The Fox and The Hound

The entertainment industry: jobs are short, the turn-around of meeting and leaving people is fast, but the circle is small. Everyone knows everyone, or, if not, your reputation precedes you. It takes you to places like Park City, Utah—a stunning backdrop for an existential crisis at the age of 31. 

No longer doe-eyed and optimistic in youth, nor leathered with wisdom and age, I was straddling generations, one foot firmly rooted in the past and one toying towards the future. Some people prosper under the loftiness of endless opportunity. I thrive under the weight of boundaries. I was not adjusting well to this new life transition. 

Hindsight is 20/20. Looking back, this proverbial split was a defining moment. I was about to determine the erotic experience of my 30s. After settling in my 20s for a sexless relationship, this moment was pivotal, a crossroad that presented itself through two diametric experiences, two very different men: J and N. 

I still wonder what could have been. 

But first, let me recall the beginnings of the journey that brought me to my choice: Shifting from 29 to 30, I entered my sexual prime. It began with a subtle aching in my sex that wound through my heart and into my head. Once it took root there, it dominated my logic, my vision, and my every sensation. It was a point of no return. 

I was at the tail-end of a seven-year relationship. My faithful boyfriend, who once embodied safety and support, was now bland and obstructive. This aching inside me usurped the positive memories and in its place left disappointment and anger, primarily in one department—our sex life.

A typical tryst went like this: I’d wordlessly assume missionary position, lay back, and peel my panties down my legs. I’d keep my shirt on to suppress the jiggle of my breasts and wait for the selfish, short ordeal to be over. I’d then clean my stomach with baby wipes left on the nightstand while he avoided my eyes. I remember looking up at the popcorn kernels on the ceiling after one of these encounters and being overwhelmed with sudden anger. How long had we been moving like wraiths through the motions of sensuality? I had suffered years of lethargic sex with him, and he never once tried anything that would help me. In an angry epiphany, I realized I chose him out of fear of not having anyone at all. I was angry that this epiphany came so late in my life; I was angry I had spent my 20s chronically blue-balled. And I was angry at my boyfriend for withering into quiet domesticity. 

That was the last time I had sex with him. I put seven years in the rear-view mirror—I couldn't move away from him fast enough. And I still couldn't satiate the need inside me; it grew and grew. I felt like an animal with one urgent preset. 

Freshly single, I thought about how there was so much of me left unexplored and untouched. My sexuality and my sexual fulfillment were as crucial as anything else in my life. I wouldn't allow anything to prevent my self-discovery. Riding this unwavering empowerment, I came to the first of two paths -J. 

J was a rigger for our crew in Park City, Utah, and a man's man. Lumberjack Chic, complete with muscles and a beard. The crew was pre-rigging the outdoor stage, and I was tasked with collecting work releases. J owed me his. 

Walking among burly, unfamiliar men with a clipboard in my hands, I asked the back of a flannel shirt to point me towards J. 

He turned around and said smoothly, "You found him." 

J’s translucent blue eyes on me smoldered—instant chemistry.

"How could I have missed you, the giant!" I giggled nervously, taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. 

J was tall. Towering, actually. At 6' 4", he was a god among men. 

"The gentle giant." He smirked, slicking back his auburn hair shaved at the sides. 

He had a deep baritone voice that was every bit as silky and commanding as one would imagine a giant would have. When he spoke, I felt the air sucked right out of my lungs. 

"I need your Hancock on this work release." I tapped the back of my pen on the clipboard and gave a small coy smile.

My 'phrasing' provoked a grin from him and permitted pushing the acceptable boundaries of professionalism. 

J chuckled and smoothed his well-groomed beard with his tattooed fingers, "You can have more than that if you tell me your name, dollface." 

Usually, dollface would have offended me. When J said it, a heat spiked between my legs. 

"I prefer ‘Your Majesty’, but Lola will suffice." I shrugged slyly. 

I might have been out of the dating scene for a minute, but I was still a clever flirt. 

J threw his head back in a hardy laugh. A light sheen of sweat glistened off his face and neck from the morning sun. 

"Yes, majesty, you are." His voice was smokey as he combed the length of my body with those intense eyes. 

I wordlessly handed him my clipboard and pen. He took it and bent down on one knee, perching the clipboard on his denim thigh. 

"Oh! You don't need to get on your knees; we should find a table." 

J put his hand up to indicate he was fine, "I know my place when in the presence of a queen," then he looked up at me from his knees with a devious smile. 

My nipples pushed painfully against the thin fabric of my shirt. I imagined the smoldering power nestled between my legs. 

I wistfully watched his fingers dance across the release pages. He had long, elegant fingers; they were also heavily tattooed. I wondered what the rest of his body looked like; was it tattooed as well? 

"My Hancock." He announced as he stood to his full height, dwarfing me in his shadow. 

His eyes brushed over my breasts as he stood. His ascent felt deliberately slow. I felt my chest puff out a little, offering more for his lingering gaze. 

"Thank you." I graciously took my clipboard back, his fingers brushed against mine. 

I wanted his hands all over me.

"Is that all you need? He asked. 

I smiled knowingly, "For now." 

"Until next time." He tipped his hat with a smirk unmistakable in his eyes. 

As I sauntered back to my office, my heart fluttered. It had been a long time since I’d had a crush. 

He was an eclectic combination of city and country; the city-slicking cowboy. His whole facade was shrouded in mystery, from the tattoos to his curated responses. There were layers there that he was protecting. I wanted to unfold them. 

Serendipitously, my office window had the best voyeuristic seat in the house. From my window, I could see the rigging crew. I watched J rigging trusses. As he lifted obscenely large beams, I could see his muscles contract and contour against his clothing—that's how defined his body was. I wanted to experience his strength and power. I wanted to be thrown around. 

With hungry eyes, I followed J's poised movements. He moved with purpose and predatory precision. He must have felt my energy because he turned towards my office window and winked. I internally moaned. 

I wanted a man who wasn't afraid to taste me and to take me in his mouth. J had lips like clouds, soft and plush. I wanted both lips over my throbbing clit; I wanted to feel his warm softness sucking my need. I wanted a man who knew what he wanted; I wanted that to be me. 

I imagine J stripping me down, piece by piece disrobing me. He picks me up and gently places me on a wide-armed chair. He kneels before me fully clothed while I, his naked little sub, am at his mercy. His strong hands stroke my thighs and spread them, exposing my glistening sex to his smoldering eyes. He drapes my thighs over the chair arms. Sensually, his eyes comb the length of my body. I writhe as they land on my sex, his eyes teasing me. He plays this power dynamic torturously well. Touching me everywhere but where I want it most. He breaks me; he makes me beg for him. 

"Touch me, please. I need you."

With that devilish smile, I imagine his strong fingers wrapped around my throat. Him in control of my breathing with how firm or loose his fingers press, eliciting different octaves from my vocal cords. I let him punish me for speaking. 

"Who do you belong to?" 

