A Threesome in a Covid 19 World Ch. 12

It was the third day after Frank's unwelcome visit and I'd been trying to sit at my desk doing the quarterly tax accounts, while being distracted by a pair of beautifully coloured lorikeets flitting nosily about on the branches of the bottle brush tree just outside the window.

The last 48 hours had caused my head to spin as I dealt with, not just the usual fallout from an event like Frank's attempted attack on Amy, but my perverse -- what even seemed to me like perverted --sexual response. I was full of admiration for Amy in so many way. But somehow that had extended to having a sexual response to her that can only be described as like having overdosed on Viagra.

Her presence, even the thought of her presence, had me grow a boner harder than anything I can recall, apart from the time Amy did have me on a high dose of Viagra for a week as we burned through the left overs of a prescription I'd acquired to service Liddy as Amy was away on an extended Outward Bound course. Not just harder; it felt bigger, if only because it made the skin of my shaft feel stretched plus the usual 'three finger widths' measurement I use between the tip of my shaft and my navel as a quick measure of how aroused I am, had narrowed to two finger widths.

Of course, keeping me in some state of constant arousal is part of the girls' plan to keep me able to perform to their desires. Mostly that goes to the way they dress around the house.

With the La Nina weather pattern firmly established -- periodic heavy rain followed by body melting humidity -- and the naked air-conditioning protocol in effect (which held that air-conditioning isn't used until the occupants of the house are all but naked and it's still unbearably hot to the point you're dripping sweat on everything you touch -- which effectively means never), I was dressed in nothing more than my usual pair of swimming briefs. That and the girls fuck me bikinis were more or less the standard household dress between early spring and late autumn. Sometimes topless.

Indeed the swimwear season is deliberately extended by the girls by refusing to close the blinds against the sun while it's out, but then, during the autumn and spring shoulder seasons, making sure they are closed once the sun goes down to keep the captured heat in.

But what I'd been feeling and my reactions to Amy's presence since the event with Frank went well beyond the norm; not just before sex, but after it too, leaving me with a post sex erection that often wouldn't go down and could sometimes be induced to deliver another climax.

Ellen had sussed me out pretty quickly; noticing what was happening and quickly working out why, she wasn't even shy about using the effect to her own benefit, since it made me more vulnerable to her sexual charms too. The last few days had become hyper-sexual -- even by our usual excessive standards. But more to the point, knowing that my erection could be good for a second shot, over the last few days, Ellen would ride me after Amy had taken the cum shot in our group sex until she got a cum shot of her own. In doing that, Ellen completely disregarding the torture she'd put me through as my manhood displayed the usual post climatic sensitivity, although the reward of the mind blowing climax she'd give me was worth it; all while Amy, as sated as Amy can ever be by the activities leading up to the first climax, watched on in bemusement.

On this day, at about 11, I'd watched through my window as Amy jogged up the front drive in a bikini and thongs (flip flops), to get the mail during her morning tea break from her working from home duties.

On our acreage property, the front drive is like our own private road. Immediately beyond the low bottle brushes which the birds were playing around is a grass verge. From that a large natural rock steps the land up to a fair sized bitumen parking area we use when we hold larger social functions; either for my work or, these days, Amy's too.

To the right, beyond that, is a long brush-box fence and gate which delineates the horse paddocks and a large storage shed. To the left is sparse natural bushland where our road winds first to the right -- disappearing momentarily behind the brush-box fence as it services a little side road into that paddock -- and then winds to the left to reappear to finish its 300 meter journey to the front gate with its tall brick boundary from which is hung permanently open iron gates.

Amy had changed from the bikini she'd worn on our morning run and exercise; not surprisingly since we'd all come back covered in sweat with our swimwear running gear soaked from it.

Amy's exercise routines, which she insists I join, and Ellen also usually comes along with, has taken on a new meaning since her run in with Frank. The benefit it provided in preparing herself for the encounter and bravery in carrying it out is still something I'm coming to terms with. But having established the routine, and she admits, rather liking the body of mine she's made me build with it, she's determined to continue with it.

