Humpday Story: Creatures of Habit

CreaturesOfHabit_Coverv1 - CopyTom wakes up every morning to Katie’s piano music. Predictable as Sunday morning. But one day while making breakfast, he discovers something missing.

And he can’t put his finger on that missing something.

His beautiful wife makes it a habit to please him, but Tom wonders if she’s holding back a secret.

If you enjoy sexy, intelligent erotica with a splash of mystery, be sure to read Creatures of Habit.



The parlor smelled of lavender flavored wax candles. Every table had at least one. Both end tables, as well as the coffee table with one giant candle ten inches in diameter. The curtains were wide open, but the outside was too dark for the afternoon.

Katie sat, back to me, at the piano. She was barefoot, in running shorts and a sports bra. A water bottle on the carpet, and pages of sheet music.

She was focused on the same two measures. I doubted she heard me come down the stairs. She woke me up early, on accident, by leaving the bathroom light on before slamming the screen door shut on her way to her daily mile run. I laid awake for a long time, listening to the thunderclaps and the gutters rattling in the windy violence. The storms rolled in later this morning, washed away yesterday’s sticky humidity, and left more rain clouds. 

Now the chaotic rumblings seemed far away, washed away by Katie’s practice. A creature of habit, predictable as Sunday morning, beautiful as the steady tap-tap of notes she played. The only lights were her candles and the soft glow of the floor-lamp near the baby grand. 

I stood in the double French doors, hands in pockets, watching Katie practice ragtime music. Sweaty hair clung to her bare shoulders, hiding her face. Her arms and legs were muscular and well toned. She had an lovely hourglass shape, one she worked at every day without fail, with curvy hips and a tight body.

I tiptoed into the kitchen and put on the coffee. The counters and cabinets were as organized as everything Katie did, all the way down to the magnets on the fridge and the three patterns in their own respective cupboards. She never simply threw something into a drawer. Everything had a place, or it didn’t belong anywhere.

I managed complete silence, pouring the water slow and steady, betrayed only by the noisy coffee machine sputtering to life.

The music stopped. Katie—once a budding musician for a major orchestra—refused to practice with me in a twenty foot radius. As if I couldn’t hear between the floorboards.

Soft, pitter-patter of bare feet on hardwood. The rustling of a robe being thrown on.

“Morning, Tom” she said.

“Hey you,” I said, returning the warm smile. “Just in time for coffee.”


I poked my head into the fridge. Dozen eggs, butter, wheat bread, left-over lasagna from a night ago. Something was missing. I had no idea what.

When I turned around with the eggs in hand, Katie was staring at me, lips pressed tight and eyes narrow, hiding behind an empty coffee mug.

“The usual?” I said.

“Yes, please.”

I prepared a much too large omelet with mushrooms, peppers, and bacon. She toasted bread. I tried hard to remember what my brain couldn’t remember.

The more I thought, the fewer quality ideas came into my head. A little something I didn’t notice, or forgot, or dismissed. For certain, Katie would quiz me on it later. Whatever “it” was.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, leaning her body against mine as I stirred the eggs. Strong and skinny fingers pressed into my waist, massaging just below the elastic band.

“Might get a dozen thoughts for a penny,” I said. “The way I’m going today.”

“Oh?” Katie pressed her pelvis against me, hands slipping down my thighs. The spatula slipped from my grip. Hot breath tickled the back of my neck. “Is this helping?”

“Not at all.”

My cock responded to her touching. The cotton fabric of my pajamas stretched. These eggs were going to waste. I desperately wanted her to reach into my pants and stroke me.

Instead, Katie kissed me on the neck. Her hands explored my back, my chest, twisting a nipple on the way to the shoulders.

The tingling in my body became a warm flush. The room unbearable hot. I turned off the stovetop. Only a cold shower would save me.

Eyes clenched shut. Breathing in ragged gasps as Katie massaged me.

I fought the urge to turn around. To take her. To force her to her knees.

That would end the sensations all too soon.

I had all morning. All day, actually.

“Do you want me to stop?” she whispered in my ear. Her tongue flitted across the lobe.

Words refused to form. So I shook my head.

