Andrea of Three

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Hi! This is my first effort–been a while waiting for the mindset I need to get the stuff out, and complete to my satisfaction. This here is a kind of short sequel to an as yet incomplete scenesetting story. Might seem a bit sloppy here and there–sorry! Bit dialogue heavy, but it’s what I felt like at the time. Hope it’s rude enough for you–let me know!


I looked out of the window, down the garden, and exhaled. It was Saturday–“buggery weekend”. Lovely day–and those three weren’t available until tomorrow: Sara had had to go up to Newcastle with her parents, or some such shit. All three or none of them, was the rule.

My own rule–which had to be stuck to, no matter what. Hard enough servicing three spunkhungry nymphets without having to deal with the green monster as well. Thought about having another almighty wank–a real sploosher, to add to the plastic pot of spunk I kept stocked in the fridge, with which to lovingly and attentively lace those angel sluts’ regular glass of orange juice…OJ Plus.

“Hiya! We’re thirsty,” they’d say regularly as they came through the front door, “is there any OJP in the fridge?”

I felt the familiar and warmly welcome rise in my pants as images elbowed their way into my brain, of my three darlings sat giggling on my settee, all thighs, cleavage and earrings, taking their own sweet time to quaff their spermy juice, always to the last drop…Of course, they never fail to ask for seconds, because it’s their favourite. I never seem to be able to oblige with that though–I can never resist giving them the whole lot first time. I like to see it swirling about in the glass, you see, as my babies tit about with it between swallows, sloshing it around and that, playing with it. No–seconds being out, they have to be content with tongueing out their glass as best they can (must get some shallow glasses). I honestly don’t know who enjoys it more–them as they lovingly down it, or me, watching them lovingly down it…It’s a matter of trust, you see. It honours me.

The phone rang, splintering my picture to a million bits. A lovely place, the sexual imagination. Time stops. Then: Brrnngg! Brrnngg! and it starts again, just like that.


“Hiyaaa,” a sweet, contented, girly voice chirruped.

“Which one of my honeys might this be then…”

“You know who it is, stop fannying about.”

“I like fannying about–it’s a hobby of mine. Hi Andrea honeybabysweetie. Just thinking about you three.”

“What was it about? Did any of us have clothes on?”

“Course not. Rude thoughts. Dirty. Perverted.”

“Figures. Just figures. What you up to?”

“Not a lot, at the minute. Looking at a sunny garden, with absolutely no nude young girls parading around or spraying each other with the hose. What are you up to? You at home?”

“Um. Mum and dad and Jimmy have gone to Nan’s. Won’t be back till late. Nice day for some fun, innit?” Büyükesat Escort Hopeful. She knew Sara was away. No chance. Ignored it.

“Not half,” I droned. “What you doing–watching telly?”

“Nah–I’m on me bed…playing, and that.”

“Oh? “

“Mmm. Imagining things…pushing stuff in and out of myself, like girls do…”

“They do, do they? What are they pushing up themselves today then…pray tell.”

“They’ve probably got one of Jimmy’s toy skittles stuck up them–plastic. Big. Very big. Probably took them ten minutes to get it that far in.”

“Up their pussies, or their tight young bums? What did their fancy tell them to do today?”

“Up their tight young pussies.” There was an offmike sounding groan. “I feel full. It’s big. Feel like I’m having a baby.”

“Be careful–don’t get anything stuck. You’d have to dial 999…”

“I’d ring you–and you’d come and rescue me.”

“Would I, though?”

“No, ’cause you’re a bastard, with a shit rule about no contact unless it’s all of us.” I could see the tight lips. Tee hee.

“Correct! Rules is rules! So, Madam, what might it be that goes through your lovely head, while you’re lounging around impaled your on your kid brother’s toys? Hmm? Images of…”

“Cocks. Big, dripping ones, with big, heavy, hairless balls…full to the tubes with…”

“Go on,” I urged, blithely.

“Spunk. Spunk spunk.”

“You like that word…”

“Spunketyspunk. More spunk. A bathful of spunk.”

“She likes her spunk. How would you like some now? This second…”

“Mmm. In me arse and mouth…on me face and in me hair–oh, I can’t wait till tomorrow…we’re going to have such a lovely time, aren’t we…”

“I’ll say–you girls are going to get it, every which way, in the countryside. We’re going to leave your clothes in the car, I think.”

“That’s the doctor…Mmm…I’ve got nothing on now, could you guess?”

“Suspected as much. Are you all bare, on your bed, big soft boobies and smooth, round thighs…skittles stuck up you?”

“Just one. I’ve put some lipstick on me nipples…Mum’s crimson lippy. Looks really cute. I’ve been dancing, watching them swing about like jellies, in the mirror. Haven’t I got lovely tits. Don’t you think I’ve got lovely tits?”

“Beautiful tits. Your tits are perfect, baby, they really are. Big, as well. And still growing, aren’t they? I’d like to see you dancing like that–watch them jiggling, in a crowded disco. I’d like to video that…”

“We’ll all have to go sometime. You can watch us dancing starkers while all the yobs stand there looking with their tongues hanging out, and the slags hissing like snakes.”

I bellowed a laugh. “I’ll say! Deal me in for some of that! Bristol, or somewhere, where no-one’ll do any recognising…”

“Mm–crack on.”

I breathed a deep breath. This was gorgeous. “Your mum’s Elvankent Escort lipstick on all of your tits–matching set…triplets.”

“Yeah. On our shaved fanny lips as well…like I have now.” I heard her swallow.

