He also turned out to be ordinary with a capital O. Except for the fact that he’d self-made his billions in the pharmtech industry, there was absolutely nothing notable about him. He was average age (midfifties), average looking, average height, average personality.
But Amber had liked him, and he’d welcomed us into his life with no hesitation. He was newly divorced, and with his two daughters already grown and married, his fifteen-thousand-square-foot estate had probably felt large and lonely. It was to our benefit – living with him had been a paradise like no other. He’d spoiled us rotten, buying us gifts and bringing in servants to cater to our every whim, and never once did he act as though he’d expected us to pay him back in any way. He was just that nice of a guy.
We did fuck him, though. Of course we did. And just as he’d been outside of the bedroom, he’d been extraordinarily nice inside it as well. His generosity had been what Amber had liked the most about him. Not only did he give her several orgasms in a night, but he’d also caress her and massage her and lavish her with attention.
He’d caressed and massaged and lavished me with attention as well. I just hadn’t responded to it the same way she had. The sex had bored me and it had very rarely been satisfying. Poor Bryan would lick me for what seemed like days, and I’d still go to bed frustrated. Each time was exhausting and embarrassing and not worth the effort. Early on, I’d considered excusing myself from the sexual activities altogether, until I’d discovered that Bryan also had difficulty releasing. Pretty much the only thing that could make him come was watching two women make out. More specifically, watching Amber and me make out. My participation had therefore been necessary. At least, it had been if I’d wanted to keep everyone happy, and I very much had wanted just that. So what if my own happiness was ignored? At least it was a much better situation than the one I’d left in Mexico, where orgasms were in abundance but so were bruises, fractures, and other assorted injuries.
Despite having several guest bedrooms available, we had all slept together in a king-size bed in Bryan’s master suite. It was the first threesome we’d been in where Amber and I had been treated equally, or, at least, where the façade was that we were equal. I didn’t try to fool myself that it was anything other than a ruse, and in case I ever needed proof, I got it when I’d sit outside on the balcony off the bedroom and listen to their conversations spill through the vent, unbeknownst to them.
One night, I heard Bryan ask, “With Emily – am I doing something wrong?” His concern had been sincere enough. Even though I suspected he was in love with Amber, he’d always sincerely wanted both of us to be happy and cared for.
“She was raped,” Amber had said in explanation for my distance. “She’s still recovering. Be patient with her.”
“That must be it. Sure. I’ll be patient.” There had been a brief pause before he’d asked, “Are you sure she’s just not more into women than men? The other day she got off really easy when she was fondling your tits.”
“I’m surprised you noticed since you also got off really easy when she was fondling my tits.”
Bryan chuckled. “True, true.”
They grew silent and my thoughts turned to the occasion Bryan had mentioned. We’d been in a variation of sixty-nine – Amber, sucking Bryan’s cock while he went down on her while, at the same time, he’d finger-banged me. And I’d tried – I’d tried so hard to be turned on, but I just couldn’t get there.
Then Amber had let up on the blow job to turn to me. “Touch my tits, Em.”
I reached over and cupped a breast in my palm.
“Not like that,” she’d snapped. “My nipples. Roll them between your fingers. Do it now.” She’d even taken my hand and placed it exactly where she’d wanted it.
Amber had always been good about asking for what she needed, but usually it had come in the form of pleading. This time, she’d made demands. She’d ordered me and used me for her own sexual pleasure. It was base and completely self-motivated on her part – she hadn’t been concerned whether I was getting off. She’d been so consumed with her own climax that I hadn’t even been sure she’d realized Bryan was working on me as well.
And I’d found that arousing. Very arousing.
“But you know,” Amber had said, interrupting the memory, “I don’t think that was the reason Em was into it.” She said it if she’d been thinking about the scenario at the same time I had, and in retrospect, she’d realized something that she hadn’t before.
A chill had run down my spine and my skin had started to tingle. It had felt like suddenly discovering I’d been being watched when I’d thought I was alone. It had been unnerving and comforting all at once.
Bryan hadn’t seemed to have been struck with the same insight that Amber had. “You don’t? What do you think it was?”
She’d hesitated. Then in her ultimate flirty voice, she’d said, “You. Silly.” I’d known her well enough to recognize her cover. She hadn’t really believed that it had been he who’d made me come. Either she hadn’t wanted to hurt his ego or she hadn’t understood enough about what she’d figured out to put it into words so she’d given him the credit. But I was certain that she’d had a moment of clarity and that she had finally glimpsed the animal that dwelled inside of me.
Whether that had been the first time she’d ever thought about what turned me on or whether she’d been trying to figure it out for a while, I wasn’t sure. But after that, she’d been different with me, acknowledging the thing between us more than she ever had before. She’d always been slightly bossy, saying things like “Wear your hair in a French braid,” instead of “maybe you should braid it” like someone else might. Now when she made her commands, she’d look me in the eye as if to say, “I know. I know this is what you want and so that’s what I’ll give you.”