I was in her control. In the way only she can control me.

Katie lifted my shirt. I pulled it the rest of the way off my head.

She pressed against me, warm skin on skin. My penis nearly popped the button on my pants.

Almost too much. I white-knuckle gripped the stove handle. She kissed me on the shoulder. Down the arm.

Fingers roaming. South.

Finding the drawstring. And finally pulling my pajamas down.

The full length of my cock popped out, at attention. The tip touched the warm metal of the stove.

“Please,” I said.

“Eager, are we?”

“Yes. Please.”

I stepped out of the pants. Naked and turned around in front of my wife.

Seemed unfair.

But I didn’t want control.

I wanted to be fucked.

She slipped off her robe. The fabric rustled quietly when she tossed it aside.

Both her hands on my ass. One on each cheek.

“What do you desire?” she whispered into my ear.

“A blow job,” I said. “A nasty. Sloppy blow.”

Katie grasped my elbow and turned me around. A wicked smile colored her cheeks.

“Good,” she cooed. “Thought you’d never ask.”

A kiss on the lips. Pinch on both nipples.

The sports-bra came off. And tossed aside on top of the robe.

Both her nipples were erect. I touched them, softly, not quite pinching. Katie clutched my hands.

And went down on her knees.

She kissed the tip. Hands on my hips. She slid her wet tongue down my shaft.

I throbbed at the sensation. Eager for more.

A kiss at the base. Katie fondled my balls with lips and tongue. I gripped the edge of the stove, and tilted my head back.

Another lick, this time back up the shaft.

She swallowed me to the nub. My cock pierced the back of her throat. She breathed through her nose, slow, methodical. As if she were practicing yoga.

Katie’s teeth scratched me as she released. Not enough to leave a mark. Enough to feel her loving bite.

Another pass. Her saliva dripped down my shaft, down my balls.

I bucked. My cock felt engorged. Ready to pop.

She wrapped fingers around the base and slapped my cock with her other hand.

“Be a good boy,” she said.

I moved my lips. Words didn’t come out.

Katie just laughed. A womanly chuckle.

She shook her head. Right before clamped her teeth down on me again.

This time, using both hands and mouth. One hand on my shaft. The other massaging my sack.

The rhythm increased. Wet sucking and pumping. More desperate. I was certainly desperate.

The pressure built up. More and more. Sweat dripped down my back. My heart rate increased. My breathing savage and ragged.

Katie squeezed and tugged my balls. Milking me for all I was worth.

I dipped into a haze full of the smell of my cock and her sweat.

My hips and legs went numb. My penis ached. Every muscle in my body tensed.

Until finally I exploded.

Just a squirt at first. And then a stream. Into her hair. On her face. Only a little made it into her mouth.

Katie kept sucking and scraping my cock.

Fluid dripped from her mouth to the floor. Cum or saliva, I couldn’t tell in the moment.

She released me, and leaned back to admire her handiwork. My cock still throbbed, aching, ready for another round.

Katie got to her feet and kissed me. I tasted my own saltiness in her mouth.

“Be a dear and clean up,” she said. “I might have more games for you later.”

I smiled like a doofus as she walked away. The stairs creaked as she ran upstairs.

And like a flash of lightening as the most inappropriate time, I remembered what was missing from the fridge.

A bottle of Zinfandel I had bought yesterday. For Katie and me to share tonight.

It was gone. And I had no idea where it went to.


The shower turned on upstairs after a few minutes. I spent the time thinking, over and over, where the fuck is the wine?

I opened the fridge again, scanned the counters and the island, looked under the sink. Nowhere. I had gone to the liquor store yesterday afternoon, bought the Zinfandel, and discussed politics with Benny the cashier.

And now I was losing my mind.

A peep out the patio door told me the wine wasn’t likely outside. But I wasn’t about to go out there yet, not in the buff, least of all while it was raining.

No way I could ask Katie where it went. Knowing her, she’d laugh and tease me about losing the wine until she told me what she did with it. Must be one of her silly games she played to frustrate me. She often hid things—toilet bowl cleaner, toothpaste, shaving cream—just to see if I noticed, and then send me on a quest to find the missing object.

