The Visitor: A Friendly Menage Tale

Lea didn't usually masturbate in airplane bathrooms, because, after all, they're bathrooms. On airplanes.

But half of the way through the long flight across the country to Atlanta, she found herself in the tiny, tiny cubicle with one foot up on the wall and the other in the sink, with her fingers buried to the second knuckle in her pussy.

Thinking of Sean, her best friend's older brother.

Sean the firefighter of the broad shoulders and the narrow hips. Sean of the gentle Southern drawl, the polite tone, the blue eyes, and the wicked, square-jawed smile.

Sean, who she had always wanted to wrap her arms and legs around, but never managed to do more than flirt with a bit.

Sean. Who had found out that she was interviewing for the job in Atlanta and had, with smooth, apparently subtext-less Southern hospitality, invited her to save the cost of a hotel room and stay with him. Well, on the sofa of the apartment he shared. But still. Just a door away... Oooo, Sean.

She wanted him. She had always wanted him, since she was a college sophomore and his sister Kirsten's roomie. She wanted his strong arms around her. Wanted his big hands pulling her pelvis tight against his. Wanted to feel what she knew would be his big, thick cock spreading... Ooo...!

With a shudder of pleasure and relief that she knew was only temporary, she came, swallowing as best she could the groan that wanted to explode from her gut.

Carefully, quickly, Lea lowered her legs, pulled up her panties, pulled down her skirt and smoothed it as best she could, washed her hands, and opened the bathroom door.

A woman just a few years older than Lea stood in the narrow galley glaring daggers at her. Her elbow-high child was doing a dance that made unmistakably clear just how long they'd had to wait.

"Sorry," Lea murmured. "Thanks."

"Yaw're welcome," the mother grumbled in a thick-as-honey accent that made Lea feel anything but welcome as the woman and her child pushed past.

Even so, hearing that Southern sound got Lea thinking of Sean again, of his arms and chest and ass and mouth... and got her wondering just how long the mom and kid were going to take, because, oh, she could have started all over, airplane bathroom or no.

~*~

The plane finally landed and Lea picked up the beat-up old Civic she'd rented. Sean had told her that he'd have loved to pick her up, but he wasn't going to be getting off duty until about the time Lea landed, and since she was going to need a car the next day anyway to get to the interview, she drove herself north from the airport — around the city and into Cobb County, where Sean and the other firefighter shared a place, where she'd be sleeping on their couch.

Well, she thought let's not lie: Lea hoped that she wouldn't be sleeping on their couch. She hoped very much that she would at last be sharing Sean's bed. She knew that she should have been thinking about the interview, but hey — there are lots of jobs. There was only one Sean, and she'd lusted after him for far too long.

Well. She was thinking about the job interview. It was for the position of assistant business manager of a mid-sized professional theater — her chance finally to work somewhere other than the glorified community theaters she'd been slaving at since graduation. She was excited by the opportunity.

But Sean...

Her thoughts less on the road than they should have been, she followed her phone's directions around the city, past dozens of malls, hotels, and office buildings mostly bearing the name Peachtree Whatever, and out into the gently rolling hills and lush greenery of the Atlanta suburbs. "Exit the highway," said her phone, and she exited. "Turn left," it intoned, and she turned left.

She wondered if she could give her GPS voice a Southern accent. Tuhn leyeft, honey. That thought made Lea smile.

She reached the complex, parked, and followed Sean's very clear directions to his second-floor apartment. Fighting down the images of Sean's broad chest — and narrow hips — that had driven her to the airplane lavatory, she knocked on the door.

A muffled voice called out, "C'me in! It's unlocked."

She opened the door and was assaulted simultaneously by the delicious smells of something sweet baking and something frying, as well as by the vision of the tall, tapered figure at the stove.

Him. Cooking. Looking like every masturbatory fantasy Lea had ever had about him, only better. Except fully dressed, but food. Shit.

"Sorry I couldn't come to the door," he said in that sweet Georgia drawl. He finished flipping something in the pan. "I'm up to my elbows in fried chicken. Hope you like — "

Lea threw her arms around him from behind and took joy in squeezing his chest hard. "I love it! Thank you so much for having me."

"Uh. Welcome." He stiffened before relaxing and turning in her grasp. "Nice to meet you, too, miss."

Lea looked up at the eyes smiling down at her. Brown. At the dimpled chin. Not Sean. Oh, SHIT. She released the man — he had to be Sean's roomie — and stammered, "I'm so, so... I, uh..."

