Compromising Positions: A Fantasy

His hands moved up to her arms, gripping them tightly, so very tightly.

Had she been Cynthia, he might have left bruises. Nathan held on with a grip that spoke of a mind afraid to tumble any further. She had pushed him so deep, had held him so long under her still waters. He could drown, he knew that, could lose himself in those depths and never return. But he could never do that to Cynthia, or to Erin for that matter.

They needed him whole, just as he needed them.

Nathan would not be broken, not tonight. Not for his own sake, because the warmth and dominant affection his crimson-haired goddess offered was tempting. Were it just about his need, he might have let himself be bent to it, to become just that which she fucked, and be happy to be only that. But no, he would not be broken for the sake of his family, for his wives, his husbands. He would remain Nathan.

Only now he was Nathan, plus something else entirely. Closing his eyes, he let that other side take over, to writhe and groan, to gasp and tremble underneath that fiery bucking beast. Later, he would become Nathan again, but for now, he was just a mare, quivering with the beauty of a freshly fucked and overfilled "womb."

Cynthia would have loved to have seen it, her view being obscured by the sweat-stained back of her own mare. She promised herself that next time, next time she would be sure they had a camera set up, to capture the moment. She wanted to stroke her sex while she witnessed what must be a beautiful transformation, rippling through Nathan's overwhelmed self.

But there was something to be said about what was heard; listening to those screams, those thrusts, the sound of something huge emptying into something tight, yet well-stretched. The sounds were enough, along with the sudden abundance of musky flavour that permeated the air. It was more than enough to cause her sex to explode, dribbling wetly all about the harness and straps, falling like dew between her legs and Erin's own.

One hand wrapping around her lover's waist, the other moved to the rubbery black balls that had been slapping Erin's ass and the back of her upper thighs,. Cynthia asserted her grip, her voice a hoarse whisper in the copper-maned woman's ear. "A- and you... my mare, take... mine!"

Cynthia squeezed!

The warm liquid, designed to get warmer still when injected into something wet and quivering, flooded out the tip of her pseudo-shaft. Cynthia groaned as the toy shook, the special valves within designed to make the entire shaft pulse and lurch as it exploded. It brushed wickedly against her clit which was already almost too sensitive. It made her scream, her body aching from pleasure that seemed to never end.

The trinity clenched, and for a moment lost, it was difficult to separate them into their individual parts. Like a heart, they pulsed together. Beating, pumping, emptying, as a singular whole.

Erin gasped and bucked convulsively, her mind and body awash in pleasure. Cynthia's voice in her ear as her special toy pumped thick, warm pseudo-jizz with each pounding thrust was a goad to her, and she responded in the only way she could; thrusting back against her blonde lover, the gold-tanned globes of her ass meeting Cynthia's porcelain thighs while thick latex spread her pussy wide and gouts of ersatz semen jetted from the pulsing toy jutting from her woman-husband's loins. In turn, as she recovered from each thrust, drawing herself off the proud black strap-on member, she drove herself again and again to the hilt in Nathan's ass while her own hot seed bubbled like lava, forced out around the glistening, jizz-slicked fleshy pole each time she drove into her man-wife again.

Gasping, panting, breasts heaving, she subsided slowly from the orgasmic peak of release and fulfilment. A low moan, compounded of loss and satisfaction, rose from her throat as Cynthia relented, pulling her toy out; then she in turn braced herself and pulled back. Her balls drained, she felt herself slowly softening as she withdrew from her lover's backside, her shaft slithering out wetly, reluctant to leave his warmth. With a 'pop' she felt her flared cock-knob slip out, followed by the pent-up flood of she-stallion spooge she had released inside him. Utterly satiated, she moved off him, rolling onto her back as she pulled Cynthia down atop the pair of them.

