MFM: How to Thank a Slut | 2016

“They only have Jacuzzi rooms left,” he said as he slid back into the booth beside me. His puppy dog pout didn’t come close to disguising how this “bad news” couldn’t be further from being a disappointment.

The man sitting across from us—my date’s friend—played along: “Oh no! Does that mean we’re going to have to get naked and wet? I’m not sure I can handle that.” My contribution to the conversation consisted of stroking my date’s cock through his jeans and rubbing his friend’s crotch with my toes. I was too giddy to utter a single word.

The hotel bar where we met was surprisingly empty. Every space in the parking lot was full, but it turned out that most of the cars were there for the quinceanera being celebrated in the adjacent ballroom. Years ago a favorite 7th grade student told me (with tears in her eyes) that a Latina girl cannot have the party unless she is a virgin. Kids grow up quickly these days.

Taking a sip from my second Red Bull vodka, I got ready to cross a very adult threshold myself.

My date’s friend was the first to arrive in the Jacuzzi suite. He felt it was best to go up separately seeing that his housekeeper worked at the hotel’s front desk and because he would be cheating on his girlfriend. I liked it that he had broad shoulders and an inviting smile. He seemed easy going without being a pushover.

When my date and I entered the suite he leaned over and began working the knobs of the Jacuzzi. It was a decent size and made a slight waterfall as the water came out. He had been sweet enough to order another round of drinks for us to bring up, so as we waited for the tub to fill we sipped our cocktails semi-nervously without really interacting with each other.

The two of them have been discussing this MFM scenario for years.

They go way back to when my date sold computer equipment. After hitting it off professionally, they have grown close over the years. At the time they met both of them were married. Now they are both single—that is if you don’t count the girlfriend. I asked my date why it was they didn’t have the three-way with her. “She would never do it,” was his response.

I asked his friend the same question.

I’m always curious why men date/marry good girls and don’t get what they truly want from these bitches. “She used to be what I wanted, but now that we’ve been dating a while, she’s getting more and more prudish. She seems to think that’s what I want—but that’s not what I want!”

I knew what I wanted. I wanted my date’s cock in my mouth, so I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the Jacuzzi tub. Ouch! It practically burned my skin. We needed to add a few more gallons of cold water before any of us could get in. I started to undress the friend while my date leaned over and kissed my back while he stroked my thighs and ass. It felt good kissing one man and being touched by another. I liked how I could concentrate on one guy while the other guy concentrated his efforts on me.

There was plenty of room in the Jacuzzi for all three of us. I leaned back and let both of them touch me. The sensation of allowing myself to be handled by multiple hands up and down my torso helped me relax. We turned on the jets and I got on my knees.

My date lifted himself out onto the ledge and played with my wet hair as I took him gently in my mouth. He had a nice, firm boner. I prefer blowing men who are already hard, so this made me excited. I playfully licked him and made eye contact. I sucked his shaved balls. I opened my throat and felt the tip of his penis hit that back wall. Before I got a rhythm going, his friend entered me from behind.

At first I seemed in charge of the pace and the velocity—I licked and sucked and bucked with a steady but light cadence—then the men took over. My date grabbed on to my hair more firmly and began face fucking me with force. As I was getting his cock thrust deeply down my throat, I felt hands grab onto my hips and the cock behind me got rammed that much deeper into my pussy.

They fell into sync—both holes taking it deep at the same time. Then I took over again, turned around on all fours to face the other direction and began sucking the cock that just left my pussy.

“Should we try the bed? There’s more room,” I felt empowered and on the verge of cumming. The water proved to be more of a distraction than anything. I was ready for pillows and sheets.

“Ride him,” my date commanded. I climbed on board the strong, thick cock belonging to his friend and pulsed my pelvis back and forth in a slow pace. Once I was close to climaxing, I grabbed on to his pectorals and ground into him ferociously. “That’s right, baby. Fuck that cock. Fuck him hard.”

The tickle that comes before an orgasm started to rise in my crotch. At times I push it down—make it last longer—but I opened my mind to let it in. I just met this guy and I’m fucking him. I’m fucking him so hard. I exploded all over his cock. My date was used to me squirting—I literally shot four or five times the first time we were together—but he had not seen me cum before. The second I rolled off of his buddy he was inside me.

“That was so fucking hot,” he whispered this in my ear. “Do you think you will cum again? Can you cum for me, baby?” I knew I would not be able to, but I told him I’d try. I liked feeling his cock penetrating me now that I was swollen from cumming all over his friend.

“Let me suck you again.”

A frenzy ensued. I allowed myself to be flipped and fucked like a ragdoll. I had no will whatsoever; these men did to me exactly what they wanted. They were ravenous.

I called out my date’s name, “Baby, you need lube for that. You can fuck my ass,” I said his name again, “just get some lube.” I’m over here. The voice was in the wrong place. I had gotten the two men confused.

By 4:00am I was pretty much spent. The friend was long gone, and I lay in my date’s arms in a bed so ravaged that the fitted sheets were long gone and my cheek was on the bare mattress.

Groaning, I slowly inched my way to the bathroom and peeled the contacts out of my eyes. I vaguely remembered that my dog was waiting for me in my car—so I got dressed and slipped out (half blind) to go and get him. By the time I returned, my date was ready to go at it again.

This time we were much gentler. The touches were caresses. The kisses sweet. When I climbed on top of his cock, he was no longer the bull daring me to try and last a full eight seconds. This was not about orgasms or passion or that male competition that invariably comes when two men fuck you at once. This was his way of saying thank you.