It certainly keeps me at the level of fitness I need to deal with the girls' significant sexual demands. And offers me no shortage of entertainment as I run behind them as they deliberately wiggle their bums at me in those tiny bikinis.

Most days I'll be running behind them with a half boner, just from watching them. But since the events of the last few day, I have to admit, Amy is having a far more powerful effect on me. Now it's a full boner; one so hard it seems to stretch the flesh covering it to near bursting.

And, typical of Amy, she exploits it to the full. When we get down to the exercise bars at McCarr's Creek, she's from early days insisted she stand on my feet and hold on to me as I do my chin ups -- adding her weight to mine. With a half mongrel, she simply put it between her legs, having it poke out from under her bum. With the full hard boner I'm displaying by the time we get down there now, she impales herself on it, having it progressively penetrate her to the extent two layers of swimwear will permit, as I lift myself up and down.

Then repeats the process as I do my pushups -- adding her weight to those too, not by sitting or lying on top of me, as you might imagine, but by holding on face to face underneath me.

Fortunately, at that time of the morning, there's usually no one around; although some embarrassing moments have occurred.

As she jogged up to the letter box, she had on a slightly older bikini. This one had a ruched back which drew the Brazilian cut deeply into her bum crack, moulding itself tightly against her bum, like a colourful butterfly had landed on it and just merged with her flesh. It was always a style I liked; maybe more than the current, almost but not quite, thong styles with their whale tails waist band.

I suspect Amy may have been oblivious to my observation of her. But even without putting on any show, she was a delight to view from behind as she ran.

Her strong, shapely glutes just have this wonderful thing about them as they propel her. Feminine, seductive and yet firm and sexually powerful; as if promising to firmly grip any male organ permitted to come between them, but threatening to crush one that attempts to intrude unwelcomingly.

I watched as she went up the path, momentarily disappeared behind the fence, then re-emerged in profile as she ran the final stretch to the gate; her breasts bouncing teasingly with every stride.

I watched again as she returned; mail, in the form of a couple of letter and a small package, in hand. From a distance, it was her breasts stole your attention; bouncing gently, the nipples teased to high beam by the movement.

But as she got closer, it was impossible not to focus on her pants. The small rectangular patch of her pants bottoms failed to fully cover her sexually provocative mons, with its shapely, inviting bulge. That was normal, and attention drawing enough by itself. But the exercise had cause her pants to show a dark damp line where her crease extended half way vertically up her mons mound.

With the effect she now has on me, I had a full erection in my speedos by the time she disappeared into the house.

It was five minutes later I sensed Amy enter the room. Half turning to check, there she was dressed in a bikini I hadn't seen before...

"How do you like the new bikinis Liddy sent to Ellen and myself from New York? She's got one for herself too and my one will be the new internet sex one."

Without yet having really looked at it, my first reaction was that it was probably time for replacement for the ones they were using for our internet sex.

Liddy is the third woman in our polygamous family. At the start of the COVID pandemic, she was stuck in New York visiting her family for the birth of her first grandchild when Australia closed its borders and, not being a citizen, she comes low on the list of returnees.

From the outset, we were in almost daily contact, but eventually she found that self-pleasuring to meet her sexual needs was insufficiently satisfying.

So Amy put together what amounts to a system for virtual reality sex. Amy wears a 3D camera on her head and Liddy wears 3D receiving goggles. So as I make love to Amy, Liddy has the visual perspective of the person I'm making love too. Add to that a very aggressive, rabbit eared dildo held inside Liddy with a tight pair of bikini bottoms, and we can get Liddy to come so hard, long and loud that the daughter she's staying with keeps having the 'aw mum' talks with her.

All the while, I can monitor Liddy with a more conventional skype type feed with an overhead perspective onto a lap top over Amy's head.

But Amy's always had a fetish about bikini sex. Her approach is that if Liddy is wearing one to keep her dildo in, then she should wear an exactly matching pair to preserve the visual continuity; and she usually gets the whole game to start with the bikini top on too.

