I.
The art exhibition at the warehouse-studio in the boroughs is in full swing. I'm looking across the room with my husband next to me. The moment comes out of the ether. Everything moves from the past to the present. It's the moment we meet her.
Her hair is in a curly-shag cut, a style I've always liked on women. Her knee-length dress is tasteful, and her makeup seems minimal. Maybe she isn't wearing any at all. The soft outline of her jaw intersects at an angle with her hair just right to make me keep looking at it. It's all as balanced a composition as some of the better paintings on the walls.
He and I are both dressed with that touch of urbanity to show everyone we're sophisticated guests. He's already turned back around next to me after watching her, talking from the side, saying he sees her and knows just like I know. He says I'd be the better one to go talk with her. She's younger and might relate more to a guy my age.
I get my break of daylight, if you will, when the person she's next to has to take a phone call. The first thing I ever say to her is a blur, but soon enough we're discussing how we know the artists, how interesting this space is, and so forth. Neither of us is having anything to drink. I already count this as a big plus. I'm a teetotaler, and here in the city, that can mark you as a weirdo. She's smiling at me directly. She's sultry.
Right at the correct moment, my husband comes on over to say hello, and I introduce him as such without hesitation. I have this hunch. Her eyes follow both of us, but everything else in her expression stays the same. There seems to be something in the air suddenly, and my mind is racing because I think I know what it is.
We join in and branch off into other conversations, and the whole get-together is enjoyable. Our chat with her continues. Later on, all three of us are standing near a makeshift ledge in another gallery hall. My man glances at me quickly and then says he recognizes someone he needs to say hello to, as he's a friend of his boss.
When we're finally alone, I offer to take her back to our place. I can guess it's cool to be this direct. She says she's ready. He's talking with his friend, but he sees me again as he's looking over his shoulder. I nod once. The entire operation is a masterpiece, but I still attribute our success to her being such an amazing target. When two men want a woman together, she usually doesn't stand much of a chance.
We're soon headed out in my husband's car. I decide to be a gentleman by sitting in the backseat to keep our lady guest company. I don't think even a minute passes before we're kissing and groping. He looks in the rear-view mirror, watching as she's already straddling me, kissing me deeply, while I tell her in a low voice how I know she's fucked herself for years lusting after gay men, hasn't she? She admits rubbing one out regularly, using toys, and sometimes getting pounded by straight men but secretly wishing they were gay. My hands are up in her dress as she's grinding right over my throbbing dick in my pants. There's no underwear on any of us. I rub into the moisture of her labia and then massage her firm, round ass. My beard is getting licked and nibbled on, my ears filled with her tongue, along with my mouth dancing with hers in a series of kisses as we watch a line of drool stretch out between us. Traffic is heavy, so he takes time to look on in astonishment as his man crosses every line possible with a lovely woman.
Everything is moving more quickly as we approach our apartment. We get home and head directly to our bed, our clothes pulled off along the way, more kissing ensuing as she's sandwiched between us two taller, well-built fellows. We're both whispering in her ear about how two gay guys are just what she needs. She moans that her dreams have come true, and I reply by telling her I knew her pussy blasted out a bunch of pheromones when I introduced my husband. We engage in a three-way kiss as each tongue slobbers onto the others. My man takes some of the spit and smears it on our two dicks and her aching, searing-hot pussy. He's entering her from above and behind. The angle seems comfortable for both of them. I coach her through it, watching her close her eyes and enter the world of our gay love. I tell her it's going to be a long, hard journey of brutal fucks from my man. I'm joining in a lot. We're nice guys, but we're no-nonsense. She nods.
The defining moment happens when my mind, thinking of nothing and feeling everything, guides me to take my cock and push it into her right alongside his. We're already adapted to frotting, but this is obviously on another level. Her eyes stay closed, and she isn't even shocked. This is another dream of hers we will fulfill. My husband isn't surprised, either. This is what should happen, and that's why it's happening.
My cock slowly finds the right place, the right opening, and the right slack in her cunt. I do it in this particular manner out of respect but also to show off just a bit and make the experience even more mind-blowing for her. She moves slightly, and there's that opportunity. I grip her lean waist and just push inward and upward. All three of us shout. My husband and I are witnessing a woman being filled with two gay cocks.
