The Legendary Mrs. Olsen

Info adamgunn
30 May. '18

The hotel lounge was quiet that evening, not surprising for a Wednesday. A table with five out of towners drinking pitchers of beer, seven people spread out around the oversized horseshoe bar. One woman, not bad for a lady of her age, certainly over 40, possibly even in her early 50’s. C-cup breasts under a white blouse, jeans, black pumps. You always noticed the shoes, women love their shoes. Big rock on the left hand, but that didn’t bother him, a lot of women didn’t care much when their husband wasn’t watching. Great necklace and bracelet, she was classy. Long nose, thin lips, collar length blond hair, she’d be pretty if she smiled, but Tom hadn’t seen that since she’d entered the place half an hour ago and ordered a drink.

Curt was moaning about Cindy, worse than usual. The bitch had invited him to dinner last Friday, supposedly to talk like adults about the divorce, then took him back to their (her?) apartment and fucked him like the dick he was. Then she’d kicked him out in the middle of the night, letting him know another guy was picking her up Saturday morning and driving out to a B&B. Another time up and down the yo-yo, and Curt didn’t know whether he wanted to try and make another go of it or tell her to go to hell. Tom tried to tell him he was getting played, but Curt didn’t want to hear it; served him right.

Once again Tom checked the blond out, and this time he caught her eye and held it for five seconds or more. “Hey, doesn’t she remind you of Mrs. Olsen?” It was their high school chemistry teacher, a very hot babe. She had something  the younger teachers didn’t have, a sense of I-know-what-I’ve-got-and-you’ll-never-get it. There were rumors she was putting out for the principal.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Curt replied.

“You know, I’d still like to have a piece of her ass.”

“She must be sixty by now.”

“Maybe, but I’d still like it.”

“You’re sick, Tom.”

Maybe he was but still, if he could get to Mrs. Olsen he’d take the chance. Maybe, just maybe, the woman on the other side of the bar would be a great substitute.

It was time for him to make a move.


The woman in the white blouse was ticked off. She couldn’t stand her hotel room, so she'd headed down to the bar to at least have some noise other than the television. She waved to the barmaid, ordered an Absolut/tonic, two limes. Then she thought.

First, there was this stupid conference twelve hundred miles from home. Her new boss enrolled her in it, didn’t give her a chance to talk her way out of it like she had so many times before. He’d caught on to her quickly, and even though she was the top sales rep in the district, he didn’t let her run her own life the way Jerry had. She’d been bored during the morning meetings, slipped out in the afternoon and went to the Mall of America. Bought some jewelry and a sweet silky baby-doll. Maybe that would get her husband in the mood, he hadn’t been really interested in over six weeks. And that was way too long, she was getting seriously horny even if she did bring herself off in the bathtub two or three times a week.

And he was getting on her nerves in other ways, too. Wanted to put in a new kitchen so he could cook for twenty people. That was okay, they could afford it and it would increase the resell value, but couldn’t he just make the decisions himself and leave her out of it? So much talk about tile patterns and tint of woodwork and he even tried to get her to consult about the brand of oven as if she gave a rat's ass.

“Pour you another one, ma'am?” the barmaid asked. “No, I don’t think so.” Oh, how she hated being ma'amed. Looking around, she viewed the other denizens of this evening's dungeon. What was the Billy Joel line? Oh, yes, ‘They’re sharing a drink they call loneliness / But it’s better than drinking alone.’ The guy on the other side of the bar tried to catch her eye again. He was a little cute, not as much as his buddy who seemed sad about something, but even if she was thinking about getting picked up – and she wasn’t – he was much too young. Not more than twenty-five she guessed, with his first big job, and he was a clothes horse. Thousand dollar suit, custom shirt, Armani tie. Bet he thinks he’s god’s gift, she thought. Catches his share of girls, then doesn’t know what to do with them was her guess. 

She went back to her brooding, this time about her daughter, just turned sixteen and had found out about boys. Once she discovered Kayla had her cherry popped, she had to take her to the gynecologist and get her put on the pill. Then they had to have the talk about how Kayla should limit herself to one boy at a time and make him wear condoms. Not that it mattered, Kayla was going to let it go in one ear and out the other. Damn it, the girl just didn’t have any sense! Not that it was so different from what her mother had done in high school thirty years ago, but at least she’d taken reasonable precautions and hadn’t gotten caught. It was funny, her husband still thought he was the second guy who ever had her, that summer after she graduated college. If he only knew . . . but then again, what he didn’t know certainly didn’t hurt him. And it pissed her off to know her daughter was getting laid on a regular basis, and she wasn’t!

But Kayla just wasn’t a smart girl. Oh, intelligent enough, she was keeping a B+ average, and she was great at taking tests, there shouldn’t be any problem getting her into a good college. But the girl was amoral. Just that morning, before she went to the airport, she saw her tube of Dior lipstick in Kayla’s hand. She confronted Kayla, of course, but she’d come up with a lie that she’d bought it with baby-sitting money. At least she had the sense to shrug it off and not make a big scene of it. And, of course, it wasn’t the first time Kayla had stolen stuff. Kayla was spoiled, and it was mostly her husband’s fault of course, but she wasn’t completely blameless either she guessed.

