Both Ends Burning

The sweetest conundrum, to suck cock or lick pussy?...

I confess I was going through a curious life-phase, when I quite by chance hook up with a married couple on the strict agreed understanding that I would participate in oral sex with them only, no reciprocation, which suited me fine. Which was my predilection of choice. We make tentative arrangements through a wary sequence of messaging and phone calls. They give me an address and a time. I go to the expense of taking a cab I can't afford. The location is way over on the other side of town, a pain to reach by public transport, and I don't have a car. A posh up-market neighbourhood. A smart house set back from the road in its own grounds, a big SUV parked on a curve of gravel driveway in the shade of a lilac tree. As I was to find out later there's a paved patio to the rear with a heated pool. It's all a wry contrast to my low-rent cockroach apartment along the first-floor corridor where loud Rap blasts from behind paint-peeling locked doors, and there are dropped ampoules on the threadbare carpet.

Troy comes out, shakes my hand, and takes care of the cab-fare, shoving a mouth-watering tip at the driver. He's a strong toned healthy guy in shorts and T-shirt, he obviously works out and enjoys a healthy income. Once inside Tempest is equally formidable, in loose slacks and low-cut cleavage-revealing top. Me, I'm a skinny little guy. I'm the scrawny six-stone weakling from the old 'Charles Atlas' magazine-adverts, if you remember that far? The little guy with a face the tough alpha-males kick sand into. In a straight knock-down fight either of this power-couple could take me, no problem. I try to act nonchalant, employing what little wit and degree of cool I can summon.

He mixes us martini's and passes them around, as I strain to check out the books on their shelves, the DVD titles in their cabinet. I haltingly explain that I'm a writer fallen on hard times.

'Like Bukowski?' he chortles, obviously pleased with himself for having a Beat-literary reference to hand.

'You could say that' I offer, 'if it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all.'

'And is your name really Tristan, or is that just an alias?' she probes.

'I guess so' I say in what I hope is an enigmatic way.

'Shall we take the drinks through to the bedroom?' she suggests, with no ambiguity whatsoever.

Their close physical presence and vibrant health seems almost intimidating, as though I'm being offered no real choice. As though I'm being carried along by events over which I have no control, resistance is futile, even if I decide at this late point to back out.

But once inside the bedroom, he slips easily out of his shorts, and whatever nervy doubts I may be harbouring simply evaporate. His uncircumcised cock is magnificent, long and thick dangling heavy between his legs with just a hint of arousal, it reduces me to a slavish gibbering wreck. My legs turn to jelly, which is fortunate in a sense. She's standing behind me, applies slight pressure to my shoulders, urging me down, and I sink easily onto my knees into the deep carpet pile. When he moves the few steps closer, his cock sways hypnotically in a pendulum-way that has me gaping in awe and wonder, which again is useful... as she reaches down to seize his cock, lifts it level with my stupefied open mouth, and pushes my head forward forcefully so that it slithers in between my lips, hot and pulsing, to socket deep in my throat. I choke just a little, close my mouth around the marvellous beast and suck so enthusiastically he grunts with approval.

She claps her hands, jumps up and down and giggles her enthusiasm.

His cock firms and expands, so I must reluctantly relinquish a little of its impressive length, and he fucks my mouth in slight thigh thrusts that cause his balls to sway and knock tap-tap-tap up against my throat. All I can see is his stomach, and the way it undulates as I suck and he breathes, but I'm aware of him pulling his T-shirt up and off, leaving him naked, and rustling sounds that indicate she's shucking off her clothes as well. I'm fiercely and achingly erect. My cock has no shame, and I struggle the zip down with one hand, freeing my much more modest endowment from the confines of my pants as I slip my other hand around the fleshy curves of Troy's taut bottom, drawing him in closer to me.

She laughs delightfully when she sees that I'm jacking my six-inch circumcised self off with long slow wrist movements.

His groin and neatly-trimmed blonde pubic hair smells of coconut shower-gel. His foreskin-hooded cock tastes scrupulously clean, as though he's just showered, with a clear hint of pre-cum leaking onto my togue. I luxuriate in the sensation of having the bulb of his cockhead throbbing up against the roof of my mouth.

