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"Yes. Yes."
"Then trust us. Push against him."
She did, and he started to make headway, no pun intended. Noah wrapped an arm around her waist, his strong biceps contracting against the side of her breast. It burned a little, but she breathed through it.
"Squeeze down on me, Gen."
As she did, Noah groaned, and she realized the same motion squeezed his cock inside her. Lyda's eyes sparked. "You see how much pleasure you give both of us?"
"She's too tight, Mistress."
"Relax," Lyda crooned at her, cupping one of Gen's breasts and stroking the nipple above the lace. "He's not going to push. He'll go as slow as you need him to go. Think about how it feels, all those tiny nerves around your rim and inside, quivering, eager. I know it hurts some. Let's see what we can do about that."
Lyda made an adjustment beneath them, her knuckles brushing Gen's labia, and then the strap-on was vibrating, those tiny beads caressing and massaging Gen's opening, the two-way clitoral stimulator pressed in just the right place.
She held Lyda's eyes, held onto her voice, Noah's hands stroking her sides, his mouth brushing her neck. Gen let out a little whimper as Noah made it all the way in.
Lyda's face was suffused with pleasure, her gaze coursing down over Gen's quivering breasts in the pretty bra. She captured one to play with and Noah caught the other, two different types of touches, tearing her into two equally pleasurable sides, a harlequin of response.
Their hands dropped back down to Gen's hips, Noah's hands overlapping Lyda's. The two of them started so gradually, it was a rhythmic motion like two children daydreaming on a seesaw. The slippery movement of his cock inside Gen did start to feel more pleasurable, less painful, though enough of that burn stayed to make it provocative, to keep Gen cognizant of that arousing sense of serving their needs, no matter her own discomfort. It turned her on so freaking much she couldn't even wrap her mind around it.
Holy God, that stimulator. As Lyda began to be more insistent about pushing up inside her, a climax roared up on Gen so quickly, she didn't expect it. Her fingers knotted against the back of her head. "I can't...Mistress...I'm going to come."
"Yes, you are. And there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it."
Lyda made it sound like the threat it was. Gen had never had a climax while being impaled both vaginally and anally before. Throw the vibration into it, the stimulation to her nipples and breasts, and it was like being shot off into orbit. And the stimulation didn't abate. It got more intense, the two of them ramping up the force of their thrusts, so the speed and force of the rocket just kept increasing.
She screamed, long and loud, no hope that a babbling creek would cloak the sound. She wouldn't have been surprised if her climax echoed through the mountains. She begged, pleaded and screamed some more as she spun out of that orbit, control lost, spiraling toward impact. It was almost too much, a torment, but they refused to heed her pleas for mercy. That impact hit and the feeling just kept going, plowing deep beyond her pussy and ass, into her very soul, shattering it.
She had a shred of cognizance left when the two of them followed her. Lyda's face tightened, her eyes getting that lovely glazed look. Vaguely, Gen heard her order Noah to let go. His arm around her nearly cut off her breath, but it was a blissful asphyxiation as they both hammered into her for the full measure of satisfaction. Their harsh groans, pleasurable cries, gasping breaths, kept her captured in a post-climactic miasma, taking her with them, as far out over the mountains and into the sky as they wanted to go. Soaring, soaring, soaring.
She'd never blacked out during sex. When she became aware again, Noah had pulled free and disposed of his condom. He was laying her down on Lyda, Lyda's arms winding around Gen to hold her secure against her body. The strap-on was still inside Gen, but Noah took care of that as well, unbuckling it and pulling it free of them both, causing them to make twin sounds of pleasure at the friction. Gen pressed herself against Lyda's mound, absorbing a ricochet of aftershock. Lyda responded with a teasing little hip rotation and bump that made Gen moan again.
During their lovemaking, the cavitation of their three bodies had left them in a diagonal stretch across the bed. When she rested her head on Lyda's shoulder, she saw Noah wrap his hand around Gen's foot, pressed against Lyda's shin. He bent, pressed a gentle kiss to Gen's buttock, teasing it with his tongue. Then he nuzzled Lyda's knee, kissed it the same way.
She drifted some more, soothed by his caresses. When she tuned in again, he had a damp cloth between her buttocks, something that soothed. Lyda stroked her head.
"Nicely done, rabbit," she murmured. "You're our sweet little fucktoy. We're never letting you go."
It showed how fried her brain was that she accepted that as the best of compliments, a stirring one at that. She was happy with it. She was happy with any designation from Lyda that started with "our", even if it was just playful aftercare. She closed her eyes, and wanted nothing more than to be theirs.
*
She wasn't sure how Lyda felt about it, but Gen was nervous about how Noah's grandmother would perceive their relationship. There were older female patrons at Tea Leaves who had the detection powers of CIA operatives. If they chose not to comment about something, it had to do with traditional manners and courtesy, not stupidity. They came from an era when sexual m
atters were behind closed doors, not aired on Dr. Phil like a laundry list.
People were getting more accustomed to same-sex partners, so the chemistry between her and Lyda might pass without comment, but Gen wasn't sure there was any way to disguise that chemistry was a three-way connection. Noah seemed unconcerned about the matter, but since it was clear Noah could be a few sandwiches shy of a picnic on certain subjects, that wasn't necessarily reassuring.
No more time to worry over it, though, since they were even now walking up the road of the resort where his grandmother was staying. What would happen would happen. Gen just didn't want to do anything that would give Noah problems with the one family member who still accepted him. Glancing over at Lyda, she looked a little too dispassionate, her way of covering tension, but Lyda had made it clear she didn't really do families, that this situation with Noah was an exception.
It made sense. How would you introduce a woman who was your Mistress, with a capital M, to your family? You couldn't, so from the get-go the relationship would be referenced in vague generalities. And "vague generality" didn't apply to Lyda at all.
As they turned up the driveway, Gen saw the subject of her worries was already on the lookout for them. Dorothy "Dot" Wilder was a heavyset woman with bright blue eyes and a dandelion-style puff of white hair around her round face. Her hands were gnarled from bad arthritis, her legs bent with the same, explaining why she used the motorized wheelchair. Noah had said she could walk with the aid of a walker, but her back was badly twisted as well.
Those were momentary impressions, however. When Dot saw them, the expression on her face could only be described as pure joy. All the smiling lines on her face turned her eyes into cheerful crescents. "There's my beautiful grandson. Mona, come out here and see Noah. He's here."
When Gen saw the look on Noah's face, a bright reflection of the love on Dorothy's, her worries evaporated. Especially when Dot's gaze swept over the two women, a quick sizing up. It wouldn't matter what missteps she or Lyda might make. She saw the unbreakable history between these two. More importantly, she saw everything she needed to know in his grandmother's eyes. Love, understanding, sorrow, happiness. Dot was the guardian at the gate, the one family member who stood for the child within Noah, the child that stayed inside every adult, either nurtured by love or handicapped by a lack of love.