"You." I choke out; this is truly delicious. 

"If you're mine, I will do as I please. Is that understood?" 

I nod, arching my neck into his hands, exposing more of myself. I belong to him, vulnerable and helpless, his little plaything. I love how his stature makes me feel so small and feminine, shadowed by his large, towering frame. 

Like magic, his mouth descends upon my aching parted sex and --- 

"Lola?" A voice asked, ripping me from my reverie. 

"Yes?" I answered, turning from the window with a healthy hue to my cheeks. 

Clenching my thighs tight under my desk, my eyes fell upon a distinguished gentleman in an ironic short-sleeve button-down. I followed the translucent buttons up to the face of the second fork in my crossroad. 

"Hey! I'm N. I wanted to come by and introduce myself." N's voice was satisfyingly smooth. 

N's whole ensemble was adorable, with silver hair and black-rimmed glasses. Still, this intentional style added to his distinguished energy. He was a real silver fox. I was immediately endeared to him. 

"Oh, hi! Thank you for coming by..." My voice instinctually became huskier as I spoke, a remnant from fantasizing, "It's nice to meet you." 

I came out from behind my desk and held out my hand. My nipples must have been puckering against my shirt; they attracted N's attention. N's eyes dropped to my chest and then, as if catching this involuntary movement, shot back up just as quickly. His cheeks warmed. 

That he registered me as a sexual being changed the entire dynamic between us. We were buzzing, erotically charged. Emboldened by his glance, I felt powerful. I felt much more than that… 

He took my small hand in his larger calloused one so delicately, a sensation shot up my spine, like a paralytic. As he shook my hand, he smiled sideways as if he couldn't believe his luck touching such a beautiful woman. At least, that's what I imagined. I didn't want to let go. 

"I didn't mean to intrude. I just wanted to introduce myself to the Grand Wizard." He said emphatically. 

He had an animated way of speaking. His whole body reflected his tone. It was refreshingly honest and transparent. 

"Grand Wizard?" I laughed, furrowing my eyebrows. 

"I might be a lowly blue-collar worker, but I appreciate how much organization and preparation it took to get us here. Your efforts are acknowledged. As are you." He spoke with his hands, which I found endearing as well. 

"Thank you. I do what I can to please." As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my 'phrasing' had taken a new level of autonomy. 

Something danced across his green eyes, and he smiled, "I have no doubt in my mind. But let me ask you: when was the last time someone did something for you?" 

The casual way he leaned back against the wall as he fluidly dominated the direction of the conversation was telling. He outwardly appeared to be the cliche ‘nice guy,' but something was there, something more lingering just beneath the surface. There was a sharp edge there that he intentionally dulled, of that I was sure. Energy doesn't lie. 

"Pfft, in this position - never. Management is a public service, really. Thankless." I joked, well, half-joked. 

"Well, thank you for all your hard work. Truly." N's green eyes were eager behind his black-rimmed glasses as he spoke. 

The steady way he held my gaze emanated a calm air of confidence that commanded respect, though he would never demand it. I found that quality very attractive. A true gentleman, perhaps the first and only I would ever meet. 

"Speaking of hard work. Was my rigger, J, doing something he wasn't supposed to?" N joked, referring to my window-gazing when he entered my office. 

I hesitated. His rigger? And that's when my brain started working, and I connected the dots. N was the lead rigger, which meant he was J's supervisor.

That subtle power play intensified my attraction to N, adding a new level to this strange love triangle that was forming. 

"Oh! No! I wasn't specifically looking at anything. Just zoning out." I laughed ironically. 

But I was a terrible liar. The way N smiled knowingly indicated he knew it, too. I got the impression he was trying to gauge my interest in J, his competition. 

In the past, I quelled my attractions that were politically or situationally incorrect. But I was exhausted from policing my fantasies. I shamelessly liked that N felt territorial. I wanted him to flex his power over J. A little bit of competition never hurt anyone. 

"Alright. You let me know if J needs to be put in his place; he's been known to take liberties." N said playfully, partially strategically. "And you let me know if you need anything from me." 

He was serious.

N genuinely wanted to be in my space and at my service. My pussy throbbed. There was nothing sexier than a man with power who wanted to serve, who had something to prove. 

I imagine leaning back seductively on the edge of my desk. My thighs fall open, an invitation to N to service me. Those earnest eyes darken with lust as he kneels before me. I imagine his silver hair settling between my legs, and it fills me with an uncontrollable urge to call him daddy—a taboo play on our age difference. 

"What do you want?" N whispers, his voice barely containing his need. 

"I want you to feel your tongue lick up and down my pussy, all over me...Daddy." I whisper, blushing. 

It’s embarrassing to speak those words, but once I imagine them leaving my lips, my entire body pulsates with excruciating need. There is power in the auditory. 

N's textured hands slide up my thighs, sending surges of pleasure through my body. They reach beneath my skirt and hook around my panties. He pulls them down just above my knees, looks at the pool of wetness on the fabric, and moans. 

"Look at how wet you are. Is that all for me?" A sharp edge to his voice. 

My knees tremble. N lays his hot, heavy hands on the tops of my thighs and massages them, comforting me with the reminder that he’s here to please me.

I open my legs further against N's touch and breathlessly whisper, "yes!" 

"Good girl," N speaks in a low voice. 

He wipes the silky wetness from my panties and greedily sucks it from his finger, savoring all of me. "You're delicious." N groans. 

I moan and open my legs as much as I can against the restrictive fabric of my panties. I want them off, so I can spread my legs far apart. My clit is engorged and pulsated with need. N's cock twitches against the tight confines of his jeans. 

With dark eyes, he commands, "Get on all fours, on your desk." 

I obey. My skirt piling around my hips, giving N a view of my shapely ass and wet sex peeking out from my lips. And he gently puts his hand on the center of my back and pushes my chest down until it hits the desk. My sex parts as I arch. I squirm, excited at being in such a vulnerable position. I turn my head towards the window, realizing how exposed I am. J could see us if he looked. 

And N's lips are in my ear, whispering, "I want J to watch. He'll think twice about misbehaving when he sees the stakes are this precious." 

My body trembles as I moan, like an animal in heat, charged by the taboo eroticism. 

"I’ll let you know if J misbehaves. And if I need anything from you." I said, blushing ear-to-ear amidst my fantasy. 

"It has been a pleasure, Lola." And with an anticlimactic goodbye, N left. 

The room had a slight chill. I sat back down at my desk, painfully aroused. I turned towards the rigging crew outside. I hadn’t yet digested everything that had happened and how I was feeling. I came to work expecting the same monotony and instead had two exciting prospects put in my sights. 

I giggled and turned towards the window. I saw J outside working but on something completely different from his rigging task. He was helping the costume designer, Claudia, carry her wardrobe racks into the trailer. Her three assistants, all perfectly capable of helping, stood around the wardrobe truck organizing. I had no reason to be upset at J offering a helping hand, but I had a very strong suspicion his motivation was not a simple act of kindness. 

