Caution: wife sharing story ahead! If this subject is not your thing, please do not read any further and please demonstrate enough maturity not to comment. I’m most interested in feedback from fans of this genre.

Gusts of rain flattened the field of wild sage, and beyond it, the dark woods leading to the lake hissed and groaned in a very uninviting way. Staring out the cabin window, Mia told us of her urge to run into the dense maze of wood wearing nothing but sandals. I laughed, believing she wouldn’t last five minutes in the mountain cold. She took it as a challenge, and I suddenly found myself seated on a pine-post railing, rain beating against the metal porch roof, and my girlfriend leaning naked on the railing next to me, describing how much she loved a good storm. Her bare tits rested in her folded arms and her bent over twenty-three-year-old ass looked round, tight and delicious. I reached out and caressed the top of her bad-ass bubble-butt. Top-fucking-shelf! I still had trouble believing I’d landed such a top-shelf piece of ass.

When we returned to Paul’s warm cabin ten minutes later, she glided straight to the fire, breaking stride only to snatch the knitted blanket from the leather sofa back. She wrapped herself inside and flopped down on a buffalo skin rug a few feet from the fireplace screen. My vegetarian girlfriend never set foot on that rug before, but the temptation of the blazing pine logs finally proved stronger than her disgust. Soon Emily took a seat next to her, and together they watched the flames flicker and spit, while Paul and I heated up mulled wine in the cramped kitchen. We took a cupful to the girls and then he broke out a bottle of brandy, pouring a fair amount in two large brandy snifters.

It wasn’t long before the wine hit the girl’s and their conversation grew louder, bolder and full of laughter. They must have exchanged stories about every guy they’d ever known, as Mia shifted behind Emily and braided her long brown hair. She’d wrapped the knitted blanket just below her armpits, leaving her shoulders totally exposed and her arms free. The loose knit blanket let her skin peek through the holes, and my eyes kept finding the pink of her nipples. Paul carried a hot ladle across the room, topped off their wine cups, and then sat next to me at the small dining table. He angled himself towards the girls, as did I.

“I could watch that all night.”

“No shit.”

“So Mia sure does love nature, rain or shine.”

That summer Mia had lead the four of us skinny dipping in the lake, but it had been hot, sunny and a totally summer thing to do, but stripping down at this time of year rang just plain insane.

When Mia completed Emily’s braid, Emily removed her sweater, leaving her in a wife-beater and sweatpants. She has splendid tits, and seeing them braless in a wife-beater, the nipples poking at the fabric and the outside curvature of her boob visible from the side opening, warmed me in a way the brandy couldn’t.

But it was more than her partially exposed boob––something about Emily told me I could have her if I wanted. Something about her thick lipstick, thick eyeliner, and her sparse tattoos, seemed… I don’t know… slutty? But then Paul’s girls have always struck me that way. He may have displayed a taste for refined luxuries, rolling about in a Mercedes and showing off his pricy wine rack, but he gauged his woman by their performance in the sack, and that’s about it.

Mia turned her back to the fire and loosened the knitted blanket. She clutched it to her bosom but allowed it to fall from her back, leaving her bare skin sparkling in the firelight. Mia may have lived in a way that made minced-meat out of social norms, but she seemed oblivious to the affect it had on people, and never came off slutty. Weirdly enough, however, watching her get friendly with a girl like Emily blurred that distinction for me, and I couldn’t keep my mind off fucking her super sleazy like. Maybe that’s why Paul preferred the easy chicks––their willingness to do it all set fire to the imagination.

Mia caught me gawking, her sharp green eyes trapping me like a spotlight. She’d do that often––her eyes would bound wildly about the world and then lock onto me with a sudden razor sharp intensity. And while her cocky smile let me know she could damn well read my mind, her green peepers revealed the pure heat living in the depths of her soul. I literally found myself salivating, like a hot buttered carrot rested on my tongue, and I proceeded to swallow awkwardly.

Paul sipped his Brandy to hide his own shit eating grin, then whispered, “Dude, you’re girlfriend’s amazingly hot.”

“Yeah she is. But so’s yours, man.”

“Isn’t she though?”

I checked to make absolutely sure Mia wasn’t listening, and then turned again to Paul. “Don’t say anything to Emily, but I’m getting a ring for Mia in a couple of weeks.”

“Holy shit! Seriously, Devon?”

I just smiled proudly and nodded my head.

“Fucking congratulations, man!” He looked back at Mia, naked under the blanket, and snorted a laugh.

“What? You wouldn’t marry that?”

“No dude, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what?”

“Well I’m just glad you told me before I said anymore.”

“Oh yeah, such as what?”

He punched my arm instead of answering.

“This is an excellent Brady, but I’m breaking out the choice Cognac for this.”

He went to the liquor cabinet and brought back a brown bottle littered in calligraphy.

He then explained how he’d met a French electronics genius who bragged about a family making a Cognac to rival Hennessey’s finest, and charged about one-sixth the price. So Paul spent a hundred dollars in long distance calls tracking this family down and then bought six bottles at two hundred a pop, which is nothing compared to the price of supreme quality Cognacs. .

“It was such a legit operation the bottles arrived on my doorstep in an actual wooden crate. How insane is that? But here it is, and now you can honestly say that you’ve tasted the best fucking Cognac in the world.”

I took a sip and let it hover in my mouth before swallowing.

“Liquid silk, right?”


“So alive, yet so tranquil––wakes up the throat, then leaves it cool and happy.”

His dark eyes, which I’ve heard woman describe as seductive, ignited with devilish excitement. With his next sip he completely lost his customary cool composure and drifted away in an almost heroine like daze. Nobody appreciated life’s finest more than Paul.

“So fuckin’ smooth, smooth, smooth.”

He then produced two cigars from his flannel shirt pocket. “Let’s go finish it on the porch with these. You know your cigars?”

“Not really.”

“Well this cigar is about on par with the Cognac, that’s all you need to know.”

Outside he passed a clipped and lit cigar as I zipped up my winter coat. The icy drops fell in sheets just beyond the eves and I asked if we might see any snow. Being a databank of worldly wisdom, Paul assured snow wouldn’t show for at least another week.

“I’m back up here with a snowboard on the third, how about it?”

“I wish. We’re pretty booked until the New Year.” I took a drag off the cigar and felt myself turn green. I had to take Paul’s word it was ‘primo’, because all cigars tasted like ass to me. Still, I was sipping the world’s finest Cognac and smoking an equally fine cigar, and felt very Fortune 500 doing it. As I took another drag I wondered if that was most likely their universal appeal––the awesome taste of power.

I directed my thumb towards the cabin door. “So back in there, what was so funny about marrying Mia?”

He dodged the question by asking about our friend Mitch. “You think Mia is going to allow him at the wedding? I mean, when’s the last time you’ve even seen him?”

“Months! There’s no way he’s not coming to the wedding, though.”

“Hahaha! That girl holds a grudge worse than I do. Doesn’t she get Mitch is just a scatterbrained surfer?”

“I think so.”

“Doesn’t she know all of us passed around a girl at one point or another? And shit, it worked out for her, didn’t it? His loss, her gain, right?”

“Man, I haven’t even asked her to marry me yet, I can’t worry about all this now. Anyhow, it makes choosing my Best Man a whole lot easier.”

“Well shit, Devin, thanks!” He took a drag off his cigar and exhaled with an I’m-up-to-something smile. “Well now I’m really glad I silenced myself back inside.”

“Come on fucker, out with it!”

“If you really gotta know, I was going to suggest we swap score-cards for the night.” He immediately broke into laughter.

“Swap score-cards?”


“Ah, got it!”

“I was just bullshitting, you know.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“We were both bullshitting about our girls, right?”

I laughed a cloud of smoke. Every guy Mia met had a crush on her, and hearing Paul repeatedly stress he was only bullshitting lead me to believe he was at least horny for her.

Mia’s a beauty. Her red hair hangs straight for a few inches and then turns into big looping curls that circle her head like the brim of a hat. She almost always hooks them behind her ears or ties them up into a springy ponytail, which I prefer because it showcases her elfish cheekbones and roundish forehead. She also has twinkling green eyes set into very shallow eye sockets, granting her a look I lovingly refer to as “Irish Exotic”. At five-seven she isn’t really short, but Mia has a long svelte neck, lowering her shoulder line and granting her a more petite body. Thankfully her slender ribcage and narrow tummy help maintain an elegant length to her proportions and make her smaller tits look substantial. They also help launch the gorgeous curves bowing around her hips and ass before they dramatically taper down her long shapely legs. Mia avoids make-up and sexier clothing, going for a natural sunnier look and allowing her God-given beauty to stand on its own.

