The Three-Way… a Love Story

By Carlos Martinos (Brandon B. Bonner, C or M, Carlos Zoltan Martinos, Randy K. Carlinsetti, Marcar001, Marcar007)

Published on Mar 10, 2002

Bisexual

Controls

THE THREE-WAY. . . A LOVE STORY

An erotic story for adults who like hot man-to-man sex

The setting: The hills just a few miles south of San Francisco The time: The pre-condom year of 1980

Upscale suburbia. Heavily wooded rolling hills. Winding, tree shaded avenues. Jags, and Beamers and Bentleys, parked ostentatiously in circular driveways. Free-form pools gracing verdant, manicured grounds. Maids and pool boys and gardeners. All the requisite status symbols. All a part of "The American Dream".

Just five years ago, Justin invited me to make my home with him. To grab a piece of that American dream. To join him at his secluded estate in the heart of upscale suburbia. They've been the best five years of my life.

I look over at Justin. He looks so angelic when he's in a state of total relaxation, as he is now. To see him in repose, you would never guess that he's one of the most cut-throat litigators in San Francisco. His choir boy appearance masks his instinct to go for the jugular. That college boy look of innocence and naivete conceals a rapier intellect and an unerring ability to blindside an adversary.

Justin and I are lying together in bed. Both naked. I fucked him a few minutes ago. And he still has the vestiges of a contented smile on his face. He told me once that these are the moments he lives for. Basking in the exquisite intimacy. The warm afterglow of sexual love. The only time he ever feels fully relaxed.

When you see Justin in the courtroom before a jury, words such as "magnetic" and "hypnotic" come to mind. He is a paragon of aggressive jurisprudence. And his courtroom pyrotechnics are now widely emulated by most of San Francisco's younger defense attorneys. He is revered by this group of Young Turks, and despised by most of the assistant D.A.'s.

And his eloquence in the courtroom extends into the bedroom. He can speak more frankly and more expressively about sex than any man I have ever known. His combination of elegant sensual language and dirty "fuck me" street talk never fails to get my juices bubbling.

The purveyors of psychobabble might be tempted to diagnose Justin as suffering from multiple personality syndrome. And sometimes, when he's with me, he is a kaleidoscope of changing moods and attitudes. But that's merely his way of keeping our relationship fresh and spontaneous. He loves to play "devil's advocate" with me. Forcing my mind into some incredible mental gymnastics that I never dreamed I could achieve.

Justin and I are virtually identical, physically. Except for our coloring. He told me once that our falling in love with one another was the ultimate narcissism. And he's right, of course. We're both 35, 6'2", 180 pounds plus or minus, muscular and athletic. And good looking in a rugged jock sort of way. Our only really noticeable difference: My curly black hair and dark eyes are in stark contrast to his thick blond hair and blue eyes.

I have a BA degree, with a major in Business Law, from an Ivy League university. So my position as "legal aide" in Justin's law offices can hardly be considered nepotism. Everyone in the office knows that I live on his estate. And everyone in the office wants to know more. In one of my more imaginative moments, I told one of the secretaries that I used to be Justin's pool boy. And that really got the tongues wagging for a while. "Keep 'em guessing" my mama always told me.

Justin is stirring now. We're lying on our sides, facing one another. I feel his big hand slide down to my cock. And even though I just climaxed a few minutes ago, I feel myself stiffen. He can do that to me. He didn't come when I fucked him this evening. He waited. Till now. And he's hard as granite.

Justin brushes his lips across mine, and flashes me his best "devious attorney" smile. "Your honor, I represent the defendant, Luke, who has been charged with rape."

Justin is playing games with me now. And I probably don't need to tell you, I'm Luke. I respond, "Your honor, the man who is representing me is the man who I allegedly raped. I concede that I am not a legal scholar, but it's just possible that there's a conflict of interest here."

We look at each other, straight-faced, for a long moment. Then our laughter rings through the room. And we become a tangled blur of flying arms and legs, as we wrestle around on the bed. It's great to be 15 again. And in love.

We collapse, panting, into each other's arms. And then we hear it. The applause. Justin's wife, Maria, is in the room with us.

"Bravo! You know, the wrestlers at the ancient Greek Olympics wrestled naked too. Showing off their muscular male bodies. I would love to see it reinstated. It's much more honest, and much more stimulating."

Maria's voice caresses the room. It's low and soothing and cultured. She too is an attorney, working as a legal advisor to the mayor of San Francisco. Maria and Justin have been married for eight years. On paper, they are husband and wife. In reality, they are best friends. Justin would be totally devastated without her. She is his compass. And the light of his life.