Before I had time to dwell, N was at my door again. 

"How do you take your coffee?" He asked abruptly. 

"Excuse me? Coffee?" I was confused by his sudden reappearance and mentally all over the place.

Was there something I missed? My face must have expressed my confusion because he smiled kindly and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.  

N became painfully honest, "I'm really just looking for an excuse to talk to you again." 

His green eyes glossed over with sheer vulnerability. The ball was in my court. I could decide. 

Part I Decision: At the fork in the road, does Lola accept or decline N’s coffee date?

YES! She accepts.

Park City mornings are not my favorite. I hugged my sweater closer to my body against the crisp mountain breeze. Refreshing, maybe; definitely unnecessary. I hate mornings. But the best part of my day is morning coffee. Coffee is sacred. Everything after that is a steady downward spiral. 

I arrived at work early to supervise the rigging crew. I was anxiously pacing, having foregone my morning coffee because I had agreed to a coffee date with N this morning. 

I replayed the interaction: 

“I’m really just looking for an excuse to talk to you again.”

His green eyes glossed over with sheer vulnerability. He was a true gentleman, perhaps the first and only I would ever meet. The ball was in my court. I could decide. 

“Espresso. Black,” I looked him dead in the eyes. 

N smiled, “It’s a coffee date.” 

I hadn’t realized how much of a caffeine fiend I had become until I found myself pacing and praying N showed up with a coffee - any coffee! Because if he failed me, he was dead to me. 

And then N was there. Because of course he wouldn’t fail me. He approached, smiling ear to ear, just as I’d left him. His energy was infectious. He held the coffee cups high in the air with an exuberant look plastered on his face. I couldn’t keep the smile pulling at my lips. He was precious. 

“I didn’t know which kind of espresso you preferred, so I got an Italian and Cuban. I figured I’d take whichever one you don’t want. Or, you can have both.” N said.

I smiled, “Oh my god, you’re like this before coffee?”

N laughed, “may I suggest the Cuban, then? It’s concentrated.”  

We settled at an outdoor table. It was incredibly picturesque—coffee with N and a mountain sunrise. I forgot about the cool mountain air. The coffee warmed me, as did N’s company. N was easy to be around, pleasant, thoughtful, and clever. When I spoke, I felt heard. It had been a while since someone listened to me as he did. N managed to talk about the great cosmic universe and reality tv with the same fervor and somehow not sound pretentious. He was a fantastic conversationalist. 

Meanwhile, the riggers began their labor while N supervised. I bit my lip when N and one of his team conversed about the setup. N was so hot in boss-mode. His gentleness dissipated and his voice easily took on a more authoritative edge. He was comfortable calling the shots. Sitting next to him, I felt powerful by extension. 

I wanted to hear that voice command me to do filthy things. Make me work; make me feel your power. 

His eyes grow dark as he looks at me. My heartbeat speeds up. The words are all over his body before they leave his mouth. 

“We have unfinished business,” N says with a commanding tone.

My sex organs respond; my nipples tighten, and my pussy flushes. I look up at N eagerly and nod. 

In a cavalier fashion, he motions for me to get on all fours on the table. I look at all the riggers, for the moment minding their own business, but soon I would be on display for them. N gives me an encouraging nod, and that is all I need. Use me.

I strip off my sweater and climb on the table, facing the rigging crew. N moves behind me and lifts my sweater dress around my waist. He slips his hands beneath my dress and caresses my nipples and my breasts in slow, teasing circles. Those hands trail sensually down my body to my panties and pull them down my thighs. I am trembling from adrenaline at the faces starting to turn towards us. 

“Keep your eyes on them, Lola.” N purrs, stroking my inner thighs.

His thumb grazes my pussy lips, and I arch back, wanting more. 

N chuckles, “you’re going to work for it today.”

I feel my pussy blooming at his promises. N’s fingers gingerly stroke my pussy lips. I am so wet, my lips part at the barest of touches, but N keeps his fingertips just beyond my clit. I moan and move to his rhythm. My eyes dart between riggers. N’s fingers are so hot and deliberate, it is hard to concentrate on anything but him. He knows exactly how he wants to touch me; he knows the effect he has on me. His confidence is electrifying. 

“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re swollen and wet,” N says, watching me and his riggers.

N slips a finger inside me, meeting no resistance. I gasp and push back against his hand. He laughs and steadies my movements with a firm hand on my lower back. He gently massages the sweet spot inside me that makes my toes curl. I moan a little louder. 

He inserts a second finger and yells to the riggers across the green, “that isn’t secure, Mark. Pay attention, or we’ll be here all day fixing mistakes.” 

N’s strong fingers curl inside me and grip my insides with intention. The way he casually fingers me while working makes me feel like a task. Yes, objectify me, use me. I’m your toy. Play with me; play with my pussy. 

“You see how distracting you are to my crew? They can’t keep their eyes off you. You’re delicious,” He says and strokes my pussy with intimate precision.

The heat between my legs intensifies. I am the object of every man’s desire. The forbidden, luscious fruit of fantasy available to none but one.  

N pushes firmly on my back, and I arch for him. Those dexterous fingers work me mercilessly. I cry out and grip the edge of the table. 

“Is there a problem?” N asks abruptly, but it isn’t directed at me; it’s directed at J.

J stands fixed in place, watching N milk me from behind. J’s eyes flit between my face, contorted in the throes of ecstasy and N’s face. I watch J’s cock come alive in his pants. 

Then N withdraws his fingers. I whine. 

“I told you I was going to make you work for it today,” N chuckles and delivers a spank to my ass, “J seems to have a large issue preventing him from working. An issue you provoked. I think it’s only fair of you to fix it.”

I look back at N and then at J. My mouth salivates. Yes, feed me your cock, J. I want it all. 

I was shaken from my fantasy as J approached our table. J’s eyes darted between N and me. There was an unspoken question that lingered. My cheeks burned seeing the two men together, in front of me, not just in my fantasy. J turned his attention solely onto N and conducted business. As he turned to leave, he caught my eyes. For a brief moment, I saw the slitted apparition of jealousy. Then his face glazed into stoicism.

Jealousy is a powerful catalyst. It challenges our sense of belonging and security. Jealousy has a curious way of spotlighting your attention and turning lukewarm attraction into feverous lust. And it’s a tell. 

Checkmate.

So the bad boy was a gentle giant with a jealous streak. I was going to leverage that. I thanked N and excused myself to get some work accomplished, feverish from the thrill. 

As luck would have it, J and I passed each other on the green. He looked at me like he was bored. 

“You and N, huh?” He murmured with a small smile.

“It’s just coffee and conversation.” I countered, downplaying the attraction I felt towards N.  

J fell in step with me, hands tucked in his pockets, “nothing wrong if there’s more there.” 

J tried to make the words sound cavalier, but his tone told a different story. He was phishing. I was invigorated by the swell of power. 

