The Leather Recliner

This is a threesome. We are neighbors. I should pinch myself but that might come later.

"Sabrina...Sabrina." I hear my name called out as I feel Dylan rubbing my back, "Are you ready?"; I look at Trent seated in front of me as he looks me over; he directs my hand to get a better grip on his cock. I look back and tell Dylan that I was just daydreaming; he nods and I look ahead.

I refocus and start licking up and down Trent's cock. I feel the smooth surface of the cane rubbing against my ass, waiting for what will follow from the thin and potent implement; I gasp as I feel the impact, Dylan delivers an expertly placed flick and then another right below that makes me acutely aware that I am bent over on my knees, with the burn of rough carpeting any time I shift, my mouth transferring the tremble of my moans to Dylan's cock.

This is so much better than reaching behind myself; he is even pacing it out, when I would just go hard right from the outset to make up for knowing when to expect it. Trent has me take him until I feel his cockhead in the back of my mouth coupled with the surge of the cane; the vacuum created by my reactions and the lifting of his hips, sealing the effect with his cock in my throat. I struggle to accommodate the sensations, until he pulls me up and whips his taut fingers against my cheek. I move my hand up and down on his cock, coated with my spit, as I breathe in and go back in for another round.

No daydreams, no thoughts; only a desire to keep going. Immersed, I hear myself making random garbled sounds, until I get the sense that Trent is about to come; I straighten up, aiming his cock at my chest until he exhausts his bursts of release.

Dylan goes to the bathroom for a few minutes and comes back with some ointment and a towel for me. I had decided against cuddling in a blanket since any ointment might rub off and it feels too intimate anyway. Dylan has me stand in front of him and turn around as he examines my backside and only finds one spot that could use some treatment, otherwise just an image and an effect to last a little longer after the scene. Dylan gets me some water and offers me my favorite chocolate with almonds and then when I am ready, I gently get dressed so that Trent can take me back to my apartment, as he confirms that I will be needing a ride to work tomorrow.

I am glad we finally did this. I would not have guessed this outcome when we first met around this time last year. I was walking out of my building as they were coming in with medium-sized boxes, with labels that my nosy eyes didn't get a chance to read. We exchanged smiles, and I offered to help, which they politely refused.

As I was coming back from my errands and making my way up the marble staircase, I could see them gripping leather edges and ends. I realized I was looking over their bodies as their muscles worked to hold and balance the bulk of the chair, taking in all that I could with the natural glances up at them, as I followed them in the slow ascent: the lack of a freight elevator or any elevator at all must have meant endless trips for them. They maneuvered the turn to their floor; I looked over to them as I continued up the stairs. "I'll see you later, and maybe we can introduce ourselves when you don't have your hands full," I offered. Agreement made, we had parted and I finished the next flight of stairs to my own apartment.

⸺

I spend my late afternoons at my favorite spot by the lake; I barely have the energy but I make myself go to feel better, after making appointments for my boss for most of the afternoon. The lake is visible from our building but it takes a bit of a walk to get there, and on top of that I like to walk around to the other side, further away but not isolated, where I sit on my bench; looking at the reflected images on the water: never the same on any given day.

That is also where I saw Dylan for the first time outside of the context of our own building. I noticed him when I looked away from the shadowy reflections of the trees surrounding the lake; we smiled at each other in recognition. He was going for a run, and he told me that soon it would be too cold and dangerous to run around the lake. He asked if I would be heading back home soon, and I decided to take the opportunity to walk back together. We spent the time around the lake talking about how we don't have any family in the area. The rest of the route to our building, he told me about how much he loves his work-from-home job and I gave short answers to his curious questions about my own work.

⸺

It was only a week ago that everything shifted. I was walking up the familiar flight of stairs, gripping the wrought iron railing; giving a cursory hello--as I do to anyone I encounter in the building-- to the woman coming down the stairs. I was close enough to hear her muffled shriek as her body went from upright to prostrate but not near enough to help break her fall.

"Damn shoes with no traction," is the first thing she said. I agree with her about the perils of cute shoes with slippery or worn-down soles. I offered to help her up and support her, maybe help her to get back to where she just came from. "Yeah, maybe Trent can take a look at my ankle," she responded, as she also told me the familiar number of the apartment; where we were helped in by a startled Trent.

I vividly remember her leg being propped up, with her skirt riding up to reveal what I couldn't help noticing looked like a welt; it had me feeling unsettled yet tingly--Trent and Dylan had witnessed what must have seemed like a flinch; I hoped I could make it to the door in my discombobulated state. "I think I'll go now, you can obviously take care of her." I managed to give the woman a friendly smile and a cheerful goodbye as I made my exit.

