“Hey Evan, we’re here.” Jim and Brad arrived every Monday at 3 p.m. A year ago, a motorcycle accident paralyzed me. Only my motorcycle gang supported me. My partner ditched me, when he determined, I would never be physically whole. What a loser. That’s when Jim and Brad came to visit and made their offer. We have met like this ever since.
I rolled my wheelchair into the living room.
“Hey, man. You are looking good. I hope that means you have something fun in mind for today,” said Jim.
“Yeah, I watched this video of two guys soaped up in the shower. You two game?”
“Hell, yeah. I love slip-sliding away,” said Brad.
“We’ll go get soaped up and you roll in when you want,” said Jim.
“That’s perfect. Gives me time to get my clothes off.”
On one occasion, I voiced my concern about being a third wheel in their relationship, but Jim and Brad dismissed it. These open and flexible guys welcomed and cared about me. Both insisted I take the lead when we were together, to make sure I got what I wanted.
The house was renovated after the accident. My shower is now large enough to hold several people even using my shower wheel chair. I stripped down and entered the bathroom. My video view came to life. Two men with long, hard cocks, soaped each other in my shower. Sometimes, I swear, I had phantom erections.
Today, I watched from a front row seat to the shower video in the making, like the one I watched earlier and played in my mind, on a loop, for hours. The soap bubbles clung to two sets of firm hands, running over each other’s glorious erections. I imagined their cocks were mine. I remembered the sensations. Strong hands stroked each cock, and then each one surged into the other like a knightly sword fight, of the good kind. Jim and Brad turned to me with lathered rods. Some words made it into my sex fog.
“You want a go at them?” Each guy offered the invitation.
I rolled in closer, so I could reach both. I locked my wheels in place and then each hand took hold of the manly power and heat of their cocks. It surged through me, a familiar and potent sensation.
“Evan what a grip. I won’t last long,” said Jim.
They each rocked into my hands, urging me on. I kept up my motion. The steady rhythm allowed me to make each of them come, one after the other. They honored me by keeping their attentions focused on me.
“Brad, come sit up on the arms of my wheel chair and Jim can have fun with you, while I fist you some more.”
“I like that plan.” Brad perched up across my lap first and he kissed me. It was real and life affirming. I worked on another hand job. Jim walked around me and lathered my back and chest. Everything he touched I felt and it tingled. It was good. My skin was alive.
“Brad, let me know when you’re ready.”
“Are you kidding, Jim, Evan’s got me ready to explode again. I want you deep in me, pretty quick.”
Brad pushed his ass back, wheelchair height and accessible. Soapy suds rolled down his back and in his crack. I wanted to feel the body weight on me. I missed the pounding and the release.
“Brad, let me pull those ass cheeks apart for Jim. I want to feel the pressure, too.”
“Ok. Evan, get ready.”
I knew the instant that Jim pushed into Brad’s body because Brad’s chest heaved into mine. The motion was raw sex. I closed my eyes and focused on the grunts and moans from Brad and Jim. Brad held on to me and I held on to him. We were one person. Anticipating his orgasm, I grabbed his cock and helped him home.
“Evan, yes.” Lips landed on mine and the urgency of intense pleasure emanated through his tongue. I reveled in that moment. I sucked it in and for a few moments, it was all me. I received what Jim gave to Brad. I was a sexual being again and all was right with my world.
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I am participating in Friday Flash. Here is what I wrote prompted by this picture.
Blindfolded and perched on the mahogany, swivel piano stool, Audrey opened her legs for his inspection. Stephen hummed the tune she had finished playing for him. This world renowned pianist delighted the masses with her musical talent, and they never knew she directed him, playing her.
“Spread your legs wider and sit still.” He dropped to one knee, with his body between her legs, and glanced up at her. She bit the corner of her bottom lip, her signature tell, impatience. He smiled knowing she would get what she wanted from this capture, in his time.
“I must memorize this pattern on your body in every way I can.” Her light, citrus fragrance floated in the air, as he leaned in and caught her nipple between his teeth, rolling it with increasing force. She shuddered.
“Yes.” Her response echoed the anticipation building inside her, breathy and full of need.