“There might be.” I lifted an eyebrow suggestively. 

J chuckled, “guess I have competition then, huh?” 

“If you’re trying to compete, you better show your hand fast,” I goaded. 

“I don’t perform well under pressure.” He said, channeling composure, but his tone was revealing. 

My walkie, clipped to my bag strap, interrupted our duplicitous dance and fell to the ground. J bent down to retrieve it, but I beat him there. Bent at the hip, the roundness of my heart-shaped ass was on display for him, as was the pliability of my hamstrings. 

From my submissive position, I cast a coy look over my shoulder, “your loss then.” 

But the move was a power-play, a play that said, I could be yours. Fight for me.

J grinned knowingly, his eyebrows furrowed from the sun. 

“Yours too, Lola.” He used my name strategically.

It was a challenge. 

Let the games begin. 

~~~~~~~

The workday crawled by. Thank god it was Friday. When we finally wrapped, in true film crew fashion, we set out to imbibe. 

When I arrived at the bar, both N and J were there, naturally, which meant I was going to have a fun night. The bar was a chessboard, and I needed to move strategically around the players. In a few hours, inhibitions would be lowered, and decisions would be made. 

From the entrance, I surveyed the arena. N spotted me and with a brilliant smile and wasted no time allowing his interest to be known. J was leaning on the bar as the bartender finished pouring a whiskey shot.

“The grand wizard graces us with her presence! May I buy you a drink?” Pure jubilance danced across his green eyes. 

“We have a theme going with liquid today, so it feels right to bookend the day with more!” I said with a smile and flirtatious hand on N’s arm.

J veered his neck, watching N and myself with a smug smile. 

“What’s your poison?” N asked, his eyes glowing at my hands on him. 

J. J is my poison. But I settled for, “a Cabernet if they have one. If not, a Merlot.”

“She’s smart and classy,” N said, moving to order from the bar. 

“She’s something,” J murmured under his breath, then threw his whiskey shot back. 

N cupped his mouth with his hand as if telling me a secret so J wouldn’t hear him, “don’t mind him; he doesn’t know how to act around a beautiful woman.” 

J chuckled, “yup, please show me how it’s done, N.”

The bartender handed N my Cabernet.

“Well, J, first of all, you make sure you put her needs and desires before yours,” N punctuated his point by handing me my Cabernet. 

I was beaming at the two of them bickering over me. Was this fantasy or real life? 

The makeup artist, Lidia, and her assistant, Paola, approached the bar on their way to order drinks, but more likely they came to sidle up to the resident bad boy - J. 

“How did you get a drink so quickly? I’ve been trying to get the bartender’s attention forever!” Paola complained, looking between J and N. 

“Allow me to assist. What would you ladies like to drink?” J articulated loudly, looking directly at N, mischief wavering in his eyes. 

“Whiskey sours, please.” Lidia smiled, tucking a lock of curly hair behind her ear. 

“Whiskey sours, huh? My kinda women.” J replied.

J turned towards me discreetly and gave me a wink. Both Lidia and Paola closed their distance and flanked J’s sides at the bar.  

“I mean, I would graduate to whiskey but, I just can’t swallow a shot like that. Ugh, I don’t know how you do it,” Lidia chimed in, laying a manicured hand delicately on J’s bicep. I watched J’s eyes note her hand, then looked at me.  

I arched an eyebrow at him. Go on, J, play your game. Show me what I’m missing. These ladies didn’t threaten me. They were entering this arena too late to know they were merely pawns in a larger game. 

“Whiskey is overrated,” N joined the conversation, taking a sip of his craft beer.  

“IPA tastes like shit,” J countered quickly. 

Everyone laughed. N looked at me and rolled his eyes. 

“I can teach you a few tricks about swallowing,” J offered, smirking through his wordplay. 

I laughed out loud. What charm… But it worked on Paola and Lidia. 

As the ‘thirsty’ duo tugged J to a booth, he paused to extend the offer, “Lola?”

All eyes were on me - N and J. This was a defining moment. 

A haughty smirk crossed my lips, “I don’t have any problems with swallowing,” my tongue casually trailed across my lips. 

J’s face turned serious. N nearly choked on his beer, his cheeks bright red.  

The most guaranteed way to solidify a man’s interest is to let him know you don’t need him - you only want him. J was towed away with the reminder that I had another option. But so did he. 

Check. 

N stood loyally by my side with the same awareness. He was not easily persuaded by a pretty face. As N looked at me with soft eyes and lowered lids, I could tell he was smitten. I leaned closer to N as he began to speak. 

“Well played. So, tell me how-” N began just as the medic tapped him on the shoulder and interrupted.

The dance of formalities, even at an after-work event, never ends. They exchanged their greetings and headlines about the state of affairs. N looked at me apologetically. I nodded with a smile. Just as their conversation was ending, the sound mixer started talking to me. I made pleasantries and looked to N to rescue me, but another crew member pulled N into a different conversation. Through a sea of formalities, we drifted apart and laughed at the comedy of errors. 

As I made small talk, I was completely disengaged. I was watching J. And J was watching me. From the dimly lit corner of the bar, his blue eyes glowed with mischief as they watched me, waiting. It was his move. 

J demonstrated how to shoot whiskey to Lidia and Paola. The ladies laughed as they choked through the shot. I leaned against the bar, observing. J regarded me and opened his legs wide with a smug smirk. The smirk said: you want me? Claim me? 

My body burned with heat. 

Challenge accepted. 

I strut across the wooden floor, my hips swaying with purpose. My eyes lock on J. He straightens his neck with anticipation. As I close the distance between us, it’s clear who holds power. 

I address the ladies, “J might know about whiskey shots, but in regards to swallowing, allow a professional to demonstrate.” 

A soft sound escapes J’s lips. He looks at me expectantly. 

I look to Lidia, “take his cock out.” 

Lidia’s fingers swiftly undo the button and zipper of his denim. She removes his cock from the folds of clothing. J licks his lips. His cock twitches as my eyes take in his length. He’s big. And rock-solid. 

I slink to my knees, bracing myself on J’s thighs. Our eyes never leave one another. You want me to claim you, J? I will. 

“Swallowing is a matter of opening your throat and being relaxed,” I explain in a smooth, sultry voice, flipping my hair to one side of my neck. 

J’s hand massages the side of my face and moves firmly into the back of my hair. He instinctively arches his hips a little higher, eager to feel the heat of my mouth but careful not to push or rush.  

I run my hands along his muscular thighs and chest, savoring the slow torture. My mouth drops towards his cock, I hear his breath hitch. I stop. He groans and shifts in his seat. I capture his eyes with mine. My tongue snakes out, delivering a light lick to the smooth glands of his tip. I tease him. He smells of masculinity and sex. The smell is intoxicating. I need more. I change the cadence and drag my tongue firmly from the base to the head of his cock. 

My mouth engulfs his red tip, and I suck tenderly. J exhales. I suck harder. J inhales sharply. I swallow more of him, my mouth forming around the hot flesh. His skin is smooth and soft, but his cock is so hard. I sloppily run my tongue up and down his cock in abandon. Saliva dribbles down my chin. 