Another glance around the bar, and this time the macho caught her eye. What, she wondered, would he be like if she ever did let him into her bedroom? Just an idle thought, it was never going to happen. Damn! She realized she’d let her eyes linger in his a little too long. And now he was coming over. 

Tom didn’t go directly to her, of course, he was much too suave for that. Instead he kept moving, heading for the men’s room. But it didn’t stop him from studying her as he passed, not ten feet away. Nice body, she must work out. And her complexion was duskish, she probably used a tanning booth. Bet she didn’t have any lines, either, her teats must be as dark as the rest of her. As he used the urinal, he considered the possibility of another conquest, the oldest woman he’d ever had. He swigged a handful of water from the tap, quickly sucked a breath mint to mask the scotch.

On his way back, he enjoyed her rounded ass in the tight blue jeans. Approaching from the rear, he declared to the barmaid, “Tanya, get this lady another drink, won’t you?” The barmaid was torn, the woman had turned one down already, but Tom was one of her biggest tippers. The lady didn't say ‘no’, so Tanya got down a clean tumbler and filled it with ice. 

“I’m Tom.” Confident, yet with that touch of sincerity women just ate up.

She smiled, gave a long look into his eyes as if to say ‘you’re sure you can handle this?’ and replied with a handshake, “Gayle. Thanks.”

“Mind if I have a seat?”

Gayle considered it, decided a little conversation couldn’t hurt, motioned him to the stool beside her.

“And what brings you to this place?”

“A meeting at the convention center.”

“Oh, you’re from out of town then?”


“What do you do?”

“Sales rep.” Gayle decided to take a chance. “And you’re a stock-broker.”

Tom laughed, “Close enough, Financial Analyst. How did you know?”

“I’m a psychic.”

“Okay,” he played along, “tell me more.”

“Let’s see . . .” Gayle decided to go for it, if she embarrassed herself she could always just leave. “This is your everyday bar, you work in an office near here. The guy you left over there is your best friend, and you should bring him over here.” 

Curt was watching the action, she waved him over. When he approached she greeted him, “Hi, my name’s Gayle.”

Curt opened his mouth in reply, was interrupted by Tom. “Don’t tell her, she’s a psychic. Let her tell you.” 

“Give me a break,” Gayle responded, “real psychics don’t know details, just generalities. Anytime somebody spouts off a specific date, they’re phonies.”

“I’m Curt.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Curt, she’s amazing,” Tom said. “She knew we’re analysts, and she figured out we work nearby. Tell us more.”

Gayle had to giggle. This was turning out well. And Curt was pretty cute. Well dressed, but not over the top like Tom. 

She decided to take the easiest route. “Well, you two are best friends, have been since middle-school. You’re very competitive. One of you was the quarterback, one was the tight-end, and you won the last game in high school by a long pass. You’re still arguing if it was a better pass or a better catch. Am I getting any of this right?”

“Close enough,” Curt conceded, “We met as freshmen, and the sport was basketball. He was a guard, I was a forward. In the last seconds of the conference championship, I blocked a shot hard, he picked it up at mid-court, went to the basket and made an easy lay up.”

“Yeah, right!” Tom interrupted, "there was a guy right on top of me, and I had to shoot the ball left handed.” They looked at each other, the way guys who are trying to be macho always do, and then Tom asked her, “Got more?”

“Sure. You went to different colleges, and that way when the two schools played you could irritate each other. You still go to the games. Right?”

“I went to St. Cloud, he stayed at home at Metropolitan. Yeah.”

“One of you, I don’t know which, got a job at your firm and brought the other one in.”

“It was me,” Tom admitted.

“And, Curt, you’re going through a rough time. Girl trouble? Got dumped?”

“Worse, divorce.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Gayle commiserated, laying a hand on his arm. She honestly didn’t know if it was meant to be suggestive or not. “Bad?”

“Pretty bad. Tom’s right, she keeps screwing around with my head. But I’ve had it with her, it’ll be final next month, and I’m moving on.”

“Sure you are,” Tom interjected, a little spitefully. “He hasn’t made it with any other girl so far, and the bitch is setting new world fucking records.”

“I’ll be on my way pretty soon,” Curt insisted, and Gayle agreed, “Yes, you will. You’ll be fine. And once the girls find out you’re okay, you’ll be up to your neck in them.” Curt smiled at her in disbelief, and she reminded him, “Remember, I’m a psychic.”

The conversation moved on. Gayle shared with them a few details of her life,  she had a husband and daughter, a little of her upbringing. They tried to guess her age, Curt missed her true age of forty-six by only a year, Tom underbid by nearly a decade. When Gayle was offered a third drink, she accepted. Forty-five minutes later, when the threesome was comfortable, Tom broke into it with, “So, Gayle, do you ever fool around?” He didn’t know what her reaction would be, she might throw the drink in his face, but there’s the old adage that if you don’t ask . . .

