Friday, March 31, 2006

Madeline Writes:

No Fooling

Note: This post was written by Jefferson and also appears on his blog.

I’ve been keeping a secret.

A few weeks ago, my online girlfriend Madeline popped up with an instant message.

Madeline: April Fool’s?

Jefferson: Are you getting an early start on some tomfoolery?

Madeline: No—how about I come to see you on the weekend of April Fool’s Day?

She wasn’t kidding. She had her finger on the trigger to confirm a reservation, pending my thumbs up on the itinerary.

Jefferson: Wheels up, Madeline. You are airborne.

Madeline and I have really hit it off since she contacted me after reading my blog.

We have a lot in common, as she goes through a divorce with a control freak, while raising two young boys. She’s very funny, and our online dates and phone calls are gosh darned hot as hell.

Our web cams brought out a strong physical attraction between us. And when she copycatted me with her own brilliant blog on juggling parenting and perversion, Madeline established that we are apparently sexually compatible –like, crazy.

I talked about her with my pal Marcus. “Wow, she seems perfect,” he said. “There must be something wrong with her.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with her,” I said. “She lives in the fucking Bible Belt! We will never meet.”

But now, it seemed, we were meeting.

We’ve had many conversations since then. She likes my blog, and she is curious about trying out some of the things I write about. But we are also just curious to get acquainted in person.

I asked her if there was anything special she wanted me to arrange for her. She demurred, leaving it to me, but adding, “You really care about Marcus. It would be great to meet him.”

Marcus agreed to come to town for one night of her visit.

I sounded her out on other ideas. I put some of my sex crew on red alert: you may or may not be called into action. Can I count on you?

I could.

I am so content to just see what happens.

Tonight, I got my kids to bed. She dropped off her boys with her parents. I poured a bourbon, cranked up the web cam, and we finalized plans.

Jefferson: You look far better groomed than I do, nice haircut.

Madeline: I had the help of professionals.

Jefferson: It's best to rely on professionals when there is that much work to do. You are pretty homely.

Madeline: Truer words have never been spoken.

Jefferson: Look; I want to clear up a few things before you get here.

Madeline: Okay.

Jefferson: Regarding bathrooms: I have one.

Madeline: I thought you might.

Jefferson: Showers and pissing are open; we can walk in on one another, no problem. But poop is private.

Madeline: Are you kidding me?

Jefferson: No one has ever seen me shit.

Madeline: People actually poop with one another in the same room?
Madeline: Fair enough. I don't want to be there. Thank you very much
Madeline: (I am so glad we are having this conversation.) Agreed.

Jefferson: Great. Now: food. Anything you want, you take. Don’t be asking: can I eat this? Are you sure?

Madeline: Okay. But what if I don't like your food? Like, what if you have the wrong peanut butter?

Jefferson: Then get your own damn peanut butter. Or let's go shopping. Or let’s send Marcus to buy peanut butter. We can solve that problem.

Madeline: Is he coming, for sure?

Jefferson: Don't make me backtrack. Yes, he is coming, and so you are very likely having sex with a total stranger who is one of my oldest friends. I thought we had been over that?

Madeline: Not fo’ shizzle. Okay, all clear.

Jefferson: Good. Now: sleep.

Madeline: Okay.

Jefferson: The side of the bed with the nightstand is my side. The nightstand is where my bourbon goes

Madeline: Of course it is. Duh.

Jefferson: I have no idea where you will keep your bourbon, but that is really your problem to solve.

Madeline: This is my setup as well, so I have no problem with the terms.

Jefferson: Very good. Also, I require two pillows. You may use as many or few as you chose, so long as I get my two.

Madeline: You can have them. I don't use pillows under my head.
Madeline: Only my hips
Madeline: While fucking.

Jefferson: That brings up another thing: fucking
Jefferson: We are probably going to fuck

Madeline: Well, yes.

Jefferson: Yes. I just want us to be clear about a few things regarding fucking.

Madeline: Okay! Hit me.
Madeline: (No, really. Hit me.)

Jefferson: Well, see, I might, actually.

Madeline: You know that I like that, right?

Jefferson: You have only made that abundantly clear.
Jefferson: I will agree to keep bruises and hickeys where they can't be seen when you are dressed

Madeline: Okay.

Jefferson: Now, when Marcus sleeps over . . . he is very hot, you know.

Madeline: Yes.

Jefferson: If I am asleep, and the two of you decide to have sex, you have to wake me. Because if he has sex with you, and I am not there, he will forever refer to that as the hottest sex ever.

Madeline: Oh, of course.

Jefferson: I will say, yes, Madeline is very sexy. He will say, you don't understand, I think she and I connected in some way that wasn't there when you were there.
Jefferson: This may or may not be true. He will just say it to taunt me that I missed the hottest sex ever.

Madeline: This is a good rule, I think.
Madeline: It should also be true for you, no?

Jefferson: Oh? You mean if Marcus and I go at it, I should wake you?

Madeline: Yes!

Jefferson: Good idea. We have the hottest sex ever. You don't want to miss that.

Madeline: Absolutely not. So it's settled.

Jefferson: Well, that is settled, but we aren't done yet.
Jefferson: Back to sleep: as you know, I snore.

Madeline: And I told you . . . that is comforting to me.

Jefferson: I’m glad! But you really need to stop being perfect if you are going to continue to live 1200 miles away from mw. If you find that my snoring is less than comforting, I am granting you a privilege: you tell me to get the fuck out of bed.

Madeline: Oh, no you didn't.

Jefferson: Oh yes I did. If you decline this privilege, the couch is very comfortable and the twin bed more so.

Madeline: I don't want the taco futon.

Jefferson: No, you do not. Now: suitcase, you are welcome to live out of your suitcase, but I am happy to clear out a drawer for you. I have many drawers.

Madeline: Honey, I don't think I’m bringing much at all. But what I do bring will, I’m sure, fit into a small drawer. I would like that.

Jefferson: good. I will prepare a drawer for you. I think that covers it from my end. Otherwise, standard room mate stuff. You use it, you wash it. You spill it, you clean it up.

Jefferson: Oh! And music.

Madeline: Oh! Music

Jefferson: Music plays pretty constantly. The radio station is WFUV until they start fundraising on Monday. We listen to Big Broadcast on Sunday. This is non-negotiable.

Madeline: Of course! I was thinking the exact thing!!
Madeline: Um, you are blowing my mind.

Jefferson: I’m just getting started on your mind, and on blowing you.
Jefferson: Pay attention though.
Jefferson: We need to agree on a house joke for the weekend.

Madeline: Okay. (She likes this idea!)

Jefferson: Anytime you find one of those Goddamned strands of plastic Easter grass that are a plague on my home . . . you have to pick it up, throw it down, and exclaim: “Christ on the Cross!”

We laughed about that. Candy is a bane for each of us.

Madeline: I threw out my kids’ faux greenery while they slept. Jack asked me this morning: Where's the Easter grass?
Madeline: I told him that the bunny needed to save it for next year. He recycles. So he came and took it back.

Jefferson: Fucking genius, mama.

Madeline: Well, the little one was pissed, but he can't argue with the Easter
Bunny. Or the EPA.

Jefferson: I tried to throw out Lillie’s grass, which was piled on the floor. She curtly informed me that it was a nest for her Peeps. So it stayed on the floor.

Madeline: Oh, jeez. Maybe you and Marcus can make s’mores from the Peeps.

Jefferson: But I have to wake you if we do so, cf previous rule.

Madeline: Of course. Then we could have Peeps s’mores in the fort.

Jefferson: The fort we are making under the dining room table, with the sheets?

Madeline: Will the three of us fit, with the Peeps?

Jefferson: We can only try.

We smiled.

Madeline: I am looking forward to this.

Jefferson: Me too. It’s a date.

Madeline: Damn promising date.

Jefferson: No kidding, huh?

Madeline: No fooling.



Bitten/Smitten

For a nice little description of the effects of endorphin release during rough sex go to
http://www.xeromag.com/fvbdwhy.html

Saturday Morning

“I’m getting up,” I said for probably the sixth time since Jefferson and I woke at 5:30, lying in bed, discussing grammar and punctuation like the dorks we are. I swear it's true. You can ask him. “But could you just do me one favor?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Could you, um, bite me right here, between my neck and my shoulder?”

“Bite you?”

“Yes,” I pinched the top of the muscle between my fingers, “Hard.”

I was sitting up in bed. Jefferson sat behind me to the right. I bent my head down to the left. He had his right hand on my shoulder, his left arm reaching around to my sternum. He started slowly, gently easing his teeth into my flesh. First a pinch, then a burn, then an intense ache. I suck my breath, feeling the blood circulating to the area, warming and tingling. I breathe, relaxing into the sensation, feeling the skin get sensitized, and then a wave of pleasure washes over me. He increases the pressure and I start to moan, as that intense pain becomes unbearably good.

My eyes are closed, my pussy wet. No one has ever bitten me for this long. I think the bite itself lasts about two minutes. He keeps biting harder and harder until I stop him. Jefferson releases his mouth, and then slowly pulls back. I am panting. My eyes are watering.

“Wow,” I say.

“Goddamn, girl-that was intense. Have I finally met my match? A woman whose skin can outlast my jaws?”

“Thank you, sweetie.” I kiss him. His dick is hard.

I moved down to suck his cock. I will get up and shower, but not yet.

“You know,” I said, while working with my hand, “It’s a good thing Marcus is coming today; I really need to watch someone suck you off. Someone who knows what you like.”

“Oh, you seem to have figured that out….”

My head is bent into his stomach, and I am swallowing his cock as he thrusts his hips toward my face. His pubic hair is wet with my saliva and tears, and my finger is in his ass. I sit back to watch him cum. Amazing.

Afterwards—after he cums and I walk naked into the bathroom to wash—I look at myself in the full-length mirror on the door. There are a couple of bruises on my arms from being spun into his apartment and flung to the bed, a tender red spot on my left cheekbone from a well-placed slap to the face, and a raw spot on my chin from a combination of kisses, stubble and the occasional chew.

I turn to look at my right shoulder. The bite has welted up nicely. It is perfectly formed in the shape of Jefferson’s teeth. It is an angry purplish-red.

It is the first thing Marcus will notice when he arrives in an hour.


April Fools

Friday
My morning flight to New York was to have put me on the ground at 11:30. I figured the earliest I could possibly be at Jefferson’s was 12:30 or 1:00.

“Perfect,” he said, “I’ll take the kids to school and have time to get back and prepare for your arrival.”

I planned to sleep on the plane, since I hadn’t gone to bed Thursday night at all.

I left my house in darkness, driving the short commute to the airport, parking in the long-term lot and checking myself onto the flight.

The plane wasn’t full, so it was quiet. Even so, I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t nervous. I was impatient for us to finally meet face to face. We’d covered so much ground in our two months of chatting. We were completing sentences for each other. We were very hot for one another, but also very much at ease. We could chat just as easily about fucking as we could about cooking.

There was apparently one hell of a tailwind because the flight landed about 40 minutes early. I had the dull headache of the sleep deprived, which I had decided not to alleviate with caffeine. I’d rather be tired than dehydrated. I drank gallons of water.

I hadn’t checked a bag, so I was ready to go. I walked down to the Ground Transportation Exit, found a seat and called my mother. As I told her I’d arrived safely, I noticed how weakened I was from lack of sleep. I was actually shaking.

Shit. Jefferson’s not expecting me for another hour, but if I stay in this airport I might fall asleep or get a headache or both. I decided to take a cab to the city. I gave the driver the address, and then pulled out my phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, darlin’. How are you?”

“I’m fine! So what’s going on? Where are you?”

“I’m in a cab.”

“In NEW YORK?”

“Yeah. The flight got in really (yawn), really early. And I just decided to head toward Manhattan. I am exhausted and I really didn’t want to be in the airport longer than I had to be.”

“Holy Fuck. I still have stuff to do before you get here!”

“Honey, you really don’t have to do anything for me; I’m so tired I wouldn’t notice one way or the other. If you’d like, though, I can go to a coffee shop or a bookstore and wait for you. Isn’t there a bookstore near where you live? I can go there and read until you’re ready for me.”

“God, but you might fall asleep while waiting, and I’d feel bad. …You know what? Fuck it; just come straight here.”

“Jefferson, it’s really no problem.”

“Just get your ass here already!” Then, sweetly, “Hey baby- you got a cab? All by yourself??”

