Summary: “Tell me, boy, do you want to touch my wife?” He trails his hands down her body, caressing her softly.
I swallow. Nod.
“Why don’t I teach you how to touch her right?”
Warnings: Drinking, spanking, Daddy kink
Word count: 2,052
She’s a gorgeous femme, wearing a long black dress with a deep neckline and a thigh slit, her dark wavy hair tossed over one shoulder. He’s a butch daddy type, with a tight haircut and a sharp suit and tie. They stand out at the local dyke bar where patrons don’t normally get so dressed up. I’m standing in line at the bar, trying to casually check them out while they pay for their cover with the security guard. I’m always so attracted to butch/femme couples, and I like to fantasize about pleasing the femme while being topped by the butch. I’ve never imagined it would happen in real life, though. The butches I meet are the exclusively butch4femme type, not into butch boys like me.
The hot couple gets in line behind me and they smile. I smile back politely, prepared to turn around and play it cool when the butch asks, “So how’s your night going?”
“It’s good,” I say with a wider smile, even though it’s honestly been boring so far. Not anymore. “Just grabbing a drink after work.”
We make small talk and it turns out they’d been out salsa dancing and stepped into the bar for a drink before heading home. We chat about dancing, the bar, and nightlife in the city. By the time we get to the front of the line, they offer to buy my drink. I grin and say okay.
My order is a Tom Collins. The butch orders a shot of whiskey, neat, and the femme orders a martini. Classic.
They ask if I want to sit and chat with them, and I nod, feeling butterflies and hot desire.
The bar is kind of divey, dark with loud music, a sticky sheen on every surface. We have to lean in close to hear each other.
We exchange pronouns, but don’t learn each other’s names. Later I decide it’s hotter that way. He’s a web designer and she’s a legal advocate for immigrants. I gape for a moment at that, impressed, and feel a little inadequate when I offer my job at Trader Joe’s, but the femme says it must be hard work to be the hot butch TJ’s cashier and I blush from head to toe. The butch smirks at her, then at me. I ask where they live, and it turns out they’re down the street and up a block. The small talk continues until our drinks are empty, and finally, they ask the question I’ve been waiting for.
“Can we take you home for a drink?”
Their home is beautiful, a two bedroom apartment in a high rise in Capitol Hill with hardwood floors, granite countertops, and an impressive number of plants that fill the space with life. It’s quiet and clean compared to the bar, and I stand in the kitchen with my hands in my pockets, heart thudding in my chest. I’m nervous, excited, turned on, and out of my depth. I’ve never had a threesome before, and I have no idea what I’m doing.
He asks if I’ve ever had an old-fashioned and I turn to him and shake my head.
“You’ll like it,” he promises with a wink. I have a feeling he means more than the drink.
I watch him pull out whiskey and bitters from a bar cart, grab sugar from the cabinet, and water from the fridge. He muddles them together, and finishes it off with an orange slice and maraschino cherry. I get distracted appreciating his strong arms, his button-up shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms.
I watch his arms reach out to hand me the finished drink, and I look up to see him smirking at me. He clearly noticed my admiration.
I take a sip and smile, relieved that it’s sweet enough for my taste.
“It’s good,” I say, taking another sip. “Thank you.”
He pours another two drinks and he clinks a glass with me, leaning in close to say, “Cheers.” I lick my lips and swallow. He smells like cologne and whiskey.
He motions to the couches and we sit down across from each other.
He has his arm wrapped around her, smiling at me, looking relaxed and confident, the same confidence that attracted me at the bar.
He puts down his drink and leans back. “So, what should I call you?”
I think for a moment, not wanting to share my name, or a fake name. “You can call me ‘boy’.”
He nods. “I’m Daddy, and she’s baby, or good girl.” He licks his lips and his voice grows deeper, almost husky. “Tell me, boy, do you want to touch my wife?” He trails his free hand down her body, caressing her softly.
I swallow. Nod.
“Why don’t I teach you how to touch her right?”
I nod again, entranced. I watch as he pulls down her dress and exposes her beautiful tits, playing with them while he kisses her neck. Her skin is pale against her black dress and dark hair. She has a freckle on her left breast and her nipples are small and pink. They flush with the attention he gives them, gently twisting and pulling. She whimpers at the sensations, her arms hooked behind his neck to hold on. He hikes up her dress too and I see that she’s not wearing anything underneath, her thick dark curls peeking out between her legs. His thick fingers begin playing with her wet pussy, and small moans escape her mouth.
I feel my clit growing hard in my pants, my mouth going dry, but while I want to touch this beautiful woman, I feel glued to my seat without an invitation.
“Come here, boy,” he says. “Get on your knees and eat my wife’s pussy.”
