouraged me to take the reins, from now on.
The girl approaches the bar, beside me.  I haven’t flirted in a while, but it’s like playing a song you learned in your youth.  “Need a drink?  I have a ticket that I’m not going to use.”
“Hmm?  Really?”            
“Yeah.  I usually give it to my girlfriend, but she isn’t here tonight.”
“Wow.  Thanks!”
“Are you here with anyone?”
“No.  I just, like to see a lot of shows.  Like, as many as possible.  I don’t mind going alone,” she says passionately, like it’s her job.  She makes a lot of eye contact when she speaks.
“Yeah, I feel like I’ve seen you around before...”
“Mm, hm.  I’ve seen you play a couple times.”
“You have!  That’s what I thought.  I’m Scott.”
“Emily.”
“Well, I’d better jet,”  I say, seeing my bandmates climb the stairs to the stage.  “You’ll be around after?”
“Yep!  Thanks for the drink!”        
“No problem!”  I call over my shoulder, retreating into the crowd, towards the stage.
“You talking to Emily?”  The drummer shouts to me, through the din.
“Just met her,” I call back.  “She seems nice.”  
“Yeah, she’s a fun girl.  I think she’s seeing like four people right now.  And, apparently, one of them’s a woman.”

After the set, I wipe my forehead, and descend from the stage, to find the elfish Emily hanging around it.  I’m getting a very youthful vibe off of her, as she brushes a curl of wavy short hair off her forehead.  Meaghan calls it a pixie cut, I think.
“Great set!’
“Thanks!  It was a lot of new music, but I think it sounded alright.”
“Yeah, I like this venue.  Great acoustics.”
“Are you into music?  Like, other than as a spectator?”
“Yeah, I studied Music History, Composition, Appreciation.  I might go for my PhD.”
“Oh, cool.”  I’ve never formally studied, myself.  But, that’s definitely the route to take, if you want to teach, say, at a university or college level.
“Well, we’ll see.  I’ve also been getting into production, tech-ing shows, and whatnot.”
“Awesome.  We definitely could use some more good techs in this city.”
“I’d also like to preform.  But, we’ll see.”
“Right.  What do you play?”
“Drums.  I’m a drummer.  Well, not professionally.”  I nod, letting her ramble.  She could be successful as a drummer, if she was any good.  People are eager to book female rhythm musicians.  Especially if they’re as cute as her.  Meaghan’s going to love her.
“Hey, I’ve got to get home to my girlfriend, but... would you want to grab lunch sometime?”
“Sure!  I’d to pick your brain.  If that’s okay with you.”
“Cool.  Find me on Facebook?”      

       

On the ride home from a bandmate, I search for her Facebook page on my phone, to see that she’s already requested my friendship.  Her age says twenty-two.  Quite the age gap for me; less so for Meaghan, who’s twenty-nine.  But, you would have to get someone kind of young and flighty to agree to a threesome.  Especially the kind that you have repeatedly.  And, sober.  I scan for a good pic to show Meaghan, but Emily’s a little Facebook shy.  Finally, I agree on one.  I’m a little excited.  This looks good.

“How was the gig?” 
I tell her about Emily, and we have some threesome inspired sex on the couch of our living room, in which Meaghan does what she does best: get me off.  I know regular, penis-in-vagina sex isn’t her favourite, but she sure is good at it.  My heart hurts a little every time, though, knowing that it isn’t getting her off, as well.  It feels selfish.  She tells me she enjoys having my cock in her, and she definitely looks and feels like she does, but I know she’s isn’t going to be happy unless she comes, too.  Which is why I always look forward to this part, when I can make her truly happy.  We turn out the lights; her arm is around me, my head resting on her shoulder.
“Do you want to get off before bed, baby?”
“Mmm, sure,” she purrs.  She never says no.  It’s one of the things I love about her sexuality.  Relentless.  She sleeps naked, so I start at her perfectly shaped breasts, the nipples already hard.  I grope them with one hand, thumbing her nipples back and forth.  
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“Mmm, anything,” she says, arching her back into my hand.  My main job in getting her off, is the talk.  She reaches to the bedside table to grab her vibrator.  I press my hips into her side, feeling myself getting hard again. 
“Do you want me to talk about Emily?”
“Mmm... how about Dirty Masseur?”  She loves Dirty Masseur.  When she gives me the option, usually I talk about something else, just to keep some interest and variance for myself, but when I need to make her come fast, Dirty Masseur is the go to.
“Okay...” I hum, clinically checking out her breasts.  “It seems like you have some tension here.  Do you mind if I touch you on your breasts?”
“Mmm, go ahead,” she sighs, placing the lubricated vibrator on her clit.  Instantly, I see her body relax.
“We need to work the nipples, too.  This will all help you relax, okay?” 
“Mmm, I trust you.”  
“Good.  Now, if it seems like I’m touching you in an odd place, just remember that I’m doing this for your own good, okay?
“Mmm.  Yeah.” 
“I’m doing this all to help you relax.”  I hear the vibe alternating rhythms on her clit, and when I let it bother me, I simultaneous feel relieved, and jealous of it.  I have an quick, easy job because of it, and it takes the pressure of off me to get her off with the vibe, but it buzzes in my ears my inability to do so on my own.  I’ve always been able to get girls off with my dick.  Meaghan does need me; she needs another type of stimulation, other than the vibrator, to make her come.  It can be porn when she’s alone, or the assistance of my presence, touch, or words.  And, I know just where to touch her, as well.
“Mmm,” she moans, bearing down in concentration.  My hand drifts down her side, to her hips and thighs, which she has raised, feet flat on the mattress.  I begin to knead her ass.
“Now, you have no idea how much tension people hold here,” I drone, as I massage her firm butt.  I retrieve my other arm from under her neck, and begin to jerk myself as I do it.  My erection is at full mast, and I feel ecstatic at even my own touch.  A bit of pre-come lubricates the strokes.  “Especially, here,” I continue, my fingers now grazing her asshole.  
“Ohh,” she groans, lost in the role play.  I’ve never met someone that loves dirty talk so much.  I love it, and I love her.
“Do you think you can relax here for me?”
“Ohh.  Yes.”
“Do you feel me touching the outside of your ass?  I know it feels odd, but don’t clench up for me, okay?  Just try to relax.”  I can feel her asshole pulsing, wanting me, wanting to open up.
“Yes.”
“That’s it.  Just like that.  Now, I’m just going to go inside just a little bit.”
“Mmm.”  I lick my finger, and rub her opening in little circles.  Almost like a masseur.  I feel her gorgeous hole reach out to me, drawing me in, and I follow, giving her a couple knuckles.  Just then, she bucks, curling forward, crying out.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!  Yes!”
“Mmm,” I moan happily, letting go of my cock with the other hand.  I continue to hug her side, fitting against every part of her silhouette, like a puzzle.  She laughs a little bit.  She’s never so happy, as when she’s just came.
“Thank you, my love.”
“Mmm, my pleasure, baby.”
“Are you... good?”  She asks, perhaps noticing my boner pressing against her side.  But, I’ve done exactly what I wanted.
“Oh, yeah, baby.  Go take a shower, then we’ll have a nice hug before bed.”
“Okay,” she smiles, kissing me about a dozen times on the lips, before leaving.  

I love it when she’s happy.  I love it so much.