I give a hard lick to his slit. I taste him; salty and strong. I am alight from the pit of my stomach to my pussy. Nothing gets me aroused like a hot, hard cock in my mouth. He’s slick with saliva and pre-cum, and so am I. I take a deep breath and steadily swallow his cock all the way to the hilt. 

Paola and Lidia applaud my seamless effort. J is speechless. I feel his abdomen tighten. He grows impossibly large in my throat and lets out a deliciously vulnerable moan. The kind that says whatever happened was unexpected but welcomed.  

J’s hands cup my face and move my eyes up. His baby blues are pained; he’s so aroused. I smile slightly around his cock. I wiggle my face and force him a little deeper inside me. This is power. I have his sex at my mercy, to pain or to please. The choice is mine. With his cock in my mouth, he will do whatever I want, whatever I say.    

I let his erect penis pop out of my mouth. A thick stream of salvia follows his cock and drips down my throat. I wrap my fingers around him and begin an assault on his shaft. I wrap my lips tight around his head and slide them down. Up and down. Up and down. Building speed, keeping rhythm. I am a fiend for his cock. I want to taste him. I want him to cum. I want to lap that milky bitterness from his aching cock. I look up at him through slitted eyes. He wants to cum too. He wants me to taste him. And I know, I have won. 

Checkmate. 

And then J left the bar, truncating my fantasy. Did I miss something? I looked around. Lidia and Paola were chatting with new faces. N was preoccupied speaking with another crew member. I didn’t want to stay, but neither did I want to leave. I wanted a third option that didn’t seem to exist. Regardless, I found my feet following J outside. 

It was dark. A few orange lights illuminating the porch outside. I looked around. I didn’t see J anywhere. Then I heard:

“Looking for someone?” A low baritone voice came from behind me, mildly amused.

Startled, I jumped and turned around. It was J. Leaning against the wall in the dark. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” I responded, my heart pounding from pure adrenaline. 

It was just the two of us. I didn’t know what else to say nor why I was there. Impulse carried me here. We fell into a short silence as I lingered there. 

J broke the silence, “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” It was an accusation, not a question. 

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. 

“So am I.” J proclaimed. 

He stepped into the dim orange lights calmly and locked eyes with me. Smoldering gray - intense, intoxicating. Something stirred in my chest and between my legs. 

“What do you want?” I asked brazenly, defiantly. 

“You.” It was definitive. 

And in that definitive moment, N walked outside. 

“Hey, I was looking for you! I thought you left,” N explained merrily.

N regarded J and me and then added, “unless you are leaving?”

J stood from the bench and nodded, “I am. I’ll see you Tuesday, boss.” 

I felt like a kid in a candy store. Too much selection, I was paralyzed with indecision. 

Part II Decision: What does Lola do?

1.Does Lola follow J?

2. Or does she stay with N?

Reader vote: Lola stays with N. Read on for Part III and the next decision.

I stood there, shocked by J folding his hand, just like that. I assumed the tattooed giant of a man would have a little more fight in him. All the flirting, was it just theatrics? Or was this J conceding to his superior, N? Could it be that J was the submissive in this love triangle? 

It suddenly became incredibly noisy. The deluge of endless possibilities and what if’s flooded my brain. But I recognized this volatile uncertainty and the temptation to indulge in the familiar. This chaos was confounding logic; this chaos was a crossroad.

J left me feeling insecure and on edge. At the end of the day, no matter how attractive he was, if I didn’t come away from our interactions feeling fulfilled, what was the benefit? I didn’t want to find myself with another seven-year angry itch. 

I wanted a man who wasn’t afraid to show me he wanted me. I was done second-guessing. I didn’t enjoy the chase if he was going to perpetually run away. J’s aloofness was demystified and I understood it for what it was: immaturity. 

“Have a good weekend,” I bid J adieu in more ways than one. 

He arched his brows, also taken aback, but turned and strutted off into the dusty evening.

I looked at N, and he smiled. A smile that was relieved and mischievous. It was comforting; I felt I had made the right choice.

“Well, I think the party is winding down. Would you care to take this elsewhere?” N suggested.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked. 

I was heated with the energy of the evening, the love triangle, and my wine.  

“More wine, music...massage?” N said. 

“Yes, that sounds...really nice.” I replied.

His cabin was clean and organized—I felt immediately welcomed. Tidy but lived-in, I didn’t get the sense this was a short-term rental. The vase of yellow sunflowers on the dining room table stuck out against the muted browns and rust-colored wood panels. A few paperback books were stacked on the coffee table by the couch. A man who reads in his spare time is incredibly attractive. There was a plush blanket draped over the couch and it smelled faintly of campfire and cologne; ultra-masculine. 

N approached me from behind and slid my coat from my shoulders. I shivered at the sudden closeness shared between us, and the feeling of his fingers brushing my skin. 

“Make yourself at home. I’m going to grab some wine.” N spoke in a satisfyingly smooth voice, it registered in the same way as ASMR - lulling, pacifying. 

Settling on the couch, I watched him work from across the room, putting on some chill Lofi beats, lighting a few scented candles, and aerating our wine.

“You came prepared.” I laughed at all the extra amenities he traveled with, wine, candles, portable speaker, etc. 

“I’ve been in this industry long enough to know what I need to feel at home when I’m away from home. It’s the small things that make a big difference at the end of the day.” N explained, pulling the cork out of the wine bottle and meeting my eyes. 

I nodded. The small things really did make a big difference.

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. You’re in my house. My rules,” he paused with a genial glow in his green eyes, “which means I’m taking care of you, and all your heart’s desires.” 

With that, N handed me a glass of wine. Our fingers touched, I blushed, he winked.

Now that we were alone, his inherent dominance was much more obvious. Knowing he had been holding back before made the small touches resonate profoundly. What else was he capable of?

N took a seat across from me and opened his legs with a devious grin, “come here,” he paused for dramatic effect, a smile reaching ear-to-ear, “so I can give you that massage.” 

I arched one brow flirtatiously. I felt the urge to drop to my knees and crawl into his lap, aroused and grateful by the charge he was taking. 

Yes, daddy. Whatever you want, I’m yours.

My hips swayed with purpose as I moved towards him. He leaned back in his seat, watching me. Spinning around, I felt his eyes rake my ass. 

You want it? Take it. Spank me. I’ve been a naughty girl. 

Sitting between his legs, I closed my eyes as his body enveloped me. N was radiating heat, especially from the spot between his legs. My entire body grew warm in response and my clothing felt restrictive. When his hands touched me, I moaned. 

Nimble fingers kneaded the knots in my neck with deep pressure. If this was telegraphing things to come, my fantasies were on point. I wanted his hands all over me. 

“How are you so good with your hands?” I asked with eyes closed as N worked my shoulders expertly. 

“I know I don’t do a lot of heavy lifting as the boss, but I was once a rigger too. Back in my blue-collar days. I am good with my hands.” N chuckled, then added, “you’ll see.” A promise.

