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Three by Three

Copyright © 2016 by Tanya Chris (

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

Table of Contents


The New Guy



Thank You!


Two guys, early twenties, best friends and roommates, seek an adventurous woman for mutually satisfying threesome. Age, race not important. Just be willing to be pleased. We know what we’re doing!

Reading the ad made Callie’s heart pound. Never mind responding to it, never mind going through with anything. Just contemplating the words felt like standing on the edge of a precipice. Reality lay somewhere far away, a hard surface into which she’d eventually slam, not relevant in this moment of jumping off.

Below the text of the ad, a link waited to be clicked. A link that said Reply. She couldn’t reply to an ad like that, could she? Could she?

She really couldn’t. Callie closed the lid on her laptop and slid it off her lap onto the coffee table. She brought her hand to her pussy which dripped and begged from reading the ad, from pretending she might answer it.

Fantasy was good enough. Fantasy would have to do.


Two guys, early twenties, best friends and roommates, seek an adventurous woman for mutually satisfying threesome. Age, race not important. Just be willing to be pleased. We know what we’re doing!

The ad was there every week. Callie wondered if they ever got any responses to it. Her heart gave a little pang every time she saw the familiar words. She knew how it felt to not get any attention. Those two months she’d spent on CoupleMe, she’d been invisible to all but the worst players. Her pictures weren’t the sort to make men take notice.

She wasn’t so bad looking, she thought. She just had one of those bodies that looked better without clothes than with, and something about her smile always seemed off in photographs. And she wasn’t beautiful. She really wasn’t. And now she was over-the-hill, at least by online dating standards.

Still plenty of life left in her, though. Still plenty she wanted to try.

Like this.

Her obsession with having two guys at once had started in college. She’d been a little tipsy one night and had gone home with a dark-haired man with dark eyes and a dark accent, the kind of guy she always gravitated towards when she drank—dangerous looking, but actually very considerate. Amir, his name had been. The sex had been going well, the two of them tangled up in the sheets of his narrow bed doing the usual things to each other. She had her mouth on Amir’s dick, his hands steering her head a little too roughly, her ass up in the air as she crouched over him, when the door to his dorm room opened.

Callie had looked over her shoulder, startled and mortified, to find another dark-haired man frozen in the doorway. His features were hard to make out, backlit as he’d been by the light streaming in from the hallway, but his mouth was clearly open in lust-fueled astonishment as he stared at her raised ass, at her pussy gaping below it. And the thought had speared straight through Callie: he could unzip his fly and walk over and stick his cock right into her. Just like that.

He hadn’t.

He’d mumbled sorry and backed up a step and closed the door. Amir had grumbled, “Fuck, where were we?” and Callie had taken his dick back into her mouth and gone on sucking him like nothing had changed, but the fantasy didn’t stop playing out. As she and Amir rotated from position to position, she mentally added the roommate into each scenario. The result was the first orgasm she’d ever had with another person present. Apparently what she’d needed was to have two people present.

Despite some (probably obvious) maneuverings on Callie’s part, no threesome had ever happened. She’d dated Amir a lot longer than he’d been worth because whenever they fooled around she had those flashes of fantasy, but outside of the fantasy Amir was dull and ordinary and his roommate kept his distance.

She’d never come any closer to having a threesome, but she’d never stopped fantasizing about it either.

Too late now, though. If she’d wanted to get wild, she should have done it in her wild years. Two guys in their early twenties might be looking for someone, but they weren’t looking for her.


Two guys, early twenties, best friends and roommates, seek an adventurous woman for mutually satisfying threesome. Age, race not important. Just be willing to be pleased. We know what we’re doing!

It was like they were begging her to respond, like they were calling directly to her and there she was—week after week—ignoring them. It wasn’t humane. Callie was really a very nice person, the kind of person who remembered birthdays and held doors open. She couldn’t just ignore someone. She should reply to their ad, just so they knew they weren’t invisible. It didn’t mean she’d meet them.

Besides, looking at the link below their ad no longer made her heart pound. It was wearing off, the pretending. For the fantasy to keep working, she needed to push it further.

She clicked Reply, her heart jumping up into her throat as though the button were a portal into their bedroom. A box popped up, the cursor blinking slowly in the top, left corner of an empty white space. Well, hell. She hadn’t thought about this part, about what she’d say.

She clicked the X in the upper, right corner. The box went away. She was left looking at the ad, at the Reply button. She clicked the Reply button again. The box came back. It wasn’t so scary. She could type in a box.

Hi. I just wanted you to know that I saw your ad and you seem like nice guys. I’m probably not what you’re looking for, but I hope you find it.

Callie moved her mouse over the Send button, teasing herself with it. She imagined their excitement when they saw they’d received a reply. She imagined them replying back. She slid her hand under the laptop. She stroked herself with one hand while she hovered the cursor over the Send button with the other, and when she was almost there she clicked it. The resulting orgasm was amazing.

Oh, God. Oh, God. What if they didn’t answer her? But what if they did? Oh, God. Oh, God.


Emails don’t bite, Callie reminded herself. She could open it and read it. If it was rude or mean, she could delete it. If there were pictures of a stranger’s dick attached, she didn’t have to look at them. Unless she wanted to. Maybe she wanted to. Something was attached because she could see the paperclip icon next to the subject line.

Hello there! Thanks for answering our ad. My name is Braylin and my friend goes by Pax. Here are some pictures of us. We’d be happy to tell you anything about us. What part of the City are you in? Do you have Kik? Send me your user name, please? We can chat. Please write back again. Bray

Now that the email was open, she couldn’t not click on the pictures. There were two, one titled Braylin and one titled Pax. Braylin seemed too nice to send a stranger a photo of his anatomy, so she started with that one. It popped up on her screen to show most of a man, mostly dressed. The photo cut off the top half of his face, revealing only a sharp nose and a sharper chin shadowed with a shortly-trimmed, light-brown beard. Between nose and chin, a happy grin full of straight, white teeth. Even though Callie couldn’t see his eyes, she imagined them smiling from behind wire rim glasses.

