Icewater and Sandwiches

Matt muttered "No problem. Be our guest, and do with us what you will!"

She raised her hips, spread her legs, tucked Mark's cockhead into her pussy beside Matt's shaft, and whispered" Both of you, together, side by side. In my pussy. Now, dammit, Mark, you go SLOW! I think I can take it, and we'll all three be together... "

In the event, she took it very nicely: she was stretchier, and readier, than she could ever have imagined. The sensations were amazing! Awkward at first, but a dozen strokes or so and the three partners in sensory overload had their coordination worked out: below her, Matt was thrusting upwards in perfect synchrony with Matt's downwards slidings. She could tell from the men's exclamations and shudders that she was not alone in appreciating the experience: what must it feel like to them, their cocks trapped solidly against one another there deep inside her belly, slithering past one another, wrapped in her slippery tissues stretched thin and taut, shafts tightly in contact their whole lengths? She decided there was no way she could imagine their feelings and sensations, she'd just have to take it from their reactions that things were working well. It certainly was nice for her!

Mark's bigger cock slid luxuriously from her body, leaving a pussy gone momentarily slightly slack around Matt. Enclosed so snugly between them, tiny by comparison, she felt Mark moving behind her, felt his finger dip into her bottom, She knew what was coming next, and plastered herself against Matt, wrapping herself around him tightly. Had she ever been more open and vulnerable? That, combined with her soaring excitement, was a mind-boggling combination. Matt knew, too: his huge strong hands cupped her buttocks, spread them wide for his partner's approach and entry. The finger left her bottom, and Mark shuffled into perfect position. The tip of his splitter touched, found her virtual opening perfectly, paused as if for permission. She was thinking, as he maneuvered, thank god for her last boyfriend, with his fascination for fucking her bottom, and his penchant for filling her pussy with a large dildo at the same time. She knew at least the broad outlines of what was about to happen, and shivered - but in anticipation, not from unease.

Mark was busy being a gentleman, whispering at her "Just relax now, dear... big fuck coming. BIG fuck. You'll enjoy this... even if it's a bit strange at first!"

She almost laughed to herself as she pressed backwards against his cock-head, willed her inner muscles to relax. She knew how to let a cock in. "Here's a surprise for you, Mr Gay Mark!"

Her anus obeyed, relaxed, and her push drove him more than head-deep inside. He stretched her muscles: Matt's cock inside her pussy dammed and blocked things, made this new invader take a different route, moved her insides differently from ever before. She gasped into Matt's chest: Mark was truly LARGE, not impossible, but just a knife-edge short of serious discomfort. The knife-edge's difference was critical. Every rectal and anal nerve was alive. Sensory lightning flashed from her ass to her clit and brain. She took a deep breath, pushed back again just as Mark leaned forward, and bingo! - he was bottomed out. She tried to envision the two men's ball-sacs banging together, nearly giggled at the idea.

Mark was astonished at finding himself suddenly buried balls-deep, and the event mostly being her doing. He said so: "Hello! What have we here? Matt, love, this lady is no buttfucking virgin, she KNOWS what she's doing. Someone's sure as hell been in here before ME, dude! Damn! She's bloody tight, too... of course, she OUGHT to be, considering she's so much smaller than we are. Nice. Hot and tight and nice, a perfect bottom for fucking."

A long pause while he explored: he was an artist, a connoisseur. His cockhead fit inside her rectum like a piston in a cylinder and each long, smooth stroke seemed to create a vacuum around the head which tried to draw her innards out through her stretched ring of muscles. He was not only big, he was scaldingly HOT. Beneath her, Matt's fingers were trapped tightly between their bellies, yet continued their dance against her clit. Matt's own cock was making its contribution to her pleasure, and undoubtedly to Mark's, although the big device reaming her bowels was definitely the main attention-getter from her point of view.

The breakers were arriving now, just like in the ocean, seven second intervals, take a deep breath between climaxes and keep right on swimming! Several more long, slow Mark-strokes ensued in total silence while all studied the process, enjoyed the sensations.

Then Mark continued, "Nice, nice, nice! She's got a better bottom, Mr M, than most of the men I've been in." Then directly to her, "That's quite a compliment, you know, and I really mean it just that way. You have a wonderful ass, lady!"

She turned her head sideways, growled up at Mark, "Stop being so goddamned NICE, just shut up and FUCK, please!"