As if truncating that promise, his hands wrapped around my waist and his fingers pushed into a delicate pressure point in my lower back. I gasped and groaned, my hands instinctively gripping his thighs. N’s hands stilled but didn’t withdraw from my waist. 

“Too much or not enough?” N asked, sounding smugly amused. 

“Oh my god. I don’t know. That felt amazing but really unexpected. What was that?” I asked, trying to remain composed, but failing miserably at hiding how reactive my body was to him.

“That was a pressure point. And you carry a lot of tension there. You need some serious love and attention on your body. You are riddled with knots.” N said, beginning to softly knead and massage me again. 

Yes. My body does need serious love and attention. Give it to me. 

“It feels like my back has a G-spot, and you just nailed it.” I laughed, growing feverish even as the words left my lips. 

Take me. Right here on the floor. Fuck me like an animal. 

“Would you like me to give you a real massage?” N asked, his words hot and teasing against my ear. 

“Yes.” No hesitation. 

“Do you feel comfortable getting on the bed?” N began, trying to remain a composed gentleman, but the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable. 

Again, “Yes.” No hesitation. 

We moved to his bedroom, N bringing candles instead of turning on the lights. The man had charm and class. I took a few steps in front of him to the mirrored bureau and stopped. With a sly smile he could see in the reflection, I peeled off my dress. It fell to the floor soundlessly, but resolutely. No bra. Just white panties, translucent and silky from my wetness.    

Standing there naked and exposed to him was thrilling. I wasn’t self-conscious, I felt powerful. His clear, unwavering desire for me filled me with unknown confidence. 

I heard N swallow and exhale sharply. I caught his eyes in the mirror. Even in the dim light, his green eyes burned for me. The energy was palpable. 

I turned sideways to face him and asked, “How do you want me? Face down?” 

Before he had time to answer, I crawled onto the mattress, a generous arch in my back. As I sank to my stomach, I cast a coy look over my shoulder. 

N exhaled a smug sound before he crawled over me, straddling my hips and ass. His weight was a delicious tease.

Put your hands on me. I need to feel you all over me. Please.

With that, his hands covered me. Hot and heavy. I melted into his touch as his fingers explored the curves and creases of my body. The massage felt more intimate than sex, it was an act of selflessness, devoted to my pleasure. My nipples hardened as they slid against the bedsheets in delightful friction. The feel of N’s hands caressing my body electrified me. Sensations were heightened. I was hyper vigilant - zoned into him and the experience he was giving me. 

“Oh my god. This is divine! I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you.” I moaned with my neck slightly careened on the bed. 

N’s hands caressed me slowly, deeply, sensually, ferally. 

“It is my pleasure to please you. I would do this all night.” His voice was husky, low. 

He felt it too, this burning heat between us. Now that I felt his desire, I could not wait any longer. My pussy was awake. All of me was alight. 

I propped myself up with my arms, arching my back. N slid off my hips and knelt on the mattress, following my lead. I looked back at him. Outlined by the light from the other room, I saw the fervor in his face. And I was overtaken by wanting. 

I reached behind me for him just as he reached for me. Our hips connected. He buried his face in my neck, his fingers threading greedily in my hair. The delicious weight of his body pinned me to the bed. Carnal kisses traveled down the nape of my neck. Hot, soft lips sucking wherever they landed. He moaned and the sound provoked a desperate whine from me. My fingers grasped at his clothing. I needed to touch his skin, I needed to feel him. He caught my hand in his and his edge turned gentle. 

Entwining his fingers in mine, he kissed the back of my hand, “No. Let me please you. I want to do this for you.” 

I moaned. No man had ever been so generous before. 

Touch me. I need this. 

I moved into an emotion I couldn’t quite understand; the feeling laid heavy on top of my lust, like an ethereal sheen, exquisite agony. He moved my hand, still entwined with his, and pinned it to the bed. Commanding. I was impossibly aroused, my panties sticking to my pussy lips. 

I wanted his lips on my sex. I squirmed beneath him, grinding my hips against his, in an instinctual rhythm. He pushed back against me, his weight greater than mine. I was trapped beneath him. The loss of autonomy was thrilling. 

Take liberties with me. Use me. I’m yours.  

Hands trailed then lips followed down my back, touching and tasting. N’s hands reverently traced the slopes of my hips and ass, grasping. He groaned as his lips neared the top of my panties. 

I arched like an animal in heat, “Take them off.” 

Teeth and tongue grabbed the hem and slid them down my thighs. When N came back up, he pushed his face into my ass and breathed my potent scent of sex and lust. I felt tendrils of hot breath against my pussy. I was throbbing. I drove my hips back towards his face. His hands parted my ass cheeks and his tongue licked my slit, softly, teasing. I moaned and trembled. That devilish tongue gave me a long, slow lick, all the way over my asshole with a flick. 

Yes, eat me, all of me. 

“Turn around,” N commanded, breathless.

I obeyed.

His hands flitted across my skin, worshipping everywhere they touched. He paused, cupping my cheeks. I saw the longing in his eyes. My heart pounded wildly as his mouth captured mine. Our mouths moved against one another, exploring. 

I pushed his shoulders down, encouraging him lower.

“Put your mouth all over me,” I mewled against his lips. 

N stole one final kiss from me before his mouth descended on my breast. He tenderly sucked my nipple. I grasped the back of his neck, my arms trembling from the intensity. N moved deliberately, taking his time circling his tongue over my nipples. I felt every motion thoroughly at this pace. 

“Yes, suck me. Tease me, tease me.” I cried out, arching against him, my fingers tightened behind his neck. 

His lips ghosted across my hard nipples, back and forth, a whisper of sensation that culminated between my legs. I spread my legs and he rubbed my pussy lips, softly. I was so wet my lips bloomed apart, an invitation. Those dexterous fingers tantalized my clit with the faintest pressure, while his mouth grazed my nipples.  

He groaned against my breast, “you’re so wet. I want to taste every inch of you.” 

I whined and lifted my hips to meet his fingers. He slid two fingers inside me, leaving his thumb on my clit.

N’s fingers curled inside the most intimate part of me, his fingers moved with purpose against my swollen, sweet spot. His hands were magic.  

Thank god for silver foxes.   

As N’s speed increased, I writhed beneath him. He played me like a puppet. I was a passenger in my own body. I felt my insides contract, I was already peaking, but I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to prolong the agony.

My hands clutched his shoulders, “Wait, I want to taste you.”

He lifted his face from my breasts and reassured me in a smooth voice, “Don’t worry about me. Let me take care of you.” 

But he didn’t understand my urge. I wanted to feel his hard cock against me, and taste him in my mouth. 

My hands dropped to feel him, and I noticed he wasn’t fully hard yet. I became even more eager to arouse him and my hands dipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

“N, I want to taste you. Please, don’t deny me. Let me suck your cock,” I mewled into his ear, loving having to beg a man to have him in my mouth.