I wiped my cum off the floor with hot water and a rag. The kitchen felt cold, now the sex was over.

So I staggered upstairs, still a bit shaky. The shower was still running, fog crept out the bathroom door like ghostly fingers. Inside was a sauna, oppressive and hot enough to peel the wallpaper.

The glass shower door concealed Katie as a feminine silhouette, washing her hair, hips rotating to and fro. After a while, she turned toward me, pressing a hand against the glass.

“Are coming?” she said. “Or just standing like a dope?”

“Out of come,” I said. “Maybe I’ll watch for a bit.”

“Jack ass.”

I slid open the shower door and stepped into the sticky hot spray. The water burned my skin. I had no chance to get used to the temperature, because Katie grabbed me by the back of the hair, fingers curled tight, and kissed me. Breathing suddenly became hard in the steamy shower with our tongues locked together.

To my surprise and pleasure, I sprang back to attention, my cock head touching Katie’s abs, just below her breasts.

I grabbed her arms, above the elbows, and wrestled her away.

“Is something in the water?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re insatiable today.”

“Only today?”

Katie bent her knees, about to go down on me again. But I stopped her with my fingers under her chin. I pecked her lips again, and then got down on my knees.

I spread her thighs apart, and planted little kisses on the inside of her legs. Up. Closer to the spot.

And skipped over to the thin landing strip above and grabbed her ass in both hands. Katie’s eyes slitted, like a hypnotized viper. One wrong move, and she’d attack. So I let my hands keep her hypnotized. Wandering up her hips and waist, following the curves, the smooth wet skin, the underside of her breasts.

A moan escaped her mouth.

I brushed my mouth against her pink folds. The pussy musk was already heavy. No amount of soap and water could clean that.

A little taste, wet and sweet. I nibbled her clit, slow and gentle. A lick here with a rough tongue. Some pressure there with my lips and teeth. Across the opening, around the labia, and pulling it apart like a flower, little by little.

Until finally…

I slid my middle finger in. Just the first knuckle. Enough to make her squirm her hips. I pulled back out, but not quite a full retreat, and flicked her clit. Pressing, faster, round and round.

Katie tossed her head back, lolling side to side, lost in the rhythm. Her breasts jiggled when she bounced on my finger. I responded by shoving more into her pussy.

Two fingers.

Faster. Wet, slick sounds with each pump.

Her moans became desperate. Needy.

She tried to say something. Mumbles really. Dirty talk. “Fucker” maybe. Or “fuck yes don’t stop fuck fuck fuck…”

Hard to tell, when she lost control.

Katie grasped me by the hair and shoved my face to her pussy. So I could worship her better.

I lapped at her bean, and pumped her with my fingers.

“I need… need,” she said. “Your cock. Please.”

My answer was to keep eating her.

To keep sliding in and out. Fast enough to make my arm sore.

Katie quivered. She pushed my head away now. Completely lost.

She rubbed her clit while I finger fucked her hole.

Warm juice dripped down my forearm.

Katie leaned against the shower wall, now spent and exhausted. I got back to my feet and kissed her. No tongues this time. Just a gentle lip lock.

“You’ll get my cock,” I said. “Later. If you’re good.”

“Oh God.” Katie nestled into my shoulder and I held her close under the shower spray.


The rain clouds finally parted. Sunshine poured into the parlor window in streams across the baby grand. Turned out to be a nice day after all.

This was our routine on the weekend. Wake up. Do our own activities. Fuck each other senseless. Then ignore one another until dusk.

Katie dressed and left with purse in one hand and a list in the other. “Gone shopping,” was all she said.

I wore a t-shirt, jeans, and sandals. I had a mission while she was gone. By damn, that bottle of wine stood no chance against my persistence. We were sipping Zinfandel tonight.

The patio was clear. The smells of spring were in the air—tulips and roses in the garden, fresh cut grass next door, new buds on the trees. No wine. Nothing but the outdoor furniture, the sun umbrella, and wet cedar. But on second glance, a glint caught my attention. Between the lounge chairs, on the deck. A fluted glass.