But what really stole my heart was her spirited attitude. Her mission in life appeared to be waking mankind from a state of depression, with an arsenal of fun, fearlessness, and a total love of adventure. A few have referred to Mia as an attention whore, but time with her always amounted to one memorable moment after the next, and its a criticism made by bores and fueled with envy.

Paul, on the contrary, came off as an incredibly tactile guy, a trait typically at odds with Mia’s spontaneity. Just that afternoon he’d led us twenty miles on mountain-bikes to a place called The Gorge, and about three miles out, Mia diverted us towards the remains of a burned out house. She searched the aged debris strewn over the old slab foundation, determined to find a lost belonging to reveal the lives of those who lived there. We were free to leave when I discovered an old picture frame in the bushes, which she held like some mystic channeling the past. By then no one seemed too interested in reaching The Gorge, and I could tell Paul was a bit annoyed his day had been derailed.

I also suspected he despised women he couldn’t control, which is why it really surprised me to discover he’d go for Mia. And as Paul and I smoked down our cigars, I felt surging pride knowing that this man, who probably carried more debt than the government in his pursuit of the finest pleasures in life, desired my girlfriend. In fact, he desired her so bad he’d have me fuck his girl in trade.

I needed to hear more, my buzzed ego demanded it, and I baited him by suggesting he let me have one final night as a free man, and stuff Emily’s cannoli full of some sausage.

He tapped the ashes from his cigar. “You couldn’t handle Emily, my friend. She’s one hell of a nasty girl.”

“I don’t know about that, I think Mia’s prepared me for anything.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine she’s a pretty wild lay. But if you let me snake her plumbing I’ll make an experienced woman out of her. I’ll give you back a pretty girlfriend who knows more positions than a Rubik’s Cube.”

We split a gut laughing, and kept on ‘bullshitting’, until suddenly we weren’t bullshitting anymore. He suggested we get the girls drunk and really swap, and if I’d been sober I would’ve flat out said no, but instead I used Mia as my excuse, saying she wouldn’t go for it.

“I have a pretty good idea how Mia’s wired.” He tapped more ashes over the porch railing. “She’ll go along with it just to spite us. She’s a feisty one, man, she’d turn it around just to knock us down a peg. Am I right?”

It amazed me he thought he knew her so well. “That’s a stretch, man.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “You complained she’s always putting herself at the mercy of strangers for the sake of adventure, so put her at the mercy of a friend instead.”

“I said she’s too trusting of strangers.”

“How’s that any different? Listen, Emily does these exercises called Kegals. Let me tell you, you haven’t ever felt anything like a Kegal tightened pussy. It’s almost as good as this.” He then displayed his glass before his face


“Hey, this is really good Cognac!”

The thought of Emily’s tight pussy made his proposition very enticing, and after returning inside, Paul saw to it their mugs of mulled wine never went dry.

Eventually the girls were ready to call it a night and we headed off to bed. Mia had reached her giggly level of drunkenness. She’d agree to almost anything in that state, and as I shut the pine slated door to our bedroom, I searched for a way to broach the subject. Before I could, however, we climbed into bed and immediately began to fool around, and then it seemed impossible. I kissed her gently and let my hands roam up to her tits and my tongue wind down her neck. She has lovely youthful tits, just big enough to feel some heft as I held one, and to swell outwards as I squeezed. Her nipples are tiny, and because of this I tend to treat them delicately. I don’t know why, other than they just seem so perfectly perched on top of her boob and I hate disturbing them. I rolled one gently between my lips, sucking no harder than I would hot soup.

Because she has a voice like Fiona Apple and a presence bigger than a house, I tend to forget her smaller size until I actually touch her, and then it just amazes me a one-twenty-pound creature can drive a six-foot one-eighty guy utterly helpless with desire.

She began to hum, and so I spread her legs, deciding I’d really give her something to hum about. My mouth found her exposed and wet. My thumb rubbed the little patch of bush above it. She didn’t grow much pubic hair to begin with, and waxed those fine hairs into a narrow landing strip. As I tongued her with increasing intensely, her humming progressed into soft moans. The sound she made was so utterly cute and sexy I almost forgot I’d soon need to abandon her. But some ‘strange’ waited in the other bedroom, and Paul would soon be here between Mia’s legs.

Weirdly enough, I wanted Paul to have her––I wanted him to know what a great fuck she could be. I wanted him to be there at my wedding, envying me for landing such a juicy hot fuck.

I lifted my mouth from Mia’s drenched labia, and asked how badly she wanted it.

“Very!” she moaned.

I slipped two fingers inside her and began to frig her little bunny hole.

As feisty as she was, she let me direct all her wild energy during sex, so I took her hand and replaced mine with hers. She took over pleasuring herself as I kissed her delicate nipples. I couldn’t see in the darkness, but the sounds of wet smacking flesh painted a vivid picture of her digging in two-knuckles-deep.

“Could you ever see yourself fucking Paul?”

The sound of her wet smacking pussy ceased. “Fucking Paul?”

“Yeah, Paul.”

In an effort to ease any suspicions I might have, she laughed. “Paul’s a little too into himself. That doesn’t really do it for me.”

“Yeah, but Mitch was never your type.”

True, he wasn’t.”

She spoke carefully now, trying to piece together where I might be headed with this. It may have been a mistake mentioning Mitch’s name, but before growing fed up with chasing down the flighty, flakey, surfer dude, they’d had a hot and heavy couple of weeks dating.

“So I’m just wondering if you think Paul’s looks are anywhere near Mitch’s. You know, attractive enough to take to bed?”

I found her fingers, licked them clean and returned them to her wet pussy. She compliantly resumed business, and the room again filled with sounds of her wet pussy being pleasured.

“I suppose he’s handsome. If I found him in my bed, I probably wouldn’t kick him out.”

Her sudden change of heart led me to believe she’d figured out the entirety of our plan, and did exactly what Paul said she’d do––acted into it just to spite me!

“So if he walked through the door while I was gone…”

Her fingers quickened and she moaned. “I’d keep him very warm.”


“And I suppose you plan to keep Emily very warm?”

I suddenly found myself having to choose words carefully. “That’s the plan. This is one hell of an adventure, babe. It’s a real chance to wander into the dark woods, naked and free.”

“Into the woods where a big bad wolf is waiting for me!”

The sound in the room grew louder, wetter, and faster than before. God she was fucking hot. I muttered that I loved her, and then rushed out the door while I still could.

I met Paul in the dark living room and we flashed each other our square flat condom packages. He quietly boasted what serious balls we had, and we softly hi-fived before continuing on our separate ways.

As soon as I stepped inside, Emily spoke, telling me to hurry up and get into bed. The sound of her voice was strange and startling. She slurred her words and her throat crackled seductively. Not knowing what to say, I charged the bed and dove onto the bottom half, then quickly cuddled up next to her and unleashed my hands over her body. I trembled nervously, but once my mouth found a nipple to suck on, my fear transformed into need. I recalled the sight of those beauties earlier, the sides visible from the loose tank top, and now those globes of squishy fun were in my hands as I sucked back and forth between nipples. Unbelievable!

She seemed as cool as a marble statue about the arrangement, yet her body burned at the touch of my hands. It helped me grow bolder and hornier by the second, and I descended onto her pussy with a hungry mouth. My tongue made its way into her wishing well and instantly became a conduit between more than just flesh. Her pussy exploded with heat and secreted fluid like a sponge in vice grips. I tasted her, much like Paul’s pricey Cognac, and that little slurp of her soul would remain in my catalogue of worldly pleasures forever.

Minutes later we fucked. I could tell she was tired, but I had to come inside her. We spooned as I slowly pushed my cockhead in, and she moaned a guttural, “uh!” Wasting no time, I soon pounded her in that position. My dick wasn’t just inside her, it fucked her tight little cooch righteously. I lifted her leg up and placed my hand alongside the action. Using my palm, I tugged the skin away, opening her wider.

She moaned in her crackly drunken voice as I pumped that stretched open pussy hard for several minutes. Even stretched open, her pussy gripped me as tight as Paul claimed it would, and I concentrated on that fact to help bring myself off. After a crescendo of fuck-me’s, she began to quiet down, and I realized she might be passing out, so I hastened my pace and headed towards climax like a dog on a fox hunt.

It was a short fuck, but it left me remarkably satisfied. I mean, when you’re with someone for the first time, there’s a tendency to hold back and keep to the basics, since you never quite know what she’ll consider obscene, and while technically you might have fucked the girl, you can’t really say you’ve had her––I mean, you’ve barely backed the car out of the garage and broke first gear, right?. Well I at least got Emily out for a perfect lap, during which time she was well and proper fucked. I’d had her, and felt very great about it in my afterglow.

