First Summer: Threesome with Kate

After about a minute I whispered to Greg "OK, now go over to Kate and ignore me".

Greg pulled himself out. As his boner released itself and he suspended his weight over me, I reached down and wrapped a hand around it to cover it with the condom that I'd grabbed off the table next to me as he'd positioned himself for withdrawal. Its flesh was firm and unyielding to the touch; its surface slimy with my juices. I'm sure I could feel it throbbing; maybe annoyed that its pleasure had been disturbed or eagerly anticipating the more novel experience of Kate's body.

Once I'd finished sheathing it I kissed Greg, whispering into his ear a rather corny --

"Go get her sport."

Greg angled his head and shoulders over across Kate before letting his body follow; being careful not to knee either of us in the process. Almost immediately Kate was guiding him into her; indicating the time for mere foreplay was past.

Once they were settled down and Greg has started to work on her I eased myself off the bed. I knew this was a critical moment. I wanted to be able to stand off and get a good view without attracting attention; relying on the knowledge that both Greg and Kate had of my little obsession to let them feel comfortable with ignoring me. But then again I needed to make sure I didn't distract them by being seen just staring at them.

In the end I stood just a little below the level of Greg's bum on the side opposite where Kate's head was; so she couldn't see me.

From there not only did I get a great view of Greg bum rising and falling as he did his work, but I also got a fairly intimate vista down between Greg's legs as they straddled outside Kate's legs; which were themselves spread well apart.

Kate had her hands on Greg's bum cheeks. I could see she was encouraging him to thrust harder; her fingers burying themselves deeply into the flesh of his bottom at the start of every inward thrust; her elbows bending as she literally pulled him into her. In a way Greg is too gentle. Scared of hurting me, it took a long time and a lot of direct encouragement to get Greg to thrust as hard as I was often looking for. It seemed Kate wanted even more.

Always responsive to these signals I could see Greg reacting; positioning himself to get the leverage he needed to deliver what she wanted.

In a way, the view I had of the scene laid out in front of me was a porn director's wet dream. Two bodies merged, caught in the passion of real sex; sex driven by genuine hormonal and emotional urges, not just banging for the bucks under the cameraman's direction. Just twice Greg and I had watched porn together. Like him I'd found the lack of any real emotional connection between the players almost wiped out any sexual response I felt to what I was watching. The action was contrived, formulaic and the girl always just seemed to have a put upon expression.

Here the real passion was palpable. Kate was cooing away with that beautiful seductive sex voice she has; Greg grunting pleasurably with the effort he was putting in. Their bodies were working in harmony. Above all I got to study Greg's beautiful body at work; his muscles pumped by the need to suspend his weight over Kate and deliver her the action she was asking for, the sinews highlighted on his slim lanky frame. For me Greg has always been my Greek god; sculptured in their classical period, a god not of bulk and brute force, but one of agile finely designed strength.

And there between their legs was Greg' shaft pumping in and out of Kate's opening. That aspect of the magic of sex has never left me. The concept of Greg having a part of his body deeply inside mine - of the two of us being physically one - has always made sex for me much more than rubbing clit and cock for climaxes. I know it sounds all wrong but seeing Greg buried in Kate was no less exciting; knowing that as he paused at the end of each thrust the tip of his shaft lay inside her somewhere close to under her navel was blowing my mind.

That was why Kate was only ever going to be the person with whom a threesome was going to work. The bond - yes I can call it love, if only at the deepest plutonic level -- between the three of us, the unresolved sexual tension that has existed between Kate and Greg since the first stirrings of sexual feeling in their loins in their prepubescent years and even the trust I have in her, all made the experience of watching their love making be the fantasy that had been invading my dreams for so long.

Kate's voice was telling me she was building to a climax. Her movements changed. Instead of encouraging Greg to continuous hard thrusting, every few thrusts she'd hold him firmly into her while I could see her hips move up and down; working her clit against his pubis; the base of Greg's shaft twisting with the movement she was forcing as his boner was captured in her body.

Then Kate's cooing stop; I'm sure even her breathing stopped before the prolonged sweetly feminine 'oooh' that we knew signalled her climax burst forth. Suddenly she was pushing Greg to thrust again; even harder and faster than before, lifting her hips off the pillow to push them ever more firmly against his and swaying from side to side until the effort of it all seemingly exhausted her.

Finally spent, her hands communicated to Greg he should go for his own completion.

I could see Greg go through the all too familiar process of increasing his excitement and building his climax. With his body just slightly elevated off Kate's I saw him continue to thrust as he looked down the length of the gap between them; raising his arousal to a state fit to burst by taking in, as he's described it to me in the past, the vista that so perfectly reminds him that he's making love to a beautiful woman -- usually a reference to me, but I didn't doubt Kate's body would be more than a good substitute. Indeed, with just the slightest hint of jealously I even wondered if those wondrous breasts might offer an even greater stimulation.