“You are impressed with my ability to walk to a taxi stand and let the attendant call a cab for me? Whatever, man.”

He laughs. I smile, too tired. The classical music playing in the cab is putting me the fuck to sleep.

“Madeline, where are you now?”

“Ummm, crossing the bridge.”

“Shit! Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

I walk into the building, take the elevator to his floor and stand outside the door of his apartment. I am wearing my green raincoat over a black sleeveless sweater, denim A-line skirt and my zebra print cowboy boots. The boots are a running theme in our online conversations.

I knock.

The door swings open. He stands there all blond and cute in jeans and a black t-shirt I’ve seen before.

Jefferson: “Fucking-A!”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, pulling me into the apartment. I let my bag fall to the floor and start kissing him back. His hands are in my hair and he’s spinning us down the hallway to the bedroom. He pulls away from the kiss for a second, looks into my eyes like he’s going to swallow me whole, and then throws me onto the bed.

He pulls up my skirt, takes my black lace panties down over my boots and starts licking my pussy. I am impressed. And very hot for him. He gets me off, sucking my clit and fingering my g-spot while pressing into my lower abs with his other hand. I am propped up on my elbows, watching him. I want to taste myself on his mouth. We kiss, and he pulls me up to standing beside the bed. He is taking his clothes off, and I am finally getting out of my coat and skirt. My sweater and boots haven’t budged.

He rolls on a condom, and pushes me back down to the bed. Brings my booted legs up over his shoulders. Shoves a pillow under my hips. Holds one of my shins to his cheek while he fucks me. He watches me play with my clit while we go at it.

I am so blissed and horny. I am also physically exhausted.

“Goddammit, bitch! Move your hips like you want to be fucked!”

Oh, right.

After a bit he pulls out and goes back to sucking my clit. Spreads my legs wide, knees bent. Inserts a finger, then two, then three into my cunt. Squirts lube onto my perineum and lubes my ass. Slips in a couple fingers there, too. He is sitting on his heels between my bent legs, working both hands in tandem. Ups the digit count in each hole. I feel like I’m going to split in half. Once I get relaxed again, though, I can ride this through. I cum so hard I can barely move. I take off my sweater, leaving me in a camisole and the boots.
He goes to wash, telling me not to move.

“Come to the edge of the bed. I’m gonna fuck your ass.”

Oh, my dog.

I am, by this point, dripping with sweat; my hair plastered to the sides of my face and forehead. Completely sexed. I crawl over to him as he puts on another condom, lubes it and my ass and then pulls my knees apart.

His cock slips inside, way too fast.

“huuuuuuooooooohhhh!

He starts fucking me, hard; I can’t take it. My muscles have tightened up from the shock. It’s too much.

“I need you to stop, Jefferson! You need to stop!”

He does, immediately. Leaves to wash. I am whimpering on the bed, curled around myself, trying to regulate my breathing. He comes back, puts his hand on my cheek and kisses my wet forehead.

“Oh, honey- look at you. Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes- I’m sorry; I think my body just shut down. I haven’t slept.”

“Nothing to apologize for. We could both use a rest. Let’s take off the boots and get us some sleep.”

We slide between the covers like I’d imagined us doing so many times. He pulls me toward him. Soon we are sleeping face to face, our legs tangled together, breathing each other.

I wake up a couple hours later in the same position. I watch him sleep, then his eyes open. We look at each other for a good minute.

His eyes are very blue.
I wear no makeup.

“Yellow flecks,” I say.

He grins, “Lip freckles.”


Threesome I

Saturday, 12:30.
I have showered and am looking quite fetching in a little cotton hippie dress that is two sizes too big. It is thin and weightless and does me no favors, but it feels like I’m wearing nothing.

Jefferson is preparing lunch for us and Marcus, who’ll be arriving soon. I set myself to washing the dishes. We work side by side in the small space, reaching past one another for this and that.

“Maddie, where do you stand on the whole ‘rinse/don’t rinse’ chicken controversy?”

“Well, I’ve always rinsed and patted dry. Obviously, if you cook it at a high enough temperature, you’ll kill off the bacteria anyway, but I always like to think it’s semi-clean before I put it into the oven.”

“Then for you, baby, I’ll rinse.”

I remember thinking that this felt different. Things were so easy. I didn’t feel like I was playing house with my new boyfriend. There was no 'watch him be amazed by my dishwashing prowess!' The dishes needed washing. I can wash dishes.

Jefferson finished stuffing the chicken and put it into the oven. The sex sheets had seven minutes to go in the laundry. I sent him to shower while I changed the trash bag in the kitchen. When the laundry timer went off, and Jefferson was still showering, I walked in, per our discussion of showers and peeing.

“Laundry’s done, darlin’.”

“Thank you, baby.”

We were sitting on the couch drinking coffee and chatting when the doorknob started to rattle; then the door started to shake. Jefferson looked at me, kissed my mouth, grinned, and walked to the door.

Marcus.

“Hi sweetie!”

“Hey, baby!”

They kissed. Well.
Marcus looked up.

“Oh, my god- Madeline! Hi!! Um, I’m not sure what to do!”

As Marcus walks toward me, I can see why Jefferson and he are such good friends. He has a brilliant smile. He is charming, funny and smart. Clearly loving and generous, I think. And, um, yeah- he's hot.

I stood up, “Hi, Marcus!”

We kissed. Not bad.

“Look what he’s done to you already! What have you done to her, Jefferson?”

My fingers go up to the bite mark on my shoulder. “Oh, do you like it? I’m thinking of having it tattooed there.”

By Sunday morning I will have bites and bruises on my tits, thighs, calves and ass. I will have had my first boy-girl-boy threesome. I will have had hot sex with Marcus after yelling for Jefferson to wake up so he wouldn’t miss it.

It was one o’clock on Saturday afternoon and we had time. Time to sit on the couch and chat. Time for a dramatic reading of J.T. LeRoy by Marcus and Madeline while Jefferson put the final touches on lunch. Time for getting acquainted.


Surfacing

Monday
Jefferson and I go for a walk. It is Monday, a few hours before he leaves me at his apartment in his city.

We are both a little nervous about how that will go.

We had spent the day inside, after making love in the morning sunlight as it fell across our naked bodies through the bedroom window. So much had happened and I was totally blissed-out; really out of my head. Floating somewhere beneath the surface. I was content to work the crossword while Jefferson tied up loose ends before his business trip.

At Eleven I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up two hours later to his freshly shaven face and skin which smelled like my shower gel. He was sitting beside me, touching my face.

“Mmmmm, you smell good... You’ve showered? I should do that, too.”

“Take your time, Madeline. We’re not in a rush. I’ll put in another call to my attorney while you shower, and then we can go out and enjoy the day.”

I hear divorce talk as I’m drying myself. I know it well. He is speaking with his attorney, and I will stay in the bedroom and close the door until he’s finished.

I fall asleep again.

At Three O’clock I am finally awake and we leave the apartment to walk in the park. It is the first time we have walked these streets, just us.

As we walk, we talk about Sunday night’s sex party with Marcus, Franz and Mitzi.

“Here’s the thing, Jefferson,” I started, “I had a good time with everyone; I had firsts I’d never thought of!”

“Like fisting Marcus?”

“God, don’t even get me started on that; that was so goddamned intense. We need to talk about that later. I’m thinking, too, about having a gay boy cum from fucking my ass, being bound and worked over by three people, and being fisted by a girl.”

“You also had a girl eating your pussy, and you reciprocated—more than once!” he reminded me.

“Yes, but on the intensity meter, that was probably the tamest of the firsts. Seriously. I really enjoyed watching Marcus and Franz go at it; they are so into each other! And when Franz was on his back and said he wanted to watch Marcus’ dick in his ass, I was very happy to retrieve the mirror and hold it for him. That was hot.”

“Yes, you know that Marcus is bi, and Franz is a gay boy who will fuck girls at the parties. Those two can go at it for hours, though. It’s really unusual for men to be able to switch back and forth like that. I think that the last straw for Franz was watching Marcus fucking your sweet ass; he thought that was really hot. And when Marcus asked him if he wanted a ride, Franz climbed on.”

“Yee-haw! Boy knows his way around an ass, that’s all I can say.”

“I looked up and saw the three beautiful people on the bed: Franz behind you, Marcus lying beside you looking at the both of you. Your back arched, pushing back into Franz, getting him more and more excited til he pushed you flat onto your stomach and went crazy.”

I smiled, “You know the really nice thing about Franz was that he knew when to leave. I loved everything about Sunday night; but at a point all I wanted was to be alone with you.”

“I know how you feel, baby.”

“It’s not a jealousy thing, either. It’s just that we live so far apart and this was our last night together and we hadn’t been alone in a day and a half. I wanted to be selfish, but I didn’t know how to do that without hurting anyone’s feelings. I don’t know how a gathering like that comes to an end on its own. And I have no idea how to blog it.”

“You’ll figure it out, sweetheart. You’ll just write it out. It’s what we do. And you’ll do it well.”

We kissed under the Ramble Arch.

A tourist took our photo overlooking the Lake.

We fell into a diner near Jefferson’s apartment. We were starving. We each ordered cheeseburgers; I ordered a coke. I never drink coke. But what the fuck; I was eating a burger and fries. Jefferson ordered onion rings. We shared.

“I don’t like coleslaw; you can have mine,” I said

Jefferson made a hatch mark in the air with his finger.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just chalking up one more item on the Jefferson-Madeline compatibility sheet.”

“Hey, Jefferson, are you going to eat your pickle?”

“Nope. It’s all yours.”

I took my right index finger and made a mark in the air.


Threesome II

Saturday, 3PM
We are sitting at the table, having finished eating. Marcus is on the end, Jefferson and I sit next to each other on the long side. We talk easily about life, blogs, kids, divorces. Marcus brought a bag of culture: Hedwig and the Angry Inch and about 20 CDs to spin. He hopes we can watch the movie later.

Marcus is cheeky. He tosses a grape down my dress, and when Jefferson teases him about something, he tosses a glass of water onto Jefferson’s jeans—soaking his lap and my bare legs which were resting there. The boys both jump up and playfully shove each other. Marcus goes to the bathroom and comes back with a bottle of Tylenol. He has a headache.

We start talking about work; I am curious about Marcus’ and he and I act out a phone conversation with bananas. I am pretending to be a prospective client and he is giving me his phone shpiel. It cracks Jefferson and me up.

“Wow, that sounds pretty hot, especially the part about us both being naked during the massage! What are your rates?” I asked.

“Well, my mininum length of time is 90 minutes; anything less than that is just shortchanging your experience.”

“When is your first available appointment?”

“How about right now? In the bedroom?”

I giggle.

We walk quietly back to the bedroom. It is a grey, drizzly day. The light is low and Jefferson stands kissing me by the window. Marcus actually lies on the pillows and closes his eyes against his headache. Jefferson’s jeans come off. In a second my slipdress is tossed in the corner. We move to the bed.

Jefferson stretches out alongside Marcus, who I really think is sleeping. As I slide down to take his semi-hard cock in my mouth, Jefferson reaches over and touches Marcus through his pants. I am watching this. I am liking this. At this point we are like that “machine” game: each one of us working an action and reaction to the others. Marcus stirs, smiles and moans. Jefferson’s dick gets hard in my mouth. I gasp, feeling the swelling of my clit. I pull my mouth off and sit back.

Marcus sits up and kisses Jefferson. Hard. He takes off his clothes. We are all nude. I am quiet. I just want to watch. I lie on my left side and bend my right knee up to touch myself.

They are aware of my eyes on them, but I am paying more attention to their faces than their anatomies. These two are so deeply connected. It is fucking gorgeous. And I got to watch Marcus suck Jefferson’s cock. I took mental notes.

Marcus wanted to taste me. Jefferson told him I tasted very sweet; like honey. He should absolutely partake. I propped myself with pillows at the head of the bed and watched as Marcus dove in. Jefferson let us go for a couple minutes, but then reemerged behind Marcus wearing a condom and carrying a bottle of lube.

Jefferson fucked Marcus while Marcus buried his face in me. I held his head and looked up at Jefferson. We smiled. I came.

“I have to fuck her, Jefferson,” then to me, “I have to fuck you.”

“Welcome.”

He fucked me hard, moving my legs around to suit him. He shifted them both over to one side; one of my favorite positions. It’s a different angle of penetration, and I think it’s a nice view for the fucker. Also, the fuckee gets to rest a bit after holding legs aloft for so long.

