I found her that night in the ballroom. The grand, bare expanse, the light of the fireplace reflecting against the towering windows along the far wall, and before the hearth, her back to me, stood Clara atop a large fur rug. She wore a short, silken black robe decorated with a white floral print. I approached, wearing only a short robe myself, a simple white cotton one, as she’d requested. My bare feet were so quiet against the parquet floor that I wasn’t certain she even knew I was there.
But as I came near, she turned to face me, her robe cinched tight. She smiled. Beautiful, radiant—it goes without saying—but also shy. Too shy considering how well-acquainted we were.
She reached out to unknot my belt, pulled it free through the loops, and studied my naked body through the open robe. She nodded to me and I removed it entirely. I balled the robe in my hands— a chance to flex my arms—and tossed it next to the fireplace.
She looked me over again and held her hands behind her back.
A door burst open from the opposite side of the ballroom. A beam of light spilled across the wide floor and in walked Harry. He wore a white cotton robe, same as mine, but he removed it upon entering the room, tossing it aside like some brutish divo. Clara looked down as if respecting the privacy he’d so quickly shirked, but I watched her sneak furtive glances at his body. The muscles of his thighs in the firelight, the sway of his soft cock as he walked toward us.
He stood across from me, mere feet away. He looked over my body and I at his.
“Don’t be shy,” Clara said.
Harry and I sighed and took a step toward each other.
Seeing us this way, Clara tried to maintain her composer, but she involuntarily scrunched her nose into a cute little smile.
She reached down and undid her belt. She let the robe hang open. The bra and panties beneath were the inverse of her robe; an innocent shade of white, the delicate lace decorated with a pattern of black flowers. She looked down at her body, sliding her right hand across her stomach, then higher, over her bra, such that her fingers grazed each breast from within the glow of her cleavage.
She looked up only slightly, just enough to watch us stiffen. She watched Harry’s, then mine, all while holding the fingers of her left hand against her abdomen, just north of her panties.
She smiled, and after only a moment, the tips of our cocks nearly touched. Mine, I was pleased to see, was slightly longer, but Harry’s, being thicker and by no means short, gave the impression of being bigger, likely built, calibrated by the professor, to be Clara’s ideal size.
She knelt between us, entranced by our combined length. Her lips touched Harry’s first, puckered against the side of his shaft, but she looked up at me as she kissed toward his head. Then—my turn; she kissed along the side of my cock, all while looking at Harry.
She took her lips from my cock and looked up at each of us. “A little closer?” She asked sweetly.
Harry and I hesitated, then stepped closer, the tips of our cocks brushing against each other ever so slightly.
Clara swallowed deeply, then took turns glancing up at each of us as she kissed against both of us at once. She moaned, sliding her tongue between the two, then wrapped her lips around us from the side; I felt the warmth of Clara’s mouth just as Harry must have, as the heads of our cocks billowed against one another.
Harry grabbed Clara and pulled her up and against him. She gasped. She caught herself with a hand against his abs, and the sudden movement made the robe fall from her shoulders. It draped midway across her back. She glanced back at me as Harry kissed her neck.
“You have to share me, Harry,” she said.
He ignored her, kissing across her collar bone as he pulled the back of her robe above her waist, revealing the thong beneath. His hand, the size of her entire cheek, squeezed.
“Harry,” she breathed, raising onto her tiptoes.
He pulled the robe down along her arms, then spun her around to face me, holding her hands behind her back with the fabric of the robe held tightly around her wrists.
She panted, looking at me, and feeling I was already losing some kind of competition, I pressed myself against her. As Harry slid his cock along the fabric of her thong, I took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. She moaned against my mouth, moved her tongue against mine. I pressed my own cock against the damp front of her panties.
Harry spun her back around to face him, still holding Clara’s arms behind her back with the robe. He kissed her in his own deep way as I kissed along her shoulder blades, along a bra strap. I got down on my knees, squeezed her bottom with both hands, and began to lick between her cheeks. She pressed back against my face.
As I moved my tongue lower, a mistake. A purposeful ploy on Harry’s part to throw me off, no doubt, but with his cock tucked horizontally between Clara’s legs, against her panties, I accidentally ran my tongue across his tip, still wet from Clara’s saliva. He didn’t flinch, so neither did I; I slipped my tongue back up along the strap of her thong.