She went out fast without so much as a word, and I skedaddled into the living room. Moonlight streamed in from the large front windows and the fireplace glowed with a few persistent embers, radiating just enough light to reveal the room was empty. The rain had ceased, and I heard them from the other bedroom––a haunting wail that chilled my bones. And then I couldn’t not hear them, as their activities must’ve escalated to a point requiring grunts and yelps.

I sat on the couch and pulled the knitted blanket over me, wondering how long I’d be there. Mia’s husky coo grew louder and more frantic

Paul kept quiet, but his presence was revealed by a loud slap cutting through the house and making Mia chirp. More followed, and then two distinct slapping sounds, the second popping off rapidly and producing a meaty thud, and surely do to his hips slamming her ass with brazen authority.

The tempo quickly picked up. Thud, thud, thud, slap!

I sat listening to them for quite some time, maybe ten minutes, feeling proud, then jealous, and finally horny enough to whip out my dick and masturbate along with Mia’s moaning and Pual’s ass tenderizing rebuttal.

Eventually they settled down, and as Paul came through the door, I could see him smiling in the moonlight.

“Sorry Devon, your girlfriend was apparently very in the mood.”

I laughed, and said he was right about Emily, her puss was fucking-ay-tight. Then he wavered on his previous opinion, and acknowledged Mia’s little cooch had to be on par with Emily’s. “Man, don’t ever let a pussy like that slip away from you. As long as you can put up with her feisty-girl shit, she’s gonna serve up her wifely duties spicy-hot.”

He gave me a hand getting up from the couch, and then Paul, who I’d always considered an amazingly particular human being, confided his envy over my choice for a bride.

When I finally slipped in next to Mia for the night, she stared out the cabin window, where stars pricked pinholes into the smooth ultramarine sky and the forest beneath stood tall and black.

“Did you two have fun?”

“Fun enough. I won’t bother asking you, because I heard your fun.”

“Ha! Well it was fun, except for the part where he kept trying to stick it somewhere I wasn’t ready for.”

I laughed. “Where?”

Where do you think? I finally told him he was too big and I didn’t do that on first dates. Your friend has a really big dick––just in case you were wondering.”

“Oh, is that so! Well, rumor has it––Emily had some rather large cock tonight herself.”

“Oh, is that so!”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, I’m not jealous, but you’re telling me you aren’t?”

“No, actually, I’m not.”


“I see guys check you out all the time, eating up how hot you are, and I feel pretty proud about it. What just happened––I think I sort of feel the same way!”

Proud, huh?

“That’s right!”

“You’re weird!”

I hit her with my pillow, and then we snuggled up laughing and fell asleep.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about things when I awoke sober in the morning. Peering up at the blue sky through the rippled glass window, buried under a heavy blanket, since Mia had me turn off the heater in the middle of the night to prevent her skin from drying out, I thought back to my late teens and early twenties, when this type of thing was practically common place.

Paul was something else back then. He, Mitch and I were good looking enough, I suppose, and we were these cool semi-stoners and fulltime surfers. At school we wandered the edges, looking a little rougher than we probably were, but were well known at parties and on the cool patch of sand next to the Santa Monica pier. Paul had mediocre surfing skills, but he was our charmer. He could reason with anyone, college kids, cops, gangsters. He’d get us into parties, out of jail, and he’d charm the pants off a girl like nobody I’d ever met. He had class and was for real, and I haven’t met anyone like him since.

Mitch was a blonde six-one surfer built of lean tan muscle. He spent the day in swim trunks and the night in a Mexican poncho. His energy was endless and love of the beach unreal. Even now he works in scuba gear under docked boats at the Marina, grinding barnacles from their hull. He always got us into trouble, yet did it with a no-bullshit innocence that made it hard to blame the guy. In fact, the girl’s typically coerced him into doing the nasty. Diana, this black chick, once pushed him into his van and said she was going to undress him like a doll. Beyond that, however, no chick could seriously pin him down. He’d rant about blowing out of town. He’d throw up his hands when asked what time he could be expected. He was always high.

I fell somewhere in the middle. I was definitely shy like Mitch, but I was also too sharp to balance out my irresponsibility with innocence and made a lousy boy-toy. Thankfully I had a pretty good smile to fall back on. I also claimed to understand the ‘poetry of a woman’s mind’ like some teenage guru, and young chicks love nothing more than to hear about themselves.

Paul always invited too many girls to join us at the beach, which is what made it possible for us to mix it up. I had very few serious relationships until I hit my twenties, and the girls frequently rotated between our beach towels. Eventually Paul openly set us up with his recent lays so we could experience something like a blow-job by Nikki Malone’s pieced tongue. It would’ve seemed a dickish thing to do, except that Paul didn’t just share women, he wanted us to partake in everything he had, shoes, boards, pants, you name it. His weed was king of all chronic and he passed it around freely at parties. And he cherished these women, they were all special to him, and he lived for reaching new pinnacles of pleasure. Hell, he probably appreciated what they had to offer more than any boyfriend since. So I don’t know––it all seemed like young harmless fun at the time.

After her night with Paul at the cabin, Mia had been officially passed between the three of us, and I had to decide if it still felt as harmless. But as the day progressed, I couldn’t keep my eyes off either one of the girls, and I realized everything was fine, I had no regrets, in fact quite the opposite. When I asked Mia, she confirmed she pretty much felt the same, and I jokingly called her weird.


That Fall Mia and I married on the terrace of Casa Romantica. The reception took place inside the nearby Flynn Ballroom, where Mia flowed across a marble floor in her long white dress, as I ushered her from table to table. Relatives and friends congratulated us with big toothy smiles, and cameras flashed if we did anything nearing cute.

After dinner, cake, a garter toss, and lots and lots of alcohol, the twenties and thirties crowd migrated towards the DJ and his dance floor. Mia and I were drunk and everyone had to dance with the bride and groom. Then I saw Paul nudging Mitch towards the DJ’s mic and found myself extremely anxious to know why.

“Hi everyone, I’m Mitch. But most of you know me as Mia’s favorite friend.”

A few people laughed and he became a little more at ease. He scratched the back of his neck. “Did you guys know Mia kidnapped Devin on their first date?”

People laughed again, but I felt Mia’s fingernails digging into my hand. She’d agreed Mitch could attend our wedding, which I took as a sign she’d forgiven and forgotten, but her message was clear––get the dick off the stage or else. I let go of Mia and moved towards the mic, wondering how to politely flip it off before Mitch ruined any chance of us being friends again. Mia had kidnapped me, he wasn’t lying, but she was dating Mitch at the time, and that’s where it got complicated––more complicated than our wedding night could tolerate.

Less than two years before we married, Mitch had stumbled upon Mia working the counter in the Ford Service Department, and as he sat there observing her twenty-one-year-old manic mannerisms and punchy sense of humor, he decided to follow her back to her place for a feisty night in the sack.

They lasted three weeks together, and then Mia turned up in Tom’s Tavern on Barrington, where Mitch, Paul and I were pre-celebrating Paul’s twenty-ninth birthday. Mitch saw her looking around and told me to go intercept. He expected me to say he’d lost her number, but nobody loses a number after three weeks. Before I could argue it with him, however, he slipped out the side door and into the parking lot. Mia quickly found me and immediately barked, “Where’s Dufus?”

Next thing I know, she’s pulling on my arm and leading me to her car for a private conversation. Then she’s pulling out of the parking lot and flipping open her phone. She left a message for ‘Dufus’, saying she’d kidnapped his friend, and if he ever wanted to see me again, he’d better call. Then she entered the 405 Freeway and started to let loose.

“What is wrong with Mitch? I mean, the guy throws around the word ‘love’, and then doesn’t show up at my birthday party, and then I don’t even hear from him for two days. And then I find out it’s because he drove up the coast and got a flat trying to drive his van up a deer trail in the canyons. And then, he walks to a friend’s house in Malibu and stays a day. Never once did it occur to him to call. And he missed a job, Devin. And when I told him he can’t possibly ‘love me’ and treat me like that, he starts saying he totally loves me––and he loves dolphins, and he loves the wind, and kids, and carrots.”

As she continued, I privately read a text Mitch had sent. It read, “You’re up!” He knew I had a crush on Mia. Partially because I stood up for her if he ever complained, but mostly because I constantly stared at her like a love sick puppy.