Gayle just smiled, let a wistful mien cover her face, sighed, and then replied, “Of course not. I’m a Sunday School teacher.” She knew, at least, the last part was true, and if you kept it to the past fourteen months, the first part was, as well. “But you do, Tom, and you’re quite successful at it, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Curt. “How about you? Before you got married, I’ll bet you got your share.”

“Enough,” Curt agreed.

The conversation paused, Tom was at a loss. If Curt hadn’t been there, he figured it would be like shooting ducks in a barrel. But she seemed to prefer Curt. Maybe he should throw her over to him, let him take the shot. But, damn it, she still reminded him of the legendary Mrs. Olsen, and he still wanted some of that.

For her part, throughout the hour Gayle had been thinking, considering, even perhaps beginning to plot. A long held fantasy reared its head, and Gayle didn’t know if it was ugly or beautiful. If it chanced to happen this evening with these two beautiful boys she knew she wouldn’t regret it. But on the other hand she was very much out of practice, and she didn’t know how to place the invitation. Men are such cautious characters, and unless they, particularly Tom, believed it was their idea, they might spook.

“You know how I said you were competitive?” she began, and they nodded. “Well, I know one thing you’ve never been competitive about.”

“What’s that?”

“Sex. Oh, you two talk about your conquests, and tell each other how great the babes are, but you guys don’t really know which one is the better lover, do you?” She got only blank stares, they weren’t about to admit it. 

“How would we know?”

“Well, you’ve never made love to the same woman, so you wouldn’t. Actually, that’s not quite true. One of you, again I don’t know which, convinced a girlfriend of the other to go to bed with him. But you’ll never tell, you don’t want to hurt your friend.”

Tom kept his poker face on. It was, of course, very true, and it was even worse than a girlfriend. Before Curt was married, after the engagement, he’d made a run at Cindy when Curt was out of town and scored. As they were lying in the sack after it was over, she’d said he was a much better lover than Curt was, but then again, he bet she said it to every guy she’d had since. It came back to haunt him every now and then, but luckily the bitch had kept her mouth shut as far as he knew. Funny thing, just a month ago Cindy asked him for a date but he was smart enough that he wouldn’t touch her again with a ten-foot pole.

“So,” Gayle continued, “You simply don’t know which one is better in the sack, and, after all, wouldn’t that be the ultimate bragging rights?”

“Okay,” Tom bit, “assuming we want to know, how do we go about finding out?”

“I think you would have to make love to the same woman and let her be the judge. You shouldn’t have any problem finding a girl that would have sex with both of you, would you?”

“I guess not. There’s enough sluts out there.”

“Ah, but that’s the rub, isn’t it?” Gayle commented.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the referee has to be a pretty good lover herself. After all, you wouldn’t get somebody who doesn’t know the rules to officiate a basketball game, would you?” Nods all around.

“So,” Tom said, “We get a woman who knows how. Okay, that’s still doable. I mean I know some girls who know the ropes. There’s Sue, I bet she’d do it. Would that be okay with you?” he asked Curt.

“But wait a minute,” Gayle interrupted before Curt could agree – she could see Curt was interested in the woman they were talking about. “I assume you’ve been out with her a number of times, haven’t you, Tom?”

“Well, she’s sort of a fuck buddy, yeah. But she plays the field.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to Curt. You’ve had Sue plenty of times, she knows you in and out, and so she lets Curt do his thing once, maybe even twice. So she’s comparing two things that aren’t really equal. She might even pick Curt because he’s new, and you’re a known factor.” This got to Tom, he could see what she meant.

Curt picked up the chain. “Okay, we need somebody  neither of us have ever had before. That could be tough, other than a hooker.”

Both Gayle and Tom agreed together, “That wouldn’t do, she’d just say it was the one who tipped better.”

“Yeah, I know,” Curt continued. “And then, what if the girl was in the mood one night and the night when the other guy got her there was something wrong or something, like she had a headache?”

“Good point,” Gayle agreed, “you both have to make love to the same woman on the same night. But even that wouldn’t be good enough. Let’s assume the first guy really does it to her, gets her hot and bothered. Well the second guy gets this woman who’s completely worn out. That’s not fair, is it?”

“Nope.” This time, it was Tom talking. Gayle looked at both of them, knew she had manipulated them into just the mood she wanted. It was time to seal the deal. And then Tom walked right into the trap. “It has to be a threesome. One girl, the two of us, winner take all.”

“And neither of you could know the woman before that night. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a good survey.”

“Man, that’s tough,” Curt observed, then he turned to Gayle. “Have you ever done this?”

Wistfully. “A long long time ago.” A pause.

“Tell us about it.”

“Not all that much to tell, really. This was before I got married. My boyfriend had a friend who I thought was hot, and he came over one night. My boyfriend encouraged us so we got it on. My boyfriend just sat around for awhile watching us, then he joined in. We had him back a few more times. That guy could really screw me!”

“No shit!” Tom exclaimed, “And your boyfriend didn’t mind?”