Braylin was tall and lean. He was bare-chested but wearing a pair of cargo shorts and appeared to have been caught in the middle of a skateboard trick, his lower legs kicked up, the edge of the skateboard a blur beneath him. How old was he again? Did twenty-somethings play with skateboards or was this a really old picture? Fun but frivolous, that was Callie’s ruling on Braylin.

Pax didn’t look fun. Pax looked dangerous. His photo showed his whole face, but profiled and shadowed, a brooding artsy shot of a man looking off into the distance, a strong forearm curved around his bent knee, his white t-shirt clinging to a long line of torso. The photo seemed almost to be black and white, so dark was his hair, so white was his shirt. His features were sepia-toned and soft, like a dark angel. A dark, unhappy angel.

Braylin’s photo said, “We’re going to have a really good time.” Pax’s photo said, “I need some pleasure in my life.”

Callie didn’t know which guy she wanted more. But she didn’t have to choose. That was crazy. Both guys. Both for her.

She closed the photos and archived the email. Wishful thinking. She couldn’t tell them which part of the City she lived in, because she didn’t live in the City. She couldn’t send her Kik user name because she didn’t even know what Kik was. Some app kids used, probably. Kids who played on skateboards. Hipsters who lived in the City. Silly Callie, Kiks are for kids.

But now when she fantasized, the men in her fantasies took on a different appearance. Instead of those two guys from twenty years ago—the two who looked so similar they could have been brothers, who’d become brothers in her fevered (and sick) imagination—instead of them, she now had Pax and Braylin. She had to fill in the parts she couldn’t see in the photos, so she gave Braylin a wild tangle of blond curls to match his surfer boy vibe and colored Pax’s eyes in a dark shade of brown, sepia-toned like the rest of him.

At night, they came to her, one young, lean body stretched out on each side of her, stroking and sliding their smooth skin against hers, their breath hot and untamed in her ears. Her hands played the role of their hands, running up and down her abdomen, her chest, into the damp shadow between her legs. They wanted her so much, couldn’t keep their hands off her, couldn’t stop the teasing, tormenting attention. All for her. And then her vibrator was Braylin’s cock and her fingers were Pax’s and there was one in her pussy and one in her mouth and then there was one in her pussy and one in her ass, and when she came it seemed her orgasm was doubled because there were two people giving it to her.

“You ever do any online dating?” she asked her friend Maria. Maria was married now, but she hadn’t always been.

“Sure. Who hasn’t?”

“Ever do any of that, you know, the casual stuff?”

“Like set my profile to no strings attached?”

Callie was talking about a whole worse kind of website than that, but she nodded anyway.

“Tried it once,” Maria said, “for like a day. Never got so many emails in my life. I ended up mass deleting them.”

“You didn’t meet any of the guys?”

“Are you kidding me? You should’ve seen the kind of shit I got. I’d have been crazy to meet any of those guys. Better a bar if you’ve got some kind of itch that has to be scratched. Those no-strings guys are absolute psychos. At least in a bar you can see if he’s cute.”

“Cute doesn’t make you not a psycho.”

“No, but cute is cute.” Maria eyed Callie over her water bottle. “You trying to get laid? There’s gotta be a better way.”

“Oh, no,” Callie lied. “Just wondering.”

Maria’s look made it clear she wasn’t fooled. “I tell you about Lou’s brother?”

“Yes, Maria. You’ve been trying to set me up with Lou’s brother since you met Lou.”

“So you could say yes one of these times. Where’s the harm?”

“You forget you showed me a picture. Cute is cute, remember?”

Maria rolled her eyes and picked up her sandwich. “I can’t argue with that.”


Well, Kik was free. She had a smartphone. There was no reason she couldn’t install a free app on it and set herself up with a user name. There was no sense in settling into middle age like it was a fixed condition, like further growth wasn’t possible. She didn’t have to use Kik just because she had it installed. It could be there, just in case. Maybe she and Maria could use it to talk to each other. They usually just texted. Or called. But they could try something new.

Callie spent a long time agonizing over her user name. Normally she’d use some combination of her first and last name, but not if she were going to use the app to talk to Braylin and Pax. Should she even tell them her first name was Callie? Were those their real names? Braylin and Pax—so hipster they couldn’t be real.

Finally she entered CallaLily with a rush of sentimentality, remembering the days when she used to chat online with that name. It was AIM back then and she’d been tethered to the computer in her bedroom. The name was close enough to her own to not feel like lying, far enough off for wiggle room. Her actual name might be anything.

The time that elapsed between completing her registration and sending her new user name to Braylin was too short to be measurable. She had to do it before she thought better of it.

The time that elapsed between her emailing Braylin and the first notification ping from Kik was measured in nervous ticks of her pulse as she sat, phone in hand, as though he might have been waiting for her message, as though he might drop everything to answer her.

Her phone buzzed as it pinged, the combined stimulus making her jump. She had a message from a ALittlePriest. Really? A Little Priest? She got the reference—it was a song from the musical Sweeney Todd, a song about cannibalism. What the hell kind of name was that?

Hey, the message read, it’s Braylin and Pax.

Which one? she asked.

Both. This is the account we use for - you know.

But which one of you is typing now?

We’re both here now. This is Pax, the last message was Braylin. You’ll get so you can tell us apart in time.

