Chapter 216: Chapter 215 - Three Lovers Reunite Again As One

When I try to describe what I share with Edward and Don, things always get a bit tangled. It's hard to define something that doesn't follow the normal scripts of how life—and love—is 'supposed' to work. That's part of the fun of it. When we're all together, it feels less like there's three of us and more like there's just one. We are not separate, we're a single entity, us, entwined and combined and indivisible.

It's been so achingly long since the three of us could be together, and before we're reunited, I find myself strangely nervous about how things will go. Can we instantly slip back into familiar ways of fuċkɨnġ? Or will there be nervousness, ice-breaking? A period of re-familiarising ourselves with what once came so naturally?

I didn't need to worry at all, as it turns out. When we are finally in the same room together after so long spent apart, we slip back into our old ways like you'd slide under silky bedsheets. We spend the first moments—which feel like listless, indolent summer hours—just kissing and touching and ċȧrėssing. Reminding ourselves and each other how it feels when one becomes three again. The delight in having two pairs of hands running over your body. Two sets of lips kissing the delicate skin on your neck, stomach, arms… everywhere.

Edward kneels behind me, Don in front, and I kiss each of them in turn. With my eyes closed, I cannot tell from that first moist touch which man it is I'm kissing then… ahhh… I take a soft breath in and I know. The scent of a person is so evocative, isn't it? I know even with my eyes closed now that this man I'm kissing is Don, and if I turn my head I will breathe in the sweet scent of Edward, before tasting his plump lips too. As I wallow in this simple pŀėȧsurė, they run their hands all over me, my pale stomach and crotch clad in white lace pȧntɨės, and I bathe in the warmth that radiates from these two men, sandwiching me between them.

As I say, when we're together we are no longer three lovers but one. When people tell me that having two men is their greatest fantasy, and point to pȯrn where two men please themselves with one woman I want to shake my head and gently show them what it can really be like when you connect. I'd love to show people what I have with Edward and Don: not one-on-two or two-on-one, but all three of us—the love we have equally for each other.

We begin with those kisses and ċȧrėsses. Sensually. Don's lips warm my shoulders while Edward rains them down onto my face and neck. Don reaches out to stroke Edward's thɨġh, grab his taut bottom through his matching white undėrwėȧr. We're all in white today, did I mention that? Don in a white vest and tight white boxers, Edward matching with white shorts of his own. Me in bridal lace—bra and knickers matching the colour of what the boys wear. I love the harmony of it—the unity. And I love the way their big hands feel as they grab my tɨts through the fabric.

Crushed up between them, I can feel their ċȯċks getting hard, pressed up against me. And if there's one thing better than feeling one erection, it's two. I close my eyes in ecstasy, to fully focus on the sensation of their touches. I melt into them, almost dreamlike, and when I open my eyes there's something beautiful about not knowing whose gaze will meet mine first.

Edward is the first to escalate from kissing. He slips a gentle hand down the front of my knickers and begins to slowly stroke at the wetness. Finding my ċŀɨt, thrilling me with a slight pressure that brings a mȯȧn to my lips. Meanwhile, he and Don are still ċȧrėssing, wrapping their arms around me so they can get to each other. It's like a smorgasbord of skin and flesh and warmth and love. I adore the way they play with each other.

And oh, oh my favourite part: when I move to the bed and beckon them over, Don and Edward share a flash of conspiratorial glee. Don gives Edward a look, raises his eyebrow as if to say 'shall we?' and Edward responds with a grin. That collaborative joy when they both ȧssent to playing with me together gives me shudders that run from the base of my skull all the way down to my pussƴ.

A friend once asked me which of them I loved the most, and I couldn't do anything other than stare at her like she'd grown another head: who do I love the most? Out of these two men, who love me and each other? It's a nonsense. There is no Edward without Don, no Don without Edward, and no 'us' without every single one of the three. Importantly, those moments when two of us look at each other, raise an eyebrow and grin: they are not possible with only two people. And they're my absolute favourite.

Once we're on the bed we let out what feels like a physical sigh yes, that's it, we're here. We're together. It's been so long since we could be together like this. Don tugs down one of my bra straps and slides his hand in to ċȧrėss my brėȧst, while Edward pulls down my knickers. They work together, and I almost said 'like a team' but now it's like they're reading each other's minds—stripping me in tandem, exposing my pale pink nɨppŀės and ravenous ċunt. Edward sucks hungrily at me while Don grabs my other brėȧst, all the while they're grabbing at each other, blood pulsing through their veins and into their swiftly-stiffening ċȯċks.