“Uh-uh, he got into it.”

“So you’ve had lots of experience then. You know, it sounds like you’d be the perfect woman to judge which one of us is better.”

Gayle just laughed. She hoped the two boys thought it was from disbelief, but in actuality the mirth was caused by Tom’s step into the trap. “Oh, come on! I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”

“No, you’re not. And besides, that just means you know what a great lover is.”

“Oh, that I do . . . I do.” She looked Tom directly in the eye, held his gaze. “I know you’re interested, you’ve been checking me out all night.” Then she turned, “How abut you, Curt? If you don’t think I’m attractive . . . .”

“Hell, no,” he proffered. “You’re a very hot milf. I’d love to get it on with you.”

“You sure?”

Curt put a hand on her thigh, under the table, rubbed it up and down her leg. “Yeah, very sure. You want to do this, don’t you?”

“Can’t say it doesn’t appeal to me. Okay, so if we go ahead with this, what are the rules?”

“You make them,” Tom decided, “what ever you say is good enough for us.” Curt nodded his agreement.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Gayle knew, of course, that Tom had gone for the presumptive close, and that she very willingly had agreed. The two men were as good as buried inside her right now. “And what’s the bet?”

“Our usual for a big one?” Curt asked, and Tom accepted. “It’s dinner, at the restaurant of the winner's choice. Loser pays.”

“Sheesh. What do I get out of it?”

“It’ll be tomorrow night, and you get to be the guest of honor.”

Gayle thought about it for a minute, rubbed her chin. “Sounds fair to me.”

Curt added, “And you can have the winner all to yourself later.”

“We’ll see about that, maybe neither of you will get a passing grade,” she jabbed humorously.

“Oh, I’ll pass, don’t worry about it.”

Gayle laughed once again. “Very well, no time like the present?”

The three rose simultaneously from the table, Gayle waited while the boys paid and tipped the barmaid and they marched to the elevator. As it rose the threesome was quiet, each lost in anticipation. When the room was reached and they were in private, she told them, “Okay, first, a kiss from each of you. I’ve never had a good lover who couldn’t kiss. Flip a coin to see who goes first.” The toss went to Tom.

He grasped at Gayle, kissed her hard, using a lot of tongue. She allowed it, feeling the heat permeate from his body, and when his hand slipped to her bottom and crept into the crack between her legs, she didn't protest, in fact she let him drag her closer. She knew from the kiss Tom wanted sex with her, badly, but she felt it was more an advertisement for what was to come than what already was. After some time they broke, Tom asked with a smirk, "So, how was it?"

"I've had better," she critiqued. "You were a little too aggressive, and it was supposed to be just a kiss, not a grope." Then to Curt, she said, "Your turn."

She glided into his arms, and before he bent to place his lips on hers he stared for a moment into her eyes. And when the mouths joined, the action unfolded in stages. First there were a few seconds of closed lips, then Curt's tongue slipped onto her lips, tasting them, caressing them. When Gayle opened her lips to him, the tongue slipped in toward the teeth, the tongues mingled. Curt's hands remained on her shoulders, encouraging her to come close to him, yet not compelling her. She came to the realization he was just enjoying kissing her, not thinking about how much further the night would go, not demanding more. A few soft, quick pecks, then one more lingering, deep kiss before Gayle pushed him back and murmured, "Wow!"

When she'd gained her breath back, she looked at the lads and said, "Okay, here's the way it's going to go. We'll have various events, I'll let you know what they are when they come up. Each event will be worth up to three points. Okay?" The guys nodded. "And there will be an additional three points for how well you satisfy me."

Tom interrupted, “You mean how big an orgasm you have?”

Gayle smiled, “You just lost a point there. If you don’t know how to satisfy a woman without asking, you can’t possibly be a good lover.” Tom began to protest, but Gayle talked right over him. “But in the interest of fairness, here’s the gist. Yes, making me come, big, is part of it and don’t worry, you won’t have any problem making me come. But more than that, it’s how much I like what you do with me, in addition to simply fucking me. Got it?”

“I guess so.”

“And there will be another three points for creativity. Great lovers surprise their partner, keep it interesting. Agreed?” Both guys nodded, ‘sure.’ Gayle got a piece of notepaper, wrote their names at the top, then listed, ‘Kissing.’ 3 points for Curt, 1 for Tom. And she put the penalty on for Tom. “Now, it’s time to start. I want both of you to take off your clothes. I want to see the kind of bodies you have.”

This was the breaking point, when the horses might refuse the jump. It wasn’t that they hadn’t seen each other naked before, plenty of locker rooms were in their past. And, once, they had each witnessed the other making love when they had picked up a pair of girls. But, as the old cliché goes, ‘this was different.’

Tom started first, taking off his coat and unraveling his tie. Gayle indicated to Curt he should undress at the same time, and he also disrobed. When Tom was down to the last garment, Gayle suggested he keep that on, Curt stopped at the same point. And there were the two men, naked except for loincloths, standing before the woman. She stood, felt the skin of each.