Callie stared at her phone screen. Freaked out, mute, shy, embarrassed. She didn’t even know what she was feeling and she sure didn’t know what to write back.

Did we lose you already? one of them asked.

No, I’m here.

Good. We want to get to know you. What’s your name?

She guessed that the first message came from Pax. He was the insecure one. The second one came from Braylin. He was the cheerleader.

You don’t have to tell us your real name if it makes you uncomfortable. Just give us something to call you.

Are those your real names? she asked

Braylin, yes. Pax isn’t, but it’s what I go by. I hate my real name.

What’s wrong with your real name?

It’s also a term for a certain portion of the male anatomy. Endless grief.

A second message followed that quickly, conveying a tone of familiar teasing: He’s sensitive like that.

How long have you two known each other?

About five years.

And how long have you been - you know?

About that long. Pax has always had a little trouble getting his own women.

Fuck you.

She assumed the rejoinder came from Pax

So one night I’m going at it in our dorm room and Pax somehow doesn’t see the sock on the doorknob.

I was drunk.

But the girl riding me wasn’t fazed– just invited him to join us.

Oh God, it was exactly what had happened to her, except that woman had been brave enough to ask for what she wanted.

I didn’t hear you objecting, Pax replied.

It was great. Best sex I’d ever had.

Aw. You know it, dude.

Callie smiled at them, talking to each other through Kik though for all she knew they were in the same room. They were adorable. They were also complete, an entity that spoke with one user name, that didn’t need her.

Do you guys do it with each other?

No way. We’re not gay, one of them replied quickly.

We need a woman in the middle. That’s what makes the magic. We need you, the other added.

Will you tell us your name? Just start there.

Callie. Before she knew it, the truth came out. It wasn’t like she’d given them her address. What about your user name? she added. Should I be concerned you’re going to eat me?

Ha ha. Not in a bad way!

Before she could respond, a second message followed the first: I can’t believe you even got that reference. Usually people assume we’ve got some kind of Catholic schoolgirl hang-up. Or worse – pedophilia. Pax is a major Broadway queen. That’s why.

So I’ve got a thing for guys with knives.

Pax might be a little bit bi.

Not for you, dude.

Are you guys sure you need a third person at all? Callie asked, watching their back and forth. You seem pretty solid with each other.

See, this is what happens when you start perving on me, Pax. Now make nice with her.

We need you, Pax responded. Trust me. We really, really want you. Stay and talk to us. You’ll like us once you get to know us.

Callie already did like them, that was the trouble.

You don’t have to share a user name at all, she typed. Why not each use your own?

Because we are one.

And I’ll be assimilated?

OMG, did you just make a Borg reference?

Didn’t you?

Yeah, but no one picks up on that shit. You put stars in Pax’s eyes when you got the Sweeney Todd reference and now you’re knocking it out of the park with me. You’re like the perfect woman for us, Callie. Please say you’ll play with us.

Just meet us, Pax added. Please?


I could meet you, she typed, her fingers dragging slowly over the letters, afraid to finish the sentence. Then she pressed the backspace key enough times to make the message disappear and instead she typed, I’ll think about it. I can’t talk anymore right now. She kept her eyes on her phone until their pleading goodbyes stopped, not responding to any of them. This was a dangerous game. She’d come much too close to saying yes.


They were like a drug. She would promise herself she was really done this time and then, intending only to re-read old messages, she’d open the app. Somehow one of the messages would provoke a response and they’d be off again, messaging back and forth all day, their talk getting dirtier, until Pax—it was always Pax—would start pushing for more: a photo, a phone call, a meeting. Then Callie would make up an excuse for why she couldn’t talk anymore, or simply stop responding, and the conversation would languish again.

Then one day it was only Braylin.

Where’s Pax, she asked when it became apparent that only Braylin was responding.

Braylin made a joking reference to something she’d said a few messages ago and she went with it. Without Pax, the conversation remained PG and low pressure. She ought to appreciate it, but she didn’t. After a few days of back and forth between her and Braylin, she asked the question again: So where is he?

It took at least a minute for Braylin to decide to answer her question, but finally he did: He doesn’t believe in you anymore.

Like I’m the Easter Bunny?

Like you’re either a guy or you’re a woman with no intention of ever meeting us. But probably a guy.

People do that?

Sure. Some old dude getting off on talking to a couple of hot young guys, playing out a fantasy in his head that’s not ever going to happen in real life.

Are you sure you wouldn’t be just as happy with a man for a third?

If we wanted a man, we wouldn’t have to jump through all these hoops to get one. Trust me on that.

Callie pondered what Braylin had told her, feeling guilty. She wasn’t a guy, but Pax was right. She probably wasn’t ever going to meet them. Even the word probably was a stretch. Not since that very first conversation when she’d typed out the words and almost pressed Send had she seriously considered a face to face meeting.

Why haven’t you given up on me? she asked Braylin.

I sort of have, but I don’t mind talking to you. You’re entertaining, whoever you are. Pax has a hard time being objective. He wants it so bad. When it doesn’t happen, it’s kind of crushing.

You still there? he asked, after a minute.

I feel terrible, she answered. I really am a woman but I never meant for it to go that far. I’m sorry I hurt Pax.

Why can’t it go that far? I know it makes you hot talking about it. Why not do it?

Callie sighed. If she told the truth, she’d lose both Braylin and Pax and the erotic interlude they’d shared, but she owed them the truth. She’d been careless, treating them like they weren’t people with real feelings. The thought of poor, sensitive Pax having his hopes crushed made her hate herself.

I’m a lot older than I told you.

How old?

Thirty-nine. Really. I know that sounds like another lie.

Thirty-nine isn’t too old.