“What’s wrong with him, Devin? Does he even know what he’s saying half the time? And if he doesn’t want me, he needs to tell me so, not pull a disappearing act! I deserve that much. I’m not even getting anything out of this. I’m always the one going out of my way. He’s getting sex with a cute girl, help with his life, and I even cleaned his apartment. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t wake up with sand on me one more time, so I did. If all he was interested in was sex, then he needs to come here and say it! He needs to tell me that’s all I was to him, a great fuck!”

We’d parked on a windy road above Sherman Oaks, and I hesitantly let her in on Mitch’s text, which caused her to flip-out all over again.

“I’ve never let a guy use me before, and I totally can’t believe I fell for it. And with Mitch! I mean, what’s his IQ? How stupid am I that I let man-boy take advantage of me?”

I brushed a tear from her cheek. “Will it make you feel any better to have a guy with an IQ of one-twenty-eight take of advantage of you?”

She laughed, unable to believe what I’d just said.

She then grew a very proud-of-herself smile and wiped her eyes dry. “Actually, it probably would make me feel better. I think I might be intelligence starved.”

Of course Mitch wasn’t going to show, we both knew it, but she held me hostage under the stars for two more hours, anyway. Mia was the most vibrant woman I’d ever known, and as we stood on the hillside next to her Corolla, sweaty and naked, overlooking the billion lights blanketing the valley floor, I confessed, “I like dolphins and wind and all that, but none of it compares to you.”

Mia and I blossomed as lovers, but it didn’t excuse Mitch for the way he’d treated her. For nearly two years she held onto a grudge, and certainly wasn’t ready for a trek down memory lane during our wedding reception. So, as he spoke on stage, I quickly eased my way towards the DJ area, trying not to look concerned about the collapse of my wedding.

“I was supposed to bring the ransom the night she kidnapped him. I’m not going to say what the ransom was, because it’s probably inappropriate.”

A couple people read into it and laughed. Mitch then realized how it sounded and smiled. “No, no. What’s wrong with you people, we’re at a wedding? Like I didn’t bring the not-what-your-thinking ransom, because I knew being kidnapped made Devin happy.”

I slowed my pace a little, becoming curious where this headed.

“Devin was like totally Mia crushin’. And like, I’d get them out with me and then bolt, because they were so Bonnie and Clyde together. Paul knows what I’m talking about. Anyhow, I know you hate me, Mia, but if you’d given me a second chance back then––well, I still would’ve stepped aside at let the better man win.”

I’d reached him at that point, and as people applauded, I grabbed his arm and dragged him from the mic. I took him straight to Mia, and then grabbed her wrist and led them both to the dance floor.

The magic at our wedding was incredible, and as the three of us stood there, I said, “Mitch, I love you, man. And Mia, it would mean a lot to me if you could get over it and dance one song with Mitch. For me, guys!”

Mia was nervous, I’d really put her on the spot, but there just wasn’t a place for any anger in our hearts that night, and so she took Mitch’s hand and they danced to No Doubt’s, Don’t Speak.

Almost immediately they laughed and talked, not appearing forced into the situation at all. At one point, Mia hugged him tight and came away with tears in her eyes. I later learned she’d confessed to forbidding him as Best Man, and then apologized profusely, crying into his shoulder.

Most of our friends knew the score, and so their dance garnered more than a few interested stares. Paul actually stopped dancing with his new girlfriend, Presley, and applauded them. Mia laughed cutely, and then gave Paul a huge hug, with Mitch’s hand still at her waist. For an instant, I was reminded both these guys had fucked her, but I wasn’t about to entertain that thought at my wedding, and I shook it straight out of my head. And proud––proud is how I really felt. They were the only other two guys in the room who knew the entirety of what I had to be so proud of.

Then I noticed Presley, Paul’s new girlfriend, gritting her teeth and refusing to look at them. What the fuck? She appeared jealous, but over what–our one time swap at the cabin? I studied her face again. Not jealousy––judgment! She was actually looking down upon my bride as she stood between two ex-lovers. My suspicions were absolutely unfounded, other than Presley just reeked of the sort who’d latch onto dirty gossip as a means of taking down the competition. I stopped myself from thinking about it further. Presley didn’t matter, I was now married to a beautiful woman and it looked like I had my friend back, and nothing could surmount the wall of love encasing me that night.

Our wedding wound down shortly after their dance, and during that time Mia remained cordial towards Mitch. I can’t really explain my happiness over it. I had two genuine life-long friends, and the most beautiful bride in the world, and a man couldn’t ask for more than that.


Six months after the wedding, Mia and I met up with Paul and Presley for dinner in Downtown LA. It’s not easy getting Downtown, but Paul insisted we try ‘the best sushi house in So-Cal’. We hadn’t talked much, partly because I’d been enjoying the life of a newly wed, but mainly due to all the hours I’d spent relocating my landscaping business to a larger lot in Torrance. It hadn’t been entirely my fault, however, because Paul had cut his teeth on cases, and was well on his way to being one of the law firm’s hardest working and hardest hitting lawyers.

After eating, the four of us took a short walk to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, where we sat beside the fountain arrangement in the courtyard. A light beamed up through each jet of water, creating rows of golden glass feathers. It was beautiful, but made me urn for the rhythmic roar of the Pacific, something I rarely heard anymore.

At dinner Presley flaunted her engagement ring, and now sat beside Mia to pick her brains on wedding details. Paul pulled me aside and explained he was leaning towards Mitch as a Best Man. He’d decided the only fair thing to do was rotate, and I’d be Mitch’s Best Man in the unlikely event Mitch ever settled down. It made sense, but I was only half listening. Mostly I eavesdropped on the girl’s conversation, because I had the horrible feeling they’d turn on each other at any moment.

Presley asked Mia what she’d thought of Emily, Paul’s ex-girlfriend, but never gave Mia a chance to answer. “I’ll be honest, he had a picture of Emily he’d labeled ‘Virginia Slim’.” Her eyes rolled upwards in disgust. “When I saw her and then he explained what Virginia Slim meant, I swear I made him get tested for STDs.”

Virginia Slim?” Mia burst out laughing, “Paul, what the hell is a Virginia Slim?”

“Mia don’t!” Presley yelped, “And don’t you dare answer, Paul!”

I couldn’t help laughing myself, mainly at Paul being put on the spot. I fielded the question for him. “Every woman falls into a category. If she has an exceptionally tight pussy, she’s a Virginia Slim.” I turned to Paul. “Sound about right?”

“Pretty much.” His monotone voice highlighted his concern over Presley’s discomfort.

Mia’s excitement wasn’t so much outrage as fascination. “That’s the most machismo, womanizing thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Well,” Paul exhaled, “It is what it is.”

Presley straightened her dress, seeming totally uncomfortable.

Mia’s green eyes then shot open wide. “So, like when you all get together and sit around drinking beers during your man outings, do you all say,” she acquired a deep mocking voice, “That Mia’s a real Virgina Slim.”

Paul stood up and stepped towards Presley, being the first of us to understand she’d legitimately grown upset by this conversation. This was obviously a sore spot in their relationship, and he appeared thoroughly annoyed by Mia’s persistence. “You no doubt are deserving of the title, but no, we don’t.” His voice was flat, yet there was no missing the irritated undertones.


“But it’s only because Mitch initially informed us of an even finer quality to your being. He declared you as the most Killer Kind Bud he’s ever scored. And since I know you’re wondering what that is, let me explain––it means fucking your asshole is up there with driving a Lamborghini Diablo on the Col de Torini.”

“Enough, Paul!” I shouted, but he was too irritated to listen. Clearly he blamed Mia for upsetting Presley, and he wasn’t quite finished with her yet.

“But while I can vouch for the fact that your Virginia Slim flows plentiful and can take an tremendously tough tapping with all the prowess of an Olympic gymnast, you’re rosy little backdoor never opened, even when I politely knocked.” He then winked at her, which proved more debasing than anything he’d said.

“Oh my god, you are such a…” She could hardly speak, her spotlight glare on Paul turned deadly, and I grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly away.

Paul helped Presley up and into his arms. Her face glowed red. “You promised, Paul!”

“You brought it up, and she asked, so…”

I rushed Mia out of there. Paul could go fuck himself. Where’d he get off talking vulgar about Mia like she was some pricy Cognac, and acting like she’d performed a disservice by not letting him sample her asshole? He was way out of line with that. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Because prior to that night I would have felt proud to hear her charms considered praise worthy by Paul, but that’s only because extraordinary sex dignified woman in his eyes, and inspired him. But he’d changed. He was going to marry Presley and all the standards she came with. His past couldn’t coexist with her. So where did that leave Mia and me? I’m pretty sure I’d seen the answer in his eyes before he walked away. And that’s really why Paul could go fuck himself.