Tom was hard, muscular, thin. His skin had a sense of well oiled leather, tense yet giving. Gayle looked forward to this body next to hers. Curt, on the other hand, was softer, not out of shape but padded. She compared his corium to fine cotton, not quite silky but very smooth. This man also was interesting. She decided not to throw either one of them out of bed. Body: Three points for Tom, two for Curt.

“You both pass. Very, very nice indeed. Go ahead and sit down. Now, I need to take a few minutes to get ready. I won’t be long. Watch ESPN or something while I’m in the bathroom, okay?”

She grabbed the bag containing the present she’d purchased earlier in the day for her husband, felt she could make better use of it this evening and disappeared into the bath. She attempted to hurry, but no woman worth her salt is ever going to enter into coition without preparing herself. The teeth were brushed, the body wiped with a damp cloth, and she realized the crevice between her legs was already sodden and odorous with anticipation. Quickly she stroked at the skin around her labia with a razor, eliminating the three-day old stubble she knew would irritate her lovers. For a second she admired her naked body in the mirrors, glad she’d never been a glutton and that even in her mid-forties she still carried a desirable carcass. And then she donned her gift, a black baby doll adorned with red ribbons that covered her bosom but divided to exhibit her belly, and pulled the matching g-string up her legs. Most of the fabric was silken, but the regions covering her breasts and mons were crisscrossed strips, showing everything yet nothing, deadly camouflage.

Returning to the main room, Gayle found the two men lounging in their underwear – Tom in white boxers, Curt in blue and white striped briefs – as if it was the most normal thing in their lives. In fact for the first few moments after she disappeared the boys were nervous, anticipating the sport, but as minutes passed it seemed just another Sunday morning lounging in their shared apartment, cereal boxes on the table, sports on the tube, and until she reappeared they almost forgot the incident. But there she was, not the most beautiful woman they’d ever been with, but striking in her semi-nudeness. “You like?” she asked. Neither made any effort to hide their lust, and Gayle realized their hidden bulges were growing in their keenness to possess her. 

“Either of you need to use the toilet before we get started?”

“Yeah, I think I will,” Tom declared, and he strode off to the bathroom. 

Gayle sat in Curt’s lap. “Well, we may as well get started, this event is petting,” and she bent her head up. For a few minutes they simply kissed, then Curt’s hands began to roam, first up her thighs, then across her belly and finally to her breast. He enjoyed the heft of her natural teat, then found a nipple had peeped it’s way through the netting and was in need of encouragement. And so he bent his head to suck gently on the nib. Gayle leaned back, relaxed in the warmth of his kiss, and the nipple extended. Curt’s hand descended and for the first time felt her pubis. He played with the ribbons of the panties, then with his fingers began stroking the tender skin and the strip of hair she’d left as ornamentation, pulling on it gently. Gayle couldn’t remember when a man had last done that, and appreciated the sensation of her skin being stretched taut. 

It was then that Tom returned and demanded, “Okay, my turn now.” Curt desisted, realizing he had to share nicely, and Gayle shifted to the other side of the couch, reclining on top of Tom’s body.

“Curt’s got me all warmed up for you,” she said, and Tom took it from there. Like Curt, he started with a kiss but again it was hard, almost brutal, and Gayle sensed how much he wanted her. But he didn’t allow his lips to remain on hers, he moved first to an earlobe and nibbled on it, then bent to her breast, a little too quickly. Unlike Curt, he lifted it out of the flimsy covering and first sucked on the nipple hard, then bit it. It wasn’t a nibble, it was a frank crunch, and Gayle’s entire body went taut. She didn’t scream or ask him to stop and he continued to bite, even harder, getting a wheeze from her. She stayed with him, pleasuring in the pain until it became too much and she whispered, ‘gentle.’ Tom’s hand descended quickly across her belly, dove into her undies and his fingers were suddenly covering the labia. She expected him to flick the clitoris but, instead, he began a rapid twitching in and out of her moistness, never penetrating more than an inch. It had its effect, and although Gayle didn’t have her first orgasm of the evening, a flash of warmth emanated from the two erogenous zones currently being stimulated. After some time of this Tom began to shift his hands in preparation for deeper drilling. Gayle tightly closed her thighs, halting Tom’s efforts, and slipped off his lap into the center of the couch.

She adjusted her bra so the exposed breast was once again covered and wrote on the scorecard, 'Petting, Tom 3, Curt 2,' then commanded, “Okay, it’s time to see what else the two of you’ve got. Stand up.” They did, both facing her. “Drop your drawers.” Both hesitated, then did as she bid. 

Gayle had a great deal of experience in the differences between tools, but she knew all men are effectively the same. Oh, there’s occasionally a prick that’s so short it fails to penetrate or so long it pounds against the cervix annoyingly, skinny to the point it is ineffective or thick to the effect that it stretches a willing vagina to the onset of pain, but most dicks are, very simply, large enough. Both Tom and Curt’s utensils were so designed and both were circumcised. Gayle motioned them closer, and took the genitals into her hands. Curt’s wand, as expected, was silkier than Tom’s, perhaps half an inch longer and the erection had more of an upward tilt. That wasn't to say Tom’s wasn’t pleasant to the touch; in fact, there was just enough roughness to ensure that during intercourse a sense of friction would be imparted, probably increasing the woman’s pleasure. 