Justin and I are both in love with Maria, in every way except physically. I once playfully told him, "If Maria had a dick, I would steal her away from you."

And without missing a beat, Justin grinned, "If Maria had a dick, I would never have asked you to move in with me."

We laughed. We were both joking, of course. But somewhere, hidden deep within our psyches, there's a kernel of truth in what we both said.

Maria is bright and articulate. A truly gifted speaker. When she and Justin launch into one of their esoteric discussions of legal philosophy, I just sit back and listen with rapt attention. Spellbound. Awestruck. But she understands that on days like today she's a silent observer. "I just like to drop in occasionally and watch my boys at play."

I suppose most men would feel awkward in a situation like that. But there must be a bit of the exhibitionist in Justin and me. Because we both love it when she watches. We love knowing that she is deriving pleasure from watching us. Truth be known, we're just a couple of grown up little boys. Showing off.

With that in mind, Justin gives me a sharp smack on the butt. "I've got a big fuckin' surprise for you, man! Between my legs. And it needs servicing. Bad!" Justin has momentarily reverted to his street-talk. And it comes to him naturally. He grew up on the rough and tumble streets of San Francisco's Mission District.

Justin is lying on his back now. His hands are behind his head. The muscles in his arms flex impressively. His legs, muscular golden blond legs, are spread wide. And I'm kneeling between them. A supplicant, worshiping at this shrine of masculine beauty.

His chest is lightly sprinkled with blond hair. It grows denser at his navel. And an enticing trail of thick blond hair runs suggestively, invitingly into the blond pubes of his crotch.

And then there's the cock. Every man's center of gravity. That gorgeous organ that often controls our thought processes and dominates our lives. The male hard drive - wired with a notoriously short memory. And Justin's hard drive rises majestically from his golden pubes. A work of art. Thick and proud and luscious.

Justin's voice is low and sensual. "Let's make this a night of pretense and fantasy, Luke. Let's create our own make-believe world tonight. I'll be myself. And you'll be my horny pool boy."

I'm still kneeling between Justin's legs, and I look up at him in astonishment. We've never played fantasy games like this before. And suddenly, inexplicitly, I'm ill at ease. Having sex with Justin, while still exhilarating, has become comfortable after five years. But now I feel like a novice actor. I'm stage center on opening night. And I don't know my lines. I glance over at Maria. Did she know this was coming? She raises one eyebrow in response to my glance.

I look back at Justin now. And then I see it. There's just the hint of a smirk, tugging at the corners of his mouth. And I watch as it blossoms into a full-blown mischievous grin. "I really had you going there, Luke. Just wanted to shake things up a bit."

I join in the spirit of the moment. "I'll be your pool boy or your house boy or your bad boy - any kind of boy you want me to be, Justin. After all, I've already been a rapist this evening. That's a good start."

Justin flashes me his secret smile. The one where he puts the tip of his tongue lightly on his upper lip. The one he reserves only for me. The one that says "I love you". Then he puts his hand on my head and musses my hair. And the camaraderie between us at this moment is so deep it's almost tangible.

"Anything I want, huh?" There's that mischievous grin again. "How about being a harem slave? A harem slave who loves to suck my dick."

Before I can respond, Justin has flipped me on my back and has straddled me. Sitting on my chest. He's holding his dick in his hand, and rubbing the head of it across my lips. This is our favorite position. It will give us both a fantastic view of the gorgeous cocksucking that is about to begin.

I slowly lick the pre-cum nectar that has accumulated on Jason's cock head. Savoring the slickness of it in my mouth before swallowing it. I put one hand on his pubes, and fondle his balls with the other. Then I take the head of his cock into my mouth, and lick it and caress it with my tongue. After five years I'm still impressed by his thickness. It never ceases to amaze me. I have to open my mouth wide to accommodate him. And I love it. Now I remain motionless, because I know that Justin wants to control it all from here on in.

Now he starts the slightest movement of his hips. A pumping motion. And I feel his cock starting to glide gently in and out of me. With each thrust of his hips, he pushes a little deeper into my mouth. A gentle fucking motion. A loving motion. And I know we're getting close to the part that sets me on fire. And still scares me a little bit too. Because of his massive size.

I feel his cock head nudging at the entrance to my throat now. Justin's voice is soft and soothing. "Remember to keep your eyes open, Luke. That's it, babe. I want us both to see it all as I slide on into you. Okay, sweetheart. Take a few deep breaths and relax your throat muscles for me. I'm going in."

