Chapter 11
It soon became obvious that the new living arrangements had benefits for everyone. Wiffie found that she could now spend all her waking hours with one or both of the men who meant most to her-Peter, who was like a kindly big brother in some ways and a beautifully tender lover in others, and Hamp, whose burning adolescent love touched her deeply, and who, if his abilities as a lover were not quite on a par with Peter's, made up in enthusiasm for his lack of finesse and penis size.
For Peter and Hamp, the new arrangement meant a cut in rent. They split the cost of the apartment down the middle, and now each had more money to spend on the finer things in life-paints, paperback sex manuals, flowers for Wiffie, and so forth. And the young men chipped in to buy a pair of surplus Army cots to make their nights more comfortable. In short, it wasn't long before the tangible benefits of threesome living had made Peter and Hamp quite happy with one another; and Wiffie, who cared so very much for both men, was happiest of all.
The lack of privacy was irritating only in the evenings, when all three were usually at home. During the week, Hampton worked; this gave Peter and Wiffie opportunities to be together so that Peter could paint his epidermal masterpieces and share physical communion with his beloved canvas. And three days a week-Monday, Wednesday and Friday for three hours in the morning-Peter went to the Upper West Side Institute of Art; he had decided to spend some of his rent savings on a traditional art course, so he would be able to incorporate classical techniques of painting. Sometimes when Peter was off at school. Hamp would go to work a few hours late, using a dental or doctor's appointment, or oversleeping, as an excuse, or would call in sick and spend the whole morning with Wiffie, leaving a few minutes before Peter was due to return. Hamp did this fairly often; Wiffie's body had more attraction for him than a morning spent at the office.
Neither man knew of the other's intimate activities with Wiffie, of course. Hamp had no knowledge of the artist's painting and pronging habits, and Peter didn't know that Hamp was remaining in the apartment all those mornings. It was a delightful arrangement or Wiffie, who found herself being stimulated and satisfied more times than she could count, and who found herself excited by the little secret she kept from her two lovers. And, thanks to a prescription for birth control pills that she had obtained at a public clinic, she had no worries about pregnancy to cast a pall over her sexual paradise.
On one typical Wednesday morning, Hamp called the Anti-Smut Society's offices and told his boss that his ulcer was acting up again, and that he had to see his doctor. "For Christ's sake!" the man muttered. But he refrained from saying anything more; the Society could hardly expect time-clock punctuality for sixty-five dollars a week, and Hamp was the best clerk they'd ever employed; he took an unusual interest in his work.
Hamp waited in a luncheonette on the corner until he saw Peter walk toward the subway stop a block away. He then gulped his coffee and returned to the apartment, where Wiffie greeted him with a hug and took his jacket.
"Kiss me," she said unashamedly. She opened her lips and waited for him to part them further with his tongue. He pressed his mouth to hers, and in a moment his hands were under her blouse, un-snapping her bra and moving around to cup her breasts. As he squeezed the nipples between his fingers, she arched her back and pressed her hips to his groin. Seconds later, he was unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and unbuckling his belt with the other, then yanking off his tie, undoing the collar button and flinging the shirt onto a chair as he let his pants drop to the floor and stepped out of them. Kicking off his loafers, he stood in T-shirt, shorts and socks as he watched Wiffie slip her clothes off. He was pleased to see that she wore bikini panties, they excited him. It always made him feel particularly loved when she wore something that turned him on.
They went to her bed together, Hamp shedding his T-shirt on the way and tossing it onto one of the cots across the room. Wiffie sat on the edge of the bed and took the elastic of his shorts in both hands, then pulled downward until his penis popped forth and stood twitching.
Hamp climbed onto the bed and lay on his back, looking past his prick to Wiffie's head as she bent over his feet, removing his briefs, then his socks, rolling them neatly and passing the bundle to him to place on the nightstand. He closed his eyes as he felt her lips kissing their way up his hairy legs. When she reached his groin, she circumvented his penis and moved to kiss his belly, at the same time bringing her arms close together to clasp his prick between her breasts.