"Naw, miss, don't be sorry, that was a nice hello, no doubt!" The roommate put down his tongs and smiled at her. He held out his enormous hand. "I'm Andrew. You must be Lea."

She shook his hand and nodded, still speechless.

His grin grew. "Really, don't feel bad. It happens more often than you'd think — the captain mixes us up so much he's taken to just calling us the Twins."

"Huh," Lea grunted. She was feeling the ghost of that muscled chest on her fingers.

"There you are, Lea!" Another Southern voice called from the other side of the apartment. She turned: it was Sean, no doubt this time. Blue eyes. Square jaw. Nothing on but a towel around his waist. Oh. Shitty shit-shit. He ran his hand through his short, wet hair. "Sorry, I was just taking a shower, I didn't want you to have to smell me like the hog I am."

"Huh," Lea repeated.

Sean smiled warmly. "I see you met Andy. I hope, Andy," he said, his voice lowering in mock threat, "that you've conducted yourself like a gentleman toward this young lady."

"I wasn't the one came out half-naked," joked Andy.

Lea found her voice. "Besides, I was the one molesting him."

Sean raised his eyebrow, that supremely wicked grin on display.

"Yeah," laughed Andy, "lucky me! She thought I was you. Couldn't see your ugly face 'cause I was dealing with supper."

"My ugly face!"

"Anyhow," Andy laughed, "why didn't you tell me our visitor was such a bombshell? Begging your pardon, Miss Lea."

Lea felt Sean's eyes flash to hers, saw the smile turn from wicked to evil. "Didn't want you getting ideas, Andy."

Lea couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"Ideas, huh?" Andy snorted and turned back to the stove. "You go get some pants on, boy, and we'll have some supper and then we can talk about who's getting ideas."

Now Sean's grin turned sunny again; he waved and turned, and Lea was treated to the sight of his retreating, naked, rippling back and his tight, towel-clad ass as they made their way down the hall.

I'm getting ideas, Lea thought, and then tried very hard not to think any more.

~*~

Dinner — supper — was of course fried chicken, with, of course, corn on the cob and amazing peach pie. "You've now hit all of the high points of Georgia cuisine," Sean joked.

"Hey!" said Andy, "we haven't even got to grits and boiled peanuts!"

Making a face, Sean said, "What a shame."

"You call yourself a Georgia boy?" said Andy. "You're all city, Sean, admit it."

"You have to be from the country to be a Georgian?" Sean raised an eyebrow.

"Naturally," Andy replied. "Q.E.D."

Trying not to get totally lost in enjoying their banter (flirtation?), Lea said, "Sounds like something my mom always used to say: if you live in New York, you're Jewish. If you're Jewish living outside New York, you're goyisch. Um, gentile."

"Me," said Sean, "I have always considered myself a citizen of the world."

Andy laughed, "Yeah, listen to the cosmopolitan here. Visit's his sister off in California, and he comes back talking about artichokes and pizza with all kinds of fancy stuff on it, and sushi."

"I didn't know you liked sushi, Sean!" To be honest, Lea couldn't remember Sean ever eating a meal that he didn't seem to enjoy.

"Oh," Sean said, he eyes holding hers once more, "I love sushi." His tone barely changed, and his expression seemed to hold exactly the same open, welcoming grin, but there was something about the way he said it that made Lea's middle flutter as she imagined him kneeling between her legs. Imagined the feeling of his tongue... He winked.

He's flirting with me, Lea reveled. Oh, god, yes, he's flirting with me.

Andy laughed again and popped open another beer for Lea. "Now see, me, I like my fish too, but I like it as the first course, not the main dish."

Lea's eyes snapped to Andy's and she saw that he too had a lazy, sexy smile on, and that — yes — she hadn't imagined the sexual undertones this time either. Playing games, gentlemen? She took a swig of her cold beer and twirled the drumstick bone she'd been fiddling with. "Well," she said, letting her voice grow raspy, "I like my meat red, generally. Love to chew on a rib, for instance. Nice, long, hard rib, dripping juices down my chin..." She ran her tongue up the length of the bone. "Mmm." When both men's jaws dropped, she couldn't help it: she laughed.

Sean and Andy were both turning bright red, but they too laughed, long and hard.

"Mind," Lea finally managed to say, waving the bone, "this chicken really was fabulous."

"Thank you," Andy said with a smile and mock bow.

They proceeded to drink and talk. And drink some more. Beer. And then some bourbon. And then some more.