Thank God. I obey, entranced, lowering myself. The floor is hard under my kneecaps and her skin soft under my hands. First he has me clean off his fingers. She tastes good, salty and sweet, and it makes my skin grow hot to suck him off. I look up at her and she smiles back at me, inviting and wanting. I softly kiss at her thighs first, drawing closer to her center, gently drawing my tongue up her wet slit, relishing in the beautiful moan she gives me.
I eat her pussy like I’m thirsty and she’s water while he teases her tits and kisses her, swallowing her moans with his mouth. I lick her clit softly, up and down, in circles, trying out different patterns to see what she likes. I find a rhythm she responds to and I repeat it until I hear her breath hitch and I go harder, determined to make her cum on my face. Her moans pitch higher and she starts to moan, “Oh Daddy please can I cum?” and he gives her permission. She does, hard, gasping yes yes yes .
“Good boy,” he praises me. Heat rises to my skin at being called good boy, and I’m throbbing and wet in my jeans from eating her out. I’m so turned on. He unzips her dress and she stands naked before us. She has a tattoo on her back of angel wings, and it makes me think of calling her “angel.” I lick my lips, still tasting her on my tongue.
“Have you ever used a strap before, boy?” he asks. I shake my head. He goes to the bedroom and brings out a strap-on and harness and motions for me to take off my clothes, which I obediently do. He stands behind me and adjusts the harness onto my hips. Seeing his hand on the silicone cock makes me grateful it’s not a real one, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to contain the moan that almost rises in my throat.
His femme gets to her hands and knees for us. She’s a beautiful sight, her dark wavy hair splayed down her back, the curve of her ass, her dripping pussy waiting between her dark curls. He lubes up my cock and guides it to her wet opening, fingering her open while I watch, mouth open, mesmerized. She’s moaning on his fingers, saying “please” like the good girl he said she was. He guides my cock inside her, pressing his thick body against my back, and I can feel him hard packing.
“Fuck,” I gasp. He holds her hips and grinds into my ass, moving my hips for me in a perfect rhythm, each stroke of my cock coaxing louder and louder noises out of her mouth. The base of the dildo rubs against my clit, and I’m so, so wet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” I start to stutter, and he calls me a good boy. It sends flames through me. The electric fire grows at the base of my cock and I grind into the rhythm between their two hot bodies.
“Oh fuck Daddy,” I moan, desperate, thinking of nothing but reaching that edge. “Please.”
“Please what?” he asks.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please can I cum?”
“Oh,” he chuckles. “That’s a good boy. Asking Daddy for permission.”
“Please,” I whine, not sure if I can hold it back.
“No,” he says. The way he says it is so hot and dominant that I cum instantly, hard, with a strangled moan and my hips jerking. Fuck.
“What the fuck did I just say?” he says in a low voice in my ear, and fuck if it doesn’t somehow make me even more wet.
“I-I’m-” I try to stammer out an apology, blushing.
“Bad boys…” he says dangerously, “get spanked.” And with that as his warning, I feel his hard palm come down on my ass. I cry out – in shock and in pleasure. “Bad boys need to learn a lesson about cumming with and without permission,” he says sternly as he spanks me. “Yes Daddy,” I moan. He continues beyond the point I think I can take it anymore, but just barely. Then he massages my sore, red ass, and slips a thick finger into my slick, throbbing pussy. I moan deeply, arching into his touch; I need to be fucked.
He brings his mouth to my ear again. “I’m going to fuck you with my cock,” he murmurs, “while you eat my wife’s pussy.” I bite my lip and nod. “And,” he adds, “she’s going to cum first, or you’ll be a very bad boy. Understand?”
I nod eagerly. “Yes Daddy.”
“You’ll be a good boy for me?”
“Yes Daddy, I’ll be a good boy for you,” I promise.
“You want me to fuck your pussy?”
“Please fuck my pussy, Daddy,” I whine.
He lays me down on my back on the couch and teases my dripping slit with his big cock and I’m panting. “Please Daddy, please-” I beg him to fuck me until he does.
His femme sits on my face, and by God, I eat her pussy like the world is ending and I could save it with her orgasm. I’m not close yet, but I will be soon, and I need to bring her to that edge first. I lick and suck her clit hard, moaning into her pussy while he fucks me. She’s as vocal as I am, and I wonder briefly about neighbors but decide that if anyone overhears us, that’s even hotter.
He starts to rub a thumb on my clit while pumping his thick cock in and out of me, and it’s unfair how good it feels. I have to make her cum right now. I slip a finger inside her easily, then two, then I suck on her clit and curl my fingers. I’m moaning and she’s moaning and even he is muttering fuck . We’re a glorious mess of heat and desperation. The heat is building up in my center again, and I’m so close. She starts to shake on my face and her moans reach a pitch – and I taste her cum in my mouth, drinking her up greedily, and fall over the edge myself, cumming with a loud moan that’s muffled by her pussy and thighs.
“Good boy,” he praises me. “That’s better. Cutting it a little close though.”
I laugh, lightheaded with pleasure.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
I stay the night, and learn about how to please a femme and a butch.