Every once in awhile I talk W into staying over at my house on a weeknight, when we both know Ad and I will be getting up to go to work the next morning (which means W will have to get up and leave too, way earlier than he usually even opens his sleepy eyes.) He usually resists my pleas, my entreaties, my begging, but every once in awhile, I get the pleasure of both of them in the Big Bed. I love being at W’s, but I love my big, soft king-sized bed with its mound of pillows and comforters, with my books piled on the headboard and the smell of Ad and I mingling in the blankets and the sheets. Being able to share my special space with W is a wonderful treat.
To say nothing of the possibility of yummy three-way sex.
Three-way sex wasn’t on the agenda the other night though, in fact no-way sex has been the only thing on the agenda as we try to get my rings healed properly, but W knows it isn’t always about sex for me (and maybe not even for him, either. Yeah, sometimes I think he even likes “just” sleeping with me, holding me close, feeling me sleeping next to him.)
Ad had already gone to bed when W and I joined him. We climbed in, trying not to disturb his beauty sleep, but I saw him cock an eye open and smile just a bit. I snuggled against his back for a moment as we all settled in, then turned over to my left side, the side I usually fall asleep on, facing W. I felt warm and cocooned between them, Ad’s shoulders and hip against my back, W’s arms around me, his breath warm on my cheek.
We tried to be good, and in fact we were, for the most part. (No ring-pierced skin was mauled in the making of this sex scene.) But we couldn’t be completely good, it just isn’t in us. Soon I felt W’s hands begin to roam across my body, stroking, caressing, squeezing gently. Then his hands found my breasts, his fingers my nipples. I hardly dared breathe as he started pinching and pulling on them. I hardly dared move for fear that I would start to press myself along his thigh, start grinding, destroying all the good our willpower had done. I stayed still, tried not to react, tried not to encourage him, to encourage myself.
Still, in silence, he pulled, twisted, pinched.
My breath came shorter; I started to squirm. I squeezed my legs together. (As though that would help.) It didn’t. It only made the need worse, as I naturally clenched muscles deep inside as I squeezed my thighs together. Finally I slipped my hand down between my legs. I had even worn underwear to bed, to try to “enforce” the no-sex rule on myself. Because who was I kidding–both my guys in bed with me, it wouldn’t be them violating the rule, it would be me.
I slid my fingers along the slick material, stroking down the length of my slit, feeling the lumps made by my rings beneath my fingers, dancing over them lightly, just enough that I could feel the gentle tug of the rings in my labia. Unable to resist, I stroked harder, deeper, enjoying the heat rising from between my legs, enjoying the slight pinch of pain as the rings moved…
And snatched my hand back. Willpower, Jade! I chastised myself. Willpower!
I half expected W to reach down and continue what I’d started, or to, as he sometimes does, shove my hand back down there, growling at me to make myself come–now, because he said so. But he didn’t. He just kept up the steady pulling, steady pinching on my nipples, his breath warm and even on my cheek, hardly seeming to notice my squirming, my discomfort, and eventually, my little panting breaths as I gave in and touched myself again, sighing in relief and pleasure, feeling the build-up to my orgasm, the clenching muscles, the pleasure/pain shooting in a line from each tortured nipple to my cunt, to my cuntlips, where the rings are, and I swear I can feel each little metal ring tremble in time to his rhythmic pinching and pulling, a rhythm my fingers soon take up, stroking my clit, faster and faster, harder, deeper, my breath coming harder and sharper. I am trying to be quiet, trying to be still–I don’t want to disturb Ad–but finally, failing miserably, I reach a shuddering, panting, whining climax.
And as I do I feel Ad turn over. For a moment I have this awful flash to a time with my ex, and I worry that Ad will be angry that I have woken him up, that he will resent me playing with W while he sleeps, but instead I feel his arms come around me, pulling me into the curve of his body as my body continues its post-orgasmic shudder, and as I relax against him, I feel his lips on my neck, and on those lips, a smile. And in the darkness, snug and warm and sated between my two men, I smile back.