With pale pink lipstick smeared on it. Katie wore red, unless it was a blue day.

I picked up the glass, unsure what to think yet. I didn’t know of any friends who wore that shade. 

The doorbell rang. Twice in a row. I nearly dropped the flute. Instead I placed it in the kitchen sink. On the way to the door, I wondered whether to wash off the lipstick smear or not.

My mind wandered to a situation where Katie accused me of having female company over. But that was absurd. We had talked about swinging, but that was all it was. And our sexual energy was always spent on each other to the point of near exhaustion at the end of Sunday.

I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to a gorgeous and skimpily dressed woman. She was younger than Katie, no older than thirty. A pair of wedge sandals accentuated her calf and thigh muscles. The hip pockets poked out of the bottom of her cut-off denims. A black tank top clung to her torso. Her hair was blue-black, and fell lazily about her shoulders, which made her green eyes all the more exotic.

“Hello,” I said. “Can I help you?”

The woman shrugged, a blush darkening her skin from the cleavage busting out her top, to her neck, up to her cheeks. Her top rose with her shoulders, showing off a slice of her midriff. She promptly pulled her shirt back down tight.

“Tom?” she said. “Katie’s husband.”

“That’s what she calls me. You a friend of hers?”

“Yeah, we work together. Well, used to. I’ve moved to another company.”

“Want to come in?”

She nodded quickly, and stepped inside. She smelled like a bottle of lavender lotion, the kind Katie likes so damned much.

“Sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Mandy.” The smile pinched her dimples deep.

“Something to drink? I have soda, water, maybe wine somewhere.”

“I’d love a Zinfandel, if you have some.”

“Might be fresh out.”


“But I’ll look.”

“Thank you.”

I made a show of poking my head into the fridge. I shrugged and raised my hands in mock defeat. “Beer, instead?”

“Naw. Too early to drink. I’d love some raspberry flavored water, though.”

“You seem to know my fridge better than me.” I poured her a tall glass of the water, and myself one too.

“I’ve been over before,” Mandy said. We clinked glasses in toast. “Thanks.”

“What’d you say your name was?”

She repeated it for me. I nodded sagely, as if trying to burn the name into my memory. She seemed familiar now, not that I’d met her, more like Katie had mentioned her once or twice. 

Mandy stared at me as she drank, eyes narrow, cute smile dancing across her face, a little secret caught up in her eyebrows. She was cute, and almost naked if not for the skimpy clothes.

For some dumb reason, my cock decided it liked Mandy a bit too much. I pressed my pelvis into the kitchen island to keep it from being too obvious.

In a flash, my mind wandered to the fantasy of having two woman in my kitchen, within a twenty-four hour span.

Then I banished the thought.

My dick hurt with the awkward angle I had jabbed it into against the island.

“Not sure when the woman will be back,” I said.

“Huh? Oh!” Mandy laughed like a hyena, too high-pitched. Might’ve been annoying if I weren’t undressing her with my mind. “It’s fine. I can come back later.”

“You’re no bother.”

Mandy set her glass down. Her eyes turned a shade serious. “No. I think I’ll come back around later. I’ll give Katie a ring this afternoon.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I tried to make my smile winsome. Not sure if my disappointment helped.

I walked Mandy to the door. At the last moment, she turned. A little too close to me, one boob pressed against my forearm. The blush in her cheeks returned, rosier, and migrated to her forehead.

“I hope to see you again,” she said.

“You’re welcome her anytime,” I said. “Come back soon.”

“Oh,” she said. “I will.”

I opened the door for her, and Mandy left. She strutted down the driveway, to a shiny red car, not even turning around to wave goodbye.

My cock made a tentpole for the whole neighborhood to see.


I tried to watch TV, but it was too hard. Literally.

Channel surfing only brought up shows that bored me, so my brain wandered from infomercials and badly scripted soap operas to… sex scenes between my wife and Mandy.

“Perv,” I said out loud. Did no good. My cock plugged its ears with cotton swabs, and if I stayed around the house for ten more minutes, there was going to be cum flushed down the toilet.

Katie would be disappointed.

