Three On A Couch
We talked and talked and talked. Nick had played DJ, hence every cd I owned seemed to be lying on the carpet. Tony Abbot’s speedos, 2 out of 4 had dirty thoughts about him. I'd suck his cock, if he didn't speak, of course. Catholic priests’ anxiety, how many time bombs were there out there ticking away? How many of their lives had been ruined and how many of them were just after the compensation? Politicians are crap, they've only got their eye on their term, they don't have a hope in hell of solving climate change. Everyone agreed we were probably on borrowed time and the planet was going down. We all knew what they meant by, I can't think about climate change, because if I did I'd never be able to think about anything else.
We danced, we played dress ups, we rolled on the floor laughing. Everyone was so earnest, passionate. Feeling was new. The hours flew, slipped by in no time.
Nick bailed to a sex on prem venue by 3am, mumbling something about it being now or never, needing a hard man with a bad attitude.
Ben, Steve and I lay on the couch in each other’s arms listening to Randy Crawford. I lay my head on Steve’s shoulder, Ben lay his on mine. Track suit pants, jumpers, socks. We’d lit all of the candles in the house. We turned off the lights.
The sunrise was golden. Suddenly the black outside was grey and the veil lifted and the day light seeped in through the cracks. The world expanded, bigger, brighter.
The three of us stirred.
I pushed my arm out behind me to stretch and grabbed Ben’s thigh, it was tensed and muscular.
I stretched my hand out and touched his the squashiness of his junk. I slid my fingers under his balls and bought my thumb down on the shaft of his cock.
“Hey?” said Ben.
His cock started to swell with more flesh and weight, just as his hand took mine and lifted it into a hand shake hold.
Steve had lay his head on top of mine, we rubbed hair and skin.
“I don’t want to get up yet.”
Ben lowered my hand down onto his erection, a long, thick lump in his track suit pants.
“Hey,” I said.
I squeezed it gently, then I pulled my hand away. I mock-slapped him, with the back of my hand. Steve’s head slipped onto my shoulder. I pulled Ben towards me, snuggled back into Steve and slid my arm around him. Ben wrapped his arm around me.
The three of us fell asleep wrapped in a blanket.
We danced, we played dress ups, we rolled on the floor laughing. Everyone was so earnest, passionate. Feeling was new. The hours flew, slipped by in no time.
Nick bailed to a sex on prem venue by 3am, mumbling something about it being now or never, needing a hard man with a bad attitude.
Ben, Steve and I lay on the couch in each other’s arms listening to Randy Crawford. I lay my head on Steve’s shoulder, Ben lay his on mine. Track suit pants, jumpers, socks. We’d lit all of the candles in the house. We turned off the lights.
The sunrise was golden. Suddenly the black outside was grey and the veil lifted and the day light seeped in through the cracks. The world expanded, bigger, brighter.
The three of us stirred.
I pushed my arm out behind me to stretch and grabbed Ben’s thigh, it was tensed and muscular.
I stretched my hand out and touched his the squashiness of his junk. I slid my fingers under his balls and bought my thumb down on the shaft of his cock.
“Hey?” said Ben.
His cock started to swell with more flesh and weight, just as his hand took mine and lifted it into a hand shake hold.
Steve had lay his head on top of mine, we rubbed hair and skin.
“I don’t want to get up yet.”
Ben lowered my hand down onto his erection, a long, thick lump in his track suit pants.
“Hey,” I said.
I squeezed it gently, then I pulled my hand away. I mock-slapped him, with the back of my hand. Steve’s head slipped onto my shoulder. I pulled Ben towards me, snuggled back into Steve and slid my arm around him. Ben wrapped his arm around me.
The three of us fell asleep wrapped in a blanket.
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