I Like One Each for my Peach (Part One)

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By Lauren McAllister

It had been one of those perfect romantic evenings that you only see in jewelry store commercials. A wonderful candlelight dinner, a chick flick, drinks overlooking the water and then home for some red hot sex with my favorite couple. Screeeeech!!

Okay, perhaps I should back up a bit.

I guess I’ve always been a bit bi. Well, to be absolutely honest, I guess I’ve always been totally, utterly-and-in-every-other-way bi. When I was in high school, girls appealed to me. Guys appealed to me. Even teachers appealed to me. Luckily, I only had brief fling with Mrs. Ainsley in my senior year. It was a lot of fun and I got an “A” in trigonometry and I still don’t understand how the fuck it works. It’s something to do with geometry, I take it.

Speaking of taking it…

I was underneath her desk, licking her silky slit one day after school and she casually asked me if I’d like to come to a birthday party at her house on the weekend. I said, “Sure,” as clearly as I could with a mouthful of cunt and then made her cum so loudly the janitor rushed in to see if anything was wrong.

So, I show up that Saturday at Chez Ainsley and it turns out that I’m the only guest. There was me, my hump honey and her husband. It didn’t take long for me to grasp what was about to go down (figuratively and literally!). He was kind of cute so I took off all my clothes and blew him in front of his Pekinese while wifey-poo played with my snatch. After I swallowed all his little swimmers, Madame invited me back into the bedroom and the three of us spent the rest of the afternoon and evening sucking and fucking each other’s brains out. Well, they mostly took turns sucking and fucking my brains out. In the end, I don’t even think I was offered a piece of cake.

When I got home, I was a little sore in my sauce rack but, everything considered, I had a pretty good time. Unfortunately, the very next week, a pant-less history teacher was busted with the school’s half-back and all hell broke loose. Mrs. Ainsley gave me three hundred dollars in a plain manilla envelope and asked me to forget that we ever knew each other. The next term I got an A+ in “functions and relations” and a handbag I once mentioned that I liked.

Once I got to college, I started dating couples almost exclusively. On any given Friday night, there was always some cute boy with a girlfriend that had downed just enough Rolling Rock that women started to look appealing to her. Usually, in the grim and sober light of morning, at least one of them would abruptly and oft times brutally reassess our budding romance. Though, once in awhile, I did get to take a soapy shower with my date couple before going our separate ways. 

But then, alas, the halcyon days of higher academe were behind me and I began to crave a relationship that was slightly more serious than six-and-a-half sweaty, naked hours spent in a cramped dorm room. Not surprisingly, I decide to become a tad more picky about my choice of mattress-meat partners.

Of course, I knew some adjustments would need to be made to my modus operandi. Was I really going to have to sit and talk to these people over breakfast and shit? Hang out with them with their clothes on? Poop, I don’t even find me that interesting with my clothes on.

This was going to be some tough sledding but I was determined to give it an honest shot. My search for the perfect man and woman who already thought each other was the perfect man and woman had begun.
This kind of endeavor is far more difficult and complicated that it appears, boys and girls. I even dared tread in the treacherous waters of online personal want ads to find my dishy duo but I didn’t manage to get very wet, if you know what I mean.

Either she was a gourmet dessert with ice cream and he was a dick-wielding asshole or he was a dreamboat and she was a sawed-off bitch. I was almost tempted to ask these inexplicable pairings if I could mix and match.

Not that I didn’t allow myself to go on one or two dates with some of these mismatched nightmares. One can only wank so much while one is waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Right to wander by. One night, I had just finished a wading through a disastrous dinner with a couple of real mutants. Boyfriend kept trying to talk me into blowing him in their car while he Zoomed his parents. The girlfriend was into water games. With the amount of club soda she drank during our “getting to know you” session, I hoped jerkhead had a lifeboat back at the house. What a total flame out. So, I feigned bubonic plague and left them at the restaurant to frantically disinfect themselves.

