Control (18 page)

Suddenly I can’t imagine why we didn’t do this sooner. Why choose, when you can have the best of both worlds? Even if your stomach does occasionally bottom out.

Andy pulls away and I expect him to look smug, somehow – but he’s the opposite. His mouth is wet and slack, and his eyes trail down my body as though he’s waited and waited for this, before they settle on Gabe’s dark head, working between my legs.

‘You teach him everything he knows? Or is he just a natural?’ he says, so I guess it’s Gabe’s turn to be absent from the conversation. Doesn’t seem to matter any, to my libido. I cream over it, either way.

‘Natural,’ I say, and I’m sure I feel Gabe grin, against my over-heated flesh.

‘Yeah. Yeah. He licks your pussy so good.’

I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk the way Andy does, outside of
Hot Cunts 4
.

‘But you know – he did promise us that he’d be just as good blindfolded, am I right? Yeah – I think I’d like to see that. How about it, mate?’

Gabe looks up, suddenly, dazed and slick-mouthed. But he soon comes to when Andy grabs the silly stripy winter scarf I’ve thrown over the chair in the corner of my room. It’s going to look absolutely ridiculous over Gabe’s eyes – though if I’m honest, I’m not sure we’re going to get to that part.

Gabe gets up onto his knees, wiping his mouth self-consciously as he goes. He looks suddenly fumbly and not like I’ve ever seen him – this is definitely a different level of discomfort. And when Andy sort of lunges towards him, he almost backs right off the bed.

‘Come on, man,’ Andy laughs. ‘You’re not scared, are you? I’m pretty sure you and the boss lady here have a safe word. Am I right?’

When Gabe doesn’t answer, Andy cocks a brilliantly incredulous look at me. Mouths:
you do, right
? And in that moment, I have to love him. He’s the arsehole arrogant dom who cares! Find him in the phonebook, kids.

I nod, and Andy starts towards Gabe, again. Tells him something that starts with
so it’s not like …
Before it tails off into nowhere.

But Gabe still backs off, and fumbles some words that may be about him not liking his eyes covered up. I think he means that he doesn’t like the dark, but obviously saying so might make him seem unmanly or some other wretched idea like that, so I step in.

I take the scarf from Andy, and there’s definitely a different look in Gabe’s eyes, when he glances back to me.
Trust
, I think,
trust
, and then feel something expand, in my chest.

I wrap my fists around it, and pull the material taut.

‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,’ I tell him, as he eyes that tight length of scarf. Licks his lips, in this quick little hungry sort of way. ‘I don’t care whether you do or not, so just say the word.’

I’m knelt up, and very close to him, now. He’s breathing hard, but what’s weirder is that I can tell Andy has held his. I can hear that silence, even over the grate of Gabe’s breath going in and out.

And then he lets it go, when Gabe puts his hands over mine and draws them up, to his face.

‘Babe,’ Andy says, and he sounds … I don’t know. Turned on? I think it’s turned on, but it’s mixed with something else that I can’t identify. It makes me think of Gabe’s voice, sometimes, when he’s all worked up and just waiting for me to tell him something dirtier to do, but I’m not sure why.

When I smooth the scarf over Gabe’s eyes, and tie it at the back of his head – loosely, just in case he needs to shrug it off – Andy runs one firm hand the length of my bare back. And then between my legs, like he’s allowed to, now, because Gabe isn’t watching.

I move back over the bed, when he urges me to. Though Gabe holds onto my arms, to any part of me, as long as he can – before he’s cut adrift, unseeing, at the end of the bed.

Then it’s just the sound of my voice that he responds to, hands out, fumbling for the feel of me.

‘That’s it,’ I tell him. ‘Come to me, baby.’

And then thrill, when one of his blindly searching hands connects with that soft sensitive place behind my knee. He maps it out immediately with his fingertips, and I have to say – that kind of touch definitely beats out the one Andy’s currently got on my breasts. There’s just something about the care he takes, swiftly followed by a sure and confident grope, that’s intensely arousing.