So I turned off the tube and grabbed the keys. The first bottle of wine was lost to the great beyond, apparently where alcohol went to die, undrunk and lonely. I hope they have good beer on tap there.

The only option now was to just buy a new wine.

I drove to the liquor store, focusing on traffic and thinking about pink elephants the entire time so Mandy had no chance of making me hard.

The Third Street Liquors was on Michigan Avenue, for reasons Benny never fully explained to me. It was located conveniently next to an insurance man, and beneath a real estate office.

Inside always smelled like a tin can sprayed with lemon scented air freshener. Benny, a white haired man with a serpent tattoo crawling up one arm, stood guard at the cash register.

“Here to claim the Doll?” he crooned, a wizened crooked smile twisting unnaturally.

“You done with her?” I said. 

“Pretty girls like that don’t give me the time of day. Unless I blindfold ‘em first.”

“Now I know what to look forward to.”

Benny pointed towards the wine section, nodding and chuckling.

I found Katie, slowly walking down the aisle, a finger on a Zinfandel. I hated watching her shop. Always the same brand, but she had to find the one bottle.

“Hey, Doll.” I grabbed her from behind by both elbows.

Katie jumped, jabbing me in the ribs.

“Careful, mister,” she said. “Good thing I know what you smell like.”


“You’d get a major ass kicking.”

“I’d deserve it too.”

“Yeah, for sure.” She walked away from me, pretending to look at other wines. “So? What brings you here, stranger?”

“Thought I’d pick up a Merlot.”

“Good God, why? You know how reds don’t agree with me.”

“All too well. Which means more for me.”

“Then buy a Zinfandel while you’re at it.”

“You used to like Chardonnays. How about we shake things up.”

“I don’t want to shake. Just buy what I want.”

“We could go all out and get champagne.”

“Hmm. I’d like that. But good idea to have zinfandel on hand too.”

“What if I only brought cash enough for one bottle?”

“You have a credit card, don’t you?”


“What the hell does that mean? Have you been drinking already?”

“Want to smell my breath?”


“Shucks. So one merlot. One champagne. One… what did you want?”

I think Katie’s eye roll displaced a tidal wave somewhere.

Hiding my goofy grin best I could, I picked up a zinfandel and a merlot, even though I didn’t really want the latter.

“Funny thing,” I said. “Seems like I bought wine yesterday. Wonder what became of that one?”

Katie pressed her lips tight in a straight line, her cheeks flushing rosy. “Haven’t the foggiest.”

“Maybe I’m just losing my mind,” I said.

“Must be the problem.”

I stared at her long and hard (definitely hard, Katie tells me long too). Her tight lips relaxed, showing a hint of white teeth, pink gums, the flush turning joyful. She laughed.

Katie pressed a hand against my chest. “Be a good boy,” she said. “Put those wines in the fridge and I’ll bring home a surprise.”


“Yup.” Her hand slid down lower, to the belt line.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“You’ll like… it,” she said. “I hope.”

“I like everything you do,” I said. “Except for vacuuming. That’s kind of annoying.”

Katie slapped me on the chest.

I winked, kissed her goodbye, and smacked her on the ass before pulling away. I mouthed the words “I love you”, watched her do the same, and I walked away.

A million ideas sprang to mind about her secret surprise. One idea in particular excited me the most, but I knew I shouldn’t hope for it.



I meant to take a nap that afternoon. Didn’t happen. Instead, I watched TV, checked email, read the sports page, and played solitaire too many times to count.

Finally, at six in the evening, Katie pulled into the garage and honked the horn. When I met her, she kicked the back door closed with her foot, planted a kiss on my lips and shoved two bulky grocery bags into my arms.

“Hmm, groceries,” I said. “What a wonderful surprise.”

She lightly smacked me on the cheek. “Put those away. The surprise is still in the car.”

“You’re killing me.”

“That’s the plan.”

We turned away from each other, I headed to the kitchen, she to the garage. I managed a sneak peak over my shoulder, but all I could see before she slammed the door shut again was the hood of the car and Katie’s self-assured Cheshire grin.