Stephen’s hands danced up her calves and thighs. He stopped and fingered several holes in the fishnet stockings. She craved for his fingers to be in a wetter place. For an entire day, these leggings taunted her with thoughts of things to come and now Steven teased, but that’s how she liked it.
“Your body highlights the pattern in such beautiful ways. On your thigh, it’s like a vast land of honeycombs, swelled and oozing.” When he palmed her thighs, she reveled in the indentations of the nylon that caused her own skin to push through, as if it reached out for him.
“But what I really like is the vulva view. Imprisoned behind tight, black, diamond mesh, your skin protrudes here, like an escapee.” He touched the flesh that pressed through the hosiery. “Lovely.”
“Please, show me.” Her mouth dropped open and she panted in staccato breaths.
“Oh, I will,” he said. She hoped to feel a hot tongue slide across the tightness. Instead, Stephen pressed the thin, cold, flat, metal scissors against her vulva and she gasped.
“What is that?”
“A tool for your prison escape, my dear.
“I don’t know, Stephen.” He rubbed the metal up and down her sex. She fidgeted on the stool.
“But I do Audrey. Place your hands on your thighs and spread them as far as you can. Don’t let go.”
When she secured her hands to her thighs, the taunt, fishnet stockings holstered her skin, her toes, her thighs, and her sex. These mini ropes secured her in place and mesmerized him. The marks on her skin spurred him on.
Standing, he grasped the front band of the stockings and pulled up. Audrey writhed as the nylon bit more deeply in her feminine flesh. It caught on her clitoral hood.
“Audrey, this makes your clit bulge.” Maintaining the pressure on the mesh, squatting, he placed the tip of his tongue on her protruding clit, dabbing it lightly. It looked like a bubble, emerging and growing. A whimper escaped Audrey’s mouth.
He continued a rhythmic motion on the waistband, pulling the clit’s hood up and down. It enlarged under his tongue. Audrey’s hands trembled on her shaky thighs.
“Stephen, I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”
“Yes, you will.” He held the band in one hand, and the scissors in the other. With the stocking tightness in place, he blew on Audrey’s clit. She shivered.
With precision, Stephen placed the blunt side of the scissors against Audrey’s skin and lifted the tips up. He snared one piece of the fishnets and waited. The chilly metal combined with the strangling sensations of heat from the hose accelerated Audrey’s desire and breathing. She lived for the surprise. He lived for surprising her.
The first snip alleviated the pressure and Audrey’s skin exploded through. Stephen created a hole in the stockings with six quick snips. Dropping the scissors, he ripped the stockings open to her red, lined vulva. His steel erection awaited a turn, while he rammed two fingers inside Audrey’s wet, warm space. He stroked upward and sucked on her clit.
Audrey released her hands and slammed her thighs around Stephen’s head. Yanking on his hair, she pushed him harder between her legs, trapped like a captive. His fingers and tongue and her meshed, marked skin became one.
Her orgasm detonated and shook her entire body. Her rocking, along with the slickness of the nylon, caused her to slide off the stool onto the carpet, taking Stephen with her. She nuzzled his face and her musky scent in his beard ignited her again.
Stephen rolled her over to admire the fishnet patterns on her ass. He dipped his tongue into the skin spaces and licked. Audrey pushed herself onto all fours relishing the heat of his tongue. She pushed back into him and dropped her shoulders to the floor. The material cut into her backside. She imaged the pattern, knowing it would send Stephen in a frenzy. Giving him what he wanted, gave her what she wanted. He slapped each cheek. An intake of air combined with her shiver pleased him and readied her.
She had been his prisoner but now the lines on Audrey’s skin held him. His sexual arousal lived in this moment of perfection with his hand prints stacked on rope lines. Audrey’s butt wiggle begged him to move along, but he continued to admire her round globes with his eyes, lips, and hands. As Stephen caressed her skin, enjoying the rope, red gouges and imprints, he savored the moment. Designs like this were precious, and she knew it.
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I knew the second John James walked into the room fifteen minutes before my class ended. His presence sent my body and mind into a tailspin of robust sexual desire. With skin flushing, I stepped into my total sexual self. Destiny or fate provided me the only person who could flip that switch. However, his unannounced arrival in the classroom meant one thing, a threesome.