Plus there’s that ever thrilling possibility of a mistake. As I believe Andy knows only too well.

Before Gabe’s got anywhere near my upper thigh, Andy kind of … spreads his own legs. Just so that one of them lies almost over the top of mine. You know, all innocent-like. He even raises one extremely pure and virtuous eyebrow at me as he performs this guileless task, and, I think, waits, for my approval.

But fortunately, Gabe’s on hand to give his – or otherwise. Because his hand brushes against something that’s definitely not a vagina, and he jerks away, as though stung.

Before going back, for further confirmation.

He has one hand on Andy’s leg and another on mine, and I watch him squeeze both of them. Andy looks confused – but of course, I understand perfectly. And my understanding fills me with such delight, I can hardly bear it.

He’s testing both of them, to see if they really belong on different people. He’s working his way through the flesh jumble, to see what’s what. And then his right hand goes directly between the correct set of legs to my pussy, while his left … his left can’t seem to decide what to do.

But it definitely remains very high up, on Andy’s leg.

‘Christ, jerk me off, babe,’ Andy demands – and obviously he’s saying it to me. Obviously. But I don’t know, there’s just something about the tone and the space into which he pushes those words … it’s like he’s saying,
If you want to, mate. Go on, I don’t mind. If you feel like it.

It’s like he’s jamming down hard on whatever limits Gabe might have, and although Gabe is biting his lip while really shoving two fingers into my slippery pussy, he’s also rutting against my leg and getting very close with his cock to the knee Andy has crooked over me.

And he doesn’t object in any way whatsoever, when I link my fingers through his. When I guide his hand up, up.

Instead, he lets out this wavering gasp, and wraps his hand tight around mine, the moment I circle Andy’s heavy cock. I watch him watch what we’re doing with sightless eyes, mouth open, red all over his cheeks and down his throat.

But it’s me who really reacts, when he moves first. I think I almost come, because dear God I know exactly what he’s doing. I know it without having to be told and before Andy’s reaction.

He’s showing me what to do. He wraps his hand around mine, and jerks Andy off in a manner far tighter and quicker than I would ever have done – or could probably manage. But it has the desired effect – Andy’s head goes back, and he calls out something dirty, and bucks up into our fists – and Gabe’s expression is …

Smug. Of course it is. He’s a natural. He’s always knows exactly what to do and how to do it, and even more so, I guess, when it’s something he’s got, too.

But it’s weird, and even weirder when I realise that he’s blindfolded, and a total submissive, and yet he’s on his knees over us, making us writhe like out of control idiots, too stunned by their own pleasure to do anything but.

Andy even calls out his name. Tells him more, more. Things only grind to a halt, when he gets back some semblance of sense and orders Gabe to fuck my pussy while he carries on jerking him.

He groans, in reply. Though I think more because Andy’s actually named what it is he’s doing right now, right with his fist around a rock-hard cock, than because he’s being ordered to fuck me.

Until we’re actually fumbling one-handed with a condom, and he’s panting all high and tight. Then I know he just wants to be in my slippery pussy, and Andy’s words about said activity don’t make it any easier on him.

‘Yeah, you want to shaft that cunt?’ Andy says, and Gabe almost loses his grip on the rubber that he’s holding, as I try to roll it all the way down to the root of his cock. It’s a tough thing to manage with two hands from separate people, but desperation can work miracles, apparently.

As can the disturbingly too-arousing handjob you’re giving, on the left-hand side.

Andy reaches over my body and our limbs tangle, briefly, but he gets it under control long enough to do something that makes me ache and ache and ache. He pushes my right leg further out then up, so that I’m spread wide open.

So that he can really see, when Gabe blindly feels his way towards my pussy and slides all the way in. Slow, slow – like he’s putting on a show. And Andy seems to think so, too, because he moans something about how small I look, and how big Gabe looks, and although I can’t see past the back of Andy’s head, I know he’s close enough to stick out his tongue and lick.

I know because I can feel his hot breath, all over my sex.