Don keeps my mouth occupied while Edward settles down between my legs to pŀėȧsurė me with his lips and tongue. Don is stroking his hair while he does it, sometimes adding gentle pressure on the back of his head to nudge his face further into the wetness between my legs. I can't help but let out little mewls of pŀėȧsurė, and by the time Don joins in too, fingers and tongue on my ċŀɨt, teasing the piercing that adds so much extra sensation. I can't help but picture them like a pair of cats, ŀȧpping quickly at me while I purr with delight.

I am not eager to come. I don't want to reach climax just yet, because I prefer to enjoy a languid, throbbing build-up. The boys are in no hurry either, wanting to make the most of the time we have to play. Edward slips one finger inside me—just one, just enough—and Don meets his eyes with conspiratorial glee. He pulses his finger gently in and out while I squirm on it and then, oh, then, he delicately places his finger in Don's mouth, giving him a taste of the arousal that by now is dripping out of me. Don, ever-generous, lifts his head up towards me, passing me the taste of my own ċunt on his lips.

And—as ever, as always—I think two is immeasurably better than one. When Don adds his finger to Edward's inside my pussƴ, I gasp and wriggle on them. When they each hold up a finger to the other one's mouth, my heart throbs along with my ċunt to see them suck the taste of me from each other's fingertips.

It's been so much about me until now that I have almost forgotten just how desperate I am to taste each man's ċȯċk. When Edward releases his from his tight boxers, I reach for it with hunger, wanking it softly before letting Don have his turn. Don is now guiding both of us towards pŀėȧsurė, his big hand on Edward's dɨċk and his fluttering tongue at my ċŀɨt. Edward's dɨċk bobs and bounces in time to Don's strokes, and I can see it swell in Don's hand, getting fatter and harder until not having it inside me feels like endless agony. I join Don, clasping my own hand round Edward's dɨċk too as we rub him in perfect harmony. This harmony—synchronicity—is why I have missed these two men so much. We just work together, and there always comes a point when I forget where my own body ends and theirs begin—it's just three people, becoming one.

I can't wait any longer, I want to taste Edward. I know Don does too, but like a perfect gentleman, he lets me go first. Wrapping my lips around the smooth head and my hand around the solid shaft, I suck and rub at him while he lets out those beautiful guttural mȯȧns and sighs. Don plays with his balls, knowing exactly the places to suck and lick to add depth and texture to the blow job. I have it on good authority from both Edward and Don, that there's no feeling in the world like two tongues on your ċȯċk.

And to me, there's no greater feeling in the world than the collaboration between these two, as they work together to layer pŀėȧsurė upon pŀėȧsurė for me, and for them. In this vein, as I shift round to straddle that tempting erection, Don takes Edward's ċȯċk firmly in hand, holding it straight and rigid just beneath my ċunt so I can slide easily onto it. Bliss. It's big, and always a shock to start with. I gasp at the glorious feeling of being stretched so wide and filled so thoroughly. Slowly I start to slide myself up and down his ċȯċk while Don shuffles down the bed to pay more attention to those parts I cannot see.

At all stages, all three of us are connected, and so it is here too: while I ride Edward, hard and then harder, Don applies his lips and tongue to the base of Edward's ċȯċk, and the smooth tightness of his balls. He kisses and ċȧrėsses my bottom and back while I ride, reminding me with the touch of his hot hands that he's there and watching and enjoying. At one point, I slide all the way off Edward's thick ċȯċk so Don can spit delicately on the twitching head, lubing him up to make for a smoother ride. There it is again—that teamwork. That connectedness. I'm not the only one for whom this is the best part… Edward's legs twitch with pŀėȧsurė at having both Don and I apply our skills to him at the same time.

Don removes his undėrwėȧr, and I get to feel how rigid and eager his ċȯċk is too, as he sits up behind me and squishes it into the crack of my bum while I ride. It's like being surrounded and drowned in both of their ŀust and I don't even try to hold back, kissing each of them in turn. Hungry for them both. Don applies that collaborative playfulness to me now too, gripping my hɨps and lifting me up and down, harder and faster as I ride Edward. Like he's using me as a toy to pŀėȧsurė the other man. When Edward sits up to suck at my nɨppŀės, I can feel myself jiggling against him, and feel Don pressing firmly into me. It's almost too much sensation to bear.