She's moving around us, towards the bed. Then she coughs in an impatient attention-seeking way.

With his cock still crammed deliciously in my mouth I manage to crane my head around to see. She's naked. She's sprawled on her back on the silky coverlets. Her thighs are spread, splayed wide with the fleshy lips of her pussy open, targeted by a single landing-strip of auburn pubic hair. I know what they expect of me. I reluctantly unmouth him, taking the opportunity to kick my pants down and off, and haul my shirt up over my head, dropping it in an untidy heap on the otherwise well-ordered floor. Naked, I shuffle forward in between her legs, lowering my head. I catch the appetising aroma of her arousal, fired by watching me sucking her significant other's big cock. I can see every crinkly ripple and vaginal fold of her pussy up close and personal. I lick cautiously in around the vulva lips, which makes her arch her back and groan appreciatively. Encouraged by her response, I plough my tongue deeper into the moistness, making little zigzag movements down to the cunt-hole, then back up to teasingly circle the tempting little morsel of her clit.

Troy has moved up to sit on the bed beside her, watching me lick, gently easing his fist up and down the generous length of his cock which is glistening-wet with my saliva. I'm furiously wanking myself, caught up in waves of erotic frenzy as her hands come down behind my head and she draws me in deeper into the fleshy moistness, my tongue alternately lashing and sucking her clit so that she's shoving herself into my face, fucking her cunt up and down against into my mouth. I'm giddy and breathless and intoxicated all at the same time.

'Oh Troy' she groans, 'fuck me now.'

With no tenderness or consideration whatsoever -- without even a by-your-leave, he shoves me out of the way and moves in. I can see his bare buttocks, his huge dangling balls, his inflamed cockhead thrusting into the cunt that is sopping wet and swimming with my saliva and her pussy-wine. I'm so close I see his swollen cock slithering into her inch by perfect inch as she bucks and writhes and shimmers. And he's fucking her in long deep lunges that, with an unbidden intensity, I find myself envying. As though wishing it was me he's fucking with such single-minded urgency. For a moment it slips out of her gaping cunt, I reach in to retrieve it, slip it gratefully back into my mouth for two long pussy-flavoured sucks, before relocating its fat arrowhead back into her hungry hole. I'm masturbating, masturbating so hard that my own balls are jerking and bouncing. I've got the taste of his cock in my throat and her pussy-juices slick all over my mouth and chin. When I cum I stifle my groans in case it distracts their sex-making, and spurt long strands of white spunk across my stomach and legs, careful not to allow a single dribble or sploge to soil their immaculate thick-pile carpet.

A moment later, he groans and slams the full length of his cock as deep into her as he can, I can see his balls tightening and the epididymis sperm-duct pulsing, she yells out loud as orgasm rips through her, her pussy convulsing and spasming as he gushes his cum deep into her. He holds inside her for long moments. Then slowly withdraws. Spent, he throws himself on his back onto the bed beside her in the warm afterglow. What else can I do? As they kiss, I move up to lick and suck his cunt-flavoured cock clean, draw the foreskin back and bite down very softly on the plummy cockhead forcing the final drops of milky fluid to ooze from its urethral eye, and flick it away with my tongue, then very carefully lap every last trace of moisture from her well-fucked pussy.

Some time later he raises himself up onto his elbows and grins down at where I'm lazily tonguing his softening cock. The way he goes 'Phew!' indicates that... if this has been an audition, then I've passed!

After that first encounter, by which time we've overcome whatever initial self-conscious awkwardness was at first involved, it all works out beautifully. Subsequent visits pretty-much replicate what we'd already done, I would suck his cock, then lick her pussy until they're both fiercely sexed-up, then I masturbate while watching them fuck each other. It seemed that things were functioning perfectly for all three participants involved in the tryst. Because what I do is strictly oral there's the titillating frisson of perversity, but not the taint of infidelity to mar Troy and Tempest's marital harmony.