On a particularly warm fall afternoon, nearly half a year since I’d last spoken to Paul, I pleasured my wife cowgirl style on our avocado living room sofa, when suddenly a knock shook our front door, startling us enough to gasp in unison. It sounded again, and Mia rose off me, threw on her long tee shirt, and cracked the door just enough to greet our badly timed visitor. A few days earlier, Mia surprised me by dying her hair bright pink, and I heard Mitch’s voice comment from the other side of the door, “Whoa! What’s up with your hair? You’ve gone full-on Anime!” I hurriedly dressed, as Mia closed the door on him and snapped her fingers for her panties. They’d been discarded on the floor, so I tossed them with my toe while pulling on my own shirt. Her long tee hid her panties, providing enough modesty for Mitch, and so she let him in.

He sat on the couch, where only a minute earlier I’d ruthlessly banged Mia. I took a seat in the chair opposite him, while Mia grabbed a hair tie and pulled her pink curls into a high ponytail. With her arms raised, the bottom half of her yellow panties came into view. There wasn’t a chance Mitch missed it, and it didn’t take an Einstein to figure out what we were up to before he arrived.

Mia flopped on the couch beside him, dropping her legs over his lap.

He’d already apologized for the surprise visit, and as he shook his hair around in a troubling way, I asked him what was up.

“Nothing major. But I think you might be right about Paul.”

“About what?”

“He’s kind of an asshole.”

“Uh-oh!” Mia tried to pinch his knee with her toes. “What are you boys fighting about now?”

I tossed a little cushion I’d held over my lap, and it bounced off her head. Her cheeks were flush, an indicator her arousal hadn’t completely cooled, and a reminder my dick just moments ago rammed her little precious asshole. I probably looked much the same, and found it hard to concentrate as Mitch explained his situation with Paul.

Over beers, Paul tried to coax Mitch into a five year plan for expanding his hull cleaning business and hiring some help. Apparently Paul’s recent rise at the firm meant dealing with clients wealthy enough to own yachts, and he felt he could line up a huge customer base. But Mitch dreaded being a boss or spending time behind a desk, and wasn’t interested in planning anything past his next trip to Baja. Then Paul exploded. He reminded Mitch how he’d helped set up the business, which is true, and that he could legally claim a percentage of it, and thus turn it around whether Mitch liked it or not.

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “He’s not interested in your business, Mitch. He’s not taking it. Seriously, don’t worry about Paul.”

“I never thought he’d actually take it. I just wanna know why he suddenly started tripping so hard.”

“The guy’s obviously not as happy with his success as he hoped, and wants to drag you down with him. Like I keep saying, Paul can go fuck himself.”

Mia shifted her butt, coming to rest on her side with her head propped on her arm. “You need to not keep saying that. He needs you two right now, but he’s too proud to admit it, so he just gets mad.”

She’d adopted a boys-will-be-boys attitude regarding the extremely sexist remark Paul made the last time we saw him, and had recently asked several times if I’d planned on staying mad at Paul forever, as if I was being childishly stubborn about it. It surprised me she could forgive Paul so quickly, especially considering how long she’d held a grudge against Mitch. But I think the fact I’d become so intensely angry made it easier for her to back away from it. And she was right––Paul’s only means of letting people know something’s wrong, is to act like a dick until they figure it out on their own. That’s partly why Mia’s directness bothered him.

Mitch tickled her foot. “What would Paul need from me? The dude has everything.” He tickled her foot again, as if it might help jog her brain for an answer.

Mia’s extremely ticklish, and slid off the couch. She then got up and walked towards the kitchen. “You guys are his friends, and you are his friends, so you need to figure it out.”

When she slid off the couch, it lifted up her shirt and it became slightly tucked into the waist of her underwear, allowing us to glimpse her panty covered ass. Across the seat of her panties, written in bold Letterman print, arched the word “Porsche.” We’d come to laugh about Paul comparing Mia’s ass with a Lamborghini, and I found the underwear as joke.

Mitch turned to me, grinning. “Better buckle up, Andretti!”

I laughed, and then called him an asshole.

“Bro, you totally owe me for introducing you to that.”

“I owe you a knock on the jaw for being such an asshole.”

“So, is senorita Porsche giving us the Dr. Phil on Paul or what? Does our boy need us?”

“Paul probably just needs to get laid. I guarantee that bitch he’s about to marry is straight up vanilla.”

“Purty Presley’s totally given sweet muffins, bro.”

“Sweet, but not spicy.”

“You gonna toss him the keys to your Porsche then?”

“Fuck are you ever a big, hairy, sandy asshole.”


Two weeks later we drove Mitch’s van to Paul’s cabin, just two guys and a case of Dogfish Head beer. We’d eaten dinner at a roadhouse and planned on a trip for groceries in the morning. We arrived before Paul, and an hour later, we wondered if it would only be the two of us. Then he pulled up in his Land Rover, with barely so much as a word. He was in his same funk, but he came, and that alone meant something. He hurled his suitcase through his bedroom doorway, and then went straight for the liquor cabinet. He didn’t fuck around, and poured a snifter of Cognac––the good stuff––the unknown French family’s humble but priceless heirloom. Paul knocked it back so fast I doubt it touched his tongue, and then he joined us around the sitting area for a beer.

I’d climbed into the van that afternoon committed to the notion Paul would need to make the first move, but I couldn’t take staring at his miserable face and finally asked if he and Presley set a date for their wedding.

“We did. It’s never!”

That I hadn’t expected, and all I could think to say, was sorry.

“Presley’s the perfect lawyer’s wife, but… Well, you ever been around someone who makes you feel uncomfortable in your own skin? Fuck it!”

He stood, gave Mitch and me a foggy glance, and strode to his room, beer in tow.

Mitch sat in the recliner and leaned forward towards me, and then quietly asked if Mia knew Paul and Presley had gone kaput. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

Mia had planned the entire weekend for us. She got Paul on the phone and convinced him to go. She did it without my knowledge or consent, and later that week, she told me over dinner to not make plans for the weekend and take Monday off. I didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on. That Saturday, she packed a bag for me and then Mitch showed up in his van around noon, just as she said he would. If she had known about Paul and Presley’s break up, I really wished she would’ve told me before I climbed in the van.

While her intentions were good, I realized by morning the trip was a mistake. Around eight I phoned her on the landline in my bedroom, since cell signals were non existent that far into the woods. Turned out she had known about Presley. I then explained how it feels when a guy has all his ducks in a row, as Paul did, and then loses his girl and all the plans they’d made. The last people he wants to see are the one’s who called him out for acting so high and mighty. That’s just a recipe for getting mad, mad, and madder. She reminded me Paul hadn’t been forced to come, and I had to give her that. She still apologized for not telling me, and in return I acted a bit like a dick and grumpy over being stuck there. That’s when she volunteered to drive up and fetch me, and I could treat her to a bed and breakfast in the wine country. It sounded unbelievably great, and just knowing she was coming boosted my spirits.

Paul napped most of the afternoon, while Mitch and I ran through the woods howling like animals. That part was actually fun! I ended up telling Mitch Mia was arriving later. He wasn’t real happy about being left with the gloomy bastard, but admitted he’d do the same. We returned to find Paul on the porch and he wondered why the fuck he’d heard elephants and monkeys in the woods. A moment later he blurted out, “If I could just treat a whore like a whore, I might be able to keep a wife who isn’t one.”

“The more you talk, Paul, the more it sounds like Presley just didn’t do it for you. You’re never going to fit in a country-club life style, not the Paul I know.”

“Maybe! But I’d love to fuck her one last time. I’d teach her the ways, man. I’d show no mercy. I’d love to punish that pretentious snatch.”

That had to be the darkest thing I’d ever heard Paul say. The gap between his worlds had unleashed a demon in him, and I had no idea how to respond.

Mitch did, however. “Yeah, I know how that is.” He grinned at me stupid as he spoke, and I knew a joke was coming at my expense. “I wanted to give Mia one of those after we went splitzky.” He then smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Wait a minute! What am I saying? I did nothing but punish that chick’s snatch.”

He bolted back into the woods with me after him, and Paul laughed hysterically from the porch.

About an hour later, Mia rolled up in our Lexus RX-10. She jumped out, her face hidden by big red sunglasses, and body barely hidden by a pink and chocolate, rib-high tank top and a very short, navy-blue skirt. She was glad to be out of the car and totally hyper. Mitch was asked to grab the ice-chest from the back, and I carried in her bag. Forgetting how cold mountain evenings could be, she put on the flannel shirt Mitch left hanging over the porch railing. It fit her like a raincoat, and she rolled the big sleeves high up over her tiny elbows.