And I’m not hot. That’s why I’ve never sent a picture. I didn’t want to send you a fake picture, but if you ever saw a real one…She didn’t finish the thought. If they’d ever seen a real picture, it would have been the end of having two young men at her beck and call, however virtual it had been.

That’s why I never lost faith in you completely, Braylin replied. It’s really easy for people who are putting us on to send a fake photo. They always do. As soon as we get photos of some bombshell nineteen year old blonde, we know we’re being catfished. Real women are hot, Callie, just for being real. Will you send me a photo?

There was nothing to lose now. It was all out in the open. Still, she hesitated.

Here, he wrote. Some more of me. I know that first one didn’t show my whole face.

There followed a string of photos, Braylin smiling the same cheerful grin in all of them as he raised a bottle of beer or spun a basketball on his finger or reclined, bathing suit low on his hips, on a deck chair by a pool. Then, in the last photo, both of them. Braylin’s arm was around Pax’s shoulders and in this photo they both smiled, their heads tilted towards each other, the glasses clasped in their hands and the goofy grins suggesting they’d had a bit much to drink. Braylin’s hair was darker than the bright blond she’d imagined, and Pax was less dark, less brooding in this photo, but there was no mistaking her boys.

It’s nice to see Pax looking happy, she responded.

You could make him happier.

With trembling fingers, Callie searched out a photo of herself on her phone. A friend had posted it to Facebook recently. She’d been pleased with it at the time, which wasn’t her usual reaction to photos of herself, but now she looked at it with a more critical eye. Thirty-nine didn’t look so old to her these days, but she remembered how old it had looked when she was twenty-three. And the ponytail her brown hair was pulled back in was so severe.

Despite all that, it was the best photo she had that was at all recent, so she attached it to a message and pressed Send.

Hang on, Braylin wrote back.

He was gone so long, Callie put her phone away, disgusted and discouraged. What had she thought would happen? But even with her phone tucked into the very depths of her purse, she could still hear the distinctive bing of a message being received. The summons was impossible to ignore.

Sorry, was just showing it to Pax.

What did he think?

First off, you’re beautiful. Sorry, should have said that before I disappeared. Thanks for trusting me with your photo. Really.

OK, but. There was clearly a but coming. Braylin might be giving lip service to her supposed beauty, but he was also dropping the ax on her.

But Pax still won’t come and chat to you. Woman or not, he still thinks you’ve been dicking us around.

I have, Callie admitted. I’m sorry.

OK, but now we got the picture thing out of the way, so why not meet us?

It’s too…


Crazy. She quickly followed that with a second message. I know you do it all the time, but crazy for me, I mean.

Urgh. We don’t do it all the time. I wish we did. It’s fucking impossible. Maybe Pax is right. We should stop trying.

Callie blinked at her phone. It wasn’t her fault no one would play with them the way they wanted. The problem was that what they wanted was too wild to do on purpose. A woman needed to be drunk to jump into a situation like that. She said as much to Braylin and he answered back, yeah, because that’s what we want - to take advantage of drunk women, and then she felt even worse.

I’m sorry, she said, and he answered back, Not your fault, even though it partly was, and they left it at that. Callie hadn’t meant to be cruel, but she had been. The only fair thing to do was leave them alone.


Except she couldn’t get them out of her mind. During the day she went about her business—running errands, going to work, meeting Maria for lunch, going to sleep alone.

On Friday she had a date, someone she’d been set up with. He was paunchy and balding and had the idea that he was doing her a favor by having dinner with her. At her car after, he hulked over her, angling relentlessly for a kiss or a second date.

Back home, she changed into pajamas and brushed her teeth to rid her mouth of even the possibility of him. She pulled her laptop onto her lap and found herself browsing the personal ads again—not the nice ads that men with paunches and balding heads who took you to dinner wrote. The ones that men like Braylin and Pax wrote. Men looking for women who were looking for men.

There was a fresh copy of Braylin and Pax’s ad out there, the same wording she’d responded to weeks ago. She wondered if Pax had agreed to post it again or if he were really done now. She could create a new email account and respond, pretend to be someone else, see if Pax would talk to her, disappoint him again.

She missed him. She missed Braylin, too. But mostly she missed the fantasy. She’d been imagining it for years but somehow getting closer than she’d ever been made it seem even farther away. The opportunity was right there at her fingertips but she wasn’t able to grab it.

She’d never be able to. That was the truth. Unless she got drunk and happened to stumble into the right arms, it would never happen. And if she did stumble into the right arms drunk, they wouldn’t be the right arms, because they’d be the arms of someone willing to take advantage of a woman who was drunk. Braylin was right about that.

So it was impossible. Dream dead. Game over. Stop browsing that section of the website because it could only taunt her with what would never be.

She called Maria before she did something she’d regret.

“How was Mr. Right-for-tonight?” Maria asked, referring to her date.

“Not even right enough for tonight. I don’t know why I still bother.”

“You hardly do, Callie. It’s like you’ve given up. You’re thirty nine, not seventy nine.”

Thirty nine and still dreaming the same dream. She hadn’t had any trouble finding men in her younger years. She’d had her share of relationships. They just weren’t ever enough. A part of her preferred the freedom of her solitude—not having to cater to men who seemed to get needier as they got older, not having to conform herself to the routine of a relationship.

The other part of her wanted sex. Sex as good as sex got. Hot, dirty, mindless sex with hot, dirty, mindless men. She wanted the highs and the lows and what the world offered her was the dull middle.

“I think I want something different,” she told Maria.

“Are you coming out as gay?”

“Not as gay.” Two men, no women. But still, it felt like an admission she should have made a long time ago. “I think I’m polyamorous.”

“What does that mean? Like Mormons?”