The opposing testicles were also slightly different. Tom’s sac was loose, dropping more than three inches, holding large balls, whereas Curt’s was drawn up into his body, taut and yielding only slightly.

“Next event,” Gayle declared, “the Blow Job.” She led them to the bed, drew down the spread and exposed the sheet. “While I’m taking care of one of you, I want the other to pleasure me. But you’re not allowed to touch my panties, okay?” She got Curt to lay down on his back and took the phallus into her mouth. Gayle had always felt this event was the one she was lacking at, and in honesty this was the one she enjoyed the least because it was all about the guy and normally while she took care of the man her own passionate zones were ignored. But tonight, because of the second man, it was likely to be different.

She started by gently trying to draw Curt’s testicles into her mouth, and found the tight skin crinkled. Curt seemed to enjoy the attention, and when she stroked the rod with her hand, she found the tip was moist with pre-cum. She then licked the length of the phallus, and when she took the head between her lips the taste of the fluid was brackish. She began to work in earnest, trying to see how long it would be until Curt begged her to stop – the ability to last was a key to being a great lover. 

While she was bobbing for sperm, Tom first unsnapped her lingerie and disrobed her top, then began to massage her breasts. He enjoyed the way her boobs sagged slightly, something he hadn't seen yet in the young women that had been his prey up to this point except, of course, for the fat ones. This woman was different, and quite pleasant actually. He stroked around the rotund breasts, memorizing their geometry and that of the valley between them, then petted her belly and the small of her back attempting to excite her. He recalled an exercise a coed had taught him, and he slipped off the bed and caught Gayle's foot in his hands. Then he stroked the sole of her foot with his teeth, eliciting an involuntary jerk of the leg which he barely was able to control with the brute strength of his arms. When her spasm subsided he began to suck, beginning with her big toe and continuing toe by toe to the smallest. When he finished with her right foot, he simply moved to her left. Each time he started a new digit, she gave a slight involuntary jolt of pleasure, and occasionally moaned. 

Curt, for his part, disagreed with Gayle’s critique of her oral abilities, not that either of them realized it. He found her licking and sucking to be exciting, and after some minutes of the exercise, he realized his prick was twitching, and he admitted, “I’m close.” Gayle immediately ceased the agitation, leaving him in a state of temporary frustration.

“Your turn,” she said to Tom, and when he laid down she mimicked the actions she had so recently performed on the other man. She enjoyed the contrast, the feel of his prick in her mouth was subtly different, the taste of his liquid somewhat sweeter. She worked on him in earnest, trying her best to get him to lose control.

Curt just laid on the bed for awhile, resting and enjoying the surprisingly erotic sight of this half naked woman sucking on his best friend. Like Tom, he felt her breasts with one hand, diddling the nipples and drawing them to attention. He then attempted a foray into enemy territory, moving his right hand up the calf, over the bended back of the knee, up the thigh, and to the edge of the g-string. 

Surprisingly, Gayle, even though she was aware of the incursion, didn’t say a word or move her bottom to suggest a cessation. And so, having a great view of the cleft through the netting, Curt moved his finger to the edge of the hole then plunged into her. Gayle had been waiting for just that moment since she first considered the possibilities in the bar, and gave a large gasp at the movement. It wasn't an orgasm, technically, but the stage was definitively set.

While all this was going on Tom was reclining, appreciating the ministrations of the woman in a somewhat detached sense. When he was in the mood, he could disgorge into a girl’s mouth in a very short time, but he often realized he would need both his sperm and hardness for the more important endeavor and had learned to control himself. So while Gayle worked on him, he went over the probable teams in the upcoming NCAA tournament, fixing them into brackets, keeping himself from excitement that would be overbearing. At the same time, he let his hand wander over her hair, ears and cheek, so  she might have some pleasure from the act. For five minutes or more, Gayle attempted every trick she knew, but the cock in her mouth jumped not, no liquid filled her mouth. She surrendered, sat up and wrote on the paper: 'Blow job: T 2, C 1. C -1 for disobeying rule.' 

Gayle had been around enough to realize  some men really didn't like to eat pussy, and was almost sure  Tom was one of those. So she decided  instead of demanding cunilingus, she'd give them the option to do it or not. She looked at the boys. "Now, it's the Surprise Event. Each of you can do anything you want to me, or get me to do anything to you. The object is to get me off, if you can. The only thing is, don't put it in me yet. Okay? Tom, you go first."

Tom thought, then stood. Gayle enjoyed the way his prick stood out from his pelvis, rising up, then bending so the tip was almost touching his belly. She wondered what it would be like when it was rammed inside of her. Tom ordered, "Take the panties off and sit on the couch." 