A long pause behind her, then some scooting about while his cock was fully buried in her bottom. His pole stirred her insides: without the distractions of their thrusting, she could plainly feel the two cocks within her, moving independently. Weird, and very sexy. Glorious, this having both holes filled simultaneously by real flesh-and-blood erections. What a hoot, she thought... she could certainly recommend it most highly!

Mark reared up on his haunches, legs spread wide, his hands on her shoulders, her bottom engulfed by his inner thighs, her butt completely full of his cock. She was surrounded by maleness, inside, outside, above, below, both surrounded and filled fuller than seemed possible. If this was one aspect of polygyny, then she was all for it... time to invert the Mormon scenario in the name of Women's Lib?

Mark's hands went to her shoulders, pulled her back strongly against his thighs, as if trying to drive his cockhead through her skull. She gasped, abruptly realizing just how physically strong the man was: she was completely powerless, snuggled between his thighs and hands like a nut in a cracker.

It was probably simultaneously the scariest and most intensely erotic moment of her life.

As she reveled in her abilities and soaked in her pleasures, she pondered briefly whether she really, unconsciously, deep down inside, wanted this intense, gloriously primal fucking to assert her survival, to shout at the world that despite its best efforts she had survived? With a little help from her friends?

She quickly realized that with her "fuck me" command, the situation had profoundly changed, it had gone from a warm and fuzzy business of three friends having fun together to her being these two men's toy, their tool. Was that bad? She didn't think so. After all, she had wanted in the first place to reward them, not necessarily to collect her own pleasures. Her own enjoyment was supposed to be secondary, a bonus. She was collecting lots of bonuses, wasn't she?

The M&Ms were pounding into her almost as if she weren't there, as if she were a device to connect their own two pleasure centers, feeling their cocks sliding past one another, separated by only a millimeter of rectal and vaginal walls. Probably they were mentally fucking one another, she was just a portal. Her mind registered the change, the sudden vague disconnect from the men, but her body was in full response mode, so it was no problem.

No matter. Her bonuses were accruing steadily. She reached back, felt the two straining cocks where they penetrated, studied their strength and firmness. Not firm, HARD! Rock-hard. Blue-steel hard. She bit on Matt's chest, found his nipple, sucked it in and bit again, hard, making him squirm but not changing the incredible jungle-drum rhythm of their synchronized pounding. She wondered dimly just how long they could keep this up? And then she climaxed again.

Finally, inside her, she could feel them coming. Hot semen gushed in long, powerful spurts deep inside the infinitely ready receptacle that her body had become. She could even count separately the pulses from each. Matt arched up, reached around her to grab his lover's buttocks and pulled him even deeper into her bottom. As if understanding her unspoken needs, Mark's hands left her shoulders, slid down to cup her breasts, pinched hard at her nipples. Together, the three of them dissolved into a gasping heap. She felt as if by rights they ought to have melted together to form a single organism.

Mark was still hard as a rock, still buried deep. He hadn't been bragging about keeping it up, just stating facts. And if there was any doubt about butch/femme, it was dissipating now. Mark was in control. He slid out of her body, leaving an insanely-jealous, lonely emptiness. He maneuvered the others, picked her up, spun her about, laid her down on her back, pushed her legs wide apart. Her empty crotch gaped, she knew it must be open inches wide. Maybe feet? No matter, whatever. She couldn't look, but felt she must be steaming down there. Certainly the scent of their bodies was all-pervasive, the air in the tent was like molasses to breathe. Delicious molasses. Pheromones? By the gram!

Mark set Matt into position, kneeling between her legs, then pushed Matt's head down between her thighs, buried his face against her crotch, and said "You're the one with all the doggoned woman-experience, lover-boy, so it's your job to make HER feel good. You'd better do a good job, too, or ELSE! Meanwhile, I'm going to drop another load in here, where I really belong." He spread Matt's buttocks and drove into him in one abrupt stroke, reached down to grab Matt's dangling erection in his fist, stroked it lovingly. Everybody gets a share, so said Milo Minderbinder. He was right, apparently.

Then "Hey, it's NICE in here, but you're not as tight as she is! Goddamned old queer, you are, with a fucked-out asshole. PUCKER it for me!" She felt Matt clench. Evidently it worked: Mark grunted "Much better!"