The tiny, black, string sided one Amy and Liddy have been using are definitely showing signs of being subjected to too much of her juices and my cum; well, at least Amy's is. The previous taut gusset is all but ready to dissolve under the onslaught. And given the job it has of keeping this really aggressive dildo inside her, I can only imagine Liddy's is going to be the worse for wear too.

Amy walked towards me, stopping an arm's length away before spinning slowly around and then standing close enough her knee touched mine.

On first appearance it wasn't much, if any, different from the usual 'fuck me' bikinis the girls spend most of their lives in while in and about the property, and even while telecommuting on line to their work.

It was certainly a nice burnt orange colour that really suited her flawless light olive skin; as it would Liddy's. That colour always has.

And was very tautly fitted. If Liddy's is the same, that dildo wasn't going anywhere -- if she could get it past it in the first place.

And I suppose I noticed the back was more following the Kardashian trend of a rectangular back, matching the shape of the front, with the result that lower part of the back gets drawn so deeply into their bum crack it all but disappears completely, instead of the more flared shape of the older style Brazilian ones, where a triangular shape draws a deep crease through the whole length of the bum crack without it actually disappearing in there. My own preference might have leaned towards the older style.

As she leaned in and had me feel the material, in this case by pinching the side of one of the triangles of her bikini top between two fingers, it didn't surprise me that Liddy had clearly gone for quality in her gift bikinis. The material looked and felt like it was of a very fine, almost gossamer texture and was unlined. The highlights of Amy's hidden anatomy are rarely really hidden. Shadows of her nipples and crease are always visible. But in this case it was more like the bikini was a second skin moulded over her own.

To be fair, any time Amy, or Ellen for that matter, are around me in one of their fuck-me bikinis, it has an effect on me. A distraction certainly and a compelling desire to stare at them; well at certain parts of their anatomy to be more specific. But in terms of 'down there' it's traditionally been more a sense of fullness in my flaccid manhood than what I'd call a proper half mongrel. Like it was priming itself ready to react at further provocation rather than it was already trying to put on a display of arousal.

Since the episode where Frank attacked Amy and she fought him off, I'll admit, her effect on me has been much greater than that. Not just a full erection, but one that feels like it's stretched to a new enlarged size -- if that's even possible, and since I'm not one to measure it, I can only tell you how it feels. And with the head start it had got from her run, that's exactly what I had at that moment.

But as Amy stood next to me admiring the lorikeets, and as I sat there trying not to get caught admiring her, I got a different perspective of it.

My physical contact with her as I'd felt the material of her bikini, had certainly acted as a trigger for a higher degree of arousal, as it had for Amy. I'd watched her nipples push out the material of her top as I'd fingered it and as I'd glanced down noticed even her labia open like a flower under the tautly drawn material of her pants.

But there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on that was taking this to an even higher level.

As I kept staring at what was, by any measure, a remarkably attractive and sexy profile I had of Amy, one part of my mind was trying to work out why.

The triangle top seemed about the same small size as the rest of her bikini tops, showing lots of cleavage, side and underboob of her beautiful, absolutely perfect, breasts. But somehow these made her breasts look even bigger than usual, as if the material was really having trouble containing them; and that was before her hardening nipples stretched it further.

And maybe, just maybe, the front of the bikini was even just a little bit smaller than her other ones. There was certainly a generous amount of the side-flesh of her impressive and sexually enticing mound showing, flowing in a straight line down from her plank flat stomach. But mound side flesh is nothing new to me in what she wears.

Maybe it was the gossamer fineness of the material.

Whatever it was, I suddenly realised I was brewing up just looking at her. Even worse than some inexperienced teenager I felt like I was about to cum in my pants just from her close presence and the sight of her.

Ever since the episode with Frank, I've felt reticent to take Amy sexually, even if her demands have grown greater. I've wanted her to make the first move, even though she has always made it clear that lusting over her enough to take her sexually was something she needed from me.

