Clara braced her palms against Harry’s abs, and I took a languid pace compared with Harry’s muscled pounding. I also considered my advantage. My cock, longer than his. I pushed into her slowly, letting her appreciate my length. She kissed Harry, but began to bend more the deeper I went. She kissed his nipple, held her lips against his stomach, but she stopped shy of a blowjob, too distracted as I gave her my final inch.
I saw Harry’s disappointment, his jealousy, and wondered if I was winning.
Harry looked at me as his wife began to grind against my hips, her nails digging against his chest. He took her hands, placed them carefully along the hearth, and stepped aside. He touched himself as he watched, walking back and forth around the two of us. Clara kept her eyes on him, turning her head to watch his sweating, hulking body.
He moved closer to us with each pass. He touched his shoulder to my shoulder; he ran one hand along Clara’s back; his cock brushed across my ass.
At last he crouched beneath Clara, his back to the fire. He kissed between her bobbing breasts, squeezed them against his face. He licked a line of sweat from her stomach. He grabbed one of her ass cheeks and I grabbed the other, claiming it for myself. Then—I could feel the reaction of her body, the tonal shift of her moans—he began to lick Clara’s clit.
She reached down with one hand, holding him there as I began to thrust harder. I felt the occasional flick of his tongue along my cock.
“Harry don’t you dare make me cum,” she said, and I spanked her because she’d said his name instead of mine. She smiled back over her shoulder and told me to fuck her. “Don’t stop fucking me, Charlie,” she said.
I struggled to control myself. I held Clara’s hair. She arched her neck. I spanked her. I groped her breasts. I pounded against her, her bottom rippling. In short, I lost my slow-and-steady advantage, until she suddenly pulled herself from my cock, stepped back from Harry, and threw herself against the hearth. She brushed her hair back, sweat sliding down her heaving chest as we stood before her, touching ourselves.
She looked at each of us as she caught her breath, as if trying to make up her mind. “I need a moment,” she said, blowing air through her lips. “I’m not ready to cum yet.”
She let her arms drape across the mantel. She glanced over Harry and I, likely expecting us to resume playing amongst ourselves, to offer a little show. And I nearly did. I nearly took Harry’s hand to grope between my legs, considered upping the ante with a kiss.
But he and I seemed to share a realization at the same moment. That as Clara stood there, wet and waiting, trying to bring her desires back from the brink, we each had an opportunity, a chance to push her over the edge and into orgasm with only a bare touch. She held her thighs tightly together as she stood, as if she could lose control if even the faintest warm gust from the fireplace found its way between her legs. Harry and I both seemed to realize at once, for we began to advance at the same time.
Harry grabbed Clara first, taking her right arm and pulling her against him. She gasped. Not to be outdone again, I seized her left arm and pulled her against me. She gasped again. Harry pulled her back to him and immediately slipped his hand between her legs. He fluttered his middle finger against her clit. I snapped her back against me, grabbing her bottom with both hands to hold her tight against the flat of my cock. I had time to see the flash of her scrunched-nose smile again before Harry scooped her up in both arms, laying her down on the rug.
He laid to one side of her. He kissed and fingered her as she moaned and struggled to tear his hand away. I laid to her other side and rotated her body toward Harry, sliding the head of my cock into her cunt from behind. She reached back to stop me as well.
“Wait,” she said between kisses as her body quivered.
I pushed deeper, felt Harry’s fingers pass across my shaft in their frenzy.
“Wait,” Clara managed again, pushing a hand against my hip.
I felt my pelvis against her ass, saw Harry’s tongue glide across hers.
“I’ve decided!” She shouted suddenly. Harry and I both stopped, the three of us panting. “I know who I want to be with.”
Harry and I looked at her expectantly, a little stunned that she could know at such an odd moment.
“But this isn’t how I want to finish,” she added.
She swatted Harry’s hand away, slapped at my waist, then laid back against the rug. She stretched, held her arms up over her head, arched her back, leaving Harry and I to gape at her body, and when I timidly reached for her breast, she swatted away that hand, as well.
“You both have to be good,” she said.
“Anything you want,” Harry said,
“Agreed,” I said lamely.