Un, Deux, Trois...

Oh, and I've invited a naked boy to watch us fuck next time.

It might as well have been "I've baked up some scones for our next tea party", for all the quiet ease there was in its sudden appearance on my computer screen.

I wasn't really shocked or scandalized.

I didn't freak-out.

I didn't fire back an e-mail conveying my regrets because I'd just realized that a week and a half from now, I'd find it absolutely necessary to rearrange my sock drawer and would be too busy to attend.

I was cool.

Pulp Fiction cool. Fonzie cool. Really fucking cool.

Mmmm, really?! -claps hands with glee-

Okay, so maybe not 'cool' in the generic sense, but believe me, that's a vast improvement from my usual awkward response patterns. I make a stoned, starving Mariah Carey sound like Sydney freaking Poitier when I really get going.

So, yeah. Two boys.

Penises are still a bit of a novelty for me. I've seen my fair share of pornos, but having a cock up-close and in 3-D is fucking awesome. I watched him come on my tits last time like a little kid at Christmas, sparkling eyes and soaring non-diegetic instrumentals included.

I mean, two boys means not one, but TWO penises--how cool is that?

Pretty freaking cool.

Well, the days dragged on, and part of me almost forgot about this mystery boy.

Of course, within the first few minutes of our sharing the same oxygen, I was naked in Jefferson's bed and getting railed into next Thursday, which doesn't do much to inspire thoughts about other men.

It rarely inspires thoughts at all, really. Just hella groaning.

About a half hour into our frantic fucking, the buzzer went off and he pulled out, wandering across the hall to find out who it was. Garbled boy voice. He let him up.

Oh yeah--that's today!

I scrambled out of bed, very wobbly and very naked, wondering how the fuck I was supposed to do this.

I mean, I've never met him and he's about to be greeted with my naughty bits? That's not in any Emily Post guide to etiquette I've ever seen...

I decided winding my arms around my midsection and leaning against his mirrored closet doors would be best.

I heard Mystery Guest's voice before I saw him as Jefferson let him in, apologizing in advance for our nakedess. He didn't really seem to mind, from the sound of it. Definitely not, from the look of him when they paused in the doorway outside the bedroom.

He was impossibly tall, nice and lean, with glasses and a big grin--the kind of guy who could be your student body president in high school, just friendly with everyone for no real reason.

His eyes went wide and he gave me a once-over about sixteen times. I grinned like an idiot at that.

I was naked.

I'd just had a dick in me.

I felt fucking hot.

For once, I wasn't really awkward. I was friendly and bouncy, not to mention pretty damn funny, if I do say so myself.

I was charming and on a roll; I reveled in that feeling.

Now, from reading Jefferson's blog, you sort of get the sense that his apartment must be like that Bone Church in the Czech Republic--only instead of the remains of plague victims, his decor largely relies on bottles of Maker's Mark.

Seriously, if almost every person he fucks ends up bringing him a bottle, where does it all go? Does he have secret stores of it beneath the floor boards? Is it stashed under his bed?

In the two times I'd been there, I'd never seen a bottle of bourbon. There was nary a drop of it in the entire world, it seemed. Maybe it was a slow month?

Mystery Guest brought a little bottle of Maker's Mark with him and I couldn't help smiling. Once again, the real world and the blog world collide.

He also brought porn from work, which was hilarious to me for no exceptionally good reason.

We had plans to retire to the living room initially, but he had to pee, so I followed Jefferson into the kitchen and we opened the bottle of red I'd brought along. Rather, he opened it while I sucked his cock.

That's right--no puke, ladies! I'm a fucking champion.

So, I took him all the way to the base of his shaft, nuzzling the fuzz on his stomach, and he groaned. I was like 'hell yeah!' in my head. I wanted to throw a silent dance party to celebrate my first real victory over cock-sucking.

Mystery Guest reappeared in the doorway and choked out a laugh at the sight he was greeted with--my ass, essentially, as I sat up on my knees sucking Jefferson's cock, all while he calmly pried the cork out of the bottle, pouring two glasses of wine as though nothing particularly out of the ordinary was happening.

It was wholesomely perverted and domestically twisted.

If Martha Stewart made porn, this would be it. It would be a Good Thing.

I think I tried showing-off, and I took too much, too fast, and ended up gagging a bit, slobbering all over his tile floor. I laughed at how much of a disaster I was, and he helped me to my feet so we could all adjourn to the living room.

I've never sat naked on a leather couch in general, let alone with a naked man and another man in the room. I crossed my legs daintily and acted as though nothing was amiss, sipping my wine.