With each stroke, Matt gasped against her crotch, and mirabel dictu, his tongue was working just fine. She let herself dissolve into hot fudge, mentally thanked the unknown women who had taught Matt these tongue-maneuvers, and kept on climaxing nonstop in waves that corresponded exactly with the slow writhings of Matt's tongue.

They all collapsed into a heap again as Mark finished off both himself and Matt. She welcomed the chance to actually breathe un-distracted. Lovely! What a tangle, too. There were so many limbs, and so much sleeping-bag. And the condensation on the inside of the tent! They slipped apart, re-assembled themselves in parallel, and in moments she was asleep, more soundly than she had ever been in her life. Nothing short of a literal earthquake would have awakened her - but they'd already had one of those today.

She opened an eye to the world, but it was all wrong. Well, not totally wrong, for there was the most amazing tingle in her lower belly and crotch. Her fingers tested, found nothing broken, nothing distorted. Wonderful thing, this body of hers. How insanely adaptable. How bloody insatiable! So what was wrong, anyhow? First of all, she was alone. She hadn't been alone when she'd last been awake, had she? Being alone wasn't nice. And it was all blue, this world about her. That meant daylight. Had the night already finished? And her own, personal tent was orange, of that she was certain. Odd, because right now, her environment was not only blue, but filled with aromas, not sexual but HUNGRY smells, coffee, bacon. (BACON! She never brought such luxuries on camping trips.) She rolled over, poked her head out through the flap opening. The M&Ms were squatting by the little stove: they heard her, grinned at her simultaneously. Her dawning worry about embarrassment vanished with their invitation: "Breakfast, love. Bacon, pancakes, syrup, and lots of coffee. Got to continue warming the inner woman, you know."

Mark strode over to the tent, handed her a pile of clothing, said "We're working on drying your stuff out. Meanwhile, for today, you'll have to make do with our spares. That ought to be good for a laugh or six!"

She dressed as best she could, rolled up sleeves and pant legs, tucked and tied, finally appeared before them, utterly disheveled. They stood to greet her, caught her in an enthusiastic fore-and-aft bear hug, and abruptly they were laughing hard together.

Breakfast went fast. They struck camp, draped her clothing and gear over their pack frames to dry in the sun and high-altitude low humidity, and slogged their slow and steady way up the slopes towards the high camp they had planned to reach. The men didn't even let her help with lunch, as if she were some fragile thing - she accepted the attention, all the while feeling that surely they should know better by now!

By the time they got to the site, in the late afternoon, they were pleasantly tired, her clothes were dry and on her body again, and she was feeling slightly guilty about all the help they'd given her. So she volunteered to cook, after they set up their tents a discreet distance apart. The M&Ms protested mildly, then agreed. She did a creditable job, too. At least it was hot and tasty and nourishing and abundant.

They watched the alpenglow on the peaks high above them, and soon decided it was time to retire, a bit early. She kissed each man goodnight, got solid enthusiastic responses from both, and plunged into her orange universe, stripped, arranged things. Shoes at the foot, with socks inside the bag to dry out. Icy bag, instantly warmed by her body. Twilight outside, deepening rapidly.

She lay there, listening. Nothing. Why the hell was she so horny again, so fast, in the midst of being so tired? She was amused, puzzled. Near death experience still in effect, perhaps? Her fingers slipped down to her crotch, played. Nice. She was wet again. Her fingers and memories of last night got all tangled up in the dripping tissues of her crotch. Had she really, truly had both of those men inside her -together! - so strong and hard and hot, and for so long? Surely she should have been able to store up a month or two's worth of climaxes during that exercise! But no, the itch in her belly was intense, her fingers dancing. Renewable! She bit her lip gently to keep silent.

Amidst her silent writhings there came the tiny sound of shuffling from outside, just enough to make her hair stand up, her heart skip, her hand stop moving.

A voice, soft, asked: "You in there, love? Got a second?"

She giggled at herself, the little girl, masturbating, and almost caught by mommy! She rolled over, stuck her head out through the partially-zipped flap.

Towering above her, just at arm's length, stood the M&Ms, naked from the waist down, naked in the icy air and reddish twilight. Her two pleasurers from last night stood out proud, hard, touching one another at the tips like two swords in mutual salute before a duel. The whole pose was ridiculous, insanely erotic, just plain silly. The two cocks should have been steaming, shouldn't they? Then Mark spoke. "We took a vote, we did, and were wondering... about the possibility of an encore?"

It took perhaps a half-heartbeat for her to compose her answer:

"My place, or yours?"