"Ummm, that's it, Luke. I'm easing my cock head on into your throat now, babe. I know I'm a thick bastard, but just stay relaxed. You can take me. I'm pushing on in now, Luke. Just take a little more of me, sweetheart. Oh yeah, Luke! I'm there, man! You've taken all of me. Your nose is pressed up hard against my pubes. And your mouth and your throat are full of my cock. It's a beautiful sight, babe."

"Now I'm pulling out a little bit, Luke. Take a couple of deep breaths. And I'm thrusting back in. All the way into you, sweetheart. All the way down your throat. And now we've got a beautiful fucking motion going, Luke. A deep, gentle thrust down your throat. A slow withdrawal. A couple of deep breaths, and all the way down your throat again."

"I've never seen you look more beautiful than you do at this moment, sweetheart. You're such a masculine, virile, athletic dude. That's why it is so incredibly exciting to watch you take my dick down your throat. To watch you service it. To watch you make love to it."

I continue making love to Justin's dick for another several minutes. Then he slowly pulls out of me, panting. And as we've done so many times before, he stretches his body out on top of mine and kisses me passionately.

My most exciting sexual moments have always been feeling Justin's thick eight inches sliding in and out of my throat. While he talks to me. Lovingly. While he describes to me in exquisite detail the thrusts of his dick as he fucks me in the mouth. That's the part I keep coming back to the following day, when I'm daydreaming about the night before.

Justin knows how much I love to suck him off. How much I love the incredible taste of his hot load. How much I love to swallow it and feel it become a part of me. And Justin loves it when I suck him off. He knows I have learned to bring him to the brink, and keep him balanced there for an eternity, before I finally bring him to climax.

We both love it, so it has become "our way". With one exception. On the night before he is scheduled to present his closing argument in prominent cases, he fucks me. And this is one of those nights. He playfully says it's because I have a lucky ass. But we both know there's more to it than that. It's all tied up in issues of control and dominance and power. When he fucks me, I make myself totally subservient to him. Totally vulnerable to him. I become his sex slave. And all this gives him a feeling of omnipotence that he takes with him into the courtroom the following day.

Now he's preparing me, by rimming my ass. His tongue licking me and then pushing into me. Fucking me with his tongue. Driving me wild.

I'm on my back, with my feet in the air. Totally vulnerable. Totally welcoming. Justin lowers himself onto me. And I feel his lube-slick dick head. Poised for entry. Now pushing gently against me. We both know this is the hard part. He's just too thick for me to ever take him easily. I relax myself as his pressure increases. And yes it's uncomfortable. But the discomfort now just makes the ecstasy that comes later that much sweeter.

"I'm exerting more pressure now, sweetheart." Justin's voice is low and seductive. "Hang on, babe. I'm almost in now. More pressure. Here we go! Sliding in. I'm into you, babe. From here on in it just keeps getting better and better!"

And he's right. I'm so relaxed now. Justin eases right on into me. He's gentle, but forceful. And always considerate. His eyes are locked onto mine. Searching for any indication that he is hurting me. I give him a thumbs up, and with a final thrust he's in to the hilt. And for several glorious minutes his cock will remain deep within me. Motionless. Letting me adjust to his thickness.

I marvel at the way he fills me up with himself. And I marvel at the way that I am able to accept him. His cock twitches every few moments. Involuntarily. And its motion seems to somehow reverberate through my body. Sending sparks racing through my groin.

Now he lowers his body onto mine. Our mouths open and we kiss. Tenderly. Lovingly. And I wrap my legs around his body. Wanting to get ever closer to him. Working his cock even deeper into me.

Then I feel it. The first gentle thrusting of his hips. Almost imperceptible at first. Slowly. Tenderly. He has such a smooth and fluid motion. I'm never really aware that he is increasing his tempo. Until I suddenly realize that he is fucking me. With great, deep strokes.

He pulls himself slowly out of me. All the way out. His cock leaves my body. And then he enters me again. Deep into my bowels. His dick is so rigid that he can do that. Never missing a stroke. He was a gymnast in high school. And he is putting his athletic prowess to great use at this moment. He's into his rhythm now. Fucking me gently. And these are the ecstatic moments for me. I feel absolutely no discomfort now. And I surrender to the incredible sensation of being slow fucked by this athletic hunk.

Justin puts his hands on my shoulders now, and pushes his upper torso away from mine. "Look at me, Luke." His voice is soft, but commanding. He's moving into his control mode now. "Keep your eyes focused on mine, sweetheart. You know I'm not going to hurt you, babe. But by the time we're through, you're going to know you've really been fucked."