“No,” Callie laughed, “not at all like Mormons, but it means I don’t want a traditional relationship. I’ve been afraid to go after what I really want, but maybe it’s time to take a chance.”

“Hey, whatever floats your boat. Be happy. But be careful.”

I’m doing it, she texted ALittlePreist.

Yeah, right, came the response. Quick but angry.


Yeah, so?

I’m sorry I jerked you around. I’m going to meet you. I am.

Yeah, sure. And then what?

And then, I don’t know. We’ll have a drink together. But only one, she told herself. We’ll see what happens.

That’s fair, Pax. Braylin, jumping in to play peacemaker, as usual.

All right. Now then, Pax demanded.

I can’t meet you now, Callie wrote. There’s another complication.

There was a long pause from the other end.

I don’t live in New York.

Still, no answer.

But I travel there on business all the time. I can arrange to be there.

It was a while before she got a response, and then it was Braylin. We’ve lost him again. She could almost hear the sigh in his words.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she’d think of a reason why she needed to travel and she’d schedule the trip and she’d send them the date. And then Pax would believe her.


Callie could feel her cheeks pinkening. It was ridiculous to be embarrassed. She had every right to be standing in front of the cucumber display. No one could possibly know what she was planning.

They were very thick, the cucumbers. She hadn’t had anything quite so ambitious in mind when she’d planned this little shopping trip. Something more like…yes, those zucchini. They were longer but thinner and the way they were individually wrapped in plastic suggested they were wearing condoms already, all dressed up and ready to be shoved up her ass.

Callie giggled. She looked around because she was sure the whole store was watching her select the vegetable she was going to use to simulate double penetration. Braylin had suggested she might want to try it alone first and although the idea was absolutely impossible to entertain when he first brought it up, it grew on her. She only had the one vibrator and her fingers weren’t substantial enough to replicate Pax’s cock.

Which she’d now seen a picture of. Which was…impressive.

Callie giggled again. She was such a dirty girl. She loved it. Vegetables and fantasies and phone chats—that she could handle. The actual deed, scheduled for next week, maybe not. But at least Pax was talking to her again, adding his own dirty suggestions onto Braylin’s about what they might do, about what she ought to be prepared for.

She had an appointment for a bikini wax on Friday and on the mental shopping list in her mind, beneath the word cucumber, appeared the word enema. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to buy one, never mind use one, but if she wanted both Braylin and Pax to fill her with their cocks, she’d need to be…empty.

A shudder rippled through her. She really was making a spectacle of herself in the produce section. She grabbed the narrowest looking zucchini she could see (it had nothing on Pax, but she was starting slow) and marched herself over to the healthcare aisle before she could chicken out. She resisted the impulse to buy eight other items to disguise what she was up to and went through self-checkout so there’d be no teenaged store clerk to grin at her as he made the connection between enemas and zucchinis.

Back home with her loot, she stared at the zucchini for a good long time, her heart rate increasing and her pussy growing wet without any stimulation other than the possibility that she might stuff a zucchini up her ass while fucking herself with a vibrator. But after a while, thinking that she might gave way to needing to actually do it.

She unwrapped the zucchini and washed it like she would a lover, fondling its green length with soapy hands. Then she got out her vibrator and stroked along its curve. It was more realistically shaped, with fake veins molded into the silicon surface and a flared head. She didn’t need to lube it up. Where it was going, there was plenty of lube already—the strings of her arousal dripped down her leg and clung to her thighs—but she coated the zucchini with lube until it slid slickly between her sticky fingers.

Ass first, she thought, leaning back against her bed. Do the hard part first. She’d never had more than her own fingers up there before, had never had the courage, or a boyfriend with the courage, to push that boundary. Anal sex was a part of her threesome fantasy, not a part of her sex life. But the vegetable, once it breached her sphincter, slid easily inside her for four or five inches. The remaining inches obtruded obscenely from her ass—a green handle by which she could be controlled.

She stroked it in and out a few times, awakening to the new sensation. With every stroke she was able to take it a little deeper. Fuck, it was dirty, seeing something disappear into her ass like that. It was the dirtiest thing she’d ever seen. It felt smooth and sticky, a clinging slide like caramel sauce over ice cream. She was aware of touching a new part of her body, of stimulation where stimulation had never been, and although her ass wasn’t connected to her clit, her clit was acting like it was—twitching and begging.

Her fingers slid over her clit, so slippery with her arousal that they slid right off again, barely stroking over the hard bud, teasing more than satisfying. It would be a mistake to get off so quickly anyway, she told herself. She was only halfway there.

She dipped a finger down into her pussy, feeling how narrow the remaining space was. Her finger stroked against the vegetable in her ass through the thin wall that separated her channels. Pax and Braylin would be able to feel each other like this, like they were rubbing right up against each other inside her, only her own slick tissue between them.

Fumbling over the mattress, she found her vibrator and replaced her finger with it at the entrance to her pussy. At first she thought it wouldn’t go, that the enterprise was fruitless. There simply wasn’t room. The zucchini kept trying to pop itself back out and the vibrator refused to stuff itself in. The logistics started to take the edge off the dirty. But steady pressure slowly overcame resistance until she had four or five inches of both cock substitutes buried inside her.

Damn, why hadn’t she thought to get a mirror? She wanted to see her double stuffed holes, stretched and glistening with lube and pussy juice. She could feel them—the tautness of the skin straining around the hard lengths running parallel inside her.

She cranked on the vibrator and left it deep, stroking herself with the zucchini so that it touched all those untouched places. Sensation swamped her as all the dirty returned. It was so wrong what she was doing, so deliciously wrong. Her orgasm was crawling over her skin, building in her ass and shooting electric pulses over her vibrating clit. She’d meant to let herself get good and stretched out, going slow and making it last, but her intentions were no match for sensory overload. Her orgasm burst over her, too strong to control, rolling through her from front to back and bottom to top, a whole body explosion that redefined pleasure.