At a point, someone said, “Thank god this is going so well!” It’s true. We were really good together.

Marcus wanted me to suck his cock. I happily obliged. He was lying down and I crouched beside him. Marcus was sucking Jefferson. Our lips made the same noises as we worked.

“Play with his balls, Madeline. You can be rough with his balls.”

Really? Good to know.

“Unh, Jefferson, I want to taste her again. Madeline, can I eat your pussy?”

“Of course, sweetie!” I moved to straddle his face; to sixty-nine him. This left Jefferson with my ass in the air and his dick hard from Marcus’ mouth, which was otherwise occupied. As I sucked on Marcus, I heard Jefferson roll on a condom. Felt his cock in my pussy while Marcus’ tongue and lips worked away at my clit.

“Bite it…bite my clit, Marcus.” He did, perfectly, using his tongue to press it up against his top teeth. Flicked it a bit.

“Fuck!” I came.

“Oh, God,” said Marcus, “You guys need to move up a bit; I need to breathe.”

I lifted myself off and looked down at Marcus. He was smiling. I kissed his mouth and licked his lips clean. I kissed Jefferson.

“Yum.”

At one point that afternoon, Jefferson was fisting me. I think Marcus was fucking my face. I don’t remember much. Except the cumming. And Jefferson bringing his fist up above me and opening it; letting my juice rain down onto my belly.

I had been in the city for 30 hours.


J.C.

It is a week since Jefferson left me at his apartment. A week since we’ve seen each other.

I returned home, dazed and drunk with the experiences of the weekend.

As the days pass, the memories surface in bits. Most of these bits are sensory experiences—taste, touch, sight, sound or smell—which flood my brain and call up events.

Before I get back to the events of Saturday, I wanted to write about Jefferson’s Cock. Our readers have never really learned about Jefferson’s Cock; he talks about it very little except to describe what it can do, which is considerable and impressive. But I am talking about the Cock itself; it really is nice, and I think it deserves a bit of credit in the Playbill.

To begin, Jefferson rarely wears underwear. Therefore, Jefferson’s Cock is not unduly restrained by cotton or spandex. It is well-ventilated, and I feel better knowing that it is readily available—say, in the back of a cab, for instance—I am a fan of Commando Cock.

Next, Jefferson’s Cock is cut, with a very nice tip; there is a marked indentation for the urethral opening; perfect for swirling with my tongue and a lovely knob that feels so good sliding past my lips. It makes for such a nice sound while it’s being sucked. Get that Cock nice and wet and it really does sound like the chrome being sucked off a trailer hitch.

Speaking of sucking, Jefferson’s Cock is perfectly suited to my mouth. Its diameter is not small (which can cause jaw exhaustion from tightly pursed lips), nor overly thick (which can have the same effect—no one likes a dislocated jaw!). Jefferson’s Cock is so friendly. It could be—and often is—sucked for hours.

But probably the most remarkable thing I’ve noticed about Jefferson’s Cock is its color. Jefferson’s Cock has a beautiful complexion. It is smooth, and not overly vascular with a rosy tint that matches the color of my labia and is so well-suited to his skin tone. Jefferson is pale, with reddish-blond trimmed pubic hair. To see Jefferson’s Cock standing up in the middle of all that for me, well…

That’s a good memory.


Intermission

Saturday, 8 PM
Marcus is corralling Jefferson and me.
“Come on! I’m hungry- let’s go out! I’ll pay. Madeline, do you like Indian?”

We agreed that maybe the fresh air would do us good. And we really did need to keep up our strength; this was turning into a fuckathon. But I was busy riding Jefferson on the bed. Marcus had gone to take a call. When he returned, I was curled onto Jefferson, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Hey! Let’s go!!”

I turned my head and saw Marcus standing at the foot of the bed. In an unusual stance. A warm stream ran down my back. Holy Fuck- he was pissing on me! It was the tiniest bit, but oh my god! I screamed and jumped up, he laughed and pushed me into the shower. I turned on the water and began to wash myself. As I stood with my back to the door, my face turned up to the shower head, I noticed another stream was hitting my backside. I turned to look. They were both standing on the bathroom floor. They were both pissing on me.

“Oh, my GOD!! EEW!” I have to admit, though, I kind of enjoyed it…li’l bit.

They joined me in the shower. We washed each other. They washed my hair. They were both so lovely. I absolutely adored it. We got dressed. I put on jeans, my boots and my t-shirt which reads: “I Do All My Own Stunts.”

“You most certainly do, sugar.”

We walked to the restaurant in the drizzle, looking so fucking good; their arms around my waist, Marcus and I using the umbrella since Jefferson had the foresight to wear a hat.

I don’t remember ordering. I don’t remember eating; only that I was ravenous and loving all the touching that was happening underneath the table. We took a cab home. Which is where we really wanted to be anyway.

“Shouldn’t we be drinking Marcus’ gift?” I asked.

Marcus had brought an expensive bottle of bourbon. We decided to open it and watch Hedwig and the Angry Inch in the bedroom. Jefferson had seen it before, but it was the first time for me. Marcus was an aficionado on all things Hedwig. I was blown away.

Movie finished, bourbon drunk, we start up again. Marcus and I take turns blowing Jefferson. Jefferson fucks Marcus. I ride Jefferson as Marcus sucks my tits. Marcus fucks me. Jefferson sucks Marcus’ cock while his ass is filled with a vibrating egg. Jefferson then hands me the dildo, prepped with a condom. The dual-egg vibrator is on the fritz; we’ll need a new one. I remove the egg, lube up, and fuck Marcus’s beautiful ass with the black silicone dildo. It’s a very nice dildo, and the first time I've topped a man.

I don’t know what time we stopped; spent and sexed. We all fell asleep in Jefferson’s bed. I bet we looked gorgeous.

Boys on the sides, Madeline in the Middle.


Threesome III

Sunday Morning
Three of us in Jefferson’s bed. Madeline in the middle. My right side is asleep from my shoulder to my foot. I turn my head to look at the two men on either side of me. Goddamn (I think I actually said “Goddamn!”).

I scoot smoothly down to the foot of the bed, climbing over Jefferson’s legs and almost losing my balance once my feet hit the floor. I am wobbly from last night. I look back after catching myself on the wall. Jefferson’s eyes are looking at me.

“Sorry, honey- I’m just going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”

I have to pee. I wash my face, brush my teeth and examine the bruises that are showing up on my ass and thighs. I look a mess. I love it. Jefferson is not in bed when I return to the room. I peek into the back bedroom, where he is curled up on the futon.

“Hey, baby, what’re you doing here?”
“Um, it was really crowded with everyone in the bed.”
“Well, why don’t you scoot over, then, so I can join you?”
“No, I’m fine; you go back to bed. We can’t leave Marcus by himself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’ll be fine, and I’ll come join you in a bit.”

I go back to Jefferson’s room and get under the sheet, flat on my back. I drift for a while, then wake. It is just before 7 AM. Marcus is pulling the duvet up to my shoulders.

“What are you doing?”
“I thought you might be cold; I was freezing.”
“I was very warm between the two of you last night.”

Marcus and I lay in bed, talking about our exes and the proper way to handle his balls. He has low-hanging balls. He can do amazing things with them. Why, just yesterday they were inside my pussy along with his dick.

I would not make this up.

“Madeline, you have such a nice body. And great skin. Hey- show me your teeth!”

I do not know what the deal is with these two and their dental fixation; just last week Jefferson had asked me to lean into my webcam and flash him all my teeth. Now here was Marcus doing the same. I am self-conscious about my teeth. I refuse to show him, and he pins me down. I do not let him do a full examination.

“So what else don’t you like about your body?”

“Well, you know I have these spider veins on my legs ever since I had kids…I really don’t like those.”

“Oh, my god, that is so dumb!!”

“I know it is; I can’t help it. I’ve always really loved my legs. I’m just not terribly fond of their present incarnation.”

“I’d like to see your legs in the air.”

“Haha! So early?”

He reaches down to a bag he’s set next to the bed. Pulls out two webbed nylon and Velcro restraint cuffs. Puts them around my ankles. On each cuff is a d-ring. To each ring he attaches one end of a nylon strap. The strap is adjustable. He positions me at the foot of the bed. Kisses my pussy.

“Don't worry; I'm not going to fuck you yet,” he says, knowing that I’m wary of breaking the house rule that we must wake Jefferson before Marcus and I have sex; “I’m going to give you a lesson on deep throating.

Ahem:

First, you do an excellent job of taking a cock down your throat, Madeline. There is no problem there. But you know, you always have to work at keeping everything relaxed in your throat so you don’t set off the gag reflex. This is a lot to think about, especially when you are with more than one person. Watch what happens when you lie on your back and let your head hang off the edge of the bed. Now I’m going to put my cock into your mouth and it is going to slide all the way down your throat.”

Wow. It really did. Long and smooth.

“Thank you, Marcus! That’s a fantastic trick!”

“Now, I want to bind your legs in the air. Raise your legs, please, and keep your knees straight. Now bring them back toward your ears.”

Marcus practices yoga as I do. He knows already how flexible I am. He takes the strap that connects the ankle restraints and puts it under my neck, at the base of my skull. He then tightens the strap until my ass is raised up into the air. My knees are back above my shoulders.

I am looking at him, eyes wide.

“Marcus, go wake up Jefferson.”

“I’m not gonna go in there. You wake him up.”

“Well, I can’t exactly go in there now!”

“So just yell at him, like this: ‘Jefferson! Wake up! Jefferson! Emergency!!'”

In stumbles Jefferson, rubbing his eyes, which bug at the sight of my ass in the air and Marcus putting on a condom. I smile.

“’Morning, sweetie!”

“Good morning, darling. You remembered the rule.”

“Of course.”

Marcus rolls his eyes, feigning disgust. Then he starts fucking.

Jefferson works my mouth and breasts, while Marcus goes at my pussy. I like these restraints; my hands are free to play with my clit or Jefferson’s cock, which has been hard since he walked in. I turn my head toward it.

“Oh! Hey, Jefferson! Slide her toward you, man; get her head offa the bed. Now put your cock all the way down her throat.”

“Unh. Marcus, that is nice!”

“See how easy it goes down, baby?”

“Yeah," He slaps my face. "Suck that cock, Madeline.”

We take turns in the shower, Jefferson brews coffee and Marcus and I sit on the couch. Marcus gets the idea that Jefferson’s computer can use some souping-up. So he gets on the phone with Apple. He borrows my cell for its glamorous speakerphone feature.

While Marcus is on indefinite hold, Jefferson and I clear the bedroom of glasses, condom wrappers and toys. I spill a container of almonds onto the floor. He kneels down to pick them up and Marcus uses my camera to take a picture of his naked ass. We are all laughing.

We are ready to go for dim sum in Chinatown, followed by computer hardware and sex toy shopping. We walk out of the building. Marcus has the address of the Apple store and a list of what we need to buy. Jefferson has Mitzi’s barrette in his pocket. I have the two of them flanking me, our arms around each other. Hot as hell.


Domestic

Friday, 6 PM
We are finishing dinner. Jefferson made my favorite: Breakfast for dinner. We both make it for our kids when we’re too lazy to think of anything creative.

Omelets with mushrooms and cheese. Bacon. Fruit. Was there toast? I can’t remember.

He is sitting, watching me eat. We are not speaking; just taking each other in.

His expression changes; I know this one. I have seen it during our online dates, when he’d cocked his head and looked at my image on his computer screen. I knew what he was thinking: That in this dark room, with the light from the stove hitting the side of my face, I looked more familiar. I looked like my webcam to him.

“Madeline, would you like to go do something? We could go for a drink, or coffee or something.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Me, neither. So, honey, it’s 6:30. Shall we go watch the evening news?”

“Perfect.”

The pope was dying; there were live reports from Vatican Square. The Person of the Week was the organizer of a project which involves photographers across the country photographing children awaiting adoption. I got a little teary. I can’t help it; I’m a parent.

Peter Jennings is interviewing the ABCnews Medical Editor about the Pope’s condition. Peter looks a bit off. He makes strange faces and clears his throat at inappropriate moments. Jefferson and I both wonder: What’s up with Peter Jennings?

News over, television off. We decide to watch Secretary. Jefferson pours bourbons and makes popcorn. He has never seen the movie. I love it, and make sure to pause the DVD when he gets up to freshen our drinks.