A half hour later, I was at a bar near my place, drowning my sorrows in a string of Singapore Slings, when I spotted this couple in their 40’s by the cigarette machine. They were laughing and holding hands and just seemed like really nice people. I know lots of people seem really nice when you’ve had a skinful but I’d had two skinfuls and at that precise moment, they were God’s gift to my hungry hamster.

“Why the fuck not?” I drunkenly thought. I paid for a fresh sling and wandered/staggered over in their direction. I figured I would think of something to actually say upon my arrival.

“Hi,” was my brilliant opening gambit. Luckily, there was more. “I’m so terribly, terribly sorry about this but there’s this weird guy who’s been trying to pick me up all night. I told him I was meeting someone but he just won’t leave me alone. Could I possibly sit here? Just for a few minutes until he takes the hint.”

I didn’t even have to look around to check out whether my story was believable. There are always a couple of really creepy, unbalanced guys in every bar on Earth.

“Certainly you can,” said the woman, looking genuinely concerned.

She was so nice; I was beginning to feel a little guilty – though, in my defense, I was planning on really making it up to her.

“If you need us to drive you home, it wouldn’t be any trouble,” added her equally darling husband.

Immediately, I poured on the charm while pouring out the drinks. They were an absolute delight. Both were smart and funny and interesting, even when I wasn’t thinking about their genitals. My only problem now was getting them to want to same thing I did. And when I say “them,” of course I mean her. Let’s face it, no matter how married a guy is; he’s always going to be up for a quick impersonal schtupp. If I could somehow ignite her custard maker, then I had a real shot at some righteous hubby humping as well.

By the time we were out of the bar, I had Facebooked her, made a date for lunch and wangled my way into being a third wheel at a concert they were going to. When I got home, I had a blistering wank. Afterwards, it took me about fifteen minutes to uncurl my toes.

Now, I set my sights on playing the long game. Each time I got together with Joyce, I’d become just a smidge more physically friendly. A longer hug. I’d kiss her hello and goodbye a little more slowly. But it had to be very measured. If I rushed the process, all my work would be for nothing.

A month in, I was totally smitten. And not just with Joyce. Eric was a complete and utter bunny-cakes. A guy that great deserved to have two women to sink his dink into. Right? That was basically my main line of thinking, anyway.

One afternoon, Joyce invited me come on over and just hang. Her husband had to work late. I instantly grabbed a couple of bottles of reasonable red and calmly ran every stop sign on the way to her place. She and Eric had a really nice condo with a back yard hot tub and a barbecue pit. I’d been fed some fine slabs of sirloin and Buffalo wings but, as of yet, had not been invited to doff and dunk. 

As soon as she opened the door, I wrapped her up in a big tit-squishing hug and stole a somewhat inappropriate smooch. As we separated from out lip lock, I made a big kissy noise to lower the sexual tension but I didn’t detect any unease from my osculatory victim.
Time to break open the wine!

After a couple of glasses, the bonhomie was pretty thick in the air. We were hugging and saying how much we liked each other and wasn’t it great that we met. And then I kissed her again. A little longer this time and still no freak out.
Time for more wine!

“So, how come you’ve never invited me into that big gorgeous hot tub of yours?” I semi-joked and semi-slurred.

“Eric didn’t want to embarrass you,’ Joyce tittered – and she certainly had the tits for it. “He’s such an old fashioned fusspot sometimes.”

Motivated by the merlo, I yanked up my top to expose a pretty nice pair of un-surgically altered boobs. “Well, I don’t seem to be embarrassed at the moment. How about the two of us take a little dip?”

Within seconds, we were both naked and splooshed ourselves down into the bubbly water. The booze, the afternoon sun and the warmth of the tub mixed together to moisten our girlie sandwiches. Well, mine, definitely. Although there was only the two of us, I scrunched right up against my cute quarry. Her deliciously soft wet skin rubbing up against mine was dizzyingly erotic. After a few more drops of vino and a couple of big laughs, I put my arm around her.
”I’d rather be here with you, right now, than under Brad Pitt,” I drunkenly declared.