And Lea was flirting with two fantastically hot firemen, and they were both flirting back, and she felt absolutely fucking fabulous.

And just at the point that Lea was ready to pull her shirt off and yell, COME TO MAMA! to them both, Sean — or maybe it was Andy — stood up and reminded Lea that she had an interview in the morning. And then Andy — or maybe it was Sean — walked remarkably steadily over to the couch, pulled it out, and began to make up Lea's bed.

And the other helped.

For a brief moment, watching the two burly boys arranging her pillows and smoothing her sheets with an almost military precision, Lea indulged in an image of both of them stripping off their t-shirts, dropping their jeans and joining her...

But then both stepped away, wished her a good night, and sauntered together back toward where their bedrooms were. Each seemed to be trying to make sure that the other was leaving the room first, but eventually they left side by side, their shoulders barely clearing the hallway walls.

Well, shit.

As Lea slipped off her skirt, her shirt, her bra, and the panties that she'd been wanting to shed since she entered the apartment, she stood there, horny, naked, and more than a little drunk. I could sneak into Sean's bed, she thought. He wouldn't kick me out, I know it. Or Andy's. Or...

She shook her head. No. They'd made the sensible choice. She sat down and started to look for her pajamas...

But the air was warm and thick.

And she was tired. And light-headed.

And so she slipped, pajama-less, under the covers in the foldout bed, dreaming that the fingers stroking her clit and teasing her nipples belonged to two very large, very strong, very different sets of hands.

~*~

Lea's dream was very, very pleasant. In it, someone... Or perhaps more than one someone... Well. In either case, licking of her foot was involved, by a tongue or tongues unknown. Mmm.

Her eyes fluttered open.

It wasn't a dream.

A tongue was in fact running up Lea's instep, sending a flare to her crotch that caused her to writhe on her belly and groan. Mmm.

"Hey, Lea." The voice was soft and male and Southern. "Thought you might want some company."

Between the pleasant suddenness of her wakening and the alcohol that was still in her system, Lea could only manage a throaty "Uh-huh." She spread her legs wide, her foot pulling the sheet aside and uncovering her lower body.

"Mmm," whispered the voice. "I like peach pie just fine, but this was what I wanted for dessert."

"Uh... huh!"

Without warning the tongue had slid all of the way up her inner thigh and licked the entire length of her pussy, sending Lea's smoldering arousal into full flame.

"Shh." He chuckled. "Don't want to wake no one. 'Cept you, 'course."

Lea wanted to say something smart, but a whimper was the best she could do. Her pelvis arched up of its own accord.

Whichever of the men he was, he was clearly a gentleman. He took the invitation graciously and dove in. His tongue and lips began to tease and pleasure her lips and clit. His nose tickled her asshole, the hot breath sending what was already an indescribable sensation truly transcendent.

"Hnnnh!"

"Shh," he said again, this time against her clit.

Trembling, Lea stuffed her face into the pillow, screaming into it as he pleasured her with his tongue, his lips, his nose. When his fingers slid up under her belly and began to massage her breasts, she lost all sense of what was happening and where — her body was one nerve, pulsing, now.

Usually, Lea liked long, slow bouts of foreplay, liked kissing and touching and feeling a man slowly meander his way to going down on her. There was something wonderfully romantic about watching a head wandering down her belly and between her thighs. Nose bobbing as he lapped at her. Eyes open and smoldering or closed and abandoned as he pleasured her.

But this? Having her face shoved into the pillow, her ass up in the air, and that mouth... Even if Lea had been on her back, even if it had been less than pitch black, she didn't think that she'd have been able to see straight anyway.

Thick, strong fingers pulled and teased remarkably gently at her nipples, causing her to scream on into the pillow as wide, fine lips sucked her sizzling clit against a fluttering tongue. Cleft chin, or square? she found herself wondering for a moment, though of course his chin was down between her spread thighs where she couldn't tell. But then an electric spark began to shoot from her clit up her spine, joining with the arcs of pleasure fired by those amazing fingers in flaring up to her brain and shutting down all thought quite effectively.

Thunder rumbled. At first, Lea thought it was her imagination, part of the monumental orgasm that set her aflame. Then, as the explosion subsided, she realized that not all of the lightning was inside of her. There was a storm outside, the kind that rarely visited Lea's home state.

Her visitor was kissing his way from her right cheek of her ass across the dimple at the base of her spine to the left cheek.

"Fuck me," moaned Lea into the pillow. "Fuckmefuckme."