By this point, Gabe has long since lost his grip on Andy’s cock. Mainly – I think – because I have too, due to his body crushing my arm. But that’s OK, because now there seem to be new objectives, other boundaries-pushing objectives, like licking someone’s clit while another man fucks her pussy.

And I don’t mind that at all. I don’t mind it so much that I cry out Gabe’s name, and rock myself over his prick, and beg him to do it harder, harder, go on, let go.

At which point, Andy stops licking me. I don’t open my eyes, but I feel him sit up at my side. And his voice is dark and syrupy, when he says, after a moment:

‘Yeah, go on mate. Fuck her hard. Why are you holding back? She clearly needs that cock of yours reaming her out. Go on and do it.’

Gabe makes a strangled sound, in reply. His hands go to my hips, but not to do what I expect – he doesn’t yank me down the bed onto him. He holds me fast, and stops me squirming and fucking myself and when I struggle he makes the oddest frustrated sound.

Which gets louder, when Andy says:

‘You want to try her from behind?’

I think I actually blurt out the words: yes please! But Gabe just groans and fumbles for me when I’m suddenly manipulated over and up – like I’m just a doll, and Andy’s my puppeteer. He arranges me sideways across the bed, unsteady on all fours, elbows flat to the mattress so that my arse sticks up nice and high and lewd, in the air.

Then he says:

‘Go on then. Feel for her.’

And Gabe lets out this little sob that simultaneously thrills right through me, and makes me want to check that he’s OK. Though the hot hard brand his cock leaves on my side as he shuffles around is a bit of a giveaway. His cock slides against my skin and at first he jerks away – thinking he’s touching Andy, I’m sure – but then he forgets to care, and leaves me marked from ribs to the curve of my hip. And all the while he pants, and gropes for me.

When his hand goes suddenly and roughly between my awkwardly spread legs, I lunge forward right into Andy’s groin. He’s arranged things so wonderfully and neatly – it’s just that easy! And especially so when he tells Gabe that he’s going to fuck my mouth, now. He’s going to fuck my mouth while Gabe fucks my pussy, and that way, everybody will be happy.

Especially me. Oh God, I’m so very happy when Gabe finally finds himself kneeling behind me, and runs his cock up and down my slit, up and down. I can feel him trembling, but he doesn’t push in right away – instead he searches with the blunt head of his cock, fitting it to my waiting hole gently, so gently.

No matter what Andy says, there’s definitely something to be said for the slow and steady approach. Though the feel of Andy’s hand in my hair, and his cock shoving into my mouth – yeah, there’s something to be said for that, too.

He doesn’t go too brutal. I don’t gag. But Lord, he’s just rough enough to contrast deliciously with the slow rock of Gabe’s prick in my pussy. And the harder he goes and the more I
mmpf
and try to breathe around the thick press of flesh against my tongue, the more Gabe measures his pace and holds my hips firm.

His moans of pleasure are getting steadily more frantic, however. And when he asks me if I’m OK, if Andy is really fucking my mouth – and Andy, of course, has to reply – he cries out, brokenly.

‘She’s taking it from both of us. Fuck – she gives good head. Bet it’s even sweeter when she’s not busy concentrating on a cock in her pussy. How’s she feel? Good?’

To my surprise, Gabe answers.

‘Tight. She feels tight.’

‘I bet she feels tight around that beast you’ve got. Plus she’s got to be all swollen ’cause she’s so turned on – think she’s going to come soon?’

‘Ask her, just ask
her
, God, God!’ Gabe babbles, but of course Andy ignores him. Of course he does. He knows he’s making me come with the absolutely tremendous feeling of being used, alone.

‘I’m surprised she doesn’t let you bareback her. I mean, you must have been a first-timer, am I right? And I can just imagine unloading in her sweet little pussy, then watching it run down her thighs when –’

‘Oh Jesus
Christ
I’m coming, I’m coming – I’m sorry, Maddie, I’m sorry, oh!’

But he really doesn’t need to apologise. I stopped sucking Andy’s cock about five seconds ago, because the moment he started talking about Gabe fucking me without a condom my entire body seized like I’d been electrocuted.