She drew the lingerie over her knees, almost giggling at the boys rapt attention as she exposed her mid section, the landing strip of hair dipping between the flare of her labia, the crack beginning between her legs and wandering north, the small, shiny button peeking toward her admirers. She kept her thighs tightly together for a moment, then spread slowly, allowing her voyeurs to spy the folds of her flesh, the moist pinkness of their desire. Tom knelt between her feet, his cock pointing directly at her openin but she didn't object, for first of all it would eventually be in her anyway, and secondly, if he did put it in now he'd get one hell of a penalty. Tom began kissing her, hard again, and with one hand guided the rod so  it brushed between the vaginal lips, but never quite crept inside the opening. "You want it, don't you?"

"Not right now."

"But you want it, don't you?"


"Well, you're not gonna get it, yet." And as he rolled to his side, a finger of his hand parted the folds and delved into the darkness. His lips went to a nipple, and now he was poking his digit in and out, in and out. When his fingertip grazed the fleshy spot on the roof, a spark hit Gayle's body, and she tensed. "You like this!" Tom demanded.

"Yes," she hoarsely whispered. He continued, sometimes hitting the g-spot, often missing it. Even though he wasn't quite focusing on the point, he was close enough, and her body shuddered. It was just a petite orgasm, lasting only a couple of seconds, and Tom seemed to realize what had happened. Unfortunately, consigning the g-spot in the same category as hobbits, he concluded it must be the finger and so he began to delve deeper and deeper, harder and harder, then he used a second finger and a third. Gayle felt her cavity being filled, not really enjoying it, and when it seemed he was about to put the whole fist in, she pushed him back with a cry of "Enough." 

"How'd I do?" he asked, and Gayle replied, trying not to hurt his feelings, "It was okay." 

Curt had been sitting on the sofa, watching them and stroking his rod from time to time. Now it was his turn, and he motioned Gayle to come to him. She put her chest upon his, their lips met, and she felt his hard-on grazing her belly. One hand went to a breast, cupping it, teasing the aureole, gently twisting a nipple, and the other was at her ass, pulling her into him. This foreplay went on for a couple of minutes, then Curt twisted her around, until now she was seated, her legs spread, he kneeling, facing her. Once again, she was concerned she would be penetrated, but Curt crept down her body, first licking her earlobes and collarbone, then both nipples, then the navel, and then his mouth was between her legs. He licked at the smooth skin of the labellum, dipped his tongue into the moisture, then rose until the clit was inside his mouth and sucked. Gayle truly enjoyed this attention, and felt she was starting to come when he suddenly halted, went back to the canyon, where he was somewhat ineffectual. Again he sucked on the clit, again she approached release, again he went on to the other area. A third time he sucked, she was that close, and when he seemed to give up again, she cried, "Keep sucking," and he obeyed, and Gayle suddenly felt the blessed pulsing of a medium sized orgasm. This one lasted ten seconds or so, her nipples grew even harder, her toes curled, her breaths came in short, sharp spurts. 

"Did you come?" Curt asked, a little surprised.

"I sure did, darling. Thank you!"

And now, she decided, it was time for the final event. She wrote on the paper, 'Surprise Event, Tom:1, Curt 2', moved back to the bed and then thought about who should go first. She considered  these men had probably never had sloppy seconds, and didn't want to put one of them off by forcing him into it. She decided to solve the predicament quietly. "Curt, would you mind if Tom screws me first?" She could see a little disappointment wash over his face, but he recovered nicely, and nodded agreement. Tom swiftly approached her crying, "Babe, you're gonna get it good!" He had her lie on the bed, and in no time at all was above her and between her legs, his tool at her fissure and then, with one good push, he was within her. She pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, "Don't come, you can have me again after Curt. If you have to come, do it on my belly."

Like all the rest of his lovemaking, Tom thought of himself as a piston. The strokes were deep, and fast, and, frankly, monotonous. Gayle tried her best to provide some variation, moving her hips, pushing her pelvis up with her heels. Still Tom pounded, swift and downward, and it was only when she maneuvered her calves up to his shoulders and his cock was nearly vertically dipping into her that she felt any effective stimulation. She tensed her vaginal muscles, and then felt another tiny come. It was then that Tom shockingly withdrew and she felt his warm wetness on her stomach, and surrounded his prick with her palm, stroking it, milking it. When he collapsed beside her, he complimented, "Babe, you are one great fuck!" It was too bad, she felt, that she couldn't return the compliment. 

"I'll be back in a minute," she told the boys, and strolled into the bathroom where she soaped her twat with a wet washrag, dried it off, then returned to the bedroom. Tom was still stretched on the bed, he might fall asleep, and Curt was watching expectantly from the sofa. She sat beside him, took his cock into her hand, and moaned, "Whatever you want, baby." He bent to her, kissed her, and then pulled her until she was above his lap, his rod pointing to her opening, and he pulled her down, slowly, gently, and she could feel this tool gradually fill her. She descended onto it and began to grind on him lazily. She concentrated on herself, knowing the youth would find his own pleasure, and somewhere in the act she brought herself off, a big one this time, flashes of light even appeared inside her eyelids. She knew she was moaning loudly, and let it go on and on.