The movie ends, and we are alone. I swear, that film never fails to give me a hankering for a good beating. Jefferson senses this. He asks when I’d like to be worked over. “Now,” I say.

Truthfully, I don’t remember much of the slapping, biting and whipping; only my responses to it. At one point Jefferson was spanking my ass and I was so excited I let loose with uncontrollable giggles into the mattress. This is a good thing.

My wrists are bound, though I can change positions. Jefferson beats and licks and chews on my ass, my thighs and my calves. The bites and the slaps leave marks; the rope lashes on my back and bottom are welts, but disappear overnight. He unties my wrists, takes me into his arms and holds on.

The next morning, after my shoulder bite, we are getting ready for Marcus' arrival. Jefferson comes back up to the apartment with the clean sheets. He kisses me hello, then tells me that he’s just run into Mr. Lansky at the elevator, who says to him, “Well, you look very…domestic.”

Funny; that’s just how we are feeling. Nevermind that the reason he’s got those sheets in his arms is that he’s just been fucking for about 24 hours with a five-hour sleep break.

I help remake the bed. I make good on my promise to teach Jefferson the fine art of folding a fitted sheet.

We decide that the word “domestic” fits. We decide to use it as our code word for ‘fucked.’ As in, “God, I feel so domestic.” Or, “I could sure go for a little domestication right now.”

Besides, this morning, after fucking, Jefferson had a dream about Martha Stewart, Domestic Goddess, and how she brought us together.

Speaking of which:

I enjoy the coming together of aggression and tenderness; that duality of being slapped or bitten or choked, then comforted is one of my favorite experiences. It is not something I will do with just anyone; it requires much trust and communication. And I am always in control. If something is too intense, I can stop it. But what an amazing ride it is with a person who pays attention to what works for me; who knows what gets me off.

I think the duality of hot sex and domestic comfort is just as thrilling. The ease of being at home—doing dishes, refilling coffee, making beds—is even nicer when, in the midst of it, great sex happens. It’s feeling close to someone on those seemingly disparate levels which brings about real comfort.

The most interesting thing about the whole weekend was not how many “firsts” we chalked up (though those were considerable!); it was how strangely comfortable I felt in this space, with this person I’d known for seven weeks but only just met.

Four days later, while waiting to board my flight home, I read that Peter Jennings has cancer. I call Jefferson's cell and leave a message.


Marcus

When I mentioned to Jefferson that it would be great to meet his friend Marcus during my visit, I didn’t imagine that he would go to lengths to ensure that I did; I had thought that Marcus would be a good person to meet simply because I had more in common with him than other people in Jefferson’s Cast of Characters. I figured that if things didn’t work out in the sex department, we could always talk about our kids. Plus, Marcus seemed very smart and funny and sexy. And Jefferson obviously loved him.

So Jefferson arranged for Marcus to come to the city. For me.

I was a little worried that things would be awkward or forced between Marcus and I, being tossed together like that. Would I feel like a third wheel? Would he? Shortly after his arrival on Saturday it was clear that I didn’t need to worry about that; everything clicked.

The sex was great. But we were better. The three of us—Jefferson, Marcus and I—were in sync. I remember at a point, standing in the Apple Store facing each other, talking about something or other.

(Remember the group game of holding hands in a circle, then passing energy around the circle by squeezing the person’s hand next to you? The point of the game is to get the energy moving as quickly as possible; so that it becomes impossible to see.)

That’s how I felt, standing there with the two of them; like our minds were on exactly the same plane and our thoughts passed from one to another without pause.

Sunday afternoon we went for dim sum with Mitzi. We naturally divided into couples at the table; Jefferson and Mitzi, Marcus and me. Once we went out to the street, Mitzi and Jefferson cruised ahead, while Marcus and I hung behind a bit.

We had all been walking arm in arm in arm since last night. Now it was just Marcus and me. We talked as we walked, trying not to lose track of Jefferson and Mitzi, who would stop periodically to search the crowds on Canal Street for my bright green raincoat. We covered the bases: kids, exes (In fact, I called my ex to check on the boys and to tell them hello), parents, religion, sex. My right arm was around his waist and at a point he moved his left arm from my waist to my left shoulder. My left hand reached up and held his fingers.

Is that when it started?

In the cab, after computer and sex toy shopping, on our way home, Marcus was on a call with a potential client. I sat between them in the backseat. I was kissing Jefferson and tracing his cock through his jeans. I looked at Marcus, who had already closed the partition between us and the driver. He pulled out his own hard cock, never missing a well-rehearsed beat with his client.

There we were again. Madeline in the Middle.

Back at the apartment Marcus shaved, Jefferson worked on setting up his computer equipment and I lounged on the couch. Marcus and I played in the bedroom. Jefferson gave up on the computer and joined us. Then we got presentable for Mitzi.

Sunday evening was not a regular sex party. It being my first such event, I should have been more anticipatory or nervous or something. But I was just very comfortable. A big reason for that was Marcus.

Days later, when Jefferson and I talked about the evening, I commented on how, if this had been a regular gathering, and my first, he wouldn’t have left my side. But with Marcus there, I was doubly protected and very at ease. And without Marcus’s help in fleshing out details, the following wouldn’t exist:

Once Mitzi arrived we all went into the bedroom; Jefferson and I lit candles and got condoms and toys accessible. Marcus and I were kneeling on the bed, Jefferson and Mitzi were in one of the sex chairs. Marcus gives Jefferson his Lesson on spanking, then takes up with me.

Jefferson and Mitzi are tending to each other in the bedroom. Marcus and I go to get water. We kiss in the living room. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He starts walking around the apartment, getting closer to the windows.

We giggle; this was not the first time we’d been stuck together like spiders in the last 24 hours. It won’t be the last.

There is a knock at the door. I jump down from Marcus and make a quick retreat to the bedroom, leaving him to greet Franz.

Mitzi is blowing Jefferson on the bed. I go to him and kiss him. He wants my pussy. I straddle his face and he goes to work. I cum, and then we switch places. I am lying on my back, Jefferson kisses me, knowing how much I like tasting myself. Mitzi starts licking my pussy, while Jefferson sucks my tits and fucks my face.

When we are in this scene, Marcus and Franz walk into the bedroom. Marcus makes introductions all around. I manage a wave to the gorgeous gay boy, then I’m back to sucking Jefferson’s Cock. Mitzi gets me off, then she’s off to the chair with Jefferson and the magic bullet double vibe.

I am lying on the bed watching Marcus and Franz fuck. Those two switch from top to bottom and back like it’s nothing! They go at each other for the better part of an hour while I go down on Our Lady of the Double Vibrators. Mitzi is reclining on the chair, I am on my knees in front of her, spreading her lips and pulling back her hood with my fingers while I suck her clit.

By the by: I don’t know WHAT some guys are complaining about when they say they don’t like eating pussy. How can you not like that? (Okay, I don’t understand girls who don’t like sucking cock either, but goddamn!)

Jefferson is eating my pussy while I’m eating Mitzi’s. I cum, then kiss Mitzi. Girl should taste herself, too.

I break for water, then get a good spot on the bed watching the boys, then the others. Jefferson and Mitzi finish, then he moves up to the bed. Now it’s all three of them, while Mitzi retrieves the eggs from her ass and pussy.

Finally the boys finish, and I walk up to Jefferson. I look him straight in the eye and say, “I think it’s time you fucked my ass.”

I hand him the condom and the lube while I lube my ass. I snack on Mitzi while Jefferson pounds me from behind. I want more; every time I try to push back into him he pushes me down into Mitzi. He starts lightly slapping my ass, using the technique that Marcus taught him earlier, bringing me to the edge of orgasm. I pull up from Mitzi and look over my shoulder, pleading with my eyes, nodding my head. “Now.”

I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Everyone switched.

Jefferson and Mitzi go over to the chair and he fucks her face and pussy. Marcus and I get together for the first time since Mitzi arrived. I was in assfucking mode; I asked Marcus to do the honors.

It was a good fuck.

Franz was standing next to Marcus, watching. He was getting excited and said something about it being “really hot.” Marcus, ever the gentleman, asked Franz if he’d like to fuck me. Franz said yes.

What follows is a blur.

Marcus pulls out and immediately leans into my ear, “Madeline, Franz is going to fuck you in the ass now. Is that okay?”

I nod. He is already inside.

This tall, lithe European with the sculpted body, as I’ve posted previously, knows his way around an ass! He gets me into a rhythm and we are totally in tune; our bodies moving the exact distance apart and back together to make the best use of his cock. I am blissed-out, looking back at Franz, then down to Marcus who is lying beside me on the bed, watching and holding my hand.

The rhythm intensifies, Franz pushes me flat to the mattress and is pounding away. My right hand is being held by Marcus, my left reaches for my clit. I am masturbating, moaning fuuuuuck; cumming. Franz yells he’s going to cum.

Marcus and Jefferson are congratulatory. I didn’t realize what had happened until Marcus said, after Franz went into the bathroom to shower,

“Madeline, he came while he was fucking your ass! Do you know how rare that is for him?”

I kind of thought it was impressive that he came while he was fucking a girl. But whatever; I got the gay boy to cum with my ass!

I am spent and Marcus and I are recovering. Jefferson and Mitzi go into the other room. Franz has come back from the shower and I tell Marcus that I’d like to be restrained. He thinks this is an excellent idea, and since no one has been particularly dominant tonight, he is just the person to do it. Besides, after my last experience with his fancy restraints, I am ready to go further with him.

He fastens the wrist cuffs, and then connects them together behind my back. Now I am submissive.

“You want to be tied up?”

I smile, “Yes, Marcus.”

“Then pick up those goddamned condom wrappers from the floor.”

I start to move toward a torn foil square next to the bed. I maneuver into position, slowly lowering myself down so I can pick it up with my hand. I move toward another, then another. Once I lose my balance and fall against the wall. Marcus sternly tells me to get up and finish the job.

The others are coming back, and Marcus blindfolds me, and then moves my wrists above my head. They are connected to a rope and lashed to the bed frame. Same with my ankles. I am flat on my back and tied down. Marcus is in charge of my bottom half, while Jefferson and Mitzi take care of me from the waist up. Jefferson pours wax on my body and fucks my face. Marcus puts a condom on one of the vibrating eggs, and then puts it in my ass. He starts lightly slapping my inner thigh, up to my pubis and down the other side. He repeats this several times, increasing the pressure and finally ending up on my pussy; slapping my clit. He really lets loose. I have a huge orgasm. The blindfold is removed, and Marcus is kneeling over me wearing a leather mask, which he promptly throws off. It was a good visual.

I am unbound. Kissed. Coddled.

Marcus stays with me on the bed. He is focused on me after having caused so much pain/pleasure. I am still high from it. He puts on a condom and fucks me silly. At one point he is standing beside the bed; my ass is at the edge and I am on my back, legs in the air. I put my hands behind his neck. He brings his arms under my thighs and stands up. The man is fucking me standing up using nothing but his hips and gravity. It was like a goddamned ride at Disney World.

More Spidey-fucking. Then, with Jefferson watching, Marcus throws me back onto the bed, yelling, “Fuck you, bitch!” Then he turns and walks out of the room. I am laughing so hard.

Jefferson and Mitzi come over to work on my pussy again. I am learning that Jefferson likes that I’m a gusher. His fisting technique is very good, and so I am very willing to let him in. He shows Mitzi what he’s doing, and soon enough her fist has replaces his. I cum. A lot..

Marcus is intrigued, and compares hand size with Mitzi. Then he looks at me and asks, “Madeline, would you do something for me?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

“Would you fist me?”

“Oh! Yes, of course I would!”

We assumed positions, Marcus on his back, knees raised, me kneeling at his ass, lubing it and my hand.

“Madeline, have you ever done this before?”

(Was he fucking kidding? Have I ever stuck my entire fist into a person’s rectum? Let’s see…)

“No, honey, I haven’t.”

“Okay; we’re going to have a little instructional moment before we get started.”

Marcus. Always the teacher.

“Madeline, you’ll get through the first sphincter and then about three inches in you’ll feel a second wall. Just wait until it relaxes and keep going very slowly.”

I used my left hand, palm up and inserted two fingers, then three. I crossed my pinky finger across the other three, and then pushed all four further in. I felt the second sphincter resist. The intensity was starting to get to Marcus and he called for Jefferson to come to him. Jefferson sat holding Marcus’s hand, stroking his hair and saying, softly, “I’m here, baby. You’re okay.”