I finally cornered Mia while she brushed her teeth, and asked if she’d be ready to head out soon. But after seven straight hours in the car, she’d figured on spending a little time cooking a small dinner for everyone and leave shortly after that. She’d already picked up some fish, vegetables and a few other things in Sacramento, and proceeded to take over the kitchen for the next hour. Only a few times a year will my vegetarian wife allow herself to eat fish, so I knew it would be an extra special meal. It smelled fucking great, especially considering I’d eaten nothing but Cheerios and a plain baloney sandwich.

Her twenty-four-year-old energy permeated the cabin, and electrified Mitch and I into walking along the porch railings from one side to the other without holding onto the top roof beam. With the fish in the oven, Mia took a break and attempted it with us. The setting sun behind the tall pines turned her pink hair bright red, and she looked gorgeous standing up there. Being several inches shorter than us gave her an advantage, she didn’t have to tilt her head to keep from bumping the roof beam, and she actually balanced across the entire stretch, which made Mitch and I more determined than ever to succeed.

Her fish came out perfect, and we ate at the table like a family. Paul had become pleasant, and blathered on about a fishing trip in Cabo San Lucas. We just needed a pretty face to wake us up, and there could be no prettier face than Mia’s. She and I discussed staying at the cabin, since eight-o-clock had crept up on us and we wouldn’t reach the wine country for another several hours, making the trip rather pointless. Once we’d agreed to stay, she produced a bottle of Cuervo and insisted we all toast to a lifelong friendship.

It had dipped into the low forties, so Mitch carried in a few logs and built us a nice tall fire. Soon we had ourselves a toasty cabin, and that enticed Mia to remove the huge flannel shirt, leaving her in the skimpy outfit she’d arrived in. Between her low-riding, short skirt and a half-length tank-top was a long, snaking hourglass of tone flesh. She looked way too fucking hot not to stare. Her skirt teetered awesomely with her hips, and the skimpy tank top did nothing to prevent the slight jiggle of her titties. Paul clammed up at the sight of her, not the reaction I’d expected at all.

She finally sat on the couch-back with her legs over my shoulders, rubbing my neck and head as I methodically squeezed her little tootsies in my lap. She registered a little drunk, and leaned her head against mine to whisper. “I have a naughty confession to make. I made a bad promise. Don’t be mad, but in order to get Paul out here, I had to agree to something.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Sex! Or actually a very specific kind of sex.”

“You did not tell him he could partake in the Kind Bud, did you.”

She sucked air through her teeth while giving me a guilty smile. I couldn’t help but laugh, and she hit my shoulder. “You’re not helping. I don’t think he was serious, but what do I say if he mentions it?”

Jealousy surprised me like a broken guitar string, and for a moment I saw myself driving away with her before anything else was said––but then the feeling passed as quickly as it came. We’d swung once in the past, so I never gave any reason to believe I’d be upset by this kind of play. I asked her to pour me some tequila, and she did. By the time the gold liquid reached my belly, I’d favored the idea. I preferred her slutty at times, and obviously she did too.

“I hate to say it, babe, but you made your bed, now you gotta fuck in it.”

“I’m being serious, Devin.”

“So just do it, then. You slept with the guy once before, you didn’t exactly complain about it afterwards, and it certainly didn’t hurt our sex-life any.”

“I can’t. We’re married now. What would he think?”

“Look, you’ve slept with every guy in this room––I guarantee they aren’t going to judge your virtue. Although your performance might be up for review.”

She punched me in the shoulder again.

“So you’re telling me you’re cool with some guy doing your wife?”

“No, not some guy––Paul, the guy I’ve shared everything with my entire life.”

“You’re weird.”

This time I punched her gently in the shoulder.

Over the next hour she flirted, but made no progress in seducing Paul towards his bedroom. I even discreetly let Paul know that no matter what happened I was totally cool with it. He gave me a shit eating grin like never before. It was all up to Mia. She was drunk and ready, I could see it in her face, yet she kept hesitating. I’m pretty sure it was me. She’d never be able to step into his bedroom while I was there to see it happen.

Finally she accused Paul of being seriously tense, and had him lay on the buffalo-skin rug in front of the fire. She then sat on his butt and dug her fingers into his bare skin. There was no way not to see it as a mildly erotic act, but she looked too incredibly hot arching over him in the firelight for me to feel anything but excitement. And as her fingers spread across his tone back, she gave Paul a sense of peace Mitch and I could never provide.

Mitch teased he’d been feeling pretty tense lately, and Mia said he’d never been tense in his life.

“What you need is skin-cream. You’re in the sun all the time, and in all that salt water. It’s going to turn you into a sixty-year-old man.”

“Damn, girl! Now I really am tense!”

Paul asked about her pink hair, and she explained, “I guess I just needed to convince myself I could still get away with it. Being a wife can make you feel old sometimes.”

He laughed, “You’re not even twenty-five, silly child.”

“No shit,” I agreed. “But I like my little punker-girl, so don’t change it back just yet.”

As much as I wanted to see this through, I knew I had to leave in order for her to feel comfortable taking the next step. I walked over to her, kissed her sweet lips, and told everyone I was going to pass out. She said she’d be right in, and sounded as if she meant it, but I suspected she’d change her mind once I’d vacated the room.


After lying in bed for fifteen minutes without any sign of Mia, I knew something was going down. I heard Paul pour them a tequila from his cabinet, informing them how Mia’s Cuervo might get the job done, but his evokes passion. Shortly after, Paul blurted out to Mitch,, “Five dollars says Mia’s new hair matches the color of her nipples.” Shocked laughter erupted from both Mia and Mitch. But Mia wasn’t the kind of girl to let unsolicited audacity go unanswered, and when I heard the guys howl and crack up, I was certain she’d flashed them her scrumptious titties. I know Paul, and he knew she’d pull something like that in retaliation.

I was hard as a rock, and began stroking my cock to the sound of them. And then I quickly dressed into warm clothes and climbed quietly out the window. I stepped onto the porch, and stood off to the side of the wide front window. I had the perfect view of the living room. I wouldn’t be able to catch the real action in Paul’s bedroom, but I could at least watch the frisky business leading up to it.

Paul escorted her by the hand and sat her on his lap. She then lifted her tiny tank top as he trickled tequila over both her nipples. Christ, was he actually going to do a nipple shot right in front of Mitch? Was she going to let him? To my amazement, he freely sucked her cute, little, tequilla-covered button into his mouth.

Mitch’s head suddenly appeared along side Paul’s, and he proceeded to clean her right breast. The two of them were being extremely thorough in lapping up the tequila. Extremely thorough! In fact, what should have taken a second had stretched into several minutes, with both of them practically engulfing her small pert tits.

Mia let them have at her, until finally she ran her hands through Paul’s straight black hair, and breathlessly said, “No fair guys. You’re getting me way too horny.” She pulled Paul up for a kiss, and Mitch retreated back to the Lazy-Boy. As their tongues explored each other’s mouths, Paul squeezed her right tit, which still featured a wet sheen from Mitch’s tonguing.

From where he sat in the Lazy-Boy, Mitch called out, “Yo Mia, one more!”

As she pulled her skimpy top completely off, she also looked over towards Mitch, only to find him holding his dick in his palm as he dribbled tequila along the head. Mitch’s cock had to be eight inches, and it wasn’t even hard. He’d boasted in the past, but I’d never believed it.

“God, Mitch, you’re such a jack-ass!” She grew a wicked look in her eye while sizing up Mitch and his exposed cock, and then, as if solely to torture Mitch for his behavior, she dropped off Paul’s lap, and went for the zipper on his pants. A minute later she bobbed on his cock like a fiend.

His fingers were laced through her hair, encouraging her to swallow more with each downward plunge. “Come on Mia. Do it for me, baby.” With nearly seven-and-half inches lodged into her svelte throat, she noisily struggled to gorge herself on the last damn inch.

Always the funny man, Mitch called out. “Wow Mia, the veggie cops aren’t going to like you putting away all that meat.”

Paul then lifted her head off his cock, and dribbled some tequila down his shaft. He let go of her hair then, and down she went, swallowing a good seven of his eight-and-half inches.

“So I pour tequila on my dick and I’m a jack-ass, but Paul does it and you totally lollypop him.”

She pulled off with a glazed chin, “Sorry Charlie, but nobody asked to see your sad fella.” She then went back to slobbering on Paul’s bad-boy, and motioned with her eyes towards his bedroom. It looked like the show was ending for me, since Paul’s room would be too dark to peek inside.