And it keeps going – all these glorious jolts of pleasure, from the root of my clit to God knows where – all the way through Gabe’s orgasm, and right into Andy’s.

I think Gabe rips off his blindfold just in time to see Andy, coming all over my face. I think so. Because he definitely tells Andy to mind my eyes, when he does a thing like that.

I
DON’T KNOW WHAT
time it is. Gabe has covered me with himself, and I can’t see the digital read-out on my alarm clock. And if I squirm, I’ll knock Andy, who’s snoring on the other side of me with his back turned. I’m trapped, by my own threesome.

When I try to lift my head just a little, Gabe lets me know he’s not asleep. Of course he’s not asleep. I’m surprised he isn’t up, pacing the living room, while maybe also beating himself with a wire brush.

I go to say something to him – along the lines of
sorry
or something else similarly guilty – but he pulls me up short before I can get there.

‘Are you OK?’

That’s right. He asks me if
I’m
OK. I wonder if he thinks
I’m
about to get out the wire brush.

‘Why would you think I wasn’t?’ I ask back, as low as I can get it. The last thing I want is Andy waking up in the middle of … whatever sort of raw emotional discussion this is going to be. Because I can just tell it’s going to be. When the sex stops, this is where we’re up to.

Feelings.

But he just stays silent for a long, long time, and strokes a gentle hand through my hair. So simple and unconsciously done, and yet it turns my bones to syrup. And then, after a while, he says in a faint faraway voice, ‘He was pretty rough. He pulled your hair.’

I can feel my brain trying to run away with the processing of his concern. Other stuff is occurring to me, like maybe all of this is just code for him not being OK. He’s asking me because he isn’t, because he can’t say he isn’t, because secretly he’s dying inside.

In the end, I press down on all of that bullshit, and go with, ‘Don’t worry – I won’t let him pull yours.’

But it doesn’t come out light-hearted. It comes up all mixed around, like the way I feel. And it just gets worse, under the pressure of what he says next.

‘It’s different for me.’ Pause. ‘I like it.’

‘What makes you think I don’t?’ I ask, and this time I miss light-hearted by a country mile. It comes out sullen, and bullish.

But he doesn’t answer, no matter how forceful I didn’t intend to be. He sidesteps the question I suddenly really want him to answer, and goes with something else entirely – how exciting it was, to not be able to see.

‘Like anything could happen,’ he says, and his voice sounds even odder and more far-away. It makes me shiver, to think about how far we could push him. How far
I
could push him. How much he liked it, and isn’t afraid to admit that he did.

‘What made you hesitate, then, at first?’ I ask. Andy snorts loudly at the same time, and I feel Gabe go suddenly rigid against me. He only resumes stroking and being relaxed when Andy continues snoring, and sleeping like the dead.

‘I don’t know. It wasn’t exactly what I had imagined – plus I’m not a fan of the dark.’

Knew
it.

‘What were you imagining?’

I’m genuinely curious, I have to say. I mean, I think I understand. It’s obvious he likes being in some way … humiliated. But even so, I’m sure he’s having … you know. Feelings for me too. And I don’t know many men who’d like to see their partner in feelings getting fucked by another man.

‘Something I could watch,’ he says, with such a wry twist to his words it slays me. I fumble out his mouth in the darkness, just for that. Just to be close to him for a second and taste mint on his breath – because he just had to get up and shower and clean his teeth, afterwards – and show him that I can.

And he presses closer right back at me. I feel his erection skim over my belly, prodding briefly but not getting into any kind of rubbing motion. He doesn’t seem that bothered by it, to be honest – though I suppose other things are on his mind.

Like cuddling. He can do these things, all of these delicious detached sex things, and then cuddle. And kiss me. And murmurs things into my hair. I try to squirm away, but I don’t think he’s going to let me.

And then he says, ‘Do you not want me to hold you? You can go and hug Andy, if you want to. I don’t mind.’

What’s worse is – I can’t tell if he genuinely means it, or not. But I know he means it when I remain right where I am, and don’t say anything or do anything, and he quite suddenly decides to say words I know already, I do know.