Until one day Troy texts me to rendezvous him in his car. I don't want him to check out where I live, I was ashamed to admit its squalor, so I suggest we meet up at the coffee house on the corner of the block. He pulls up in the SUV as I'm sipping my cappuccino. I assumed he was taking me back for another three-way with Tempest, but no, he drives us up out of town into the forested hills beyond where he pulls off the road and rough-rides us a little way along a rutted track, eventually pulling into the shade of a grove of trees overlooking the wide expanse of the reservoir. It was obviously somewhere he'd scouted out beforehand, a location where we'd not be disturbed. He turns off the engine and sits back in the contoured upholstery, as though uncertain how to continue.

He takes a deep breath, and begins. 'The thing is -- with Tempest and me, although our sex-life is pretty good, I've got more regular sexual needs than Tempest feels able to take care of. I have more needs than she's prepared to give. Drawing you in as a third part of our sex-life was a way of getting her more turned on. And it works, up to a point.' He pauses, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 'I don't like making demands on her that she's not happy to give. It's not right. It's not something that I feel I should do. Sex should always be a mutual and consensual thing. I'm sure you agree. And -- anyway, you give a better blowjob than she ever did.'

I could obviously see where this was leading to, so I smile in what I intend to be a reassuring way. 'No problem,' and I reach out and place my hand gently but firmly on his groin by way of answer, finding the shape of his cock, and squeezing it softly. With a wide grin he shucks his shorts down to his knees, and I dip my head in to suck him off, as he sits behind the SUV steering wheel. This time there are no distractions, just birdsong and the sound of wind in the trees outside. I get to concentrate all my attentions onto that very singular object of desire. I reach down to cup his big handful of balls, and just luxuriate in taking as much of his mighty tower of power into my throat as I possibly can, using my tongue in and around its warm firmness, and sucking with a raw hunger for him. I stuff tissues down the front of my own pants where I'm leaking, in order to catch the emissions from my own hard-on. This time, I enjoy having him to myself, coaxing and teasing and urging him on, trying to take more of him into my throat, although the confined space we're in makes that difficult, until he braces, holds my head in close, and pulses spurt after spurt of spunk into my greedy mouth. I love that I'm getting every drop of it. That this is my gift and my prize. I keep sucking long after he's cum, until he loses that glorious rigidity and he softens in my mouth. Eventually I lift my head from his groin, smiling as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

'Thank you' he says, in a curiously formal manner.

'No, thank you' I respond, smug in the knowledge that I've got a bellyful of his sperm, not that frustrating coitus interruptus where I've had to content myself with licking traces of his seed off his slimy cock after he's dumped his load inside her cunt. This is my reward.

He cautions me not to tell Tempest, this is strictly between the two of us. But it soon develops into a regular thing, he texts me, and I gratefully go to suck his big cock for him.

Then -- out of the blue, Tempest texts me and asks if I want to come around to their house? Stupid question. Of course I do. Once again I assume she's talking about another three-way with Troy, but no. Once I get there she greets me at the door to tell me that Troy is out. He's not at home. But, as it happens, she has two female friends with her. She acts a little coy, which is not in her nature. She tells me that inadvertently she'd accidentally admitted... er, apparently confided to her friends about me, and about my cunnilingus skills. The two friends are sitting there as I nervously pace into the front room. It seems they're sizing me up in a predatory way. When they stand up it's apparent they go to the same work-out regime as Tempest, they are superfit and intimidatingly healthy in a way that demands my respect. The older of them -- Sylvia, a silver-blonde older than I am by at least five years, leans forward to kiss my cheek, and as she does so she grabs me by the crotch and fondles my genitals through the front of my pants.

'Tempest tells me you're a writer, Mr Trotsky' she whispers on my ear as she fondles my cock, 'do you specialise in erotic fiction?'

'Perhaps we can help inspire a naughty tale or two' says cool brunette Atlanta as she runs her hands covetously over my bottom.

We all retire to the bedroom, without even the inducement of a martini. Again, their overpowering presence and physical health seems almost intimidating, as though I'm left with no real choice, as though I'm subject to events beyond my control. Resistance is futile, I'm not allowed to back out even if I want to at this late point. Brunette Atlanta is already unzipping me, and pulling my pants down as the other two undress. I feel a panicky surge in my gut as my cock flips out for their perusal, provoking gales of ribald laughter and crude comment. They are a gaggle of harpies intent on using me. No... a giggle of women with restless appetites that I'm here to satisfy.