Mitch stood up and slowly and quietly stepped behind her. He then lifted her skirt, and gave her a hard spank. Mia promptly got up, turned to face him, and pushed him backwards. She pushed him again, and didn’t stop until he was on the buffalo skin rug. She then sat him down and circled him like a predator. Mia can stand up for herself, and knows how to tell a guy off when he’s being too pushy. But without a word, she grabbed his broad shoulders and pulled the big guy onto his back. He didn’t resist, and then she threw her leg over his body, straddling his chest and arms. It appeared she had him pinned, but it also appeared like mighty Mitch could just sit up and affectively toss her off.

“What is it about you that’s so cute?” She poked his cheek. “It’s gotta be those dimples.” She then began to tickle him in little bursts.

“Don’t do it.”

“You don’t have a choice, do you?”

He did, and up he went and off she flew. He then pinned her arms and sat on her naked chest.

“Shit! No Mitch don’t! I’m totally ticklish! You’ll totally make me scream!”

He magically produced a condom from his pants pocket. “Don’t worry, this ain’t gonna tickle. Here, hold it for a sec.” He slipped the package between her teeth. He then stood up and dropped his shorts, while she got up on her elbows and took the condom from her mouth. Mitch towered over her supine body, his cock free and pointing towards her sex like a divining-rod. He dropped to his knees and pulled her short navy-blue skirt down as she lifted her ass. Her undies quickly followed. They were both completely naked as he slowly lay down on top of her, kissing impulsively the instant their lips met. Her arms draped around his neck and he caressed her thigh. After a few minutes of making out, he rolled onto his left side, semi-privately put on the condom, and rolled back. He then raised her legs slightly and moved forward, slipping into Mia.

They quickly gained a steady rhythm, with the firelight tracing their dancing forms. His hand climbed up to her knee, pushing it forwards, towards her chest. Moving his pelvis forward with her knee and his torso upright, he spread her wider, and quickened his thrusts. “You missed my cock, didn’t you?”

“I won’t lie, but it’s the only thing I missed.”

“Always gotta be the stone cold queen, huh?”

They inched their way towards animalistic with pleasure laced groans. I hadn’t expected Mitch to be a part of this, and I probably would’ve been upset about it, except I’d grown unbelievably hard watching them. They were lovers in the past, and I knew she had been genuinely hot for the guy, and no doubt enjoyed herself now. I had to take a step back when I saw my breath beginning to fog the window.

She arched her back and rolled her head, her hips gyrating with increased desperation. Mitch followed their lead, answering her relentless hips with firm bursts of formidable strength. Orgasmic power rocked Mia and ravaged her face and posture.

She then pushed him off and climbed on top. The fire perfectly lit her face, tits and her entire front side, and fell into shadow where their pubic areas met. It artistically revealed her body and face like a model in a fashion mag. Sweat beaded up on her forehead and chest, twinkling in unison with the flickering flames. The moment was so artistically perfect, I could almost imagine words scrolling up beside them, listing the songs included on the Acoustic Guitar for Lovers compilation.

She rode Mitch harder, until the magic moment quickly crept up on him. And as Mia’s big play toy prepared to pop off inside her, she too came like wild animal.

After the fireworks settled down, she leaned forward to cuddle with him, but allowed his whopping cock to slowly soften inside her––keeping it all to herself for as long as she possibly could.

When her eyes opened, Paul stood over her, naked and holding out his hand. She took it, and was led to the Lazy-Boy, where he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Full on penetration was almost instant, and they wasted no time rocking the Lazy-Boy. As their love making continued, all the subtle noises climbed up in intensity––the mussing of hair, skin brushing against leather, wet skin on wet skin, and Mia’s faint sweet moans. Her speaking voice is seductively low and breathy, like someone has cranked up the volume on a whisper––and her moaning the exact opposite, like she’s singing at whisper level, a soft and pleasant sound that travels deep into my bones.

She leaned all the way back as Paul continued to rock his hips powerfully. She now faced the window where I hid, and arched backwards off his lap with her head upside-down and on the floor, I was reminded of a cowboy on a bucking bronco, who’d snapped so far back his head smacked the horse’s ass. And while practically staring right at me, demur excitement tugged at her brows, her lower lip quivered, and her pink hair mopped about the floor.

When she pulled herself back up, the big looping curls tumbled in front of her face and into Paul’s. He did the honors of pushing them back behind her ears.

Soon she began to raise her hips up and down and grind them forwards and back. Paul was feeling like a champ. He grunted once and then didn’t breathe, placing a hand on Mia’s ass and slowing her down. She stopped completely, and they hugged.

He whispered something into her ear, and then forced her knees onto the arm rest, spreading her legs wider and plumping out her ass, full and taut. He then stripped off the condom, and poked a saliva covered finger into her butt. “I’m totally clean, and I gotta do this au naturel, is that OK?” She smiled, and then reached behind herself to gingerly guide his cock towards the Killer Kind Bud. Her eyelids grew heavy, leaving just a stroke of green under the closing lid, and she crackled, “Don’t move! I gotta get used to you.”

“Take all the time you need.”

She didn’t need much, and soon Paul had exactly what he’d wanted, he was ass-fucking Mia. With her knees on the Lazy-Boy armrests, he gripped her creamy ass cheeks so tight they glowed red, and drove her bottom up and down on his rock hard pole. “Oh jeeze, Mia. Mitch didn’t lie, you got some ass on you.”

Her tone ass landed with a solid thud on his thighs, over and over again, as his huge engorged cock disappeared inside it each and every time. Part of me was disappointed to see Paul finally driving anal on Mia. Only because he had the bullshit notion he was entitled to it, and I secretly enjoyed lording it over him. But every thud of her ass announced the spoiled brat was at last indulging in my prized treasure, and Mia was just giving it away, taking his big cock deep and dutifully.

He let go of one cheek to squeeze her perfect, teacup bosom, and then mouthed it with urgent fervor––like it contained the elixir of life and he meant to drink Mia’s tit dry. He spanked her hard and lifted her off, his cock popping out and revealing the tunnel it made inside her. Taking a moment to position her in front of the Lazy-Boy, with her head resting on the seat, he kneeled behind her, and spit several times into her tunnel. His cock then took a quick plunge into her pussy, for more of the au naturel lube, and only then submerged into her asshole again. He fucked like that for several minutes, as she rolled her head across the leather seat and girlishly murmured how wonderful it felt.

His attention sharply focused only on the penetration, truly fascinated by his dick busting in and out of her snug buttery burrow. He brought his feet forward, squatting over her, and angled her down, with her head against the floor and her ass sticking upwards. Being folded at the waist gave her a big stout ass, which she needed, because Paul wasn’t just thrusting into her anymore––from this position his dick had a downwards path, and that meant the weight of his body was being dropped onto Mia’s bum, forcing her cheeks to bulge outwards upon impact with an incredibly loud smack, and to hammer all eight-and-half, fat inches completely inside. Mia grunted each time he landed on her, which only inflamed his malicious assault.

“Oh god, Paul, you’re really giving me one.”

Veins had appeared at his temples, and he could barely speak. “Ooo fuck, I really am.” He moved a little to the left, and began spanking her ass cheeks hard. “Shit, I’d love to give Presley’s some of this.” I could see his legs straining to keep up the bombardment, and then he palmed her ass cheeks and began pushing off her with the assistance of his hairy arms. Sweat poured down his face, turning him into a glistening lunatic. “I so need to fuck Presley like a whore, just one time.”

Was that what he was doing right in front of Mitch, and with me watching from outside, fucking Mia like a whore?

Swatting Mia’s side, he rolled her forwards and lifted by her waist. Her shoulders settled on the ground with her back against the chair, and her knees swung back alongside her head. Now he had her ass in the air, where he could work it without squatting. He spit several times on his finger, and dug them into her butt. Then he was in, standing over her and banging straight down into her chastised chasm. There was no question about this new position––Paul was absolutely banging her like a whore, which left me crushed but also jacking-off like mad.

I’d forgotten about Mitch until he spoke up. “Whoa man, Devin’s way tripping if he wakes up to you totally spelunking in his Kind Bud like that.” Neither Paul nor Mia had it in them to laugh at the moment––in fact, I doubt they even heard him.

Paul squeezed the base of his shaft, pushed deep inside her and then shook it around. “This is how I’d like punish Presley’s pretentious asshole––right here, like this.” Instead of cherishing my priceless Lamborghini as I do, Paul performed a rigmarole of grueling tests, like one would a cheap rental car. Business law had created an even bigger self-centered monster, for him to blatantly bang my wife so voraciously.