Oh, this was going to be good.


The trill of Maria’s ringtone buzzed in Callie’s ear like a siren screaming out a warning. This was crazy. She was crazy. She’d made it down to the lobby of her hotel and then, feet pointing in the direction of the bar where she’d agreed to meet Pax and Braylin, she froze. Because this was crazy. This was how women got ax-murdered. They met anonymous men in hotel bars and got roofied and ended up dead or raped or beaten or mugged. She should at least have told someone what she was doing.

Pick up, she urged Maria, disconnecting when she got Maria’s voice mail and immediately calling back. It took three tries.

“What?” Maria snarled when she answered on the twelfth ring.

Words choked in Callie’s throat. What.

“Callie?” Now Maria sounded less angry and more amused. “Is something actually wrong or is your phone just butt dialing the hell out of me?”

“No, I’m here.”

“So what’s the emergency? We were kind of in the middle of something.”

“I’m about to be in the middle of something too.” Despite the fear and embarrassment welling up from the pit of her stomach, Callie couldn’t help but be amused by the thought that she was about to be in the middle of two somethings. “I’m meeting someone from the internet.”

“Like to—? Wait.” Maria’s muffled voice continued in the background. There was silence and then, “OK, tell me.”

“You remember when you said I should pursue what made me happy?”

“I didn’t know you were going to pursue it on the internet. That could be dangerous.”

“I know. That’s why I’m calling. In case I turn up dead or something.”

“Or something,” Maria said. “Great. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Just— I’ll call you tomorrow, OK? If I don’t…”

“If you don’t?”

“Then tell the police to check my Kik account. User name CallaLily, like what I used to use on AIM. They should be able to track these guys down from that, right?”

“These guys?” Maria asked, with heavy emphasis on the plural.

“I told you,” Callie said.

“Yeah, OK. You told me.” There was a pause. “Callie? Be careful?”

“Yeah. I have to go. I’m late now and I don’t want them to think I’m bailing.”

It was only the thought of Pax being let down again that got Callie’s feet moving forward. Braylin had made a point of warning her that the last two women they’d been supposedly meeting hadn’t balked or cancelled or turned out to be ugly or men. They’d simply not shown up. Callie felt like she carried the weight of their entire lifestyle on her shoulders. If she didn’t give Pax hope, he’d refuse to engage with anyone ever again, and then Braylin would be let down too and none of the three of them would ever get what they wanted.

So she could do this for Pax, for Braylin. She could show up and have a drink (and keep a close eye on it to make sure no one dropped anything in it) and restore their faith that somewhere out there were real women who would come through.

It wasn’t until she crossed the threshold of the bar that it occurred to her that they might not show up—that they could be as fake as they’d accused her of being. Or as scared. Maybe they only talked. Maybe when the time came, they panicked, just like she’d panicked in the lobby.

It would be Pax who would panic, despite being the one who’d pushed so hard for a face to face meeting. He’d be nervous, afraid to confront what he really wanted. Just like her. But Braylin would calm him down, shore him up. Braylin would get him there, or at least would come alone.

Unless there’d only ever been Braylin to begin with. What would she do if only Braylin showed? Have a drink, have a laugh. But sleep with him? She didn’t think so. It was two of them or none of them.

But there was only one of them.

She recognized Braylin immediately. The bar was dark and well-padded, all booths and muted down-lighting. Early evening had it empty. In a circular booth near the back, a dirty-blond tangle of hair fell over eyes that were watching her closely. When she didn’t move, he stood up and came to her.


“Where’s Pax?”

“In the men’s room. He’s really nervous.”

“Oh.” Something loosened in her chest. It was startling how betrayed she’d felt. She hadn’t believed, until that moment, that she wanted this for herself. She’d been telling herself it was for Pax, it was for Braylin, it was to be honest and upright, to make right the wrong of having strung them along, and now she knew. It was for her.

“Come sit down, OK?” Braylin slid his hand down her arm until he caught her hand. He tugged her towards the booth he’d been sitting at and didn’t let go of her hand until she slid into it. “I’ll go get you a drink. What do you want?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’d better get it myself.”

Braylin frowned, then cocked his head. “OK, I get that. You’re right. We have a waiter. You can order from him when he comes back over. That’d be OK, right?”

She nodded.

“There he is,” Braylin said.

Callie looked up, expecting a waiter but seeing instead that it was Pax coming towards them. He was shorter than she’d gathered from the photos, and his expression was fragile verging on broken. He got into the booth on her other side and looked at her, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Hi,” she said, her nerves ramping higher because he wasn’t doing anything except staring at her.


“So, um, Callie, this is Pax. Pax, this is Callie,” Braylin said with mock formality.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice automatically voicing the automatic words.

“Sorry,” Pax said. “I’m just totally amazed that you’re here.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever shown up before?”

“Yeah, like, how many times, Bray?”

“Like none?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

“I had the idea you guys knew what you were doing.”

“We do,” Braylin said quickly. “We picked someone up at a bar once. And there was that girl back in college. We played together a few times.”

“A lot of times,” Pax said. “Whenever we could.”

“What happened to her?”

“Braylin blew it.”

“She was a terrible girlfriend,” Braylin said. “I couldn’t keep her around just so we could keep fucking her. She drove me crazy in literally every other way.”

“Maybe you should have dated her,” Callie suggested to Pax.

“She didn’t like me as much. I’m not pretty like Braylin is.”

“Yes, you are. I think you’re prettier.”

“Whoa there,” Braylin protested, but Callie kept her eyes on Pax who flushed and dropped his to the table.