The silver-blonde oldster has huge pendulous breasts with prominent nipples and a nest of wild bushy pubes, Tempest is easing me down onto my knees and pushing me in between her friend's splayed legs. 'C'mon Tristan' she urges, 'I've told her how good you are, don't you dare make me out a liar.' What can I do? She's stronger than I am. I allow my face to be shoved down into the gaping maw of the hungry pussy, tongue-first! Lapping energetically as lust takes over, gauging exactly the correct moment to slip my finger knuckle-deep into the tight wet cave of her, feeling her vaginal muscles clasp and convulse around me, inviting me deeper, curling my finger slightly upwards to seek the g-spot. After several long minutes I'm urged to move over and lick brunette Atlanta's close-shaved pussy. She's slender, with more modest infolding vaginal lips that require considerable lubrication before they blossom, but when they do she positively purrs with pleasure, her hands ruffling through my hair in appreciation, her proud upthrust tits jiggle attractively as she squirms in response to my insinuating tongue and finger.

Then -- of course, Tempest insists that it's only fair she gets her own pussy licked too, reacting in luscious wriggles as I insinuate my finger deep up inside her... then two fingers, opening her cunt as my tongue snakes in and around its liquid deliquescence. Until I've had oral sex with each of them in turn, then they haul me up like some tumescent scarecrow to lie me on my back -- naked by now, on the bed while they each clamber up to straddle me and energetically ride my face to messy convulsive orgasm. As Atlanta undulates her slip-slithery wet pussy up and down my face Sylvia is playfully flipping and teasing my achingly-erect cock, which is already on the brink, until I give a pussy-muffled whimper and ejaculate in spurts up my stomach and across her fingers. This provokes even more laughter and comment.

Afterwards, Tempest mixes some martini's for us. My body feels drained and my neck is aching.

'This boy is good' purrs Sylvia with a lurid wink. 'My old man could never bring himself to go down on me. Cunnilingus was not his thing at all. He considered it was in some way dirty.'

'They want their blowjobs' adds brunette Atlanta, 'oh yes, they want their blowjobs, but when it comes to reciprocation, they think oral sex with a woman means talking about it.'

'But this boy has a very talented tongue.' Silver-blonde waits a calculated pause. Then, 'are you ready for some more yet, Mr dirty-story writer...?'

Needless to say, this happens on a second and third occasion too, with a fourth lady friend joining us for the fourth time, until my tongue is raw. Sylvia even slips me her cellphone number with a whispered invitation that she'll more than recompense any travel expenses I incur if I so decide, and that she'll make a visit 'worth my while.' She also... incidentally, has a friend who suffers from a sexually dull and unimaginative partner. Just perhaps I could see my way clear to offering her some intimate oral relief...?

I sit in the coffee house on the corner of my block, sipping my cappuccino thoughtfully. My mind in a turmoil. Trying to make some sense of it all. I now find myself in the curious situation of serving both partners orally in secret -- first sucking Troy's cock, then pussy-licking Tempest and her giggle of friends, with a pledge to never tell either significant-other what I'm doing...! This is a dilemma that not even Charles Bukowski was ever faced with. Perhaps Atlanta is right and there's food to inspire a naughty tale or two? But fiction should flow as pure as a spill of silver coins, as clear as a jazzman's improvisation, beyond thought and premeditation. The whole point of giving oral, with no reciprocation, is that I get the satisfaction I need without any unnecessarily messy and potentially hurtful human emotional involvement. This is the bottom-line. This is the deal. Yet it seems I'm going through yet another strange life-phase. They are using me. Of course they are using me. But hey, doesn't everyone use someone from something? Isn't that the way of things? The way the world does what the world does? I give a mental shrug and take another sip of cappuccino.

My phone buzzes and vibrates in my jacket pocket. Who is it this time... Troy or Tempest?

No. It's Sylvia. 'Are you minded to play today? Two hungry honeypots in need of your talent.'

I pause for less than a moment, then press 'Yes'.

BY TRISTAN TROTSKY