The wall gave way and I crossed my thumb into my palm, making my hand as small as I could. “Marcus, she’s up to her wrist.”

I was, and gently curling my fingers back. Rocking. Marcus was moaning, and holding onto Jefferson like a raft. I held Jefferson’s eye for a long time.

“We love you, Marcus,” I said.


Something

Monday, 2 AM
Marcus has left to catch his train; Mitzi is gone five minutes later. I am getting into bed as she says goodbye.

Jefferson slides into bed, spooning me with his arm under my neck. I can feel his chin on top of my head. We lie there, quietly breathing. We have 18 hours left.

We both feel it; I can't speak. My stomach is twisted. I try to breathe deeply and not tremble in his arms.

“Something’s happening here,” he whispers into the darkness.

My throat catches and I can only nod, my tears welling.

He moves back, turning my face toward his. We kiss. I am remembering our first kiss on Friday morning; when he pulled me into the apartment and we spun down the hallway. How intensely charged and passionate and hungry it was. Over the past three days we’ve learned how to kiss each other. Now it is about doing that and making it last; of searching out each other in the darkness and stopping time.

We make love. I feel sad and hopeful and lonely and full. This I did not expect.

He is sweet, gentle and quiet. His body rocks me into a place between wakefulness and sleep. My eyes close, and I am aware of my own voice, speaking somewhere in the ether. I feel him whispering to me. I should surface; come back from this place I have found to the quiet cadence of his voice.

His words are soft and muffled in my ears. I understand them anyway.

He is holding me close; my face is turned into his neck, breathing him.

Jefferson Writes:

No Fooling

I’ve been keeping a secret.

A few weeks ago, my online girlfriend Madeline popped up with an instant message.

Madeline: April Fool’s?

Jefferson: Are you getting an early start on some tomfoolery?

Madeline: No, how about I come to see you on the weekend of April Fool’s Day?

She wasn’t kidding. She had her finger on the trigger to confirm a reservation, pending my thumbs up on the itinerary.

Jefferson: Wheels up, Madeline. You are airborne.

Madeline and I have really hit it off since she contacted me after reading my blog.

We have a lot in common, as she also goes through a divorce with a control freak, while raising young children. She’s very funny, and our online dates and phone calls are gosh darned hot as hell.

Our web cams brought out a strong physical attraction between us. And when she copycatted me with her own brilliant blog on juggling parenting and perversion, Madeline established that we are apparently sexually compatible- like, crazy.

I talked about her with my pal Marcus. “Wow, she seems perfect,” he said. “There must be something wrong with her.”

”Of course there’s something wrong with her,” I said. “She lives in the fucking Midwest! We will never meet.”

But now, it seemed, we were meeting.

We’ve had many conversations since then. She likes my blog, and she is curious about trying out some of the things I write about. But we are also just curious to get acquainted in person.

I asked her if there was anything special she wanted me to arrange for her. She demurred, leaving it to me, but adding, “You really care about Marcus. It would be great to meet him.”

Marcus agreed to come to town for one night of her visit.

I sounded her out on other ideas. I put some of my sex crew on red alert: you may or may not be called into action. Can I count on you? I could.

I relaxed. Let’s just see what happens.

Tonight, I got my kids to bed. She dropped off her two boys with her parents. I poured a bourbon, cranked up the web cam, and we finalized plans.

Jefferson: You look far better groomed than I do, nice haircut.

Madeline: I had the help of professionals.

Jefferson: It's best to rely on professionals when there is that much work to do. You are pretty homely.

Madeline: Truer words have never been spoken.

Jefferson: Look; I want to clear up a few things before you get here.

Madeline: Okay.

Jefferson: Regarding bathrooms: showers and pissing are open; we can walk in on one another, no problem. But poop is private.

Madeline: Are you kidding me? People actually poop with one another in the same room?
Madeline: Fair enough. (I am so glad we are having this conversation.) Agreed.

Jefferson: Great. Now: food. Anything you want, you take. Don’t be asking: can I eat this? Are you sure?

Madeline: Okay. But what if I don't like your food? Like, what if you have the wrong peanut butter?

Jefferson: Then get your own damn peanut butter. Or let's go shopping. Or let’s send Marcus to buy peanut butter. We can solve that problem.

Madeline: Is he coming, for sure?

Jefferson: Don't make me backtrack. Yes, he is coming, and so you are very likely having sex with a total stranger who is one of my oldest friends. I thought we had been over that?

Madeline: Not for shizzle. Okay, all clear.

Jefferson: Good. Now: sleep.

Madeline: Okay.

Jefferson: The side of the bed with the nightstand is my side. The nightstand is where my bourbon goes

Madeline: Of course it is. Duh.

Jefferson: I have no idea where you will keep your bourbon, but that is really your problem to solve.

Madeline: This is my setup as well, so I have no problem with the terms.

Jefferson: Very good. Also, I require two pillows. You may use as many or few as you chose, so long as I get my two.

Madeline: You can have them. I don't use pillows under my head.
Madeline: Only my hips
Madeline: While fucking.

Jefferson: That brings up another thing: fucking.
Jefferson: We are probably going to fuck.

Madeline: Well, yes.

Jefferson: Yes. I just want us to be clear about a few things regarding fucking.

Madeline: Okay! Hit me.
Madeline: (No, really. Hit me.)

Jefferson: Well, see, I might, actually.

Madeline: You know that I like that, right?

Jefferson: You have only made that abundantly clear.
Jefferson: I will agree to keep bruises and hickeys where they can't be seen when you are dressed.

Madeline: Okay.

Jefferson: Now, when Marcus sleeps over . . . he is very hot, you know.

Madeline: Yes.

Jefferson: If I am asleep, and the two of you decide to have sex, you have to wake me. Because if he has sex with you, and I am not there, he will forever refer to that as the hottest sex ever.

Madeline: Oh, of course.

Jefferson: I will say, yes, Madeline is very sexy. He will say, you don't understand, I think she and I connected in some way that wasn't there when you were there.
Jefferson: This may or may not be true. He will just say it to taunt me that I missed the hottest sex ever.

Madeline: This is a good rule, I think.
Madeline: It should also be true for you, no?

Jefferson: Oh? You mean if Marcus and I go at it, I should wake you?

Madeline: Yes!

Jefferson: Good idea. We have the hottest sex ever. You don't want to miss that.

Madeline: Absolutely not. So it's settled.

Jefferson: Well, that is settled, but we aren't done yet.
Jefferson: Back to sleep: as you know, I snore.

Madeline: And I told you . . . that is comforting to me.

Jefferson: I’m glad! You really need to stop being perfect if you are going to continue to live 1200 miles away from me. If you find that my snoring is less than comforting, I am granting you a privilege: you tell me to get the fuck out of bed.

Madeline: Oh, no you didn't.

Jefferson: Oh yes I did. If you decline this privilege, the couch is very comfortable and the twin bed more so. That is where I would go if kicked out of my own bed.

Madeline: I don't want the taco futon.

Jefferson: No, you do not. Now: suitcase. You are welcome to live out of your suitcase, but I am happy to clear out a drawer for you. I have many drawers.

Madeline: Honey, I don't think I’m bringing much at all. But what I do bring will, I’m sure, fit into a small drawer. I would like that.

Jefferson: Good. I will prepare a drawer for you. I think that covers it from my end. Otherwise, standard room mate stuff. You use it, you wash it. You spill it, you clean it up.

Jefferson: Oh! And music.

Madeline: Oh! Music.

Jefferson: Music plays pretty constantly. The radio station is WFUV until they start fundraising on Monday. We listen to Big Broadcast on Sunday. This is non-negotiable.

Madeline: Of course! I was thinking the exact thing!!
Madeline: Um, you are blowing my mind.

Jefferson: I’m just getting started on your mind, and on blowing you.
Jefferson: Pay attention though.
Jefferson: We need to agree on a house joke for the weekend.

Madeline: Okay. (She likes this idea!)

Jefferson: Anytime you find one of those Goddamned strands of plastic Easter grass that are a plague on my home . . . you have to pick it up, throw it down, and exclaim: “Christ on the cross!”

We laughed about that. Candy is a bane for each of us.

Madeline: Agreed! I threw out my kids’ faux greenery while they slept. Jack asked me this morning: Where's the Easter grass?
Madeline: I told him that the bunny needed to save it for next year. He recycles. So he came and took it back.

Jefferson: Fucking genius, mama.

Madeline: Well, the little one was pissed, but he can't argue with the Easter
bunny. Or the EPA.

Jefferson: I tried to throw out Lillie’s grass, which was piled on the floor. She curtly informed me that it was a nest for her Peeps. So it stayed on the floor.

Madeline: Oh, jeez. Maybe you and Marcus can make s’mores from the Peeps.

Jefferson: But I have to wake you if we do so, cf previous rule.

Madeline: Of course. Then we could have Peeps s’mores in the fort.

Jefferson: The fort we are making under the dining room table, with the sheets?

Madeline: Will the three of us fit, with the Peeps?

Jefferson: We can only try.

We smiled.

Madeline: I am looking forward to this.

Jefferson: Me too. It’s a date.

Madeline: Damn promising date.

Jefferson: No kidding, huh?

Madeline: No fooling.




Lull

It’s Monday afternoon, after Madeline and I spent our first weekend together. She is napping in my bed as I do some work. When she wakes, we are going for a walk in the park. It is a sunny day.

We part company tonight.

I won’t be able to post about the weekend immediately, so I will refer you to her blog, gentle reader, as she will likely get stories posted before I do.

I commend myself for making it through the weekend without proposing marriage. At least, not often.

On the subject of marriage, I just got off the telephone with my lawyer. The t’s are crossed and the I’s are dotted. Fingers crossed, folks.

My divorce is all but complete.


In the Flesh

I woke the kids and prepared their lunches as they dressed for school.

I lamented the mess of stuffed animals and Easter grass that littered a bedroom floor. “Please, everything is much easier if we all help to keep the apartment clean,” I chided.

Jason and Collie picked up a few toys with desultory obedience; the main culprit, Lillie, watched as she sucked her thumb, still struggling to wake herself.

We took a cab to school. It was a Parents’ Day, when parents are encouraged to spend the first period reading along with their children in class.

Lillie showed me a book about whales that she had written and illustrated. Afterwards, I kissed her goodbye and went to Collie’s classroom, where we read selections from the Velveteen Rabbit. I kissed him goodbye, and set out to walk home.

The sky was grey, and the skyline surrounding Central Park was sheathed in fog.

I swept and tidied the living room. I made my bed, washed dishes, and showered. I made coffee and answered some email.

She knocked.

I opened the door. It was really her face. “Fucking a.”

”Fucking a,” she beamed.

Madeline. In the flesh.

I grabbed the lapel of her raincoat and pulled her into my kiss. I kissed her as I kicked her suitcase inside. I kissed her as I closed and locked the door.

I kissed her, pulling and tugging her raincoat, spinning with her, down the hallway and into my bedroom. I kissed her as she fell back onto my bed, as I fell on top of her.

The kisses were long and passionate, punctuated with short, quick ones when we caught our breath. My hands roamed her body, feeling only the textures of her raincoat. I finally found flesh at her thigh. I needed more flesh.

I sat up and looked at her. Her head was over the edge of my bed. Her hair was ginger, short in back, long in front. Her eyes steel gray. She had freckles, even on her lips, parted in a smile.

She was holding her chic glasses in one hand. I took the glasses and placed them on my night stand.

My need for flesh overwhelmed the moment. I lifted her skirt and found mesh panties that revealed what they covered. That did it--those panties are getting shredded . . . I controlled the impulse. I lifted her calves, still covered in cowboy boots, and removed the panties, tossing them away blindly.

My eyes were on the prize. That sweet honey pot for which I had hungered. She had groomed it for our debut--her pussy was waxed smooth but for a closely cropped landing strip at the top.

I went down on her, and savored the first orgasm we would share in person, after so many spent in longing for one another.

Her cum poured into my cupped palm. Why hadn’t she mentioned that she is a gusher?

I removed my t-shirt.

”Hi,” she said.

”Hi Madeline. Thanks for coming to me.”

”Thanks for having me.”

”Oh, I am having you, all right.”