"My very dear loves..." she murmured, holding them both close. Her gaze fell on the clock and surprise jolted her. Not even twelve hours...? It feels like we've spent a year exploring each other...! It was hard to believe; only a day ago she had been aloof, alone, self-sufficient, masturbating in a bathtub to relieve herself; now she was bound inextricably to both her lovers, heart, body and soul. She hadn't anticipated this; she had hoped for no more than a romp, a chance to use both cock and cunt and thereby satisfy her physical lusts.

Now, though... she smiled, content, completed. I've found my heart, my true loves, she reflected. Tenderly she turned her face to Nathan, bringing his face to hers, and her lips parted for him. He had gifted her with his seed and she hoped with all her heart that even now, a new life was blossoming in her womb. She felt his mouth on hers, warm with his strength and promise, the rough stubble of his unshaven face a pleasantly scratchy sensation. His seed in her and adorning her, and hers in him; she was coming to fully appreciate what a gift of trust he had given her when he allowed her to mount him and take his anal cherry.

Cynthia's lips intruded - no, not intruded; she could never intrude, for she was an equal third of this new arrangement. No, Cynthia's lips joined theirs, and somehow, they were managing a three-way kiss, their mouths and tongues dancing together. It was a bit awkward as they tested and shifted, for mouths were not really designed to kiss more than one other mouth, but they were making it work... Cynthia, her co-wife, her co-husband, still proudly endowed, the cunt-warmed latex of her strap-on hard and unyielding against Erin's thigh, her pale breasts flattened against Erin's larger, warm-tanned ones and Nathan's hairy chest.

"Th..thank you, Erin, Cyn," Nathan's voice was a curious mixture of strength and submission. His had been, in many ways, the greatest test. Cynthia was no stranger to the pleasure of a cock entering her, and equally obviously was familiar with - and delighted in - plying her strap-on, though with whom previously was a question not to be explored just now. Erin, a primal force of lust, had plied her stallion-shaft with a zest that belied her inexperience and that zest had been matched when she gave her cherry to Nathan.

Erin's green eyes were suspiciously bright as her spouses cuddled close, and her voice choked a bit as she strove to frame her new-found joy and love in pitiful, inadequate words. "Cynthia, Nathan... thank you both for this, for us. Thank you for welcoming me home -" she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and sniffled. "Thank you for becoming my husbands, my wives... and making me your husband, your wife..."

Exhausted, wrung out with emotion and physical exertion, the trio drifted into the arms of Morpheus, each still bearing the marks of their lovers' attentions. The bed, rumpled and stained beyond redemption, cradled them regardless as sleep claimed them, and they snuggled together like a basket of kittens.

*** *** ***

The housekeeping staff wondered about the gringo couple which had rented the palatial newlywed suite. Often unseen and unremarked by guests, these were the women who saw the comings and goings in the resort, and they could have told some remarkable tales. This morning, the talk had been of this couple, and the tall, flaming gringa redhead who had gone with them into their suite yesterday and - so far as anyone knew - was still in there with them. This was one of those times when they might almost draw lots to see which of the staff would have the privilege of cleaning the suite, for the couple were generous tippers and now, they all wondered, agog with curiosity, what was transpiring with three of them in there?

The dining room staff could not help; no-one had seen these guests come down to breakfast. Yet as the three women pushed their carts down the hall, they could see there was no "Por favor, no disturbe" sign on the door. They must have left early and broken their fast elsewhere, then...

The smell when they eased open the door was almost a physical thing; a deep, heavy musk, hinting of power and prowess, of deeds best not mentioned except - perhaps - at Confession. A lighter yet no less disturbing scent was overlaid on it and their pulses quickened, though they were unconscious of it. Clothes were strewn on the floor and the door to the generous balcony was ajar.

But what... a gasp, a sudden inhalation... for the first of the chambermaids had entered far enough to see the enormous circular bed, and as she looked and the three figures - naked, unashamedly naked in their slumber - registered on her, two of them rolled over onto their backs, and unbidden, a scream ripped from her throat...