I want to play with Don now, the two of us allies chasing the same goal. I clamber off Edward's ċȯċk and together we work away at it. Lots of kissing and suċkɨnġ noises, lots of eye-contact with each other and that teamwork that we love so much. Don gives these gorgeous little tongue-flicks to the shaft, ŀɨċkɨnġ away at the juices I've left drizzled all over it, while I go to work on the head.

Perhaps it's Don's tongue-flicks that give me the idea, or maybe I'm just so horny I need to have someone pleasuring my ċŀɨt, but at that moment I realise I can turn round and straddle Edward's face. I keep his dɨċk firmly in my mouth while my vulva nuzzles against his nose, letting him give my ċŀɨt the same attention that Don just gave his ċȯċk. Don joins in, squatting over me so that he can slide himself inside—each stroke of the fuċk nudges me down onto Edward, so there's a rhythmic harmony that helps push me closer and closer to coming. Don fuċks downwards into me, Edward licks my ċŀɨt, and those movements shove me a little harder down Edward's body, pushing his smooth, aching dɨċk into my mouth: bliss beyond bliss.

See, this is something people don't always anticipate about threesomes either. There's usually a worry that one person will be left out, or that any position will inevitably mean one of you draws the 'short straw', but it isn't like that. Doesn't have to be like that. With the three of us, we play with each formulation—each tesselation of our soft, warm bodies—and somehow every time we manage to come up with a combination that gives each of us something to do. To look at. To play with. To gush over.

Edward wants to please us both, so he switches so simply from tonguing my ċŀɨt to ŀɨċkɨnġ at the base of Don's shaft. And here I confess to a tiny bit of jealousy—not the kind you might imagine in a threesome, but pure envy itself. I will never be able to lick the taste of myself from Don while he's fuċkɨnġ me, but I'm delighted that Edward gets to experience that treat. Opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out to appreciate the taste of both of us combined, matching his licks to the tempo with which Don slams it into me. Each stroke of the fuċk completes the circle, pushing my lips further down on Edward's ċȯċk, pumping deep into the back of my ċunt, and pressing us down into Edward's upturned face.

I can tell that we're close to climax now, all three of us have abandoned our earlier commitment to sensuality and gentleness. Now we're laser-focused on speed and intensity. Like the vision of our sėx has narrowed from this beautiful, expansive field to a pinprick of light concentrated directly on our ċȯċks and ċunts. I love this bit. And I love that we reach it together—each of us goading the others on, watching out for those telltale twitches or grunts that let me know someone is close. I climb off Edward, stroke his ċȯċk brusquely and then lie on my side so that Don can enter with ease. I know what Don likes, how he wants to end this: a vision of Edward squirting shot after shot of ċum directly onto my tɨts. We are only too happy to give this to him, of course.

As we build to this delicious three-way peak, our noises get louder and faster, like we're using the pants and mȯȧns to keep time together. A cacophony of cries and gasps meld together to drown out the outside world and feel like we're making music. Edward strokes my hair like he's easing me up towards my own ȯrġȧsm, then with the other hand grips his ċȯċk good and tight and begins to rub at it, aiming directly for my jiggling tɨts. Each time Don ploughs into me I let out a cry, luxuriating in the extravagance of having both of these men using my body and each other for their pŀėȧsurė. And then… ah, then! Edward starts to come. Hot spurts of it landing directly onto my tight nɨppŀės and pale tɨts. I glance at Don, already speeding up in anticipation of his own. He devours the sight of me, painted in ċum, and starts to fuċk like he's desperate to come inside me too. I make eye contact with him, willing him to get there: come inside me, come good and hard for me, let me feel your spunk in my ċunt while Edward's is dripping down my ċhėst and ahhhh… there it is.Don's ċȯċk starts to twitch and jump as he lets himself go, right over the edge and into ȯrġȧsm.

God, I want to lie like this all day between these two men, now sweaty and hot and sated. We snuggle down together in a neat, close pile. Limbs entangled, hands ċȧrėssing each other everywhere, meeting each other's eyes with those soft, sleepy smiles that are all you can ever muster once you've climaxed. Revelling in this moment when our collaboration, our teamwork and love and care for each other, has all borne fruit.

I hold their hands, and let out a long sigh of satisfaction, just enjoying this moment when we're finally reunited, with Edward's ċum drying on my ċhėst while Don's drips slowly from my ċunt.

Ends