Power of Three

As I've been frantically finishing up my book (the last round of edits are at the editor now! It's all so close to being done) there hasn't been much time to write. So here's a little smut from a couple years ago...in written and video form! Oh how I spoil you.


"It feels like you’re fucking us both.”

She was lying curled in the crook of his arm, one hand on my hip as I rode the cock of her lover. Straddling him wantonly while she watched. He, a perfect gentleman, letting me use him, watching her, kissing her. Her breasts swayed in time to the motion of my up and down. It felt like having them both though I wasn’t touching her.

I had touched her. Fingers at the warm, wet center of her, rubbing at the place that means tightness, sighing, eyes closed. Too much and not enough. Thumb caressing her clit. Her mouth on my cunt. Expert motions of tongue proving that sex is intuition more than it is experience. Her first time, her millionth time. Who cares.

If I was a different kind of girl, I would say something about energy, connection, depth of intensity. The kind of girl I am just wanted more.

When she rolled on her back, spreading her legs, the female smell of her hit me. The scent of something forbidden, earthy, and sweet. Control lost entirely, I took the headboard in both fists. Bouncing on the firmness of him hitting me deep, and right. Breathless, I held her eyes in mine. The lovely curve of her. The soft to his hard. The sweeping roundness to his angular build. Her impossible softness to his hairy chest. The two of them a unit of contrasts and desire.

They moan in time. I’m nearly silent, listening, taking them in. Blown away by their openness, the level of trust. The amount of pleasure that’s possible when three bodies tangle. So many combinations of touch. One hand on each of them, feeling the tension in their bellies as they writhe. The sheen of sweat on us all.

I’m desperate: for what I don’t know. Everything and nothing. There aren’t words to ask. Preverbal now, I join them in the sounds of delight. High moans and girlish grunts. My body shutters.

Not quite ready to give myself over to the moment, unable to voice my need, I reach out and take more. Run my fingers down the length of her belly to the furred mound of her. She arches to reach me, begging for the obvious with her body as her mouth meets his, they kiss. Tongues and lips and wetness. My hand a tease, pressure on her labia, massaging her folds, tenderly squeezing the delicate pebble of her clit between my digits.

Fucking him, fondling her, for a moment I feel strangely alone, looking on from above as they lose themselves to one another. To the rhythm and rightness of the familiar. A pang of loneliness hits my gut. I don’t know whether to cry or come. This is the trouble with being a guest star. The new is sexy until it becomes confusing, awkward, unreadable.

I think of her words and make them literal. Redoubling the efforts of riding him, I slip two fingers in her. No resistance as I enter, the slickness heady as I thrust into her in time to my movements upon his cock. I am penetrated and penetrating. Filled by him and filling her. The conduit between them. Taking them both. Our wetness is the same. I angle my fingers the way his cock presses into me, feeling her squirm into them, forcing me deeper into her.

It’s too much. I come, crumpling in a heap against his chest, unwilling to stop fucking her as he takes over to buck his hips into me. Somehow the three of us meet, a shared kiss, all tongues. My muscles spasm on him, she squeezes me, the force of my hand movements an impossible effort while I’m this distracted. The room is filled with the smell of sex and the most animal of noises. I don’t know who is coming, what limb belongs to who. We are a pile of pleasures.

After, we lay on either side of him, his chest a warm pillow. His arms cradling us closer. I watch her smile as we look at one another across his body, fingers playing on one another, refusing to stop touching. His is the grin of ultimate male satisfaction. He deserves it. We doze, and chat. I feel at home in their arms.

It doesn’t happen often that I’m with two people and feel like a third person, not the third wheel. Like I belong, am welcome. Like I had given and taken in equal amounts. But it happened in his bed. Suddenly I wasn’t just a guest star.

Emily BinghamComment