Then after a short while he suddenly stopped thrusting; enjoying -- again as he's described it to me in the past when I asked about why he paused -- the sensation of pure pleasure that floods into the full length of his shaft in the moments just before his climax. I am a nosy parker aren't I? But Greg has never failed to satisfy my curiosity when I've asked these quite personal questions. What I hadn't fully taken in before was the vocal expression of that pleasure. A soft sound of great enjoyment that is usually lost on me as it blends with the more guttural grunts of his thrusting effort and as I'm distracted by my own post orgasmic sensations.

His actual climax was marked -- as always -- by a series of hard deeply penetrating thrusts; three this time. As Greg tells it they come from an almost irresistible urge to do so -- as if his body is demanding that he spray its seed directly into the girl's cervix.

And then he collapsed his weight down on Kate's body; his head on the pillow next to hers; after shudders and thrusts of pleasure wracking his body from time to time as it seems his shaft tried to wring every last drop of his fluid from its length.

I watched as the energy drained out of him; as he just lay there merged with Kate.

But I had news for Greg. I wasn't through with him. I don't suppose I'd ever thought through how I'd finish myself in this experience. Watching had absolutely got my rocks off and was exactly the experience I thought it would be; but now I wanted a climax. Maybe I thought just watching would do that; I'm certainly capable of mental orgasms and just seeing a naked Kate lying next the two of us in the back of the car the morning after Zoe's party was enough to induce one. But that was after a particularly sexually charged night. Maybe I should have worked my fingers harder, but that just seemed cheap.

No, I wanted Greg to give it to me. And not oral either; I wanted him to pound me to one.

On a very few occasions Greg's been able to sustain a single erection through two orgasms. But it has to be some pretty special and exciting sex and usually doesn't involve a withdrawal let alone a change of partner in between. Usually he comes out fairly firm and can be teased up for more fairly quickly. But he's just a guy, so sometimes he just goes flaccid and takes a while to recover. I hoped today wasn't going to be in the last category.

Reaching down between his legs, I slid my finger along the underside of the small length of shaft emerging from Kate. It was still hard to the touch and responded to it with another shudder of pleasure. Massaging it gently I said loudly enough to ensure Greg could hear --

"Stay with me big guy, you're not finished yet."

Something had left me in a particularly corny mood tonight.

Eagerly anticipating what I hoped would come, I went and laid myself back out across my pillow next to the still merged bodies of Greg and Kate. Greg leant across and kissed me as a prelude to extracting himself from Kate and moving over to me after Kate had helped him roll the condom off. Tonight I was lucky. Greg still had more than enough enthusiasm -- if I can call it that -- to perform for me and give himself another orgasm too.

Eventually we needed to surrender our passions to sleep; even if it was a naked aroused sleep in the bed together without a cover.

In the first light of the morning I woke to find myself cuddled up to one side of Greg with Kate cuddled into the other. Both she and Greg were still asleep; Greg on his back with an impressive morning glory rampant.

I looked across at Kate as beautiful in her sleep as she was during the day.

I have always found it impossible not to speculate on what it is in her past that has so damaged Kate that she can't form a stable romantic relationship; indeed until recently positively avoided the risk of them. She's been willing to openly acknowledge she is damaged and that her parents' divorce had something to do with it, but she's avoided any more specifics.

I know I'm too young and inexperienced in these things to form reliable judgements, but I've come to doubt that Greg's possibility of inappropriate sexual behaviour by her father is the cause. Rather it seems to stem from a very deep fear of rejection or loss; although I suppose a sense of betrayal that would come from such inappropriate behaviour is also a possibility.

She seems able to be extraordinarily close to -- even acknowledge a deep plutonic love for - both Greg and myself as friends, but runs away from romantic love. As far as I can tell the difference seems to be that friends shouldn't do things to positively hurt you, but their life can just move in a different direction to yours and so you always need to allow for the possibility that they by default abandon you; just move out of your life. You might have a sense of loss, but you shouldn't reasonably have a sense of hurt -- not that human emotions are always reasonable.

So I'd come to wonder if she wasn't actually very close to her father and he just abandoned his family in a way that was a shock to a young Kate. Or maybe whether some domestic violence complicated Kate's attachment to her father. I don't suppose I'll ever know.

But for her sake my deepest hope is that she can overcome her issues and find the romantic love I can see she really yearns for. Maybe the relationship with Wayne was a sort of practice for the next step; a bit hard on Wayne but something that offers Kate hope for the future.

