What Riley Did To Me

Riley obliged, setting them on the table beside her, then peering back at me with raised brows. She moaned out as I slid my forearms under her calves and thrust forward into the tight wrap of her pelvic heat. I lifted her beneath the knees and ground our pubic hairs together as she bent her knees and grasped my ass with her little palms. Pushing her knees back to tip her pelvis, I broke into measure, reaming her inners in long, lustful strokes of my sculptured piston.

She squealed in wanton encouragement as her intimate chamber squeezed my girth like shrink wrap. I paused as she washed my balls with a spray of thanks. She gushed again as I recoiled and resumed my rhythm. "Come deep inside me," she pleaded. "I want you deep in me when you come."

"What makes you think I'm ready to come?" I asked, slowing my thrusts.

"I'm here all night!" she wailed. "You can come in me all you want! Please! Come in me now!"

There she goes asking nicely again,I thought to myself. The nipples on her perky breasts were erect, her tight walls were seeping invitation, and her nubile thighs were spread wide in missionary acceptance. Even the little jewel in her navel seemed to beckon.What more could I ask for?I wondered. Thrusting deep into her inner paradise, I dug my elbows into the couch and wrapped my arms beneath her back. We rested our chins on each others' shoulders as I rocked my pelvis for a precious extra half inch. With my tingling sac pressed against her buttocks, I surrendered to the pangs shooting the length of my engorged staff.

Riley must have felt my shaft thumping in her depths. Her moan oscillated to the beats of my pulsing beam as I sprayed my will into her in hardy spurts of sperm-loaded ecstasy. She rocked her pelvis and wiggled her hips, as if making room for the viscous pool forming beneath her decorated navel. As my bursts subsided to wishful bumps, she slapped my buttocks and ruffled my hair.

With a hardy groan, I plopped onto the sofa and heaved for air. Riley bounced up like an acrobat and knelt between my knees. A minute later, I was stiff as a warm pipe. I carried her into the bedroom, where she made good on her promise, staying late into the night and sucking me back to full rigidity between elated interludes. I took her from behind, standing, and lying on our sides. She rode me—sometimes facing me, sometimes not. My cum was in her tummy, in her honey pot and rubbed onto her skin. I couldn't attribute my staying power to any conceited sense of prowess, but rather hers. She never once sought a kiss, nor did I offer one. I fell asleep in the wee hours with her cheek on my chest.

Sunday morning, I woke up feeling my age. Riley had left during the night, but the aroma of estrogen still hung in the air. After a cup of coffee and a quick shower, I gathered the sheets and brought them to the nearby Laundromat—not so much because I wanted to wash out the scent of young lust, but because they were absolutely soaked in our genealogies. As I stuffed them into a machine, I came to realize what I would later refer to as the Riley Theorem. Each and every interlude with her was followed within twenty-four hours by another offer.

"Better use extra fabric softener," purred Kristie's voice from behind me. "I smell her from here." Snuggling up to my side, she whispered in my ear, "Besides, I like soft sheets."

That evening, Kristie was prompt. I opened the door for her at eight o'clock sharp. She wore a low-cut black dress, hemmed above the knee. Black stockings graced her long, lanky legs. She was tall enough not to need the shiny black heels she wore, but I was glad she did. Her shoulder-length red hair framed dazzling green eyes. I always found her hot, but that night, she was on fire.

No sooner had I handed her a glass of wine than the doorbell rang. Looking out the window, I slapped myself in the forehead at the sight of Rayanne, standing with one of my overcoats wrapped around her. I could see she was wearing white stockings and pumps with dainty bows.

"I need to talk," she urged as I opened the door. "I broke it off with Erik and—" She opened the jacket, but stopped mid-sentence and peered into the house. "What's that scent?" she asked.

"Freedom, Rayanne," I griped. "You smelled it from down the street."

Kristie stepped into the foyer. "You put a book on the shelf, Rayanne," she purred. "You can't complain if someone else reads it."

"I-I see," lamented Rayanne. "Maybe we could talk another time."

"Or we could just cut the bullshit and you could join us," sassed Kristie. "You didn't come dressed in a white teddy to talk."

"I-I don't know," mumbled Rayanne.

"Take it or leave it," I offered. "You're in no position to say you've been wronged."

Rayanne pursed her lips and raised her chin. "Fair enough," she answered, stepping into the foyer. "A battle to win you back."