“This tub is nice but I wouldn’t push it that far,” Joyce giggled.

“Perhaps you’re right. I tell you what, why don’t we go kidnap Braaad and bring him back here so we don’t have to choose?”

“Deal!” We clinked our glasses and I brushed my forearm against her wonderfully pert left tit. My teeth were starting to hurt, I was so turned on.

By now, I was so close to her, I was practically sitting in her lap and she hadn’t made any attempt to ease the crowding. Now was the moment. I was about to take a brave course of action that only had two traditional outcomes. It could result in all the pleasures of Christendom or it could cause an apoplectic woman to scream, “Get your fucking hands off that!” into my ear.

Despite my overwhelming desire to dip below the waterline and use her pussy as a snorkel, I stayed committed to the cunning and strategic approach. I had to make it seem like it was more her idea, if this was going to work. 

“My, what pretty eyes you have,” I remarked, shoving my face into hers. By the way, I wasn’t lying. Her peepers were to died for. There was a brief moment where we just sort of looked at each other longingly and then it happened. She kissed me! Oh glorious rapture! It was absolutely resplendent times ten plus two. Our tongues swirled around in Sapphic abandon. The next thing I knew, she was exploring my breast with her curious hands. This was about the exact second I completely threw tactics out the window and dove into the deep-end of “WOOOHOOO!”

I practically had my entire head inside her mouth as we pawed at each other’s feminines like we were each other’s prom date. Bingo! She stuck her hand down between my legs. I swung those suckers open like they were the doors to an Irish pub. While Joyce was plumbing my inner depths, I went to work on her perky chest pets. Her nipples were so hard I almost cracked my teeth on them. I could hear her moaning and it must have been loud because I heard it over my moaning.

After a few more rounds of Jacuzzian delight, she pulled away from me.

“Oh shit! She’s come to her senses and all is lost.” I was about to beg her forgiveness and lyingly reassure her that this kind of atrocity would never happen again when she said, “I don’t want our neighbors to see us. Let’s go into the bedroom.”

You never saw two desperately horny girls travel so fast. We dried ourselves off at the speed of light and then went about making each other as wet as we possibly could. This was what I’d been dreaming about for several wicked, self-whapping weeks. Feeling her ass and delving deep between her thighs almost popped my cork but I held back. I wanted this pussy party to last as long as possible. Joyce rolled on top of me and I wrapped my legs around hers. She then proceeded to fuck me like a man. Watching her looking down at me as her magical mound slid back and forth over mine did the trick. Shockwaves of outrageous cumming blew though me like diarrhea on a cruise ship. I grabbed hold of those sweet ass cheeks and ground her into me. That also seemed to trigger her detonator. Joyce started violently convulsing on top of me as multiple cum bombs rapidly exploded inside her. “FUCK!! FUCK! FUCK!!” she erupted.

And then, just like a man, she collapsed on top of me like leaky weather balloon. This was beyond my wildest wet dreams. Not only had we had SEX! But I got to witness her have a pussy-destroying orgasm. Don’t you ever see somebody and wonder what they would look like in the throws of a total gut-buster climax? I do, with about every second person I set eyes on. To get a front row seat to behold Joyce’s juice-maker blow its lid was extra, extra special. I had actually never heard Joyce swear before and to hear all those naughty words coming out of her mouth as she was cumming out of her vagina was positively squirt-worthy! It made my entire fucking year. God what a cutie! We spent the next half-an-hour necking and fondling each other and then… the oral sex started! Yes, it was time to taste below the waist. I flipped her over and forcefully spread her legs. Digging my tongue down deep into her honey pot practically gave me a face-gasm. She almost pushed my nose into my eye-sockets with her maniacally thrusting hips. And then she started screaming again. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” Man, that second trip to Disneyland was worth every painful second. And once she recovered her breath, I got the tongue-lashing of a lifetime in return.

By the time Eric got home, we were all dressed and innocent and delighted to see him. That night he barbecued some spar ribs and I didn’t mind at all that I wasn’t invited to join them in the Jacuzzi.

The End

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