When she returned to her senses, she found Curt looking into her eyes, not sure he'd actually made this woman come so hard. With most girls you couldn't tell, or you felt they were faking or exaggerating their pleasure. This one was forthright about it, and he thought it among his best sexual experiences. "Have you come yet, baby?" she asked.


"You should, it's your turn. What do you want?"

Since Tom still held the bed, he asked her to lie on the floor, then he entered her in straight missionary. Now he stroked inside of her and once again, for this man, she tensed every muscle she had as hard as she could, and as he rose above her and his face grimaced, she felt his sperm flood her. With her legs surrounding him, she pulled him close until he completed. When Curt belatedly got off her, she went to the bathroom again to cleanse herself of the mess. And while she was there, she considered what the final score should be. Tom had been almost useless, but she couldn't give him a zero, for that would be mean. A 'one' would have to do. With Curt, she did all the work to bring herself off, and then in the end he'd resorted to missionary. But he had allowed her to take control. She'd give him a 'two.'

She crawled onto the bed, scooching Tom over, and waved Curt to her other side. Climbing between her two lovers, she kissed one, then the other. She pulled one hand of each to her breasts, reached down and held two cocks simultaneously.

"Thanks, guys, I enjoyed it."

"Well, who won?"

"Let's add up the final scores. No arguments, now, the decision of the judge - that's me - is final. For creativity, I'm giving Tom 3 points, I really liked the toe sucking, and Curt 2. But that was a big, big orgasm, Curt, so for satisfaction you get 3 and Tom only gets 2. Reaching over Curt for the scoresheet, she calculated the results. "Okay, Tom: 1 plus 3 plus 3 plus 2 plus 1 plus 1 plus 3 plus 2 minus 1 equals 15. Now for Curt. 3 plus 2 plus 2 plus 1 plus 2 plus 1 plus 2 plus 3 minus 1 equals - oh, no! Fifteen! It's a tie!"

"No, that can't be!" Tom shouted, and Curt just smiled, because he knew that even though he hadn't bested his friend, for the rest of their lives, whenever Tom tried to say he was superior, he could reply, 'Gayle didn't think so.'

At this point for Gayle, it could have been over. If the boys had decided to put on their clothes and leave, it would have been just fine with her. But Curt apparently had other ideas, for his young and starved cock was strengthening again, and his hand was fondling the breast, trying to spark a response. She decided to play along, and bent toward him, pinching a nipple severely and causing him pain. That action, not surprisingly, had the effect of solidifying the tool, and she brought her mouth to it, swallowed it, began toying with it.

In this position, her backside was open to Tom, and he decided to stroke it, putting a finger down to her moistness, then to feel the anus. When she felt the intrusion she was momentarily intrigued, for she was no stranger to anal sex, but then she thought about how Tom was rough and decided it might not be a good thing, not with him. She reached behind, took his hand and placed it back to the main event. There was a rustling behind her - she couldn't see what it was for her mouth and eyes were concentrating on Curt's dick - and then she felt hands at her hips, raising them until she was on her knees, and she felt Tom's wand enter her once again. Like the previous time, he was pounding hard into her again, and she cried over her shoulder, "Gently, gently." And Tom slowed, for the first time that night he enjoyed the sensation of gentle stroking of his shaft inside the warm, moist tunnel. In, a pause at the end of the downstroke, out, another pause, slowly, slowly. Once in a dozen strokes he'd allow the head to escape from the embrasure, and then begin the regimen again. 

For his part, Curt shifted until Gayle was directly above him, pointing her head towards his, and her mouth still cradled his penis. He'd had blow jobs of course, although not recently, and the difference was that this woman, instead of simply sucking him, fondled his balls and the sensitive skin behind them. Gayle managed to set up a rhythm, when Tom pushed she had most of Curt's stiffness in her mouth, when Tom withdrew, her lips only touched the tip of Curt. The linked threesome moved together and the dance enlivened Gayle; another shudder ripped through her body, every muscle within her tightened, and that set off the boys. Once again they came, Curt spilling his sperm into the back of Gayle's throat, Tom simultaneously exploding into her drenched tunnel. It was a pleasure to hear the echoes of passion, from Tom's deep grunts to Curt's ahhhh to Gayle's shrill whimpers.

Eventually, the three bodies separated, Gayle trounced to the bathroom to wash her mouth out, the guys wiped their groins with tissues. It was Tom who first found his underpants, Curt followed suit. When Gayle emerged, they were both zipping their pants. Still naked as a nymph, she helped them find the remainder of their clothes, assisted them with their jackets. 

"Thank you," Curt said, "it was quite an experience."

"For me, as well," Gayle agreed, "it was fun."

"About tomorrow night," Tom said, "You want one, or both of us?" 

"Give me a call late in the afternoon. We'll see," she promised.

Tom gave her a final kiss, as did Curt, and they stepped out of the doorway, letting themselves have one more long look at the mature temptress.

In the elevator Tom remarked, "I think I'm gonna look Mrs. Olsen up."