Hamp reached down and tickled her behind one ear. He sighed softly as he felt her lips moving down his abdomen, burying themselves in his pubic hair and then settling on the end of his cock. He felt her tongue dart lightly over the sensitive glans; she then flicked the prick's underside gently with the moist end of her tongue and sent shivers of excitement up and down his body.
"Wiffie," he whispered. She responded by sliding her tongue along the underside of his penis, moistening the entire length of the organ with her saliva and making it grow even more swollen and hard.
She removed her mouth from his prick at last, and moved up on his body, kissing him and letting her tongue dart deep into his mouth. He responded in kind, his tongue brushing across her teeth and meeting hers in the wet cavern. He shuddered with ecstasy when he felt her move her hips toward his and press her slick vulva to his throbbing prick. He pushed up slightly, and she did not resist.
"Put it in me," she whispered and he let the head of his penis slip a tiny way into her waiting cunt, then fall out.
A moment later, Wiffie moved into a squatting position. She reached down and took the shaft of his organ in her hand, guided it to her crotch and lowered her body slightly till it was once more resting in the proper place. "Put it in," she told Hamp. But she giggled and pulled back slightly when he tried to raise his hips and shove the organ home.
She tormented him that way for a while, but the torment was filled with pleasure. He didn't protest when she surrounded the prick's head with her wet love lips, then moved upward once more, and down again, all the while touching and letting go of his organ and tickling him beneath the balls, occasionally running her fingers through the curls of his pubic hair and on up his body to rest on his nipples and tickle them to hardness.
At last the excitement became unbearable for Hamp. He grabbed her hips in both hands and shoved her down on his penis, simultaneously lifting his buttocks off the bed and pressing his organ as deep into her as he could make it go. A gasp escaped his lungs and burst from his lips, and in a moment it was replaced by a shuddering groan. Wiffie curled her torso forward and plunged her tongue into his open, gasping mouth, and Hamp grunted as he sucked it and plunged his prick up, then down and back up again in the sweet, gentle grip of her vagina.
When Hamp began to shudder uncontrollably, Wiffie's body started to stiffen and quiver too. She leaned back and grasped the base of Hamp's penis with her fingers, at the same time begging him to hold her breasts. He obeyed, grasping the hard-tipped mounds with both hands and squeezing the nipples between his shaking fingers. And with that, Hamp and Wiffie began to come.
Wiffie's contractions came first. An involuntary squeezing spasm seized her cunt, and held Hamp's prick tight. Soon the squeezing gave way to powerful writhing of pleasure, and Hamp responded by leaking a small quantity of semen into her hole.
"Rotate," he managed to gasp. Wiffie immediately lifted her hips higher and brought her butt down again in a curving, twisting thrust. Hamp shuddered, and Wiffie shuddered even more; she continued to rotate her hips as both she and Hamp moved up and down in rhythm.
Wiffie cried out her joy, and Hamp suddenly dropped his hands from her breasts and seized her thighs, holding them just below the buttocks and lifting Wiffie's ass and crotch up and down as he fucked her in a rhythm of uncontrollable lust.
The bulk of Hamp's fluid began to squirt forth in a fountain of ecstasy, the pressure of it forcing the sticky mass up through Wiffie's cervix and into her spasm-racked womb. She threw her torso forward, flinging herself flat on Hamp's body and sinking her teeth into his shoulder, pulling her thighs tight around his in an effort to keep his shrinking organ in her cunt.
They lay there breathing heavily, kissing and stroking one another, telling each other how nice it had been. Then they slipped off to sleep together, thoroughly satisfied, but knowing that they would want to do it again when they awoke.
It was almost eleven when Hamp woke up. He shook Wiffie's shoulders and tickled the hairs of her cunt. "Wake up!" he told her. "We've only got a half-hour."
"Peter won't be back till almost noon," Wiffie said sleepily. "Can't we make it forty-five minutes?"
"We can't take any chances," Hamp insisted.
"Oh, don't be silly. Peter's never on time anyway."
The argument soon gave way to mutual excitement, as Hamp's fingers entangled themselves in Wiffie's love-fur, and Wiffie's responded with a gentle caressing of his cock. Soon Hamp was hard and ready; Wiffie too was moist and perfumey with readiness, and after an extended bout of fellatio and cunnilingus, they moved from the sixty-nine position and lay side by side, breast to chest, pressing eagerly against each other. Wiffie raised her left leg slightly, and Hamp slipped his stiffened member into her waiting vagina, with Wiffie moving partway over him to make the job easier. When he was in, she brought her legs together and held his cock and balls in the darkened chapel of her cunt and thighs.