Jefferson told me to uncross my legs, so I did. His fingers roamed and his mouth found mine. I blindly put my glass of wine down on the new coffee table.

He invited the boy to strip, and said boy obliged, staring at the two of us.

There goes the shirt. Then his pants and shoes, probably socks. Then the Jockeys were gone too.

His cock was adorable, at first glance...like a precious little hampster I couldn't help wanting to pet, haha.

(Note: I'm sorry, boys. I know referring to your dick as 'adorable' is likely traumatic for you. I would never say it to your face, obviously, but I just can't get over how freaking cool it is to watch a cock get hard, watch it double in size and girth. You all lot are a bit magical to me--it's totally a compliment.)

Whenever I came up for air, I would look over and stare at him, tugging on his cock with the Vaseline he brought from home. Fucking hot.

He turned out to be pretty damn impressive. His cock ended up looking a bit like a butt plug in shape--it was especially wide in the middle, then tapered back to the base and up to the tip. It was insane, and I couldn't help imagining how that would feel buried inside me. Yum!

Jefferson was hell bent on putting on a good show for the nice man, so he flipped me on my back, leaving my pussy in full view for him, then crammed those fingers deep inside me again.

He cooed through all of my screaming and flailing, offering that "aww, poor baby" face he gives whenever something hurts like a motherfucker, but feels incredible all at once. He knows.

So, I'm clawing at the brown leather, deperately trying to crawl away from this intense, gorgeous agony, when he pulls out, bringing a deluge of femme come out with his hand.

Another mess I made.

I wouldn't be surprised if he starts billing me for it soon.

Mystery Guy seemed to like that a lot. He liked it even more when I got on my knees and started sucking Jefferson's cock again. He moved from his chair by the window to the opposite side of the now-soaked sectional, watching me work, just as I watched him work.

I've been improving upon my standard head-giving auto-pilot with your excellent advice, dear readers, and it really paid off! When Mystery Guest asked how I was doing, Jefferson said I was a natural.

I subsequently preened AND sucked his dick--and didn't lose my lunch! Again, I'm a champion.

It wasn't long before we ended up in bed again.

Mystery Guy stood in the hall outside the bedroom, which I thought was a bit odd, but I didn't really mind. I had Jefferson's cock working inside my sopping-wet cunt--there were more important things to focus on than a reluctant voyeur.

Every once in a while he would chime in and ask, "How does that feel?"

"Umm, fucking awesome."

I gave the same answer every time he asked, because, hey, it was fucking awesome, and hey, I don't need to be verbose while I'm fucking. He seemed fine with that, though; his fist would move a bit faster up and down his shaft each time I replied.

Jefferson was throwing me all over the bed--head hanging over the side, jamming his whole hand inside me again, taking my ass while I was on my hands and knees, sixty-nining. He was in marathon mode and I was de-freaking-lighted with that.

Wherever I was, if I caught Mystery Guy's eye, he'd smile and jut his hips forward a bit, as though to offer his cock to me. I grinned back, totally blissed-out.

"You can come a bit closer, if you want," I told him. Jefferson's ground rules stated that although I couldn't touch him, he could touch me, if he liked. He had tentatively touched my ass in the living room before, but that was it. I know I would have liked a bit more than that...

"I'm getting pretty close, actually."

Hooray! Jefferson and I both perked up at that, and he started asking him where he was planning on shooting his load...

"On these tits, perhaps? Maybe across that face--look at those big brown eyes. That lovely dark hair..."

Oh, man...I just did my hair.

"Face!" he choked out.

Thank Christ.

He groaned, shuddering, and a droplet fell to the corner of my mouth furthest from him, the rest dribbling down my neck and into my hair.

Oh, fuck all.

I just grinned though, not about to get hung up over something as trivial as misfired come, and thanked him warmly for the little present. He thanked us in return and shuffled off to wash up in the bathroom.

Jefferson grinned down at me and dropped a kiss on my lips, both of us tasting him there, and murmured, "Well, well...my little voyeur...," slamming his hips into mine again.

I groaned and smiled. "Couldn't help it--that was fucking hot."

"Still going? Wow...," came a voice from behind us.

We both smiled up at the fully-dressed student body president standing in the doorway, chirping our goodbyes, our hips never stopping. He had my vote.

He waved and padded off down the hallway, his shoes clacking on the floor.

"Sorry for not showing you out!" Jefferson hollered, grunting as he fell into me one more time, offering that adorable cheetah growl against my neck as he tugged my legs up over his shoulders, the two of us only half listening as the front door finally slammed itself shut.