As I wrote on the whiteboard, my lecture topic became sexualized. I knew John’s eyes were on my ass. I imagined his hand dragging my skirt up to my thigh, and that caused me to almost drop the marker. Moisture was there, too. He dipped inside me, first sampling my wetness with his tongue, then his cock. The visual made me pant. Did he know my lecture was on systems’ synergy? How many times have I heard it said, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts?” I chose to apply it to sex. Sex synergy.
Finishing the lecture, I dismissed class and John walked down to the podium. The closer he got, the more I expanded, mingling our sex energy, working the synergy.
“Morgan Fields, you’re so on, baby. I got your message.” John stepped in close with a slow kiss. My yielding lips tasted peppermint and hope. He palmed my ass cheek while inching my skirt up.
I chuckled. “Yeah, I felt you move my skirt.”
“Your skirt? I meant I felt you about two hours ago.”
“Really?” Has my mechanism grown power? Did John recognize it?
“I did sit in the back row planning to rearrange your skirt, to get to that ass and beyond.” He wiggled his fingers toward my ass crack. “I love watching you react. It’s my turn-on.”
“I hope the students didn’t see it.”
“They were oblivious. You were concentrating on teaching them. Or maybe, you were teaching me your mind tricks. I moved your skirt and you felt it? Hmmm. Where did your mind go this time?”
Excellent question. When John came in, I drifted to Marva. Cock and tits, a beautiful soul. Our first sex party threesome.
“Well, after you filled me with your tongue and cock…”
“I am willing to fill you with whatever you want and who you want. What’s the game plan for tonight?”
Our interactions wired John. He was my always ready man. I appreciated that he understood me, my sexual beliefs, and how they manifested. It scared me to discover that when sexual energy emanated from me, it heightened my abilities to scan my own body and brain. It opened me to anything. He calmed my nerves. This energy appeared as a dark, intense, potent elixir. Somehow, I had a mechanism tied to my power with the capabilities of going out into the world and touching the energy of another. John wasn’t scared of me when we first experienced it together. He helped me ground and focus. Was my apparatus working on its own now? I didn’t think I had sent something out to John. Has it evolved?
Usually, when I sent the mechanism out, it lightly tapped another person’s sexual energy. If interest was there, I received a signal of familiarity, a connection. It came as a tug to a core part of my being, and it resonated with me. So far, my instrument proved stellar in our threesomes, locating people that made our synergy greater. As to how it worked, I didn’t know. I resembled a fine-tuned scanning device that was the totality of me.
Through our previous threesome sexual exploits together, John and I learned two things. First, I was the beginning point and the ending point, the alpha and the omega. Second, my sexual craving caused the emission of my elixir to secrete through my pores. John began to resonant to it like he was tuning into a frequency. I came to understand that John was my prime ingredient, one who embellished, and stirred up my process for multiple partners and made it a reality. As I scanned, with him by my side, I got specific and detailed results. When another person’s energy accepted my invitation and mingled with us, the sexual scenario played out in my mind’s eye. There we were, all three asses, breasts, penises, sucking, kissing, tasting, grunting, licking, fingering, fucking, slapping, stroking.
“Hey, I asked about the game plan.”
“Raleigh texted an invitation to her sex party tonight. I want to go.” I experienced John’s excitement with a jolt. He gazed into my eyes and his sex energy surged into me like an athlete pumping air into a deflated ball. As much as I enjoyed this interaction, I believed John liked it more. He watched for it, he stroked it, and he savored it. He knew as a threesome we would get more.
“Will you wear a blindfold for selection?”
“Yes, I want to stay centered assessing the perfect sexual energy.”
“What about a conversation?”
“No. I don’t need any tonight.” John didn’t comprehend that he arrived in my classroom mentally primed and connected. Our twosome was locked solidly in place by my self-device, and our sexual energy swirled around one another, hyper-charged. He had no clue I was already reading our third member.
“Do you have a preference for a man or a woman?” asked John.
I smiled. “We’ll see.” It was a moot point. My special tool had already chosen. I felt the tug. Synergy, along with my magical elixir I shared with John, created our threesome. We left to see if “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”