Her hands tugged at my belt. I unfastened it, and stood to drop my pants. “I think you may have time to lose the raincoat before we fuck,” I suggested. She wriggled out of her coat and tossed it onto a chair.

That was all the undressing we had time for. I was already wearing a condom, already poised between her legs. She lifted her legs back as I entered her.

She was juiced; I fucked her hard.

In our long conversations, our online dates with web cams and bourbon, she had taught me so much about how to be with her. And now I was able to put those lessons into practice.

She smiled at me from between her calves. I smiled back.

I slapped her face, hard.

She turned with the blow, then looked back at me. Her eyes gleamed.

I slapped her again. She looked back at me, ecstatic.

I fell onto her, fucking fast, our mouths opening into kisses. She came.

I pulled up. “That sweater, it’s got to go,” I said. She removed it as I thrust into her. Underneath was a black chemise.

”Jesus Christ,” I complained. “How many clothes can one person wear?”

”I had to wear something,” she apologized, tugging it over her head. “I wasn’t wearing a bra.”

No, she wasn’t. Her breasts, large and full, finally in my mouth.

We had only the skirt left. But removing that would mean pulling out of her body. I preferred the skirt to that.

Her nipples were pronounced and erect as I flicked them with my tongue. I caressed her breasts as I sucked, then grabbed them forcibly. She sighed.

I needed more flesh. I pulled out, and we lost the skirt. She was finally nude. We held each other close, feeling the electricity of touch on our bodies.

She bent over the bed, offering me her ass. I took it hungrily, fucking her deep and long, spanking her into submission.

Panting, finally, she said, okay, okay . . . we can stop.

I washed up and came back to find her reclined on the bed. I lay in her arms. Her body was bathed in sweat.

Madeline. In my bed. In the flesh.

Even

Rough sex is new to me. Lucky I am a quick study.

It once would have taken me aback to be asked by a lover, as I was by Madeline, to slap her around during sex. I’m certainly an odd candidate to cast as the heavy, as violence is so alien to my nature.

As new lovers have schooled me in rough sex, I have come to understand that it is not about violence. It may borrow from the vocabulary of violence--spanking, choking, slapping--but applies those actions to the ends of giving pleasure.

These actions cause sensations, and for some people, those sensations release powerful feelings: a rush of endorphins, a delight in surrendering, a sense of being taken.

Since I am a “pleasure man,” I understand how that can work. So I meet my lover’s request by butching it up.

But even a bruiser like me wants it nice and easy sometimes.

I grew hard as I rested in Madeline’s arms. I rolled on to my back. “I want you to ride me,” I told her. “Real nice like. Okay, pretty lady?”

She took a condom and rolled it onto my cock. “You know,” she said. “This may surprise you, but this is the first time I have put a condom on a man.”

(This was the first time--and certainly not the last--that Madeline would use the phrase “this is the first time . . .” during the course of the weekend.)

She lowered her body onto mine. I was in her.

She rode me slowly at first, feeling my touch as I caressed her, opening the depth of her eyes to my stares, releasing my eyes to follow my hands in getting to know her body. Her gyration intensified as I cupped a breast in my mouth.

At one point, she moved her right hand to touch herself, fingering her clit to orgasm.

At another, she reached back to lift her buttocks, arching her back in orgasm.

I watched, logging these clues to her body’s sexual responses.

As we rested, I looked at my clock and wondered aloud, “How is that have you have been here all this time and you have still not given me head?”

”Yeah, what’s up with that?” she replied, moving to rectify this oversight.

Her mouth was on me, deep and wet. She watched me through the hair falling in her face. She sensuously sucked me up and down, moaning as my pelvis lifted to push into her.

Her hand held the shaft of my cock as her head moved up and down on me. She jerked me as her mouth found my balls, licking down until she found my anus. She pushed back my legs and flicked me with her tongue.

”Unh, yes, eat my ass,” I moaned. She did, taking her time to enjoy how it affected me.

”Okay, now suck me more,” I writhed. She returned to my cock, taking it deep again as she slipped a finger in my ass.

She doesn’t yet know this about my body: my ass is ground zero of my body’s erogenous zones. It usually takes a lot of foreplay before anything goes there. She took it in one fell swoop; I let her have it.

I lifted my legs, putting them on her shoulders, resting my feet on her luscious hips. With this leverage, I could push my legs to rock her body back and forth, her mouth responding on my cock..

I grabbed her hair, pulling her head up and down as she swallowed me. I pushed her head down and held it there, forcing my cock deep into her throat.

Just as she had predicted: this excited her as much as it did me.

I pulled out and tossed her body over. I squatted on her chest and fucked her face. She lifted her head to take my cock as fast as I could feed it to her.

I was about to blow. I pulled out and came on her neck and chest.

”Now I’ve seen you cum too,” she said, grinning. “We’re even.”

”Even.” I collapsed by her side.


Beat

I made dinner. As we ate, her face was lit by a faint light on her right, a candle on her left.

”You know what I’m thinking?” I asked.

”I look like my web cam right now, don’t I?”

”In this light, exactly right.” I was accustomed to seeing her via web cam, in the light of a lamp on her desk. This lighting mimicked that.

”Hey darling, it’s me.”

”And here we are.”

We had spent the day nude or in pajamas, acclimating ourselves to the three-dimensional versions of the lovers we had become via computer screens. We measured this novel reality--tactile and present--against all those words and all that longing.

I suggested that we do something mundane, like watch a movie in bed. She liked the idea, and so we made popcorn, lit candles, poured bourbon and cozied up to Secretary. It is a favorite of Madeline’s. This was my first viewing.

The film is the story of a mousy young woman (Maggie Gyllenhaal, who is, Madeline tells me, the real-life love interest of Peter Sarsgaard--Madeline suggests we add double “A”s to our last names if we hope to lure the actor) who takes her first job as secretary to an eccentric lawyer (James Spader).

The lawyer must have things done in particular ways, and she strives to perform as perfectly as possible. His corrections of her mistakes lead to spankings delivered as she bends over his desk. His spankings lead to her falling in love with him.

How apropos to our moment, I thought.

As we talked after the movie, I said, “You will have to let me know when you want me to beat you.”

”I want you to beat me now,” she said, eyes on mine.

”Fair enough,” I replied.

I instructed Madeline to lay face down on the bed. I bound her wrists and secured them to the bed frame. I left her legs free, not sure how long I would want her on her belly.

My hands caressed her back, her legs, her buttocks. Her body moved and turned to my touch.

My hands gravitated to her ass, those finally shaped orbs, those hips offset by her waist. I opened her ass to study the dewlap of flesh at her anus. I had to feel that tag of skin on my tongue, just for a moment . . .

I slapped her ass, hard. She squirmed. I gave her two more, hard, on the opposite cheek. She giggled into the mattress.

She had warned me that she laughs aloud when aroused.

Awakening my capacity to strike takes an act of transference. When I am this aroused, my mouth is on fire. In those moments, I fight a cannibalistic urge to consume the flesh I want, to digest its power over my desires.

To strike her as she wants, I have to fight the urge to taste, to bite, to devour.

I spank her with that hunger. She writhes in pleasure.

She bears the imprint of my hands, many times over.

I must have a taste. I can’t stop it any longer. I bite, slowly, carefully, not wanting to tear flesh, just to taste . . . I make a buffet of her buttocks, the backs of her thighs and, when I see that this is a very tender place, her strong calves.

The next day, she would mention in passing that when she dies, she will leave her body to science.

”Lucky science,” I replied. “Leave it to me instead. I will eat course after course, then make stock from your bones.”

My hunger is sated. But she needs more. I take a length of rope. It whirls around my head, building momentum before it lashes her tenderized bottom.

When I am done, she is crossed in welts. I untie her, and kiss away her tears.

”Did that do it, baby?” I asked.

She smiled at me. “L’il bit,” she drawled.

Transparent

She was already awake, staring at my face. She smiled as my eyes fluttered open. I instinctively glanced at the clock…it was not yet six in the morning.

Was I snoring? I asked, closing my eyes to the sunlight behind her face.

No, you were sleeping, she smiled, touching my face. I moved my face to her hand.

We talked, soon gravitating to the subjects of punctuation and book indexes…topics guaranteed to spark the flames of arousal.

She asked me to bite her, showing me the precise shoulder muscle she wanted to give over to pressure of my teeth.

I complied, biting slowly, firmly, taking care not to tear the skin. My jaws ached, but I would not relent until she had what she needed.

When she had enough, she had two curved welts that would last for days. She joked about having it tattooed in place.

We made love.

We fell asleep, entangled. I left my arm under her head; she kept it as her pillow.

As we slept, Martha Stewart came to me in a dream.

Martha Stewart invited me to bring Lucy and the kids to a small house she had rented in Connecticut. A century before, this area had been an artists’ colony; now it was a community of mansions. Martha Stewart had chosen the authentic over the ostentatious in renting such a ramshackle house in this wealthy enclave.

Martha Stewart made sure that we were settled before a warm fire. We were very content.

Jefferson,” she asked. “Can you help me deliver a few paintings?” In this dream, Martha Stewart was an amateur painter. We put her canvases into the back seat of a convertible Saab.

I was stationed in the back with the paintings “Hold them down,” she directed over her shoulder as she started the car.

I extended an arm over the canvases. When we arrived, my forearm was smeared with blue paint. The paintings were fresh and still wet.

I was afraid that I had ruined the art, but the paintings were intact. Only my arm was smudged.
Martha Stewart parked at a local arts center. I helped her unload the canvases.

The arts center was bustling with activity. There were dozens of women, each well-coifed and wearing smocks at easels. A few helped sickly children who were engaged in art therapy.

A woman with dark hair and a blue smock came to Martha Stewart and me. “Where did you find him?” she asked Martha Stewart, nodding in my direction. “He’s hunky!” With that, she touched my chest and bicep, holding them firmly.

I felt aroused, and thought, wow, I am hunky.

”Now, none of that,” Martha Stewart scolded the woman. “We have paintings to deliver.”

Martha Stewart set to work, and I wandered deeper into the arts center.

Some artists were painting from nude models. Many of the artists were also in stages of undress. I ran into Madeline.

”Are you painting today?” she asked, kissing me in greeting.

”No, I’m just helping Martha Stewart run some errands. Lucy and the kids are back at her place.”

The woman in the blue smock interrupted us. “I think he should model for us, don’t you?” she leered to Madeline.

”I don’t mind modeling,” I said, “if you are paying.”

The rate was ten dollars an hour, which is what I was paid when I was a nude model in college. I agreed and undressed. As I stepped on to a platform to pose, I saw that Madeline was stripped to her waist. “In solidarity,” she said, sketching.

We mingled with the artists. Some were self-consciously bohemian, playing instruments or talking insistently, as if art were the most important thing in the world. Madeline and I held hands, serene and nude among them.

We were outside. She phoned her kids. I phoned mine.

When we awoke again, I told Madeline about the dream, a little embarrassed that it seemed so transparent.

Martha Stewart, the goddess of domesticity, had led me from a domicile where art was a relic to a vibrant place where art was being created. She led me from a place of the past to a place of the moment. She led me from the warm contentedness of the hearth to the white-hot excitement of art and sex.

Martha Stewart led me from Lucy to Madeline.

And thus did Martha Stewart sanction my relationship with Madeline.


Appointment

”Can you talk?”

”Yes, I’m at the store, getting stuff for lunch. Madeline is back at the apartment.”

”Well?”

”Marcus, she is . . . it’s just . . . even better than I had hoped.”

”Wow. Wow, that’s great. And it’s cool that I am coming?”

”Yes. Where are you?”

”About an hour away.”

”Yes, we are fine. She is eager to meet you, and, I dunno . . . we are just in a very nice place together right now. I think this will be fine.”

”You’re sure?”

”See you in an hour.”

It was drizzling as I walked home, carrying a few bags of groceries. I checked the laundry, where I had sheets in the dryer. Madeline’s sweat and gushing, and my cum, cost us two loads of laundry in our first twenty-four hours together.

I kissed her hello. She was nude under a light slip, drinking water and relaxing.

In the kitchen, I unpacked juice. We had to stay hydrated.

We also had to stay nourished. I planned a large midday supper, not quite confident that dinner would happen. I stuffed a chicken, seasoning it in herbs and olive oil. I peeled potatoes and boiled them to mash. I chopped onions and soaked raisins for a sweet Moroccan carrot dish.