"Absolutely not," I replied. "A chance for you to show you can be sexual without using it as a weapon. Let me be clear, it's more than what you did. It's how I processed it. It's about the new me that came out on the other side. You created this new version of me...you and a girl I'll introduce some other time. I'll never fear losing you again. Kristie and I are about to engage in some freestyle antics and you're invited, so join us or don't, but no contests."

I took Rayanne's shawl and slung it over the coat hook as Kristie poured her a glass of wine. I had just sat between them on the sofa when the doorbell rang again. "Dude," called Erik, "I know you're in there!"

Looking to get rid of him, I opened the door. "This is awkward," he blurted before I could speak, "but uh...is Rayanne here?"

I shook my head, but as I closed the door, Kristie called in from the living room, "No double standards, Sari...what's good for the goose is good for the gander."

"But she broke it off with him," I answered.

"Maybe she just wants sex."

"No!" blurted Rayanne. "Tell him to go."

"Then let him in for me," shouted Kristie. "Guys always get lost in a two-girl threesome."

"I wouldn't know," I mumbled, gesturing Erik in.

"W-wait," pleaded Erik, "I-I don't do group sex."

"He doesn't want to!" I called, opening the door again.

"Get the hell in here Erik!" shouted Rayanne. "Don't be a dweeb!"

I must admit, I found a wealth of respect for Rayanne's sexual prowess when she said that. Perhaps she was just coming out of some shell she'd been in, and hadn't known how to pry her way out. She could have just told me she wanted to do that kind of thing. But then again, I never mentioned it to her, either. In a way, she had shown more gumption than I had. Heck, it took a twenty-year-old to wake me up. I patted Erik's back and gestured for him to follow.

Erik and I stopped in our tracks as we stepped into the living room. Kristie and Rayanne stood at each end of the sofa, wearing only their stockings and shoes.

"Wh-what do we do?" asked Erik.

"We act like men," I proclaimed. "We get naked, fist bump, and let them decide what happens next."

Ten minutes later, Rayanne bounced over Erik's lap, facing away from him as he sat on the sofa. I knelt behind Kristie on the floor in front of them, grasping her by the waist as I cycled my stiff meat back and forth over the walls of her well-lubricated chamber. Kristie lapped Erik's sac as it hung below Rayanne's quivering crevice, periodically flicking Rayanne's gush button to squeals of delight.

Kristie's shoulders glistened with glistening spatters from Rayanne's last orgasm. When Erik moaned, she moved her head aside, allowing me an unhindered view of his pulsing hilt as it pumped the seedy contents of his sac into my wife's inner sanctum. I let out a long, low groan at the sight of Rayna's frame being inseminated, picturing the arcs of sperm coating her inner architecture with his pedigree.

Still mounted on Erik, Rayanne's eyes widened as she watched my pelvis bump into Kristie's buttocks. "Sari," she pleaded. "Sit on the sofa. I want to do something I've never done."

"Just a sec," I grunted as Kristie washed my balls with a gush of reward.

Dripping with Kristie's thanks and ready to burst, I sat back and watched as Rayanne's lips wrapped my girth just below my throbbing crown. She cupped my sac as I let out a surrendering howl. Then and there I did something I wanted to do since the day I met Rayanne—offering the best my balls had to offer for her wanton consumption. My jewels tingled and shifted as my chiseled girth thumped between the wrap of her lips, heaving my brew into her mouth. She squealed, gulped, and sucked out the last spurts with a satisfied hum.

Shooting a quick, sexy glance my way, she crawled over and kissed Kristie with her shining lips, then plunged over Erik's knob while Kristie licked his sac. Grasping the crests of Rayanne's hips, I thrust into her sloshing depths with a new appreciation for her sexual prowess.

At some point during the course of that evening, Erik and Kristie found a sense of mutual attraction. They later became a couple, but it didn't last. Nowadays, she stops by once a month with her new boyfriend, Samuel.

I moved back in with Rayanne and when Riley left Keith, we took her on as a tenant in the place where I was staying. She still comes by from time to time with her boyfriend, Luke. Rayanne and I don't consider ourselves full-fledged swingers. We keep our circle small and never do anything without the other. We don't need to—we found an underlying honesty between us with the help of a dweeb and a lazy beatnik's hot girlfriend.