I heard him groan under his breath, “Fuck. I can’t deny you when you beg for me like that.” 

N knelt upright on the bed and together we stripped his clothes. I studied the weathered lines of his body, ripened with age, but virile. He was a beautiful man, and his cock, even half-hard, nestled between muscular thighs and full, round balls, made me salivate. 

I wanted to swallow him whole. I suckled at his tip, lapping his salty excitement, then let his full length slip down my throat. I met little resistance as he was not fully erect. He groaned as my nose pressed against his abdomen, and I felt his core tighten. I breathed his scent. 

“Fuck, Lola,” N moaned, his hands stroking my head and shoulders. 

I popped my mouth off his cock, “I told you I didn’t have a problem with swallowing.” A throwback to the bar. 

As my mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, I looked into his half-lidden eyes. He twitched in my mouth. That was all the encouragement I needed. With fervor, I worked him between my tongue and lips, my mouth generously sucked everything he gave me, taste, scent, pre-cum. 

But... he remained half-hard, even after several minutes of rigorous work. I was confused and concerned. Suddenly feeling less confident. My high dipped.

I released him, slowly. His cock flopped between his legs. I straightened on the bed.  

“Is-is everything alright?” I started, unsure of how to address this. 

With furrowed brows, I looked to him for answers, reassurance, guidance. Did I misinterpret his signals? Was he not sexually attracted to me? Did I hurt him? Insecure thoughts and anxieties coiled around my brain.   

N struggled for words. His face was pained and utterly vulnerable. 

“It’s...it’s. I—I’m sorry. We should have had this conversation before we started anything,” N stammered, grappling for words. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m not offended. Just confused… As long as I’m not hurting you?” I spoke sincerely and reached for his hands. 

“You are absolutely not hurting me. I just—I need certain things in order to get hard.” N articulated. 

“Oh? I can change it up. What do you need me to do?” I smiled, relieved that it wasn’t me, or some greater issue. 

“Well, it’s not something you do. It’s a circumstance. And I don’t expect you to agree to it. Really, I’m more than okay pleasing you. I enjoy hearing the sexy little sounds you make. You’re addicting. I don’t need reciprocation.” 

I felt selfish, but I wanted to see his cock full and pulsating. I was insistent. My ego was a little bruised that he wasn’t hard from our interaction, but I wasn’t a stranger to fetishes, and I was not one to kink-shame.

“N. You can talk to me. What’s the fetish? What do you need?” I asked sternly. 

“I need an audience, or the threat of an audience to get fully hard,” N stated, matter-of-factly. 

“Like you need to have sex in public or…” I began, trying to understand how this would translate in our situation.

“No. It’s not that extreme. Usually, I leave the window curtains open and the idea of someone else seeing is enough to get me going. Is that something you’d consider? I understand and fully respect if you want to keep this private.” N responded. 

I paused, considering how I felt about the possibility of someone seeing us fuck. With the added layer that this was a work trip, and we were both technically on the clock. That “someone” seeing us would very possibly be one of our co-workers. That “someone” may be J. 

Part III Decision: Does Lola allow the window curtains to be open and risk someone seeing them during the act?  Or does she decline? 

Reader vote: Lola lets N open the curtains. Read on for the final installment.

The spike of heat between my legs when I thought of someone watching us was surprising. I wanted N’s eyes on me...and if I was being honest with myself, the part of me that wondered if I should’ve followed J liked the chance of his eyes on us. My head was warm with wine, my pussy aching.

"Yes," I replied with a nod of my head. 

N's eyebrows rose in surprise, and so did his cock.

Yes, Daddy. Come alive for me. 

As he slid open the floor-length curtains, a pearl of cum dripped down his cock, and I fought the urge to catch it with my tongue. The glow of lights from the exterior illuminated the room, and it seemed like a bright spotlight was shining on me. The windows were long, spanning floor to ceiling. I was keenly aware of my nudity. And so was N. 

N came back to the bed and kissed his way down my neck to my shoulders as I stared out into the vast openness, wondering who, if anyone, might wander by this window. 

Our lips locked, and our tongues tangled with renewed passion. My thoughts narrowed into a singular focus—I wanted N rock hard; I wanted him at the height of his fantasy. I wrapped my legs around his hips and ground my pussy against his thickening cock. I reached between our bodies and rubbed his leaking tip against my swollen clit. The sound he made was worth risking the indecent exposure charge. 

"I want to hear you moan like that when your cock is in my mouth," I whispered seductively in his ear. 

He stood from the bed, in front of the full-length window, beckoning me. Silhouetted by the light, I watched his cock swell. The window acted like a mirror, we were our own voyeurs. N was endowed, and his thick cock wasn't fully hard yet. I crawled from the bed and stood in front of him in silence.

Then I dropped to my knees. 

See me. I'm yours. 

I planted a gentle kiss on the head of his cock. It twitched. My mouth salivated. I dragged my tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip in a long, soulful lick. He hissed in pleasure. Wrapping my lips around that angry head, I savored his taste and his smell. My hands slid up his thighs and caressed his ass cheeks. His hands wound through my hair. I licked at the vein on the underside of his cock; it pulsated against my tongue, becoming more pronounced. The satisfaction I received from servicing N felt self-indulgent. Without a shadow of a doubt, I knew I was gifting N the most erotic and intense blowjob he’d ever received. Because I was performing—for an unknown audience. 

Eager to impress and please him, I pushed my mouth down his thick length. He fisted my hair at the base of my skull. The pulling sensation made me shiver. Painful pleasure. Lust transformed N into someone else, a Jekyll and Hyde. The gentleman facade fell away and in its place was a soul laid bare of an impassioned man. He was the best parts of N and J combined. I could almost taste J in my mouth at the same time. 

I felt the spongy texture of his cock swell and stiffen. He was so girthy, I couldn't smile. I looked up at him with watering eyes and popped off his cock. A residual streak of saliva kept me attached to his throbbing erection. 

"You look so sexy with my cock in your mouth." N moaned profusely.

"I could do this all night," I answered, smug but breathless.

An oblong shadow against the wall grabbed my attention. My head whirled instinctively towards the window, but no one was there. For a moment, I felt a rush of fear, but N's hands massaged my throat, persuading my attention elsewhere. 

I drove his cock down my throat again as far as it would go and then let it back up. N's whole body tensed as I began to vigorously swallow him over and over. His cock bobbed beautifully, and his balls tightened. I took him halfway into my mouth and sucked as hard as I could. I tasted N and longed for J. Or perhaps it was the opposite. My mind held hostage to carnal, filthy thoughts made no distinction of whose flesh I was tasting. Was I coveting in real life with N or lost in fantasy with J?

"You like when I suck your cock hard… Daddy?" I groaned. 

His eyes glazed over in unbridled arousal. 