“You don’t really think so.”

“I do.” She’d always liked darker looks on a man and Pax’s fragile shyness was appealing. Braylin screamed frat boy—tall, confident, with that happy smile. He didn’t need her the way Pax did.

Pax looked around her at Braylin, a pleading question in his eyes.

“Well, hopefully I’m pretty enough,” Braylin said. “I don’t want to spoil Pax’s night because you can’t bear to look at me.”

“You’re pretty enough.” Callie turned so she was facing him. The curve of the booth allowed her to swing easily between the two men but they were close enough that she had to turn her head to do it. Braylin hadn’t stopped smiling, she saw, so she knew he wasn’t wounded. She doubted anything could shake that confidence. He winked and slid a hand under the table onto her knee, but just then the waiter appeared in front of them. Callie expected Braylin to move his hand but he actually slid it higher up under her skirt while she asked for a glass of wine.

She’d planned her outfit carefully so it was feminine without looking like she was trying too hard. Braylin and Pax were both dressed in jeans, Braylin in only a t-shirt and Pax with a burgundy striped button down through which she could see a white t-shirt.

She thought she should probably brush Braylin’s hand away but then Pax’s landed on her other leg and she didn’t have enough breath left to complain. The waiter had gone away, she noticed vaguely. It was only the three of them and it was very dark in the lounge. She stared straight ahead, pretending she wasn’t being felt up beneath the table.

“I’m really glad you came,” Pax said, shifting even closer to her along the bench seat.

“You don’t have to go upstairs with us,” Braylin said. “We’re just glad you’re giving us the chance to talk you into it.”

“But just so you know, we’re going to try to talk you into it.”

“But it’s OK to say no.”


The waiter dropped off her glass and Callie put her hands around the bowl of it, needing the chill to snap her back to reality. The heat of the men surrounding her made her feel damp and feverish, as though her mind were elsewhere, leaving her body behind.

“I’m not, um, too old for you?” she asked, voicing the fear that had torn at her so strongly that she hadn’t remembered to fear for her own safety until immediately before she’d walked into the bar to meet them. Because more than she feared what they might do to her, she feared that they wouldn’t want to do anything.

“You’re beautiful,” Pax breathed into her ear.

“I already told you that you were,” Braylin agreed. “You’re even more beautiful in person than you were in that picture.”

“I hate having my picture taken,” Callie mumbled around the rim of the glass her hands still clutched in desperation.

“Don’t drink too much,” Braylin warned, even though she hadn’t taken more than a sip or two. They each had a bottle of beer in front of them that looked largely untouched.

“Did you have a bad experience?” she asked, stalling for her own sanity.

Pax nodded. She knew without looking because his face was right up against her neck, breathing her in, making her dizzy with longing.

“The last woman we were with, the one we picked up, woke up screaming, like she didn’t know where she was or how she got there.”

“She wasn’t that drunk,” Pax said, moving back slightly.

“She didn’t seem it,” Braylin agreed. “Or we wouldn’t have messed with her in the first place, but she must have drunk enough to do something she wouldn’t have done sober, and we didn’t like that—her regretting it, saying she shouldn’t have done it.”

Pax shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s supposed to be a nice time.”

“For all of us.”

“So don’t say yes if you mean no.”

“I won’t,” Callie said. She put her drink down on the table and Braylin took her hand in his. His hand was hot after the cool of the glass and the way he ran his fingers up her palm made her even hotter. “What happens if I say yes?”

“You have a hotel room, right?” Braylin brought her hand to his lips. “We go up to it.”

“And then?”

“And then whatever you want,” Pax said, snuggling back into her side. “We’re here to please you.”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing. You could just lie there like a mannequin.”

“Really?” Callie asked with a laugh.

“Not like a mannequin,” Pax said with a frown for Braylin. “We want you to be alive.”

“Can we just ask you about something though?” Braylin said. “Did you actually try—you know?”

“You weren’t so shy online,” Callie answered, amused to be teasing them. Both young men had their eyes on their beer bottles now.

“Double penetration,” Pax said, his voice breathless. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s just, we never have.”

“Never?” Callie asked.

They both shook their heads, their eyes on her now. Callie was the absolute center of their universe at that moment, holding the key to their most fevered desire. She’d never been so turned on. Two men pressing against her body, two men watching her with longing eyes, two men touching her—her hands, her neck, rubbing at the inside of her thighs, blowing their breath against her ear.

“I tried it.”

“Oh my God, that’s so hot.” Pax’s hand squeezed hers uncontrollably. “God, I would have liked to see that.”

“Maybe you will see it.”

“Oh my God. I can’t even.” Pax let go of her hand, dropping it beneath the level of the table. His eyes closed as he gripped himself through his jeans.

“Keep it cool,” Braylin warned him, but his voice hitched as he said it. “It’s whatever you want, Callie. No pressure.”

“Did you like it?” Pax asked. “When you tried it, did you like it.”

Callie hadn’t had more than a few sips of wine, but she felt the same flush, the same heady rush, the same disregard for consequences that a couple of glasses brought on. She leaned over and put her mouth against Pax’s ear and said, “I came so hard.” When he shuddered, his tremor zinged straight through to her clit.

Although she’d whispered into Pax’s ear, Braylin had clearly heard her, because he pressed closer to her and his hand traveled further up her thigh.


“Hmm?” She turned her head to find Braylin’s mouth directly in front of hers. She parted her lips and flicked her tongue out to wet them. The lights of the bar turned his blond hair a carousel of colors. They shone off the fullness of his lower lip when his tongue came out to lick at it in a mirror of hers.

“Kiss her,” she heard Pax urge from behind her in a low voice, heavy with need.