“Know what I’d really like to do? Dick dive on her!” He pulled out, leaving her wide open, and then punched his cock back in. He repeated the move several times, with Mia gulping every time his cock hit bottom and his knuckle struck her perineum. “Oh yeah, right like this, dick diving in a whore’s ass.” Preasly had left a serious dark demon inside him, but Mia, finding herself in the blitzkrieg of this marauding, ass-hungry oppressor, only materialized stronger, and certainly showed no signs of needing help. He added spit to the mix as his cock came out, and soon his cock slipped in with such ease it enabled him to increase the speed. Mia’s body recoiled so badly that he had to hold her steady with his free hand. “Oh fuck. Look at that asshole. Look how hollowed out I got it.” Then he stopped for a moment, his dick lodged in to the maximum, and slowly pulled out. “Oh shit, Mitch, you hear that?” Of course Mitch heard, because I heard from clear outside. As his au naturel lubed up dick slid in and out, it made a surprisingly, lurid, wet sound. “That’s her ass talking, man, and it’s telling me how much she likes my dick. Mmmm, oh yeah, that’s a whore’s ass alright––just begging for dick.”

“Dude, what you’re doing now would totally kill Presley.”

Paul then looked down at Mia’s face, her chin pressed against her chest and her sweaty pink curls splashed about her forehead and over her left eye. She breathed heavy through clenched teeth, but her right eye stared intensely back up at him. His mission to crush some ass slipped from the forefront of his mind, as their engaged eyes spoke in a way words could not. Her feistiness pit against his domineering arrogance was always the cause of some tension. As good of friends as we’d been, I knew if the two of them spent a week in the cabin alone they’d end up killing each other. But now they were face to face and fucking, and their firecracker chemistry exploded between them.

“I almost forgot about you down there, Mia.”

She rolled her eyes and halfway smiled.

“Wow, I think I became someone else for a minute there. You OK?”

Her rosy cheeks lifted into a smug smile. “I’ve had Mitch. You’re small potatoes compared to him.”

She meant to push his button and she did. “Is that right?” He put a finger into her snatch and pulled it out dripping wet. “Look at that. You like this, don’t you? You like having your ass punished! I can’t give you enough, can I?” He sucked her juice from his finger and then poked it in again. Both of her holes were then fucked in unison, as she squealed delightfully from below and gasped for air. He leaned over and reached down to feed her the juice off his fingers. “Taste that? My cock is making you so wet, little Mia. And you can’t stand it, can you? You can’t stand that a male chauvinist prick like me gets you so sopping wet.”

As the fucking resumed, their eyes remained locked, like two boxers in a ring. He spanked her ass, spread her legs like a wishbone, and gave her everything he had. And although her body squirmed and her breathing stuttered through an orgasm, she continued to defiantly stare him down. When it came to sex, Mia was into a little humiliation, I knew that, but it was near heart stopping to see it that roughly dished-out by another man.

“You have a serious slut side, Mia. I’m owning your asshole like a whore’s, and the harder I fuck, the harder you seem to come.” He pulled his dripping fingers out of her snatch and wiped them on her thigh. It was no longer about playing Connoisseur to the Killer Kind Bud or a Presley grudge fuck fantasy, Paul now put the feisty little Mia in her place with an extremely hard, balls-to-wall bang session––something I’m sure he’d longed to do from the very first day the outspoken hottie stepped into his life. He then knelt behind her, pried open her loose butthole with his fingers, and spat several times into her rectum. He’d been working over her ass for almost thirty minutes, and appeared to be preparing for another half-hour. I have to admit, I was incredibly impressed by both their stamina.

Barely audible, Mia incited, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“Say it again.”

In a pseudo porn-star’s voice, she repeated it louder, “I want you to fucking come in my mouth.”

He stood up. “Let me get in two last dick dives, and then it’s all yours, baby.” He then punched his eight-and-half inches into her freshly lubed butt, and yanked it right back out. He maintained eye contact and practically bounced her off the floor by shoving it in so hard. His ‘two last dick dives’ turned out to be more like two-hundred––he just couldn’t stop butt bludgeoning her. I watched in disbelief as he smacked into her over and over like some hydraulic powered machine. She finally had to beg him to come in her mouth before he’d stop.

Paul ended up melting into the Lazy-Boy with Mia’s face buried in his lap, sucking him off. Both of them were sweaty and exhausted.

Mitch saw an opportunity and came over to lift Mia’s ass, leaving her on her hands and knees. He broke out a condom and lube, and as he fingered the lube into her butt, he declared, “I’m so fucking this.” Her back quivered into an arch, the mere thought of his words involuntarily exciting her. He then eased his way in, penetrating her ass much gentler than Paul had. He had to go easy––my boy Mitch was damn near eleven inches.

“Oh the memories!” He poked it in a little deeper as Paul chuckled. “Man, when we were going out, Mia so made me wait an eternity to split some ass.” Then he slapped the heel of his palm to his forehead and shook his tangled hair. “What am I saying, she totally took a trunk full of meat on the first date.” Paul laughed out loud this time, and Mia, while still sucking his cock, swung an arm backwards, nailing Mitch in his thigh.

Paul then mouthed words in complete silence. “Seriously, on the first date?”

Mitch triumphantly brought a fist down in front of his own face, and shouted, “Boom!”

Paul broke into laughter and Mia lifted her head. “Am I doing all this for nothing?” Paul didn’t answer, instead he grabbed the back of her head, put her mouth to the light-house, and with a renewed interest, began pumping her throat. Similarly, Mitch began to drive his monster in with force, spanking her sweaty rear as he did.

Mia was getting totally rocked, cocks busting into her from both sides, and mine sprang up hard enough to bat one out of the ballpark. Paul stood up, locked eyes again and gave her Irish-exotic face a throat-bruising bone. She spit and drooled, her mascara bled, she whimpered faintly, but her green eyes gleamed with more radiance than ever. Behind her, Mitch used her sphincter to mark off ten-inches on his cock, while reaching around to frig her little puss towards a wet smacking crescendo. Both guys were grunting loud, and their wet bodies clapped against hers. They were being extremely noisy, making me grateful for the solitude. With his fist, Paul made a ponytail out of Mia’s pink hair and used it to jack her mouth on his cock. His balls smashed against her chin and the sound from her throat was louder than anything yet, like Vin Deisel plunging a clogged drain. Not to be out done, Mitch slammed his dick completely into her ass, all eleven inches, the meaty impact echoing through the house, and then followed it with the lighter sound of his balls whapping against pussy.

Not in my wildest dreams did I ever anticipate seeing my little Mia impaled between my two big friends, a cock going in one end and another in the other. They amusingly appeared to be connected, like Paul and Mitch were lumber-jacks pulling a dick shaped saw through her.

In the back Mitch kept on squeezing his monster in with full force, and the son-of-bitch was in great shape and capable of ramming her harder than Paul or I ever could. It surprised me, too, because Mitch was so laid back about everything, yet here he was, teeth clenched, muscles rippling, and absolutely destroying Mia’s ass with his iron giant. He was competitive, that was the thing, and I’m sure I was witnessing a one-ups-man-ship on Paul. Then he slowed down, almost to a stop, and grabbed Mia’s ass cheeks.

“You hear that, Paul?”

Paul was still feeding cock to Mia and on the verge of unloading. “You mean the sound of my dick poking her tonsils?”

“No, dude! Her ass––it’s taking to me.” Using his hands he flapped her thick butt cheeks back-n-forth, making her crack appear like a talking mouth, while speaking for it in a girl’s voice. “Oh Mitch, I just love your huge dong in my soft hole.” He started fucking her deep again, still flapping her butt cheeks and now garbling his words. “Oh god, it’s hard to talk with so much meat in me. You’re so much bigger and better than Paul. On god I love your dick so much, Mitch. Fuck me harder!” He did. “No even harder!” He did. “No even harder than that!”

By now he was jam-packing her wobbling booty at blistering speeds. I had never seen anything like it––a man pretending to have a conversation with an ass whilst fucking the hell out of it. Only Mitch could pull off something as asinine as that. “Oh god, stud, your gonna make me come. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m so coming.”

Then the oddest thing happened, Mia actually came. Her back humped up, her toes curled over, and she moaned sweetly over Paul’s dick. That was enough to set Paul off, and he pushed her face into his abdomen and broke into a fucking war cry. Their eyes remained engaged throughout, and her cheeks fluttered, letting me know a hot load was splashing against the back of her mouth as she struggled not to gag. He pulled her head slightly away, grabbed his cock, and then squeezed the last of his come directly on her tongue. “Oh fuck you, little slutty Mia, you get all my come.” She licked his shaft, catching a final drip, and then swallowed, glaring seductively up at him the entire time. Paul was left speechless, and then he walked over to the couch and sat down. And this is where I came, shooting a load onto the doorframe of Paul’s cabin.

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