I set the bags down on the counter, much to the relief of my shoulder muscles. I took a look inside. Spaghetti, tomato sauce, eggs, fresh fruit. Some of the makings for dinner and breakfast. We weren’t going out anytime soon.

I sped-walked back to the door and got there in time to see Katie with one hand extended out for the knob.

“Get the rest,” she said, a full grin this time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stepped out to the garage. Somebody sat in the passenger seat of Katie’s car. Somebody with blue-black hair and a cute face. I opened the car door. She held a bottle of zinfandel in her lap.

“Mandy?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too hopeful. Too pleading.

“Tom,” she said. “I was about to run away if you took much longer.”

“I like to be timely.” I extended a hand to help her out of the car. “One of my better qualities.”

“So I’ve heard.” Mandy’s palm was warm to the touch, sweaty, and smooth like a piece of silk. I liked her touch already.

“What else have you heard?”


“Like wine? To drink?”

“Much,” she repeated. “I… uh, drank your bottle last night. Me and Katie.”

“Figures. Now we’ll all have to drink even more.”

“I could use a drink.”

“Me too, I think.”

I picked up the rest of the groceries from the backseat, and led Mandy into the house. She smelled wonderful, like a girl-scented breeze that found its way into my home. Her hips swayed with each step, back straight, lean calf muscles stretching and knotting, the wedge sandals clip-clopping on the hardwood floor. Mandy glanced here and there, as if seeing the room for the first time. Probably wasn’t, if she had secretly been here last night.

In the kitchen, Katie already had the perishables put away and three wine glasses set out on the island. I poured.

“So,” I said. “How long have you ladies been planning this?”

“Too long,” said Katie. “I could barely keep quiet anymore.”

“We had something of a wager,” said Mandy. “I lost.”

“Oh?” I said.

“She didn’t think I could run a mile every morning for a month,” said Katie.

“Sounds like a real supportive friend.”

“It’s not like that,” said Mandy, hiding behind her glass, one hand reached out as if to slap me. She held back, uncertainty in her eyes.

“What was the nature of this wager?”

“Since I’d broken up with my fiancee, we’d talked a lot. About things. Girl chat. And…”

“And one night,” said Katie, “she was too intoxicated for her own good. But at least I got her to write it down.”

Mandy blushed a deep shade of crimson as she poked around in her handbag, finally pulling out a piece of folded up loose leaf paper. She handed it to me, as if passing a dirty note during school.

Pink penned handwriting scrawled across the paper:

I, Mandy, do hereby declare that if my bestest friend, Kaite, can run one (1) mile every morning for one (1) month, I will suck off her husband until she is satisfied. XOXO Mandy. P.S. I will do much more than suck him off.

The first question that came to mind was: Were you rooting for Katie to win? But I closed my mouth before I could say that. Instead I took a sip of wine.

Every man’s dream, come true for me right here in my home. Two women in bed. This had never happened to me. Sure, Katie and I talked about swinging, but I kept no illusions. I very much wanted to fuck both my wife and her best friend, tonight, because such an opportunity doesn’t happen more than once. By the cheery, wide-eyed, goofy grinned look Katie was giving; I had my wife’s blessing.

“Do you approve?” she said.

“Yes. Very much.” I pulled Katie into my arms and kissed her. A light touching of lips, meeting of tongues, and I pushed her away.

Mandy glanced away, wine glass in hand as if she were a bored patron at a boring art gallery party, blush coloring her tanned skin.

I took her hand. “You’re welcome to bow out of this. We won’t tell anyone. And we won’t bring it up again.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But I’ve come this far.”

“You sure.”

Mandy nodded, her hair bobbing with the motion. “I’ve been thinking about you since Katie first showed me your photo.”

I pulled her closer. “I hope it was a face shot. Maybe the one with the brown shirt?”

My wife slapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Mandy took a step forward, eyes roving up and down my body. I clenched her around the waist and drew her in the rest of the way. She kissed me. Tentatively, at first, a fast exploration to see what would happen.

I gave her a slip of my tongue. It’d been so long since I’d done this with another woman, other than Katie. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. Mandy wrapped her arms over my shoulders, and grabbed a fistful of my hair. I liked where this was going. We locked tongues. I pushed her hard against me, pressing her onto my manhood.