"Call me Daddy again," he growled. 

"Feed me your cock, Daddy," the words slipped off my tongue like silk.

With an obliging thrust of his hips, I felt his sex hit the back of my throat. He hissed as I sucked him feverishly, my tongue worshiping his burgundy length, my fingers playfully massaging his balls. I let him fall out of my mouth to take a breath. A shadow danced before my eyes and echoed off the walls. I tilted my head back, still kneading N's balls. My heart drummed against my ribcage. I wasn’t scared anymore, I was emboldened. And my pussy salivated. 

J was standing in front of his cabin door, obscured by the inky cloak of night. But I’d recognize him anywhere, even in the dark. He must have wandered into the night after we parted and only now returned to his cabin. 

I smirked, my tongue dancing across N's cock. Now I really did have an audience.

Watch me, J. This is what you could have had; this is what you wanted. But now… you can only watch, take a backseat to a better man. 

I was loving this. Who knew at the end of it all, I didn’t have to choose—I actually could have them both. But the next time I glanced in his direction, J disappeared into his cabin. 

A wave of disappointment washed over me. I wanted this erotic love triangle to be more than just a fantasy. I craved for J to watch and covet me. I longed to see the jealousy and lust fighting for dominance in his steel eyes. 

I didn't have time to linger though, N grasped my hair and gently directed my attention towards him. 

"Get against the window," N ordered in a husky voice. 

Hearing him take command over me, shook me back to reality. I was back in the room again, not so in my head.

"Yes, Daddy." I obeyed with a cheeky smile, still invigorated by J's cameo.

I stood deliberately slowly, imagining J still watching. As I turned from N and pressed my palms against the cold glass of the window, he spanked me. I jumped and moaned. The heat of his hand was amplified by the sting of his spank. My body was on fire. 

N came behind me, his lips against my ear, his sex between my legs, dripping against my clit, "you like how my hand feels on your ass?" 

I nodded, my eyes closing. 

"I want to hear you say the words," N commanded, grinding against my hips. 

"I deserve to be punished. Spank me, please," I mewled, looking over my shoulder, and feeling deeply that I did deserve to be punished, as the architect of this contentious love triangle. I loved every part of it. No remorse. And I held that dark truth close to my heart as N's hand rouged my ass. My penance. 

"Yes! Spank me! Punish me!" I moaned as N's hand clapped against my cheeks in a quick succession of three.

My legs trembled as he kneaded my tender flesh.

"Good girl." N moaned before dropping to his knees behind me.

His hands tilted my hips up. My chest was forced against the window. I inhaled sharply at the sensation of cold glass against my nipples, and they immediately hardened. 

N's lips ghosted across the delicate, throbbing skin of my ass. His softness against the red impressions on my ass left my head reeling. Then his silky tongue slid between my cheeks and licked my slit. 

He dragged the point of his tongue through my legs, clit to ass. I shivered, resting my forehead against the crisp glass, as his tongue continued its journey between my legs, up and down, back and forth, feasting on me. 

I opened my eyes lazily to see a dim orange light across the way. And then, looking harder, I saw J in the center of that light, curtains drawn open, in full view, naked - fisting his cock.

Ahh! I could barely contain my pleasure at this sight. J didn't disappoint after all. And neither did his cock. I felt flanked by two beautiful male appendages. J's cock was a sight to behold even at a distance. Long and girthy, smooth yet vascular. And if his blushing erection was any indication, he was...into this? Definitely not what I expected given his jealous streak, but I was pleased. I had been wanting this.

I grabbed the back of N's head and shoved his face deeper into my pussy. He licked and sucked me like I was giving him the elixir of life. I cried out, locking eyes with J.

You like watching your boss eat my pussy, J? Enjoy being cuckolded? You? The burly beast? Do you enjoy having your power stripped? Enjoy watching another man fuck the object of your desire? Are you imagining how my pussy would taste in your mouth, J? Is that what you imagine as you pump your cock?

J's fingers seized his thick length and worked it rigorously, keeping in pace with N's mouth. It was like I was getting fucked by both men. I trembled from lips to legs. 

"N, I need you!" I cried out.

N came behind me and clutched my hips, tilting them at an angle. He teased my hungry lips with the tip of his cock, but did not feed me. 

"Yes, please, please, I want you! Please, Daddy! I've been a good girl, haven't I?" I begged. 

He slid his thick shaft inside me, and my pussy swallowed it whole. A delayed cry escaped my lips as my body told my brain that I had reached homeostasis. N consumed me. In my ears, against my neck, in my hair, kissing me, touching me, whispering filthy nothings that I did not register. I could only feel. 

I looked out at J - his face, painted with painful excitement, mirrored mine. N pressed his face against mine and noticed J. He paused, assessing the situation.

"J is watching,” N said. A statement.

The two men acknowledged each other and shared a silent conversation.  

"Good," N replied. 

And then N impaled my pussy so forcefully his balls bounced against my clit. 

I exhaled, bracing myself against the window as J took a backstep.

N fucked me with a ferocity I didn't think a man his age could possess. It was a display of dominance. He was staking his claim over me. My brain short-circuited, and I let myself get fucked.

Yes, Daddy. Claim me. Use me. Fuck me. I'm your plaything. 

I rocked my hips back against N, but he stilled me with a hand in my hair. He pulled my head back, exposing my neck, forcing me to submit. I smiled darkly. 

Assert your power over me. Show J how I submit to you.

"I'm going to take care of you now. Don't move," N rasped in my ear. 

Breathless, I nodded. In the distance, I registered my own cries over the slapping of flesh between our bodies. N rode me like a savage. 

With a slack jaw, I looked at J. His fist worked his cock with the same veracity; he was a man possessed—his abdomen clenching and his face determined. 

Cum for me, J. Cum with me. 

I felt every fiber inside me start to contract around N's cock. 

"Yes, like that! I'm going to cum on your cock! Yes!" I screamed. 

The intensity coming to a crescendo, I pushed against the glass window. With a guttural moan, I came violently. My entire body undulated and squeezed so tight it forced N into submission. 

He pulled his cock from me and emptied a stream of hot cum onto the window. I imagined his eyes were locked on J. I didn't think something so savage would arouse me, but it did. 

Mark your territory. 

I looked over just in time to see J's body convulse as he came in thick, intermittent spurts. 

I couldn't help the laugh that left my lips. What had just transpired? It was a surreal moment in which I was left questioning what exactly I had just experienced. 

N caught his breath and gazed at me with glossy green eyes, "that was incredible. Thank you."

The feral edge softened into something tender. N pulled the curtains closed and kissed along the side of my face until he reached my lips. I was drowning in him all over again. We moved to the bed and collapsed, spent. His heat next to me was comforting, and I smiled softly to myself.

"That was the closest I've ever come to having a threesome," I chuckled. 

N rolled onto his side to face me and smiled his reassuring smile. I sighed.

THE END

Photo by Masha Raymor