The next day, the guys invited me over for coffee. They explained that Sally, the woman from last night, is an old friend from the city, and she had decided to stop by as she was passing through town. Instead of waiting to see if they would struggle to bring up the welts, I just said that I noticed the distinctive shape of the red marks and asked if it was a BDSM thing, and their whole upper bodies relaxed in relief. "So you were scening with her last night?" I ventured to ask. Dylan looked shocked and Trent had a wry smile. Apparently, Sally used to scene with Trent but not with Dylan, at the BDSM club they enjoyed when they lived in the city--but certainly never all three of them together. They must have expected me to be relieved but I didn't try to hide my disappointment. "So you aren't interested in that kind of arrangement?" I countered.

I told them it was something I wanted to explore but didn't know when I would find someone with similar interests since we don't have a BDSM club in our town or anywhere in the vicinity. I just didn't expect an opening to be with them. It was my turn to be relieved when they didn't dismiss the idea outright. Not wanting this opportunity to slip away, I didn't hesitate to move past any jitters to have a candid discussion about our experience and preferences to decide the roles that we would take on, if we decided to really do this. Learning that Dylan wanted to focus on the impact play and not rush into sexual involvement; Trent was open to whatever I was willing to offer.

⸺

On my way back from a trip to the lake, I distract myself with planning our next scene, since our initial testing-the-waters scene with them had gone so well, we arranged for another one to happen in a couple weeks.

The evening of our next scene, I walk down to their apartment; the first layer of clothing is the type of outfit I would wear around the house, but with lacy underwear underneath: for me and for them. They greet me with hugs, and I go to the bathroom to take off my outer clothes and get ready to come out to see them. I come closer to the two imposing bodies, waiting a moment as I grip the leather headrest of the chair and then focus on getting my hands behind my back to unhook my bra, slowly slipping it off and dropping it to the side as I feel my movements tracked by two sets of eager eyes; I turn around, bend down to take off my panties and part my legs before coming back up to also give the full effect.

I position myself on the chair so that my legs are splayed and hooked over the arms, shifting down so I can lean my head back and close my eyes; I feel hands on my pussy and then tongue, lips moving back and forth, with bursts of licks and gritted bites on my clit. I grasp at Trent's head, strands of his hair; tensing and pushing him down onto me. I rub circles on his shoulder to let him know that I feel ready to escalate.

I slowly disengage from my position and get up so that Trent can sit down after taking off his shorts and underwear to reveal his ready cock: massaging it after spitting on his palm. Dylan positions himself in front of me as I open myself up to the fullness of Trent's cock inside me. Dylan approaches me with the cane and makes a shelf of his hand under one of my breasts-- I wish he were more naked than just shirtless-- the warm sting of impact flows onto the expanse of skin above my nipples, and then he switches over to the other side. He stops for a moment as his eyes meet mine; moving towards each other, our lips nearly touch, until I remember our arrangement and pull back. Trent in his fervor pulling me back by my elbows not long after that; face-grab, spitting on my mouth and jaw, my body rippling in response to the upward thrusts. My eyes, unfocused yet honed in, meet Dylan's again and he comes up to me, puts his hand down to start rubbing my clit and then pinching it --squeeze, squeeze and turn, turn-- until I feel the tense build-up to orgasm; barely lifting up in time so Trent can come all over my ass instead of inside me.

I feel refreshed by the damp cloth that Dylan uses to wipe down my body; he helps me to put back on my layers of clothing and walks side-by-side with me back to up to my apartment, with a reminder that he will check-in with me tomorrow.

⸺

Our last scene was a few weeks ago, and I haven't arranged for another one during our regular encounters. I decide to go see Dylan at a time when I had finished work early; he would be working from home, and there might be just enough private time for us-- Trent would not be back from his duties at the construction site. "I wanted to talk to you guys about last time," I opened the conversation, knowing full well that I only wanted to talk to him at this point; I hoped that he wouldn't call me on it. I don't know what to do with myself; my solution is to ask for belated aftercare. Dylan sits down on the leather recliner and I join him on his lap.

He asks if I would be interested in going out for dinner. I ask as I look up at him "Just the two of us? Are you just hungry...or is this..." He confirms that he is indeed asking me out for a one-on-one date. He moves to the side and pulls on the lever; I giggle as we pitch backwards along with the backrest. Laughter nearly overlaps the crackle of the keys in the door; Trent enters the room and puts down his workbag. "I see, I can just bow out, no big deal, if you want it to just be the two of you." I look over at Dylan, a non-committal look on his face, and at the same time I think about how nice the partnership has been. I don't know how to respond; the two of them switching roles could be an option.

⸺

I saunter around a naked Dylan and a clothed Trent; climbing up onto the chair, skin against leather. I prepare for the blow that is forthcoming; it comes, and now I get to guess who delivered it. I think it is Dylan: the flick. A bit of a wait, has the plastic implement changed hands? Impact: yes, an exchange, with Trent it is more of a whack.

⸺

The column of shimmer on the lake attracts my eyes and the satisfying ache of sitting on the bench flows through my body. We talk about how our days have been going; telling them how I am assisting my boss with her new project; taking turns looking over at Trent and Dylan as I talk, my hand clasping Dylan's fingertips.