Mandy tilted her head back and giggled. “I can’t believe this is happening!”

“Last chance to say no.” I was surprised at how husky—how growly—my voice was.

She took a sip of wine and set the glass aside. Katie had her backside leaned against the kitchen sink, staring at us, mischievous grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

“One word,” said Mandy, leaning close again, her breasts squashed into my torso. “Yes. Just yes.”

I grabbed her by the elbows and turned her around, pushing her into the island. A wild expression came over her face, eyes wide, mouth parted enough to see white teeth, nostrils flared. We brushed lips.

I massaged her waist. Her hips. Back up, gently cupping each breast. The kissing became harder, wetter, passionate, like suffocating but more pleasant. I slid one hand back downward, and parted her thighs, the soft skin contrasting with the rough denim of her shorts.

And pressed my middle finger on top of the sweet spot, rubbing. A primal moan escaped Mandy’s throat, which made me press hard and faster. I couldn’t wait to get those shorts off, could imagine the smell of her pussy, but I didn’t want to stop kissing her.

She pushed me away, arm’s length, her breathing savage, bosom heaving.

“I… need…” she said. “Need to pay my wager.”

I cupped her face in both hands. “Upstairs in the bedroom. Pay it in full.”

Mandy reached up and kissed me once more. I took her by the hand, and my wife in the other hand, and led them upstairs.

Now I was sort of clear headed, I was entirely uncertain if I could keep up tonight.


By the time we reached the bedroom, Katie already had her top off and her shorts unzipped, and left her clothes in a trail. All that remained was black lacy lingerie and an ankle bracelet.

The bedroom was dark with the curtains pulled tight. Had I known about the company, I’d have left the floor lamp on. Instead, I reached into the darkness, felt around along the wall, and nearly knocked the lamp down trying to find it.

The light was enough to see with, not enough to read in. The king size bed was made, covers and a quilt pulled up tight underneath three pillows. The duvet wasn’t put on, nor were the decorative pillows Katie liked.

She meant business tonight.

Katie and I pulled the covers down, exposing the satin sheets underneath. Mandy leaned against the door, watching us.

“You can’t chicken out on me now,” said Katie. She grasped Mandy by the hands and yanked her friend into the room.

“I’m not chickening out,” said Mandy. “I’m assessing the situation.”

“For what?”

“Predators, maybe.”

“Girl, we’re the predators here.”

The women approached me, slow as if in a bad horror movie where the monster can’t run for some unexplained reason. My heart pounded, thudding in my chest and throat and head.

Watching the women circle me, like a pack of wolves coming in for the kill.

Both sets of eyes roamed up and down. Devouring me.

Katie yanked off my belt. In a second my pants were undone.

Mandy held back. A moment longer.

I pulled her into my arms.

Right as Katie pulled my pants down, along with my boxers.

I sprang to attention in a semi-limp way.

The girl in my arms pulled at my shirt. I helped her take it off all the way.

My wife’s warm lips nibbled on my cock.

I kissed Mandy. Slow. A taste.

A moan escaped from deep in her throat. I could tell nobody had touched her in too long. I slid my fingers up her side.

And cupped one breast.

She didn’t seem to mind one bit.

The kissing became needy.

Then desperate.

Katie swallowed me. Scrapping her teeth along my shaft.

Bringing me closer to the edge without going too far.

The two women each a different rhythm.

One swallowed me whole and spat me back out. Over and over.

The other danced along the surface. Lips and tongue mingling, but not committing. Teasing without entirely meaning to.

I leaned my backside against the mattress. The dissonant rhythms passed through my body, down to the core. A painful pleasure that unsettled as it soothed.

Mandy pushed away from me. She panted. Eyes slitted, watching.

I grabbed her by the hair and nudged the woman to her knees. She didn’t resist.

Katie offered her my cock. I had no choice in the matter. My pleasure, and my orgasm, was out of my control. At least I was familiar with my wife’s touch. The way she licked, her patterns and preferences.

But this stranger was a wild card.