Greg was the next to open his eyes and we spoke in soft whispers waiting for Kate to join us in the land of the awake. It was probably another fifteen minutes before her eyes open too. Looking across Greg's body her first sight was of two friendly sets of eyes looking back at her.

Our 24 hours was up and my mind was starting to wonder how to declare things at an end and for life to return to normal. I needn't have worried. Kate took the lead for me.

"I saw some bacon and eggs in the fridge. Are they for us? How would you like me to make us all a big breakfast?"

Neither Greg nor I could refuse an offer like that, a thought we made clear to Kate.

But instead of rolling out her side of the bed, Kate rolled herself over onto Greg; lying flat along his body. Lifting herself up on her elbows she looked him in the face.

"Thankyou for a wonderful 24 hours. I'll never forget it."

The she put her head down alongside his, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a cuddle. Considering they were both naked, considering Greg was already fully aroused before Kate mounted him, you might say the cuddle lasted longer than was appropriate in normal circumstances but not so long as to be indecent or suggestive of an intention on her part to start something sexual.

Then Kate slid over onto me, lying flat along my body too. The first thing I noticed was the dampness below my navel, indicating Greg had leaked pre-cum onto her stomach which she now transferred onto me.

Lifting herself onto her elbows again she now looked me in the face.

"Even more than Greg, I want to thank you too. I hope you got what you wanted out of it, but it was a very special experience for me."

Then as with Greg, she put an arm around my neck, her head down alongside mine and just cuddled me.

This was an extraordinarily strange experience for me. As regular readers will know, before I met Greg my shyness meant my life had since early childhood been devoid of intense physical intimacy. Greg and I had of course shared no shortage of all sorts of uninhibited intimacy since then. But until recently even getting fully naked in a girls change room was something I'd avoided, let alone a naked physical embrace. Since Christmas, and even more so after Zoe's naked party, that inhibition had been slowly breaking down -- even reversing. But there are degrees of everything and except for a brief mutually naked hug from Kate at the end of Zoe's party, I'd never had this sort of contact. Now I had a naked girl lying on top of me.

It wasn't any longer the case that I wanted to squirm away or break the contact. It was just that I was intensely aware of certain points of contact between us. Rather than lying nipple to nipple, Kate had her breast between mine like the interlocking gears on a flywheel. I could sense exactly where each now firm button of her nipples made contact with the side of my breast and where mine touched her. I knew exactly the areas where our breasts and stomachs made contact and, since she was a little taller than me, exactly where the turn of my mons rested against her pubis.

But it wasn't sexual. This was just Kate at her most tactile. Greg and I came from close happy families. We were both secure in that environment, and yet neither of us had a need for tactile engagement with others. In reality we were just too shy, but far from deprived because of it. In a way Kate was a girl on her own; no siblings, no father and a mother who, although Kate loved and was close enough to her, had her own problems. With a limited range of close friends like Greg and myself this sort of tactile engagement was far more important to Kate.

Kate was communicating how much we meant to her. Without any risk of it being mistaken for a sexual advance, she could loiter on me longer than she did Greg. I probably got the cuddle she would have liked to give Greg too had she felt she could have. Strangely I felt that communication. I felt her appreciation of our friendship and her need for us. I felt how much she missed us when we were in different cities. I wished Greg could have had longer to have felt these things too; although recognising he may not have been as open to the message. I tried to pass that message back to her.

Greg asked me latter was it awkward; indicating he couldn't imagine that sort of contact with a guy in any circumstances. Maybe that's a difference between guys and girls; although the lack of external genitalia makes it easier. I don't think straight girls are as worried about homosexual ambiguity. But I could tell him honestly it wasn't awkward. For a moment I didn't know where to put my hands; just freezing them by my side obviously being unfriendly. But once I worked out just to respond by putting them around the small of her back it all seemed natural.

And then with a-

"I'll go get breakfast," she was off me and disappearing out the bedroom door, wiggling her naked butt in the sexiest manner knowing full well we'd be watching her.

In a way the rest of the weekend was like nothing had happened. Kate played the part to perfection. What had been had been, but didn't affect the future. She was back to our best friend. The flirtatious, tactile friend she'd always been, but nothing more.

Like all too many Australian kids, Kate had taken herself overseas after school, but had never actually been to either Sydney or Melbourne -- the largest Australian cities. She we got to play tourist for the rest of the weekend; a weekend full of laughter and fun that will be remembered for itself even without the first day.

So when it came time for her to go I think we were both ready for a tear. But it was a nice cry; a reaffirming cry and one moderated by plans that were already being hatched to catch up over the June long weekend.