As the pots simmered, I collected the sheets and re-made the bed. Madeline lent a hand. “Can I do anything else?” she asked.

”You can stay out of my kitchen and enjoy your vacation.”

Instead, she stayed in my kitchen and enjoyed doing my dishes.

We were talking on the couch, when suddenly at the door there was a knocking . . . then a pounding . . . then a kicking, followed by a desperate voice pleading, “Let me in! Let me in!”

All in the few moments it took for me to cross the room to open the door.

Marcus had arrived.

I kissed him hello and introduced him to Madeline. Their conversation was easy. They have a lot in common, including having lived overseas in the same country.

But more, their demeanors and humors are well matched. Never mind how attractive they each are. I silently commended myself for being such a yenta when it comes to introducing my lovers to one another.

We sat to eat, as Marcus and Madeline compared notes on massage. She is a bonafide massage therapist; he has a talented set of hands that provide a front for his sex work. Asked about this, he explained to her how he cautiously screens new clients, in part using a carefully crafted script in response to callers.

He picked up a banana, answering a call. Madeline picked up another, posing as a client. He walked her through the booking of an appointment in words we would later hear him use again and again with actual callers. By the next day, we could all do Marcus’s spiel cold.

In the meantime, we kept Madeline’s appointment with Marcus. He had booked her for right now, in the bedroom.

Mod Squad

My memory of what follows is unreliable.

When Madeline was finally in New York, finally in my arms, my mind was awake and jotting notes, not wanting to miss a moment that I would later want to revisit.

When Marcus joined us, my mind simply couldn’t keep pace with our bodies. It finally gave up, throwing down its notebook to join the fray.

After lunch, we undressed in my bedroom. I kissed Madeline. But the presence of such a beautiful nude woman meant, perversely, that Marcus and I should make out. She would have to wait to feel the desire she caused in us. We would savor her patience, and the feel of her eyes on us.

This would be her first threesome. This would be the first time she saw two men make love.

I lay back on my bed. Marcus crawled over me, his long limbs lowering his lips to mine. I touched his face as we kissed, combing his hair with my fingers.

”I love you, sweetie,” he said, his white teeth gleaming.

”I love you, baby.” My eyes met his.

Madeline lay beside me. She parted her knees and touched herself.

Marcus’s mouth moved around my torso. My back arched involuntarily as he took my cock in his mouth.

As he sucked me, I watched as Madeline fingered her clit, listening to the already familiar sounds of her orgasm.

I thought, she finds this so hot? This is so simple.

The three of us made love all that grey, rainy afternoon, and into the evening. Madeline’s list of “firsts” grew longer.

She watched as I fucked Marcus.

Marcus fucked her, tucking his balls into her cunt for good measure.

She sucked cock as she was fucked. She sucked two cocks at once.

We washed and a quick shower turned golden when we pissed on her.

At one point, she was blowing Marcus, his head at the bed’s edge as he sucked me. He asked to eat her pussy. Never leaving his cock, she moved her body to comply with his request, giving it to him as she lay across his body.

I saw the opportunity to indulge in my very favorite position.

I slipped on a condom and entered her pussy. My cock slid across Marcus’s face as I went in and out of her. His face was full of our fucking. He licked and moaned with pleasure. I crouched a little to suffocate him with our sex.

Madeline came. Her body undulated and released a mouthful of juice onto Marcus’s face. He came almost immediately afterwards.

Later, we dressed and walked to an Indian restaurant. Marcus’s treat. We felt drugged and naked as we sat clothed, away from our cocoon. We hurried back home for more.

The next day, we would venture out again. As we walked the city streets, I was struck by how well synched we were. And how hot we all looked together.

We were like the fucking Mod Squad.


Three’s Company

Sunday morning, I woke as Madeline tried to wriggle out of the bed without waking Marcus or me. The three of us had fallen asleep, nude, side by side, without covers, Madeline in the middle.

”Shhh, go back to sleep,” she whispered. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

I looked at Marcus. He was out cold, his mouth open. My body was stiff and elongated.

I needed to curl up, which was impossible in bed with two other adults. I decided to move to another bed. Madeline came to me there.

”I’m going to sleep here to allow more room for you both in the other bed,” I said. “I’m fine, just get some sleep.” She kissed me before heading back to bed.

I fell back to sleep. I awoke to voices in the next room.

”We have to wake him. It’s a rule.”

”You wake him, then. I want to fuck.”

”I can’t wake him. I’m a little indisposed, in case you haven’t noticed.”

”Just shout. Like this: Jefferson! Jeff-er-son!”

I stumbled into the next room. “Good morning, baby,” Madeline smiled.

Her ankles were bound and held aloft by a restraint secured behind her neck. Marcus crouched at her bottom, his cock sheathed and hard near her pussy.

”Oh good, you’re awake,” he said. At that, he plunged his cock into her.

”Good morning, sugar,” I kissed her. “Thanks for remembering the rule.”

We had agreed that she wouldn’t have sex with Marcus without me present…not because I was jealous or possessive, but because he would surely tease me that anything I missed was the hottest sex ever.

That’s just his way. I had to be alert to avoid being ribbed.

”Of course, baby,” she said, as Marcus fucked her. “A rule’s a rule.”

”That’s right, dear,” I agreed, dropping my cock into her mouth.

After a morning of sex, I was willing to venture another outing into the city. I had a hankering for dim sum in Chinatown.

”Should I invite Mitzi to join us?” I asked.

Madeline agreed, a little hesitant. I understood why: the three of us were in a place of our own creation. Would the addition of another person upset the balance we had found?

I decided to risk it. Mitzi was keen to meet the two of them, and besides, she had left her favorite barrette at my place. She was bereft without her barrette. I needed to return it.

Mitzi agreed to meet us for dim sum.

We had the devil’s time getting to the restaurant. The F train was running on alternate tracks, unbeknownst to us, so we overshot Chinatown, finding ourselves in Brooklyn. A few subway corrections later, we bagged the trains in favor of a cab.

Mitzi smiled when she saw us. She knew what we had been up to.

We sat at a large table, Madeline and Marcus snuggling at one side, Mitzi and I at another. We talked and gorged ourselves, selecting a variety of delicacies from the passing carts. Turns out that Mitzi is something of a dim sum expert.

At one point, Mitzi leaned over and whispered in my ear. “They are really spectacular people,” she purred. “I want to come over and have sex too.”

”Then let’s make that happen,” I said.

After lunch—Marcus’s treat again!--we headed over to Toys in Babeland. My silver bullet was busted, and we needed a replacement.

I darted ahead with Mitzi as we navigated the crowds on Canal Street. Madeline lagged a bit, her lower extremities sore from so much exertion. She glowed as Marcus walked with his arms around her waist.

As we toured the shop, I found myself with each of my friends at different times, looking at the various sex toys. We kissed and fondled as we stood there. We were all alive to the sex in air.

When I had a moment alone with Marcus, I asked if he would mind if Mitzi joined us. He agreed. I asked Madeline, who also thought that would be fine. I told Mitzi the good news.

If this was going to be a late night--as seemed likely--she needed to make a sidetrip home to walk her dog. She offered to meet us later at my place. “Don’t get started without me!” she pleaded.

We made our purchases and ran a few other errands. We hailed a cab for the ride home, having had enough of subway adventures for one day.

As we settled into the cab, I looked at Marcus and Madeline. “Damn, you two are hot,” I said. I couldn’t seem to get over that.

”The three of us are so hot together,” Madeline agreed.

By this point in the weekend, our vocabularies were becoming increasingly diminished, as if all the blood had rushed to our libidos, leaving our intellects pale and shivering. “Hot” had become a favored catch-all adjective, occasionally modified to “so hot” for added emphasis.

Marcus returned calls to clients as we rode home in heavy traffic. I was hard in anticipation of returning to our naked bedroom. Madeline massaged my erection through my jeans.

Not missing a beat in his phone conversation, Marcus pulled out his cock. Madeline jerked him as well, leaning into my ear to mimic his well-rehearsed spiel.

Needless to say, we got started without Mitzi.

Fivesome

When Marcus agreed to come up for part of the weekend, he asked about Franz. Could he possibly join us?

Marcus met Franz at one of my gatherings last summer. The two of them hit it off royally, seemingly unable to stop fucking one another. They were great to watch, Marcus with his dark hair and lean body, Franz with his stunning Aryan good looks.

Franz has been unable to join our gatherings for a while, having retreated into monogamy with a new boyfriend. When that relationship ended, he contacted me with the good news/bad news that he was single again, and eager to return to our parties.

Franz was happy to see Marcus and me again, and planned to join us on Sunday evening.

We were dressed when Mitzi arrived, thinking it might be rude to start off undressed. Our show of good manners lasted only a few moments. Mitzi watched as the three of us undressed, joking and touching each other familiarly.

She took stock of our easy camaraderie. “It’s like you three just got back from summer camp,” she said.

Mitzi soon lay beside me, and we felt the comfortable familiarity that she and I have. She undressed as we kissed. Madeline joined us there.

Marcus answered the door when Franz arrived. Franz stood clothed in the doorway of my bedroom. “Hello, everyone,” he waved.

”Hi Franz!” I exclaimed from my position under Madeline and next to Mitzi. I made introductions; the women waved hello. I got up to kiss him as he undressed. I had genuinely missed him during his months of monogamy.

Marcus had missed him too. “I really need to fuck you,” he told Franz by way of greeting. Franz was happy to have so direct an invitation. He lay back on the bed. Marcus entered him and was soon pumping away.

Madeline was propped on an elbow, watching them. I stood next to Mitzi’s chair and pulled her face up to suck my cock.

I fucked her as she lay back in the chair. Madeline repositioned herself to watch us as well.

I was eager to try out my new silver bullet, with its two vibrating eggs. I pulled out of Mitzi, threw a pillow on the floor, and kneeled before her.

”What are you going to do, Mister J?” Mitzi cooed.

”I’m going to put a vibrator in your ass and another in your cooch as I eat your clit,” I replied.

”Ooh, thank you, that would be nice.”

I proceeded to do just that. Madeline leaned over the side of the bed, watching as I put condoms on the new sex toys.

Madeline had never been with a woman before. She had never been in a threesome with a woman.

Mitzi writhed with the sensation. I sucked her clit, then stopped for a moment.

”Hmmm, Madeline, can you help me out here? My jaw is aching something fierce,” I lied. “I’m just not sure I can finish the job. Can you give me an assist?”

I adjusted the duvet underneath me to make room for her knees.

”Well,” she said. “We can’t leave Mitzi dangling.” Madeline lowered herself to the floor, and put her lips to Mitzi, taking her first taste of another woman.

”Ummmf,” Mitzi moaned. “It’s so nice to see such a pretty girl down there.” Being with a woman is still new to Mitzi as well.

I kissed and massaged Mitzi’s body, looking up to see that Franz was now fucking Marcus. That’s right boys, I thought. Get it out of your system and come help me with the girls.

Madeline’s body was just too tempting to resist. I lay on the floor and, like a mechanic, scooted underneath to get a look at her chassis. I licked and sucked her pussy as she did the same to Mitzi.

When Madeline had cum, I emerged to find Marcus kneeling on the bed, Franz standing behind, about to enter him again. Marcus’s eyes were closed in ecstasy as he leaned his head back on Franz’s shoulder. He was hard.

I lay back on the bed, taking Marcus in my mouth. He fell forward to reciprocate in sucking my cock. From my intimate vantage, I watched as Franz’s cock went into Marcus.

As they fucked above my eyes, Marcus’s balls jostled on my face, Franz’s balls bouncing on his.

I could hear the women’s excitement as they watched us.

We adjusted positions after a while. I thought surely now the boys will join me with Madeline and Mitzi. Nothing doing; they were soon back at their game of tag team ass fucking.

God, I thought. Get a room, boys.

I resigned myself to taking care of the two women.

I fucked Madeline as Mitzi sucked her tits. When she was nearing orgasm, I pulled out to manipulate her g spot with my fingers. I pressed with two fingers, then three. “More,” she moaned. I lubed and three fingers became four. Four became my fist.

Mitzi’s eyes were wide as I fisted Madeline. This was not something we had done.

Of course, she had to try it herself.

When I pulled out of Madeline, I uncorked a rich flow of girl juice. I smeared it on her torso and triumphantly splashed it in the air.

Later, as Madeline put her mouth to work on the boys, Mitzi put her hand to work on Madeline. I watched from a chair as Mitzi’s fingers became acquainted with Madeline’s innards.