My heart-rate skyrocketed. My brain flooded with hormones. I twitched as Mandy wrapped her mouth around me. She swallowed me to the hilt and gagged. Only needed a second to catch her breath again and relax.

And then they played tennis with my cock. One sucked the head, the other licked the balls. They took turns. One after the other. Slurping, gagging, sighing. 

Somewhere in that, Mandy took off her shirt and bra. She took control. Not quite pushing Katie out of the way, but taking longer and faster passes on me.

My wife sat back on her heels, watching. She held my hand while her friend blew me. Mandy now used both her mouth and one hand. 

Up, down. Eyes closed.

Harder. More violent.

I was so close. I could feel it in my balls, rising to the tip, even gushing a little.

I clutched Mandy’s wrist and grabbed a fistful of her hair. I had to make her stop.

She almost didn’t. I pushed her away. So close.

Mandy panted. Skin flushed, sweaty at the temples. She squeezed one of my thighs. Her smile was too cute for words.

I patted the mattress. “Question of the night is, which one of you goes first?”

“The guest, of course,” said Katie, winking. Who the wink was for, I wasn’t entirely sure.

“Top or bottom?” I said.

“Bottom,” said Mandy. I motioned for her to lay down. Instead she pressed her fingers into my biceps. On her tip-toes, she kissed me. “You on the bottom.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I rolled over and laid on my back. My body was wired, as if on a caffeine high but much, much better. I shook at the knees and elbows in anticipation.

Mandy grabbed my cock in one fist and straddled me. The motion was rough. She rubbed her clit for a few seconds. I throbbed painfully. Came close to begging.

Her pussy was already wet. Glistening.

Finally Mandy impaled herself on me. Katie was at my neck, kissing my collarbone and pinning one of my arms down.

With my free hand, I clutched the bedsheets tight.

Mandy started slow. Sliding up and down. One finger on her clit. Pinching a pink nipple with the other hand.

Then faster. Rougher. Bouncing. Skin slapping on skin.

My wife’s kisses became more intense. As if the women were working in tandem.

They were.

And I was a piece of meat. Ready to blow.

But Mandy slowed down. Almost stopping.

I moaned and writhed under her. I bucked under her.

She didn’t respond. Just sat on me, like a queen on top of a horse. Eyes slitted. Lips parted.

Mandy pressed a hand to my stomach and shoved her hips roughly against me. Downward. I stopped bucking.

I had no control. She knew it too.

She gyrated her hips. The pressure on my cock increased.

Katie’s kisses went south, to my nipples. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, as if to hold my head in place. To make me look at this beautiful woman fucking me with no mercy.

Mandy had me balls deep. I still didn’t entirely believe what was happening.

The pounding increased. Her pussy dripped all over my member. The smell of two pussies—similar but distinct—filled my head.

Making me dizzy.

Faster yet. Mandy made desperate animal noises.

Two hands on my chest now. Katie’s lips and tongue found my ear lobes.

Slap. Slap. Slap.


The bed squeaked.

I felt it. The first glow just above my balls.

“Oh God. Oh fuck. Fuck.”

I couldn’t hold back much longer.

Mandy doubled her effort. Grinding on me. Pumping me.

“I’m gonna… Stop. Please. Please.”

Mandy released me from her pussy with a wet plop. Out of the hole, back into her hand.

She stroked me. Didn’t take much.

I exploded in her touch. A jet of semen sprayed her in the face.

The rest of it landed on my stomach. Katie was nice enough to clean up after me with her tongue.

All of us continued to make out, but at a much slower pace. I kissed both women, passionately, and played with both of their pussies.

Mandy passed out first. I followed not longer after. I remember Katie being on my right, Mandy on the left.

Close to noon the next day, I heard the front door slam. Mandy was still in my arms, snoring. I dozed off again.

Later, I awoke. Mandy had shifted, and lightly played with my morning wood. I had no idea if she was awake or not.

Piano music drifted from downstairs.


Thank you for reading! If you would like to purchase this story, you can find it at your favorite retailer. Or feel free to leave a tip with the PayPal button below.


Author: D. Anthony Brown

Writer of speculative fiction.

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