"Yes, ma'am," said the deep voice. "Always give a lady what she asks for, that's what I was always taught." She heard him fishing for something, heard the distinctive crinkle of a foil condom package being opened, a rubber being rolled down over a hard cock. A wide hand ran over her ass, her back, sending a tremor through Lea. . "Like this, or —?"

"Fuck. Me." She reached back between her legs, found a hard, long, latex-encased penis, and pulled it toward her.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, a quaver of desire in his voice that made Lea feel incredibly sexy and incredibly hot and that made her want him inside of her right now.

Again: Lea usually preferred to face her lover — whether in straight missionary position or with a leg or two over his shoulders — for a couple of reasons. First of all, she liked being able to see the affect she had on a man, could be in itself an incredible turn on. Second, she liked the feeling of the cock plowing the front wall of her pussy. Lea had discovered her G-spot long before she'd ever heard the term, had discovered that, unlike most of her girlfriends, she could have a very satisfying orgasm just from being fucked (so long as her lover was big enough and lasted long enough).

Just now, however, she didn't mind being banged from behind, her face still stuffed into her pillow.

As this cock head pressed into Lea's pussy, however, she gasped in surprise, feeling it surge along the front wall of her vagina: this cock, unlike any she'd ever had inside of her, curved down.

It was perfect.

It made her scream. If there was thunder and lightning rolling on, Lea couldn't have seen or heard, because the cock that was now pounding hard into her sent her nerves roaring, her blood screaming.

Orgasm, which hadn't ever quite left her, came howling back, playing hide-and-seek with her consciousness as her visitor slammed into her, one massive paw pulling her hips back against him as the other reached around and found...

Found her clit, and...

Oh, FUCK.

~*~

Was she dreaming again? Was it all just one enormous, wet blurry wet...?

Lea's fingers reached down her belly between her legs. No cock.

No cock, but fabulously tender. Wet.

Had she hallucinated it, a masturbation fantasy on steroids? Or had she passed out, drunk and spent on whiskey and sex? Or...?

Blearily she turned over, looking for...

Lightning flashed, revealing a broad-shouldered silhouette. "Fuck," he said. "You are so fucking beautiful."

So are you, Lea tried to say, but couldn't be sure that any intelligible sound had passed her lips. She reached up, her slick fingers finding a muscled chest, caressing a tiny, jewel-hard nipple.

"Shit." He hissed, and leaned forward, his lips finding hers as the retreating storm finally rumbled its own approval.

The flame inside of Lea, barely banked, flared back to light. Not quite so urgent as before, but no less strong, and so she pulled his body to hers, burying herself in him, running her finger along his ribs, the muscles of his back, feeling that hard cock, un-rubbered now, straining and leaking against the outside of her thigh.

Yet he seemed in no hurry this time, and so Lea was able to indulge and kiss and explore.

Her fingers counted the vertebrae down to the taut swell of his ass, the concave plane of his hips.

His fingers flowed slowly, reverentially over her flesh: her hips, her belly.

Down? Please?

Well, no: as they kissed, as their tongues danced, those amazing, enormous, shockingly delicate fingers explored upward, skirting the outside of one aching breast, defining the line of her collar bone, of her throat, her earlobe...

How was it that a light touch against her ear could make goose pimples erupt all of the way down to her knees? She moaned into his mouth; desire clutched her again, throbbing through her. She wanted him inside of her — wanted him so much — and yet...

And yet the passion of their last fuck and the languor of this session had left her without will, without a muscle in her body. She was his, to take at whatever pace it pleased him, and oooohhh, it pleased him to take his sweet, sweet, Georgia-peach time, and it pleased her to be taken so.

Lea had lost her virginity during the summer before her senior year of high school. She and Sam had been dating for two years at that point, and had done just about everything that could be done with fingers and mouths, and so Lea hadn't been shocked at Sam's urgency or his hair trigger. Not shocked, but disappointed. They'd eventually worked out how to make sure that she got her fair share out of their sessions: it had usually involved lots of kissing and caressing, ending with his head between her thighs. He hadn't been exactly patient, but he had at least tried, the sweetie. Of the dozen or so lovers she'd had since, the more successful had usually followed a similar formula: petting her until she was worked up, getting her off with their tongues, then pumping into her until they got off. When she was really lucky, the man lasted long enough and was properly endowed — neither too well nor not well enough — so that the pressure of his cock against her G-spot and his pelvis against her clit got her off again before he exploded.