“You’ve got some nice red lippy on your pussy as well…” I coaxed.

“Mmm–is that naughty?”

“What–naughtier than shoving skittles up your cunny for overt sexual purposes, you mean?”

I heard her chortle in the filthiest way I could imagine. “Yes, it’s naughty,” I continued, “you’re a very naughty young lady indeed…how do you look, in the mirror?” My cock was well out of my trousers now, rockhard and starting to leak the nectar…

“I look like a fuckslut,” she breathed. “Red nipples, red cuntlips…Oh! I just shaved it again, like you said: trimmed top bit, bald crutch. Looks really nice. Wish I could kiss it.”

“I’ll kiss it for you.” Feeling fatherly as I said it. “Did you dye your pubes yet?”

“Oh, yeh!” she chirped, “forgot to mention it. Jet black. Clairol. Looks better, dunnit? Matches the eyebrows and lashes–nice contrast to my blonde hair, like you said. I’m growing it, you know. Me hair, I mean.”

“Are you? Looks cute now. Prefer it longer, though…”

“I know you do…” her voice had deepened. “I know why, and all…”

“Oh?” I teased. I caught a string of sweet slime as it dripped off my swollen cock, spun it round a finger and licked it off.

“Oh?” I persisted, smacking my lips. Give it to me–all of it. I want everything you’ve got.

“When you were…” Hesitation.

“When I was what…” Give.

“When you were doing Millie’s arse last week.” She paused. “I got jealous, when you were bumming her–on that stile, remember?” I could hear her breathing down the phone, clearly. I could just see those magnificent tits rising and falling…

“Jealous? If I remember rightly you’d not long had it up your tight rear, had you? Half an hour, or something…” It had been another lovely day, that…

“Mmmm, yeh–but you were pulling her ponytail while you were doing her–using it as reins, like you were riding a horse. I’ve never seen that. I’d like to be ridden, like that. My hair’s too fucking short. I feel left out–well, I did, then.” She stopped for another breath. “Sara said she’s putting hers into a ponytail, as well. Or pigtails, she said…”

“Mmm,” I said, “I do like that. No need to feel left out though, hair grows–I can’t wait to see your blonde ponytail, be lovely. And jealousy’s only natural, baby, when sex is…you know.”

“Mmmm.” She seemed to be musing, then: “Hey–I’ve had a dream. Swhy I rang you up, tell you about it…”

“Was it a good one? Was I in it?”

“Oh,yeh–you were in it alright. We were in the country, just me and you. Walking. You were fully dressed–“

“Is this dream filthy or just perverted?”

“Both. Listen! You were fully dressed, Beşevler Escort but with your cock out, sticking up like a pole. But, I was completely nude, not a stitch, and we were just walking along like that. Now and again we stopped so I could suck it for a while, in a field and near a small wood or copse or something. It was a lovely day. And we walked. I don’t know how long for, but at some point I said I was tired, and…” She paused.

“And?” I urged.

“You picked me up, facewards, so my legs went round your waist, and I could wrap my arms round your neck, and rest my head in your shoulder…and you carried me like that. And, I don’t know how it happened, but your cock was right up my arse. I must’ve slid down onto it or something, but it was. Right up, I could feel it filling me up. And you walked like that, carrying me for miles, your nob moving inside me with each step…After a bit, we came to a town and you carried me, still stuck up me, through the streets, until we reached the town centre and it was full of people, and you just carried on through all these crowds…with me wrapped round you, starkers and…penetrated.”

“What did the people do? Anything?” A Lovely Dream!

“No, they didn’t seem to notice. Like you were a father carrying his kid or something, nobody said anything, just carried on shopping and that…that’s it. That’s the dream.”

“A lovely dream! We can do that!”

She squealed. “Can we?”

“Yessirreebob! Not the town bit, but in the fields and that–oh yes! That’s a lovely dream. You’re not that heavy, are you? Nine stone? I think I could do a mile or two of that.”

“Ooh fucking hell,” she gushed, “I’m going to splosh in a minute…Can we do it soon?”

“Maybe tomorrow. See what we can do. You’ll have to take it in turns, though. Sara and Millie get a go as well, don’t they?”

Slightly disappointed tone, but: “Yeh. Me first, though. Carry me first.”

“Yes. Your idea, that’s fair. Now,” I suddenly felt the need for some space. “I think, that’s it for today, Hon. I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll let you finish off your lovely wank and I’ll see you three tomorrow. And don’t get het up about having to wait for your ponytail hair to grow. Even short hair’s grabbable–unless you’re a skinhead obviously, and you’re not one of those, are you. The next time you’ve got my fat swollen dick right up your tight, teenage backside, being relentlessly pounded, I intend to use your hair as a buggery restraint. You’re going to be absolutely powerless to stop what’s happening to you. Do you understand? You’re just going to have to endure it until I’ve finished. That’s what’s going to happen.”

There was a screech at the other end of the phone. Another. Sweet child had just come. And again. Sweet, sweet child.

I smiled a dad’s satisfied smile. “By-eee,” I said, put the receiver down. There was a Godawful slimy mess on my hand, which I had absently forgotten to slurp. “Oh,” I said to myself, “my sweet slime, I’m sorry…” and proceeded to clean myself up with a greedy darting tongue. Yes, I thought, a sploosher is in order, top up the old spunkpot for my babies’ OJP tomorrow, for, undoubtedly, they would arrive in a very, very thirsty state, and I’d surely be a terrible host to allow that situation to continue for too long.

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