But this was going to break the ice.

In retrospect, I'd have trouble justifying why I was so determined to cum inside her. I could have just let it happen; with or without peeling down the front of my speedos first. Or if you wanted to be cynical, I could have induced her to bend over so I could cum on her breasts or face; something Amy wouldn't have denied me, although by the time I'd explained myself and got her to bend over, it might well have been too late.

What I couldn't do was slow it down. There was no stimulation I could stop other than her presence and looking at her and while she was so close to me I sensed it was too late to merely stare at the roof.

I spun my chair to face her and grabbed her by the hips: turning her to face me. I looked up at her to see her grinning at me as she looked down at the towering erection sheathed by my speedos, the material already darkened by the pre-cum seeping through it.

She willing responded to my suggestion she shuffle forward to straddle my legs, easing herself down onto my lap.

Unaware of just how desperate my need was, she grabbed me around the neck and started to kiss me as she brought her crotch forward and started rubbing it up and down on my erection.

Urgently I forced my hand down between our bodies, peeling down the waistband of my speedos to unsheathe my erection, even as Amy kept rubbing the crotch of her bikini pants against it. Then I grabbed at the gusset of her bikini pants to pull it aside. Understanding my intentions, Amy lifted herself up over the tip of my erection and brought herself down on it.

I surged my erection to help guide it to the opening to her vagina. Normally by the time I penetrate Amy, she's wet and fully open, my shaft gliding in effortlessly; rarely even feeling the velvet folds sensation of initial penetration.

But this was happening a lot faster than sex with Amy normally proceeds; more so because I had instigated it and Amy hadn't had time to work herself up to full arousal as happens when she jumps me.

Fortunately, Amy's body tends to react to my half-dressed presence the same way mine does to hers; with a state of semi arousal. That had been obvious to me this time as her nipples quickly gave her away and was followed by an expanding crease through the bikini pants she was showing off to me. That offered a bit of a head start; enough to let my erection find the opening to her vagina and her to push herself down on me without discomfort.

But she was tighter than normal. With the flesh of my manhood already burstingly hard and tautly stretched over my blood engorged shaft, the stimulation of penetrating her was intense. Super intense.

She was only three quarters in when I came with what felt like rope after rope of gushing cum accompanied by an indecently loud and prolonged groan and left me moaning afterwards with my head buried between her breasts.

I could feel the teasing patronisation in her voice as she stroked her hand through my hair...

"That was fast. Got a bit excited did you?"

"Yes sorry."

"You're not the first man in the world to say that to a woman."

"I know."

"Why so fast. You've never done that in the seven years I've been fucking you. Aren't you getting enough sex? Is it because we skipped the morning fuck?"

While Amy's original cut glass English accent has been severely degraded over time by Australian influence, from the outset she has shown a liking to use the word 'fuck', almost whenever she can. Not as a swear word, but instead of using a more discreet or roundabout way of mentioning having sex.

Sex for Amy is unequivocally good and not something to be embarrassed about, so she sees no reason not to use the most direct term to describe it. That's not to say I don't tease her about it.

"You mean since we were lovers. And the only reason we skipped morning sex was because we'd had it at 3am when you got a bit randy."

"Ned, Ned, Ned. I loved you well before I started fucking you, even while you were still fucking Louise. So the original description stands. And as for me getting randy, you were the one with the erection. Anyhow, you're avoiding the question."

Amy was playing games. I was asleep with a night erection -- which is all but a permanent feature when I'm sleeping between two beautiful and naked women -- when she rolled over and brushed against it and decided if it was there she might as well use it for what comes as close to a quickie as Amy's willing to have. I let it slide as I decided it was time to reveal just what the effect Amy's defence of herself had had on me was.

"I don't know why it happened. All I do know is that the admiration I have for you in the way you dealt with Frank has increased my love for you in a powerful way I can't begin to describe or understand. And because of the nature of our relationship, my sexual response to you has increased proportionately with it, to an extent I wouldn't have thought possible at my age.