They fucked the way for a long while; it was a leisurely screw, with neither in a hurry to bring on the final climax, preferring instead to draw out the pleasure as much as possible. They lay with eyes closed, hearing nothing but the sound of each other's breathing, smelling only the sweet secretions of physical love.
Neither noticed when Peter quietly opened the door of the apartment and stepped inside.
Peter's first impulse, when he heard the creak of bedsprings and saw Hamp's clothes scattered all over the apartment, was to slam the door and shock them out of their passionate embrace. But on second thought, what was the point? Instead, he closed the door slowly, as silently as he could. He removed his shoes and tiptoed to where he could peek into the living alcove.
What he saw did not please him. He saw Wiffie's buttocks, slightly spread and moving sinuously; lying against her was Hamp, his arms wrapped about the girl, rhythmically stroking the cheeks of her ass.
Peter didn't know what to do. Should he interrupt them after all, or should he just steal quietly from the apartment, or ... No, he had no idea what to do. He sat down on a camp stool, where Wiffie and Hamp couldn't see him even if they stirred from their leisurely passion. He put his head in his hands and tried to keep the tears from flooding his eyes.
To think that Wiffie was balling with Hamp! Still, it wasn't altogether surprising. After all, it was Hamp who had made her pregnant, and she loved him as much as she did Peter. Perhaps in some ways she loved Hamp more.
Peter was annoyed at first by the gentle creaking of springs from the sleeping alcove. But before long he found himself becoming aroused; his prick was swelling fast, pressing painfully against his thigh in the prison of his too-tight Levis. When the discomfort became acute, he let his hand move down to his fly. He opened the zipper and pulled the penis toward the front of his undershorts, keeping it inside the thin cotton. Slowly, almost with shame, he began to caress the prick through the shorts, pressing and stroking it in rhythm to the creaking from the next room.
When the sound grew faster and louder, Peter tried to bring himself to climax, but found that the semen simply would not come forth. Frustrated, he leapt from the camp stool and went toward the alcove, leaning against the wall and peering around it, at the same time pressing harder on his penis and jerking it more rapidly, in an effort to combine visual and physical stimuli to make the fluid flow.
Again, he found himself coming almost to the point of climax but no further. Damn it! It was like being impotent, almost; and it was the fault of Hampton and Wiffie, fucking on the creaking bed, that he felt this way. It seemed so childish and inadequate, engaging in self-abuse when his darling Wiffie was screwing with another man just a few feet away.
Suddenly the anger and frustration were more than he could bear. He moved from the wall and into the alcove. Hamp's eyes widened when he saw Peter, but he and Wiffie were too far gone to break off.
Peter moved close to the bed and aimed his swollen prick at Wiffie's head. He gritted his teeth and squeezed the muscles of his bladder, forcing a trickle of urine into the urethra. And then the piss broke loose.
He let the yellow liquid spray onto Wiffie's hair, then down her back to her buttocks, where it beat noisily against the twin globes. He stepped closer then, and aimed his prick like a fire hose nozzle, shooting at Hamp this time. He directed the golden stream on Hamp's hips and shoulders and face, causing Hamp to shut his eyes and open his mouth in protest, then close the mouth abruptly when the piss hit his tongue.
Wiffie let loose a cry then, and Hamp plunged his cock deeper into her cunt; and as the two of them reached the height of mutual climax, Peter's hot urine fell fountain-like on them, raining down until it subsided, as they subsided, to a dribble of pungent, staining piss.
When the three of them were finished, Hamp opened his eyes and stared at Peter. Peter stared back. Wiffie sighed and snuggled closer to Hamp's chest, then turned over and smiled at the artist.
"Thank you," she said to Peter. Then she turned back to Hamp and kissed him on the lips. "And thank you.
Peter went into the bathroom, and as Wiffie lay beside him, Hamp mentally shrugged his shoulders. He wondered why he was filled more with surprise than with disgust.