Braylin put a hand on her neck, cupping the back of her head with a firm but careful grip. He leaned in slowly, every moment a question, a question Callie answered with wide eyes and heaving chest. His mouth against hers was soft, wet, plush with promise. He opened her lips with his, snaking his tongue into her mouth until their tongues tangled together. Pax’s mouth was on her neck, pressing wet kisses separated by gushing breaths against her skin as she and Braylin kissed with gentle exploration.

“Can we go upstairs?” Braylin asked, drawing back so their eyes met.

“Please,” Pax whimpered into her ear. “God, please.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Braylin kissed her briefly, a smile playing about his lips.

“We have to pay the bill,” he murmured, not letting go of her.

“I got it,” Pax said. He slid out of the booth and stood, shoving a hand into his pocket. “God, my dick is so hard.” He walked with a noticeable hobble up to the bar and thrust money at the bartender. Braylin pulled Callie out of the booth with him, not letting go of her hand. He led her out of the bar and the three of them started a long, brightly-lit walk across the marble lobby.

Wow, OK. She was really going to a hotel room with two strangers to get fucked. That play was not in her playbook. Her buzz faded in the glare of high-wattage, overly-ornate chandeliers bouncing light off of cream-colored marble. Pax and Braylin flanked her. Braylin had her hand in the crook of his arm and they were close. Too close. What must she look like? Like a mother with her boys, so old and frail she needed to be protected? Like a cougar with her pool boys, escorted by escorts?

“Wait.” She stopped, Pax and Braylin dragging to a stop with her.

“Don’t say wait,” Pax begged.

“Pax,” Braylin warned.

“I know, but—” Pax shut himself up with a harsh grimace. He squeezed his eyes shut and whirled, putting his back to Callie and a hand to his forehead.

“Even upstairs, you can say no anytime,” Braylin said. “We can just go up there and talk, like we were talking in the bar. See what happens. Nothing has to happen.”

“I want it to happen.” She did. She wanted it with every fiber of her being. She wanted Pax to turn around again and look at her. She wanted to take away the hurt she knew was written across his face.

“What would make you comfortable with going upstairs?”

“A photo?”

“A photo?” Braylin repeated.

“To send to someone,” Pax said, coming around to stand at her side again. “We don’t have a problem with that. Here, get out your phone.” He put his arm around Braylin, posing them.

“Callie too,” Braylin said. “Let’s get one with all three of us.” He stopped a bell boy as he passed by. “It should be your phone,” he suggested to Callie.

Half-numb, Callie found her phone in her purse and handed it to the bell boy who snapped a photo and then said, “one more” with the air of someone who snapped photos for tourists all day. He handed the phone back to her and lingered long enough that Pax fished a dollar bill out of his pocket and passed it over.

“Go on,” he said to Callie. “Text it to someone.”

Yeah, she was really doing this. She took a deep breath and texted the photo to Maria with the caption “who I’m with.”

“We look totally hot together,” Pax said. He was peering at her phone over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” Braylin got behind her other shoulder and the three of them admired the photo together. “Somebody looks horny,” Braylin said with a pointed look at Pax.

“Oh yeah.” Pax shifted so he stood more directly behind Callie. He put an arm around her waist and rubbed his erection against the back of her hip. She leaned back, increasing the contact, heedless of the fact that they were standing in a busy, well-lit lobby, people streaming around them like they were boulders in a stream.

Her phone rang, startling them all. Maria, of course. Callie pressed the Ignore button. Then she put her phone on mute so she wouldn’t hear the ping of Maria leaving a voice mail asking Callie what kind of crazy she thought she was. She tucked her phone back into her purse and said, “Shall we?”


Though Braylin had said she could change her mind once they got to the room, he didn’t give her a lot of time to do it. Thank God. With their hands on her, the answer was obvious—she wanted this—but every foot of distance between them lessened her certainty by ten percent.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her possessively.

“We’re going to make this so good for you,” Pax said. He was behind her, rubbing his body against hers in a way that had her moaning into Braylin’s mouth. Pax’s tongue drew patterns on the sensitive flesh at the back of her neck. Her whole head spun, as though a web of sensation connected the two points of contact, wrapping her front to back in succulent sensation. Pax’s hands slid up under the hem of her shirt, framing her rib cage, thumbs stroking hot and firm over the skin beneath her breasts. Braylin ran a hand down her back to her ass, pressing her harder into his erection as Pax pressed harder into her.

Like one unit, they eased her shirt up, Braylin sliding it seamlessly over her head almost without breaking their kiss. Pax’s hands teased below the edge of her bra as Braylin worked the clasp. It was only moments before the bra was gone too. A single beam of clarity pierced through the fog of desire that clouded Callie’s mind. There was no turning back from here. She shook her head, not because she wanted to turn back but because there’d been no turning back from the moment she saw their ad. Months of foreplay had all been leading to now. If this ended short of consummation, she’d be more disappointed than Pax.

“OK?” Braylin asked, catching the movement of her head.

“Wonderful,” she answered, licking her already wet lips. Pax’s arms tightened convulsively around her.

“Why don’t we move this to the bed?” Braylin separated himself from her enough to turn her to face her hotel room. They’d only made it feet inside the door before they’d gotten distracted. At this rate, it’d all be over in fifteen minutes. Callie knew what young men were like. Sure, there were two of them, but they could both get off from rubbing against her in a matter of moments.

She shook them off her and strode with a confidence that was only half-faked to the bed, stepping out of her pumps as she walked. Leaving her skirt on, she flung herself back against the bed. The boys were where she’d left them, eyeing her appreciatively.

“Why don’t you strip for me?” she suggested. “Let me see what I get if I agree to your little scenario.”

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