"I'm increasing my tempo, Luke. I'm pulling all the way out of you, and then ramming back in. With greater force. With greater speed. I'm totally dominating you now, Luke. And you love that, babe. I'm the alpha male. And that's the way you want it. You want to be totally possessed by me. For a little while this evening, you want to give me your body and soul."

"Keep your eyes locked on mine, Luke. "Cause I'm getting close now. And I want to be looking deep within your eyes at that climactic moment. I want to see your beautiful brown eyes when you experience the joy of taking my hot load deep within you."

"And I'm crossing over the brink now, Luke. The point of no return. Ummmm! My load is on its way! Great spurts of my cum are entering you! You're accepting my virile, masculine sperm into your body, Luke! I'm impregnating you, babe. And I love you more than life itself."


It's 7PM the following evening, now. Maria and I are in the study, sipping white wine. Justin called me from the courthouse a few minutes ago. His closing argument has been delayed, because the District attorney offered a new, eleventh hour plea bargain. Which Justin is now presenting to his client.

At 7:30PM the phone rings in the study. Shrill and insistent. Maria takes it on the speakerphone.

"Hello."

"Mrs. Williams?"

"Yes."

"This is Assistant D.A. Ann Jordan. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"What is it?" Maria's usually well modulated voice shows a trace of tension.

"I don't have any details. The situation is still confused and fluid. But it appears that your husband has been taken hostage. In a courthouse conference room. By his client. And I'm sorry to say that his client is apparently armed."

"Is this a joke?" Maria's voice is taught and brittle. "Taken hostage?! That's preposterous!"

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Williams. The courthouse has been surrounded by law enforcement offices. And a swat team is in position. Hostage negotiators are on the way. And a team of trauma surgeons is standing by at the hospital. The mayor personally asked me to keep you informed. I'll call you immediately, whenever any new information is available. I'm so very sorry, Mrs. Williams. Good bye."

Maria and I look at one another for a long moment. First incredulity and then horror appearing on our faces. I cross the room in four strides, and sit beside her on the sofa. My arm around her protectively. I want to offer her some sort of reassurance. But all I can manage is, "My God! Oh my God, Maria!"

"Tell me, Luke. Tell me about Justin's client."

"He's an asshole, Maria. With an incendiary temper. He was arrested six months ago for killing his wife in a jealous rage. He's been in county jail since then. Awaiting trial. It's virtually certain that he killed her, Maria. The forensic evidence against him is formidable. Justin has been trying to persuade him to go for a plea bargain. But his client has stupidly held out for a trial and acquittal. The two of them have had some pretty nasty disagreements."

"But if there's anyone who can extricate himself from a situation like this, Maria, it's Justin. We both know that. He's the coolest guy under fire I've ever seen. He won't panic. He'll just accept this as another challenge. That incredible mind of his is going full bore right now. Weighing all of his options. Analyzing the potential consequences of each of his possible moves. And he's looking calm and cool. You know what he always says: Never let 'em see you sweat."

At 8:05PM the piercing ring of the telephone shatters the silence.

"Yes." Maria is making a conscious effort to keep her voice under control.

"It's Ann Jordan again, Mrs. Williams. I feel obligated to call you, even though the news is not good. Two shots have apparently been fired in the conference room where Mr. Williams is being held hostage. Paramedics are on the scene. And we have unconfirmed reports that a body is being removed from the area. I'll call you back as soon as I have any additional information. Our prayers are with you and your husband, Mrs. Williams."

Maria's face crumbles into tears. "It's all so unfair. Justin doesn't deserve to die like this. Murdered by his own client. It's such a grotesque irony."

I look into Maria's eyes. "Talk to me, darling. Talk to me about your life with Justin. We will keep him alive in our hearts by talking about him. And don't give up, Maria. That's Justin's mantra. Don't give up. Don't give up hope." I turn away now while I try to compose myself. Tears are welling up in my eyes, and I brush them away with the back of my hand.

Maria looks out the study window. Searching for answers that aren't there. Watching a bushy-tailed squirrel cavorting playfully on the lawn.

"I met Justin when he was 24. He had just graduated cum laude from Harvard Law School. Eager and cocky and idealistic. And so incredibly intelligent. I was the "older woman" who "understood him". He was totally open with me. He told me the day we met that he was 99 percent gay and 1 percent bisexual."