Her face lit up as her fist made it in.

”Look at what I’m doing!” she exclaimed. I looked: she was up to her wrist in Madeline.

”Nicely done, Mitzi,” I commended her.

This turned her on tremendously. She retrieved her hand and set to fucking me.

Madeline decided to bring the mountain to Mohammed. She joined the boys as they fucked. Soon she had Franz in her ass.

He came as he fucked her.

When he went to wash up, Madeline gloated, “I got the gay boy to cum with my ass!” She got a high five on that.

Franz showered and dressed. Marcus was eating Madeline when he returned to say goodbye. He looked nice, as if he had a dinner engagement.

Marcus stood and kissed Franz on the cheek, giving him a nice cologne of pussy. The poor fellow went back to wash his face before departing.

With Franz gone, Marcus could return to the rest of us. He was impressed by the fisting action. He held his hand up to Mitzi’s and noted how much smaller her hand was than his. He held a hand to Madeline’s.

”Madeline,” he asked sweetly. “Will you fist me?” The tone in his voice suggested he might well drop to one knee to propose.

”Of course. I’d be honored.” It was a first for each of them. Another in a series of firsts.

I caressed Marcus and held him as she set to work, lubing a hand and working her fingers into him. Mitzi joined me in touching him.

Soon Madeline had her fist in him, pumping gently as he rocked to her motion, moaning.

I caught her eye. Somehow I had felt she was watching me. We smiled at one another.

Lesson

Early in the evening, just after Mitzi’s arrival but before that of Franz, Marcus took inventory of the bruises on Madeline’s ass and legs.

Jefferson, let me ask you something.” He motioned for me to sit near him on the bed. “I want you to spank me on my thigh the way you spank Madeline.”

”You want me to slap your thigh?”

”I want you to give me one spanking, yes.”

I let him have it.

”No, now you see, that’s too hard. That why Madeline has these hematomas. Can I offer you some advice?”

”Of course.”

”Madeline, let me borrow your ass,” he requested.

”Certainly, Marcus,” she replied, backing up on all fours. She arched her back and shook her ass coquettishly before Marcus.

Mitzi, still dressed at this point, cut a glance to me as she watched. She liked where this was going.

”Now, pay attention Jefferson,” Marcus instructed. “You need to do more to bring blood to the surface of the skin before you deliver a hard spanking. There are probably many ways to do that, but this works for me.”

With that, he delivered a quick succession of light but firm spankings to Madeline’s right buttock.

”You see what I mean? Watch again.” Again, his palm whacked away, rapidly but not too hard.

”You mean, like this?” I imitated his spankings on her left buttock. Madeline wriggled and smiled at me.

”Exactly. That way you prepare her flesh for harder slaps. Like this.” He gave her a firm wallop.

”I see. Like this?” I copied him.

”Good! You are a fast learner.” I was about to suggest that Mitzi take a practice run on Madeline’s ass, but something interfered…namely, Marcus burying his face in our target range.

Later, after Franz joined us, came time to put the lesson into practice.

”I think it’s time you fucked me in the ass,” Madeline said, bending over the bed. She just happened to be bending over Mitzi.

I took her up on the offer, putting on a condom and lubing her ass. I was in her and soon going strong, grabbing her hips for more leverage.

”Oh yes, you are fucking me well,” she said.

”You sure talk a lot for someone with a face full of pussy,” I chastised her, pushing her face down between Mitzi’s spread legs.

Mitzi gasped as Madeline got to work. Marcus began to suck Mitzi’s tits, until Franz’s mouth took him away.

I released Madeline’s hips from my grasp. I fucked with my arms dangling at my side.

Yeah, I needed to spank her.

My right hand took to her left buttock in a rapid-fire sequence of blows. I was firm but light, as Marcus had instructed. I gave her right buttock the same.

I kept at it, tenderizing her flesh for what was to come.

She looked back at me. “Now.”

I let loose with hard whacks. Noisy pops echoed in the bedroom. If she pulled back, I pushed down on her neck, telling her to eat that pussy.

She laughed as I spanked her; a prelude to her orgasm.

I chalked one up to expert advice.



Leaving New York

We awoke making love.

It was our last day together. Later that evening, I would leave town on a business trip. Madeline would stay in my apartment for a few days more, on her own.

Our last day was the first sunny day of our long weekend together. Madeline smiled as the sun reached her cheeks through my bedroom window, warming her as we fucked.

The night before, I had served up a late dinner sometime around midnight. Afterwards, I had sex with Mitzi on the couch as Madeline took up with Marcus in the shower.

We were saying goodbye to our company. They left sometime around two.

We retired to bed, happy with the course of the day, sad that we had given away precious time we might have spent alone. Such contradictions played at our emotions.

”Something’s happening here.” My voice cracked as I whispered, holding her close.

She nodded into my neck.

We began to make love, tender and slow. God knows how many times we had been at it that day. This was the first time since yesterday it had been just us.

Madeline and me, in the middle of the night.

I whispered how much I would miss holding her close. I whispered how much I would miss being with her when we talked. I whispered that I wanted to know her boys, that I wanted her to know my children.

She fell to dreams as we made love, speaking softly to another me somewhere in her subconscious. I pulled out and held her, leaving her alone with her dream lover.

The next morning, we picked up where we left off.

That afternoon, we wanted to walk in the park. I had some work to do before my trip, including a final review of my divorce settlement. Each time I reached a good stopping point, I would find that she had nodded off. When she roused, I would be deep in work or in discussions with my lawyer.

We finally got our body clocks in synch. We dressed and walked to the park in the late afternoon sun.

We strolled toward the band shell, turning north to Bethesda Fountain, across Bow Bridge and into the Ramble. We held hands and talked, about the sights, about the weekend, about nothing in particular.

My heart was full. She told me she felt submerged in us, unable, or unwilling, to swim to the surface of her own reality.

We had not eaten all day. I craved comfort food. We sat in my local diner for cheeseburgers. She laughed when she ordered a Coke…so unlike me, she said. The carbonated bubbles made her laugh again.

I packed when we got home. When my bag was waiting by the door, we undressed and kissed on my bed. We were tender.

My hands traveled her body, leading to her wetness. I needed a last taste; she was soon cumming to my mouth and fingers.

”Thank you baby, that was what I needed,” she said. “Now your turn.”

She went down on me, but my cock was soft and disinterested. “Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked, looking up.

”Just hold me until I have to go. I’m stressed, I think, and sad.”

We lay in one another’s arms, talking. She cried. I kissed her tears, tasting my own in the back of my throat.

We knew this part might hurt.

As we lay in my broken bed, we heard a crack below. We laughed that after all the action of the weekend, we had caused another break in the bed frame while laying still.

”The bed can’t bear the weight of our heavy hearts,” I said.

We are quiet for a moment. We giggle.

”Good line,” she laughed. “Which of us will blog it first?”

I got up and dressed. She pulled on her slip to show me out. We embraced at the door, long and slow. I forget what we said. Doesn’t matter.

I left. She stayed. She would be gone when I returned.

My eyes would well later, on the plane. The levee broke as I listened to a band I used to like, thinking of her sleeping alone in my bed.

It’s easier to leave than to be left behind.

What if

Marcus called as I was approaching the security check on my way to the gate.

”Can you talk? Do you have a minute?”

”I will in a few, once I get past security. I’ll call you back in a sec.” I hung up and dropped my phone, shoes and belt into a plastic tray. All were x-rayed as I crossed through the metal detector.

The phone was ringing as it came out of the scanner.

”Marcus?”

”What did you say?”

”I said I would call you back. Can you give me a moment to get my shoes on?” I closed the phone. I slipped on my shoes, put my belt through its loops, put on my jacket, and hoisted my bag to my shoulder.

The phone rang.

”Marcus . . .”

’Why do you keep hanging up on me?”

”Marcus, I’m not hanging up on you, I’m . . . oh, fuck it, let’s talk.”

”Is now a good time?”

”As good as any, until my plane leaves.”

”Okay, good. So what did you think?”

”Wow, it was pretty amazing Marcus. I mean, you saw what it was like when you were there . . .”

”And that was okay? You’re sure I wasn’t interfering, or being too intense, or . . .”

”You were fine, Marcus. She thought so too. We talked about it a lot today.”

”You did? What did she say about me?”

”She likes it that you and I are so loving with one another. And she thought that we are one hot threesome.”

”We are. But that’s about us. What did she say about me?”

”About you specifically? Oh, I don’t know . . . she thought you were very sexy, very funny.”

”Okay, good. You know I need to make this about me! Now what about you? What are you feeling?”

”Um . . . very content, very relieved, very excited about this.”

”Where do you think it will go?”

”I have no idea. I mean, I can try to be content if this was a unique encounter, or if we meet every now and then, as time and money allow . . .”

”But is that what you want?”

”Well, no, I don’t want it to be a unique event. I want to see more of her, you know, in the flesh, not just on web cams. If we lived in the same town, we would definitely be dating. No question.”

”Do you see a future with her?”

”You mean a ‘future’ future? Marcus, it’s premature to even think along those lines.”

But of course, I have been.

”I mean, yes, it is conceivable that we could wind up together. I mean, logistically conceivable. I can’t leave New York, as my kids need to be near their mother. She likes living where she lives, but she is not bound there by a custody agreement. So if it came to that, I suppose, yes, it might be possible for us to be together if she could move to New York with her kids. In theory.”

”Is that what you want?”

”What I want is to be able to process my thoughts about this weekend without you asking me to make wedding arrangements, please.”

”I’d be the best man, though, right?”

”Yes, and we’d take you on the honeymoon too.”

”Of course! I know you don’t know much now, I just wanted to see what kind of future you see.”

”I see myself getting on to a plane in twenty minutes. Beyond that, who knows?”

”Now, here’s my follow up. Let me ask you something.”

”Yes?”

”What happens if I fall in love with her first?”

”Marcus . . .”

”Now, hear me out. You know, you don’t meet someone like her very often. I know I don’t. She is really . . . unique.”

”That she is. But sweetie, you’ve only known her for twenty-four hours!”

”Well, forty eight, since I left you guys yesterday. Plus the time I spent reading her blog, I think you have to count that.

”All in all, it was a pretty intense immersion, and it just felt so comfortable, right from the beginning. You had had time to get to know her a bit, and of course you and I have a long history, and that helped for the three of us to gel . . . but I don’t know, I think she and I connected as well.”

”I’m sure you did. You both hit it off really well.”

”Did that bother you?”

”No, no. I don’t mean to say that sparks flew between you like that. It’s just that you got along well, as I hoped you would. I don’t see it as a problem in my relationship with her.”

”Am I being ridiculous about being attracted to her?”

”If you weren’t attracted to her, I’d call the morgue to pick you up. Because you would have to be dead.”

”So what am I supposed to do?”

”Well, by all means, keep in touch with her. It’s cool if you have both found a new friendship in one another. But I think that after a few days, and a few cold showers, you’ll come to your senses. This was one hell of a hot weekend…I really hope we do it again. But I don’t think you are in real danger of falling in love with my online girlfriend.”

”I guess you’re right. It was one hot weekend. Thanks again for making me a part of it.”

”Thanks for coming up, honey. It was good to see you, in addition to all the fine sex.”

”You too baby. Get on your plane. I love you.”

”I love you, Marcus. Let’s talk when I’m back.”

Time for one quick call.

”Hi Madeline.”

”Hi baby. Are you on your way?”

”Almost. Just wanted to check in with you again. I can’t believe this was real.”

”It was real.”

”It was really real.”

”You said some very sweet things to me last night. I was just trying to recall them all.”

Don’t strain your brain too much. I’ll probably repeat them at some point. I’m a little redundant at times.”

”Me too. So keep in touch as best you can when you are away.”

”I’ll do what I can, and we’ll talk more when I return.”

We paused, anticipating that we were soon back to our relationship of web cams, cell phones and blogs.

”How the hell am I going to blog this?”

”Beats me. My mind is reeling.”

We were quiet for a moment. One day, this might be the part of a conversation where we would routinely swap ‘I love you.’ But we know better than to rush that.

She reverted to the next best thing.

”You hang up first.”

”No, you hang up first.”

”I said it first.”

That doesn’t mean I have to do it first!

Yes it does. That’s how it works.

Okay, fine! One . . . two . . .”

Click.

Three.