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He glanced down at me and shook his head.
“Then you don’t know me as nearly well as you think you do,” I smiled as I kissed his nose.
The Sammara of a months ago might’ve gotten offended at the comment, or even considered it misogynistic. Yet in my heart, I knew he meant well. The guys had so far treated me with nothing but respect and admiration. They simply wanted to take care of me, and I loved them dearly for it.
In truth, I was learning to love them for lots of things.
Kyle and I bonded over all things old. He learned to share my love for history, and came with me on tours of old properties whenever I asked. We took weekend excursions all the way up and down the east coast, from Louisiana as far as New England. Dakota came with us sometimes, and we stayed at everything from five-star hotels to two-hundred year old bed and breakfasts.
We could never stay long though, and that was the downside. For now at least, we could never stray too far from the base, for any significant length of time.
But while we were away? Our relationship was always intense. The guys had no problem showing me off in public, when it came to PDA. I was kissed, held, swept off my feet and made love to whenever they wanted… or whenever I wanted, which was often.
Ryan on the other hand liked to stay local. We’d take day-long trips
on his motorcycle, where I’d spend hours just leaning against his broad back, clutching him tightly with both arms. Wherever we ended up, we always stripped down and fell all over each other Because as much as he enjoyed sharing me with the others, physically and emotionally, there was always this underlying intensity between us whenever we were alone.
Halloween came, and rather than sit home answering the door for trick-or-treaters we decided to dress up and go out. I made the mistake of letting the guys pick my outfit, which ended up being the shortest-skirted cheerleader in history. It was kind of funny, bar-hopping with three big football players constantly rubbing up against me. Listening to everyone around us joke about how I’d be having a ‘good time’ later, not even realizing that all three of them would in fact be taking turns on me. The evening ended with a sex-fueled cab ride back to the house, where I got to fulfill each of my boyfriend’s lifelong cheerleader fantasies, while living out my own dirty dream of being nailed by the football team.
I had a lot of dirty dreams like that actually. I just never thought I’d fulfill them.
The weather grew colder, and we began lighting one of the mansion’s several fireplaces. It became a nightly thing for us; gathering around its soothing warmth, talking about our pasts, the present, and even the future. I learned a lot about what each of my boyfriends did, both before and after they enlisted. Kyle talked about his time as a demolition specialist, touring in Afghanistan. To my surprise I found out Ryan was actually airborne. For a good part of his service he’d been part of the 75th Ranger Regiment, with over seven hundred jumps under his belt.
As for Dakota… well, he didn’t say much about what he did. He’d ‘learned to shoot’ at home back in Iowa, and had been doing so for the Army ever since. One night while we were alone, Ryan let slip that he’d been a Special Forces sniper. Dakota would be called in for missions where ‘high value targets’ were involved, and he’d received both medals and citations for individual shots he’d taken.
This meant he’d killed people. It was something I hadn’t ever considered.
“But he’s so happy,” I said. “Always cheerful. I never would’ve ever suspected he’d—”
“He never talks about it,” Ryan told me in confidence. “I think it’s how he deals with it, and that’s fine. Some guys can set the job aside. Some bring it back with them. Dakota’s one of they lucky ones who can separate the two, so we’ve learned not to ask him.”
My own stories were a lot less exciting. I talked about growing up without my parents, and how hard it was to have such a life-defining moment come right dead smack in the middle of your childhood. It was like having two lives, really. One before… and one after.
“Show us,” Ryan had said one night, as the fire flickered.
“Huh?”
“You have pictures, right?’
I’d smiled and left the room, returning with the only photo book I owned. It was old and dog-eared; put together by a grieving nine-year old kid with two shaking hands. But in it, my mother… my father. The only two loves of my life, smiling happily back at me. Staring at me from a timeline that could’ve been. From a place where everything was still okay, and good, and happy, and we still had a future together as a family…
“They’re awesome,” Dakota smiled, flipping through the pages. “You should be happy you had them, even for the time you did.”
Our nights by the fire were always my favorite. Sometimes we’d listen to music or play games. Other times we’d just talk. On colder evenings we’d pile pillows and blankets close to the fire, then lay there lazily trading stories and massages and other stuff too.
Afterward, of course, we all fell into bed together.
It was incredibly liberating, being this free and shameless and dirty. I lay back for my gorgeous boyfriends, spreading my legs for each of them in turn. Sometimes we screwed slowly, making out like teenagers, trading off whenever one of them got too close, or too hot, or too heavy. But other times?
Other times it was hard and fast and deliciously filthy.
I was in a state of perpetual bliss; there were always at least one set of hands on my body. Always a pair of lips pressed up against mine, or a warm cock, or a hard shoulder to chew on while I was being fucked long and strong and deep. My boyfriends took me together, crushing me against their bodies, sandwiching me between them, filling me on either side from within. My pussy was never not wet, or soaked with desire, or full of come…
Thanksgiving arrived, and we celebrated together. We had way too much food, way too much drink and tons of laughter. And as I sat there staring across the table at each of them, I finally came a realization: we were a lot more than just some strange, out-of-the-box relationship.
We were like family.
I’d grown to adore and rely on these men… and them me. Kyle, with his humor, wit and charm. Dakota, bright-eyed and optimistic and always smiling. And Ryan, who could go from stoic indifference to a wide, beautiful grin — all in the span of seeing us as he walked through the door at the end of the day.