Harry let the robe fall from her wrists onto the floor. I stood and slid one bra strap along her arm as I nibbled her shoulder blade. Harry pulled down the second bra strap, burying his face within her cleavage.
I took my cock in my hand and guided it between Clara’s thighs, vying with Harry’s for space against her wet panties.
Clara reached back to unhook her bra, letting it fall, then slid her fingers through my hair, glancing over her shoulder and pulling me in for a kiss. I peered down, her exposed breasts, Harry’s mouth around one nipple, then the other.
“One of you has to fuck me,” she said breathlessly, and despite my inclination to delay, to keep her wanting, keep her anticipating, Harry ripped the thong from her body, as he was wont to do. He lifted beneath her ass, wrapped her legs around his waist, and brought her down onto his cock with a shudder.
I couldn’t find a place for myself as he lifted her slowly up and down, up and down, her hands rubbing his biceps with each flex. With few options, I gave her ass a spank and she reached back to take my cock in her hand. She tried to stroke, but found it too difficult as Harry began to bounce her faster. So instead she let go of Harry’s neck and trusted me to catch her as she fell back slightly toward me. My arm fell between her breasts as she kissed me over her shoulder.
As Harry held her gyrating waist, I let her torso sink lower, leaning over to kiss her upside down stomach. She held Harry’s arms for support, and he in turn begrudgingly held her horizontally between us as I pushed my cock between her lips. Her mouth felt warm and familiar, but more than the tightening of her lips, I felt myself deeper than she’d ever taken me before, borne forth with each of Harry’s thrusts.
Harry eventually rolled her midair, then set her knees down on the fur rug. He needed a break, the first signs of sweat emerging across his chest. Clara, too, pulled her lips from my cock, taking a deep, satisfied breath as she sat on her knees, staring up at us. She smiled at Harry, gave his cock a quick suck, then brushed the hair back from her face.
Again I felt that I was losing. The way the firelight flickered across his abs. The way she looked at him as she leaned back against her arms, swaying her legs. He brushed his own hair behind his ears, and I could see that he was about to crawl on top of her, leave me on the sidelines while he fucked her on the floor.
I considered my options and decided that, rather than gracefully flinging myself between the two of them, rather than risk seeming a sore sport, that I would catch him by surprise just as he’d done to me. As he prepared to drop to the floor before Clara, I reached over and took his cock in my hand.
He froze as I slowly stroked him. I did a proper job, squeezing my grip toward his head, loosening it toward the base—I knew I could make him cum, end his chances completely, if I really wanted. He stared at me, furious, but Clara seemed turned on by the sight. She bit her lip, her gaze transfixed, so Harry had no choice but to tolerate it for the moment. He straightened up and held his arms behind his back as I cupped his balls in my palm.
“Harry’s always been a bit bashful about this sort of thing,” Clara smiled.
“Really?” I said. “I can’t imagine you being bashful about anything, professor.”
Harry exhaled a deep sigh. He brought one hand from behind his back, spit into the palm, then spun toward me to grab my cock. He looked me dead in the eyes, squeezed tighter than I would have liked, clearly had no interest in my pleasure, but I know how we must have looked to Clara—her masculine lovers, arms pumping, biceps tight, our pecs contracting.
How long would we do this? Locked into a contest of wills, we likely would have continued until one of us came across the other. And by the look of his face, Harry would have been the first to go.
Clara, perhaps sensing this danger, stood. She moved between us and kissed me on the cheek as she took our cocks in each hand. She led us closer to the fireplace. She rubbed us slowly, let us settle down a bit. She angled her body first toward me, then toward Harry to give us each a full view. I felt myself sweating from the heat of the fire. She kissed Harry’s chest, kissed my neck. I watched Harry take deep, calming breaths.
When she decided we were sufficiently composed, Clara leaned her chest against Harry’s. She kissed him. Then she touched the tip of my cock to her soft pussy. I held her waist and pushed into her from behind.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/129r6nw/forever_hung_part_23_scifi_slow_burn_all