"Frankly, we impressed each other. Probably because we are so similar in so many ways. We became great friends. We went for years without once missing Sunday brunch together in Sausalito. We were always together. The opera. The ballet. The theater. We became a couple."

"Our marriage was something that happened because we loved one another. Emotional love. Spiritual love. I respected his "99 percent gay" evaluation of himself. And it never occurred to me to try to change him. It's just the way he's wired. We should accept people as they are."

"We were both ecstatic when you came into his life, Luke. You fulfilled him. You put a bounce in his step. A gleam in his eye. And a bulge in his jeans." Maria tries a smile, but it dies on the vine. "And he loves you desperately. The three of us are indeed a match made in heaven, Luke."

"As you know, Justin spends the night with me in my bedroom about once a month. He always has. It's our time for bonding, if I can use that old cliche. He was unsuccessful when he tried to have sex with me. So we just cuddled and caressed. Sleeping together nude. Our bodies pressed close to one another.

"You may not know this, Luke. But your arrival on the scene precipitated a vast improvement in the physical relationship between Justin and me. He became much more relaxed on the nights we spent together. Then one morning he woke me early, and he was bubbling over with excitement. He proudly announced that he had a "morning woody". That was his colorful description. And then he proceeded to put his morning woody to good use. And ever since then it gets a good workout one morning a month."

"I know he'll always be 99 percent gay, Luke. But I cherish those mornings once a month when his other 1 percent comes out of the closet."

"I told you this story, Luke, because it illuminates Justin's beautiful soul. He was absolutely euphoric about his morning woody. Not because he was trying to prove something to himself about his manhood. His joy came from the realization that he was able to do something for me. Something that gave me pleasure."

Then our reverie is shattered by the ringing phone. We both glare at it. As if it's some sort of evil being. We are both mute. Paralyzed. Finally on the fifth ring, Maria clicks on the speakerphone.

Our faces are etched with foreboding and grief, as an unidentified voice says, "Hold one second, please."

I look over at Maria, and I suddenly become aware that we are both crying. Tears are streaming down our cheeks. Unnoticed and unchecked. I take Maria into my arms. "If it is bad news, darling, Justin will live on in our souls forever. And I know we both feel supremely blessed, loving Justin as we have. But until we know for certain, don't give up, Maria. Don't give up hope."

My voice is choking with dread. I know we are both expecting to hear the mayor's voice come on the phone at any moment. Delivering the death message. Making it official. Offering his condolences.

Then suddenly the room is spinning, and my legs almost buckle. Because a familiar voice is echoing from the phone. "I thought I might catch you guys by the telephone." Justin's voice is strained. But I can just visualize the mischievous grin on his face.

And Maria and I go into nuclear meltdown. We embrace and we kiss through our laughter and our tears. Then the dam bursts, and all the suppressed feelings of fear and rage and helplessness come pouring out. We no longer have to maintain a semblance of control. It's a cathartic release that leaves us deliriously happy and emotionally drained.

When Maria and I finally calm down, Justin says, "It's all over. And I'm okay. That was my deceased client they carried feet first out of the conference room."

"As soon as we entered the conference room, the punk pulled a gun on me. No one knows yet how he managed to smuggle it into the courthouse. Then for the next hour he berated me for "butchering" his case. He had planned it well. This was going to be his swan song. A murder/suicide."

"I encouraged him to talk. As long as he kept talking there was still hope. I never gave up. I never lost hope. Finally he was momentarily distracted. My gymnastic training automatically kicked in, and I literally launched myself across the table at him. Totally focused on the arm that held the gun. He managed to get off a couple of wild shots as we struggled. And then it was over. His neck was broken. My black belt in karate served me well."

"When things were at their bleakest, I kept telling myself, "They're together at home. Waiting for news. My soul mates. My kindred spirits. Maria and Luke. They're pulling for me. Urging me to go on. Willing me to somehow come up with a plan. Something to get me through this."

"I would never have made it without you."

"With a wife like you, Maria. And with a husband like you, Luke. I have the best of both worlds! Our three-way relationship may be unconventional. It may not conform to the rigid dictates of hard-line Puritanical dogma. It may conflict with the narrow-minded, mean-spirited strictures of fundamentalism. But it allows the three of us to live joyous lives - overflowing with our love for one another."


Two-ways or three-ways. The structure of the relationship is totally irrelevant, isn't it? To create a beautiful ongoing relationship, there's only one requirement. It's love. Mutual love. Reciprocal love. Undying love. All you need is love.

THE END

marcar007@netzero.net

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