‘I love you,’ he tells me.

When I get down to the shop – though in all honesty, I’m not sure how I even manage to walk in straight lines and negotiate stairs – Jeanette is at the door, waiting. Which I’m certain is not a good thing. And she looks excited, which is probably even less of a good thing.

She’s so chipper that I might accidentally blurt out that I’m madly in love with Gabe, absolutely madly stupidly in love and oh my God he said he loved me last night squee squee Jesus have I really turned into this person? She’s going to love the new me.

The new me worries, however, that I didn’t say anything back to him. I just couldn’t, OK? I went over and over my options, but “deep affection” simply sounded too patronising, and “really like” too high school. There’s just no in between term – apparently it’s either love, or nothing. I mean, why in God’s name has no one invented an in-between term, for people who are emotionally stunted or not sure what they want?

I’m thinking … blurn would be a good word. I really, really blurn you, Gabe.

Luckily I open the door before these thoughts get any more insane, and she bursts in like a hurricane. I pray that the two sleeping giants remain that way and upstairs throughout the entirety of whatever exchange this is going to be.

She leads off with, ‘What. Were. You
doing
. Last night?’

And that’s probably when I brace myself.

‘I’ve never heard sounds like the sounds that have been coming from your apartment! I almost called the police!’

Were we really that loud? Lord, I think
Andy
was. And I can almost see it in her eyes, that she knows I had more than one man up there.

‘It was … nothing,’ I say, which sounds even lamer than all the responses I imagined saying, to Gabe’s I love you. Is it weird that I’m thinking about those three words more than I’m thinking about an actual threesome that went on around me, last night?

‘You can’t do that, Maddie,’ she says, and dear God she sounds really fierce. Is she
actually
going to call the police on me? I’m suddenly seeing the people of York carrying torches and other things, to smoke out the massive whore.

Until she stamps her little foot, and puts her hands on her hips, and says, ‘Spill. I’m living vicariously through you – now come on.’

I cease pretending I’m re-organising books on the shelves, for that. She deserves having me turn around, completely mouth-stopped for the second time in a very small amount of hours. Because she just used the word vicariously, and she’s looking at me in this odd way that I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look at me before, and it occurs to me for the first time:

I’m
the crazy best friend.

I’m not the cool and collected heroine, I’m the
sidekick
to the heroine, who persuades the square girl to explore her freaky-deaky side. I mean, I’m sure that in most romance novels the threesomes are much less full of emotional minefields, but even so. I’m all backwards and upside down and I have absolutely no idea what to tell her.

Apart from: do it now. Don’t live through me, don’t wait for me to tell you exciting stories, before you go for it. You don’t need someone to persuade you into exploring everything there is about yourself, and even if it scares you … even if you’re terrified – and probably about all of the wrong things – it’s still more bliss than whatever nothing you were living before.

All the things I’ve done with Gabe, all the things I’ve done with Andy, the things that both experiences have taught me about myself … I wouldn’t take it back. And it’s a relief, to actually realise and understand that – it really is.

When Andy strolls down, as louche and pleased with himself as anyone could expect him to be, I don’t even flinch. Not a flicker. He cuts into Jeanette’s babble about all the things she suspects I’m doing and how
bad
I am and how
awesome
that is, with nothing more than a
hey
.

Before he sticks out his hand, and introduces himself.

Jeanette shakes, but looks at him like he’s a rock star as she does so.

‘Call me, babe,’ he says, before letting himself out. And then I wait, for Jeanette to explode.

‘You’re doing it with
him
, too?!’ she squeaks, as soon as the door goes. I see Andy glance through the window, smug, and know that he’s heard her.

‘It’s … complicated.’

Boy, is it ever. In erotica, the dirty sidekick almost never gets close to the world of caring. It’s all just hot sex and mad escapades, while love is reserved for the semi-pure and half-decent heroine.

Though I have to say – I don’t care how half-decent I am, or whether I’m only semi-pure or not. In fact I suspect I may well be not pure at all, and that thought sure does make me grin with every inch of my body.

‘Well, whatever it is, me and Derek –’ She stops mid-sentence, suddenly bright red and looking for her own books to reorganise.

‘You and Derek …?’ I say, and when she resists, I poke her. I’m definitely supposed to do that as the dirty sidekick, after all. ‘Come on – you’ve just worked out all my naughty secrets. Now it’s your turn.’

She bursts it all out, in one big rush.

‘We had the wildest sex
ever
. Well – I
made
him have the wildest sex ever. I think! I don’t know. Anyway – we did it on the kitchen table. The kitchen table! Can you believe that?’

I can believe that I adore Jeanette, in that moment. And I’m so happy, to have her as some sort of friend. I’m happy to be the dirty sidekick, to her semi-pure and half-decent heroine.

He’s in the shower when I come upstairs – though I notice that the apartment has been tidied. Of course, that could have happened any time. He’s being staying over a lot, and it’s entirely possible that he cleans in the middle of the night. Puts magazines in a rack I didn’t know I had, stacks books on shelves that hadn’t seemed previously empty.

And there’s something cooking, in the oven. I peer in, just to check it isn’t heat that’s simply baking the encrusted food on the oven door. But no – he’s made something and it smells like heaven and I think God, I might actually tell him that I feel the same way, tonight.

Perhaps after I’ve fucked his arse through a wall. And talked to him about the ridiculous amount of showers.

He flinches when I just walk right into the bathroom. Though I can partially understand why, given that he’s combing his hair into a neat side parting, while totally naked. He isn’t wearing his glasses and he’s turned sideways, facing the mirror above the sink, and I’m struck yet again by how handsome he is.

And how slender. I think I’m going to have to give him most of whatever pasta thing is baking in the oven. Maybe as a reward, for how he instinctively covers his groin with one hand, and then kind of relaxes all over when he sees it’s me.

‘Experimenting with hairstyles?’ I ask, and he gets the joke. Turns back to the mirror, half-smiling.

‘I was thinking – straight up in the air, Billy Idol style.’

‘A little more like this would be good, I think,’ I say, and then he lets me turn him, and rake the comb through his hair. ‘Just a hint of body.’

‘You think it will make me look more handsome?’

‘I think I’d be hard pressed to do that.’

He touches his tongue to his upper teeth in that way he has – the one that says: don’t be silly.

‘You are good-looking, you know.’

I smooth his hair up, up, to make an attractive and almost ridiculous-looking bow, that sweeps over his forehead. It’s easy enough to do – his hair is so thick.

‘Not like Andy,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound cross or resentful. A little wistful, maybe. But I’m not even fan of that, so I make my
don’t be silly
signal. I cup his cock with my free hand, and kiss his still-damp-from-the-shower mouth.

When I pull away, he looks breathless and happy. But the question he next asks has nothing to do with sex things, and he turns back to the mirror and away from my hand, in order to inspect his new hairdo.

‘Did you have a good day at work?’ I don’t think he’s all that impressed with my styling attempts. ‘I was going to come down, but then I heard Jeanette’s voice and I knew that she’d probably seen Andy … so …’

‘She had. She grilled me about it.’

My voice sounds oddly pleased. I won’t go into that too deeply.

‘What did you tell her?’

I shrug.

‘Nothing. She made her own assumptions.’

‘Can I ask what they were?’

‘Of course you can. You can ask me anything. She just assumed that I’d been fucking both of you.’

‘She didn’t think Andy was your new boyfriend?’

‘No. Why would she?’

He turns to me then, and fishes his glasses from the edge of the sink, at the same time. Starts putting on his clothes real slow, like he’s waiting for me to say something else. But in truth I’m just not sure what would be best, and so I let him continue into shaky territory.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know. Andy just kind of looks like the sort of boyfriend women like to have, maybe.’

And I know, I
know
I should have said to him then that I loved him – far more than anything I even vaguely feel for Andy, and perhaps more than I’ve ever loved any man.

But I didn’t.