His kiss was hard, but his cock was harder, straining against the thin fabric of his pants into my welcoming palm. His own hand was on my right breast, kneading the flesh roughly as his finger tips sought out my nipple through my blouse. The motion, amplified through the coarseness of the material, sent fresh ripples of anticipation coursing through my body.

I shifted my hand a few inches. Now it was against his belly, pinned into place by the weight of our bodies. I fumbled at the buttons of his waistband, but there was no room for my fingers to maneuver; instead, I pushed my hand inside his pants, inside his briefs, seeking the solid mass that I knew was there. If I could just touch him, just brush the tip with a fingernail, hear the sharp intake of breath that I knew such a simple action would cause; that was all I wanted.

As if he read my mind, he took a step back, his open mouth still pressed firmly against mine. I seized the moment, seized his prick through his pants, felt its warmth and firmness against my skin and, though I felt the fabric of his pants protest, I curled my fingers around its thickness. He felt so strong, so huge. I wanted to smell him, to taste him, to feel him inside me, as deep as he could go... I had to have him, right here, right now. And then a footstep on the stairs behind us saw us spring apart, and turn our attention to the pile of neatly numbered and stenciled cardboard boxes heaped up in the basement where we stood.

Maggie's smiling face appeared. "There you are. I was going to send out a search party!"

Tony turned and put his arms around her. "I was showing Chrissie the packing. It's amazing how much crap you accumulate when you've lived in one place for so long."

I nodded. "And, of course, you never find anything you can really stand to part with," I sympathized. "The last time I moved house...."

Maggie and Tony were the proverbial oldest friends, a couple I'd known for as long as I've lived in the city. In fact, Tony was the first guy who ever hit on me after I moved here, at the bar where a bunch of my workmates always congregated. I was with somebody else that evening, though... damn that somebody, whoever he was... and Tony was eventually sent away with a flea in his ear. And the next time we ran into one another, a week or two later in the same downtown bar, he was with Maggie.

My loss, her gain... they've been together ever since, and I'd number them both among my closest friends in town. I don't think Maggie ever discovered the precise circumstances under which we met, though; and I've certainly never told her that, not-so- deep down inside, I still think her boyfriend's one of the hottest guys around.

Which is why tonight is so unfair. Tony's being transferred to Delaware, halfway across country. It's a sweet move from him - his company's paying all the expenses, even flying their cat out in Business Class with them. Now the movers are booked, they've found a new house, they've cancelled their cable and ordered new business cards - the only thing left to do was throw one last farewell party, so all us poor souls that they're leaving behind can gather to say our goodbyes. But though we all know there'll be more than a few pairs of wet eyes before the end of the evening, I never imagined that there'd also be one pair of wet panties. Why did Maggie have to come downstairs at that moment?

And why did this have to happen in the first place? It's not as though Tony and I have spent the last however many years secretly lusting after one another; if anything, he usually treats me more like an older sister than anything else, and I stopped entertaining my own fantasies about him long ago. But there was something about being in the basement with him, standing in the cool semi-darkness while he chattered on about his bright, unfolding future - for Christ's sake, Tony, this might be the last time I ever see you. Can't you shut up for just one minute? So I stepped forward on tippy-toe and kissed him on the mouth; chided him for not having been more forceful when we met; and, the next thing I know....

Now he's standing there looking at me from the corner of one eye, while Maggie chatters on about all the petty little details that seem so desperately fascinating when it's you that's moving house, but which bore the pants off everyone else who has to stand and listen.

Pants... off. I wondered if Maggie could feel his erection sticking into her thigh? Or if she even noticed it any more? They've been together so long now... nine years? Ten?... that whatever sex they do still enjoy must surely be so wrapped in habit that even the orgasms seem commonplace. Whereas I could have given him one that he'd never forget - no, Chrissie, no. You kissed him goodbye, and it got a bit out of hand. That's all. There's nothing else to think about.

Except, if that's true, why is he still looking at me that way?

We walked back upstairs, Tony and Maggie side by side, me just behind, my eyes on his ass. Only at the top, as he stepped aside to let Maggie through the doorway, his hand reached blindly behind him and squeezed my arm. I shaped my hand around his before he could withdraw it; squeezed it and then squeezed past him into the kitchen, thrilling as I felt him stroke the small of my back. It was only a brief touch - anyone watching us wouldn't even have noticed it. But I knew I'd be carrying the sensation around with me for the rest of the evening.

We bumped into one another a lot over the course of the next hour or so - literally bumped. I'd step into the kitchen to grab another beer; he'd be at the fridge just split seconds before me, a hand on my shoulder, or gently round my waist. Or he'd stand up to put on a new CD, and I'd be browsing through the pile as his hand reached over to pick up a disc. Once, I bent to pick up a glass that someone had left on the floor. Instantly he was standing beside me, his crotch so close to the side of my face that I could feel its warmth. I turned my head slightly, let my lips brush the bulge behind his fly. He was still hard. Fuck, I want this man.

The blood was pounding in my ears. I could barely remember the last time I was this turned on - and was this helpless to do anything about it. Years ago, maybe, back when I was at college. I was at a restaurant with a guy I was seeing, and we were both feeling horny as hell. Which wouldn't have been a problem, except his parents were with us as well, treating us to a slap-up meal. So we stroked one another under the table, then he got up to go to the bathroom. He didn't need to tell me why.

I'd guessed he'd gone to jerk off quickly, but I never imagined he'd save some for me. He returned, sat down, and laid his hand on my wrist. It was still sticky and, when I glanced down, a blob of white liquid still lay on his thumb. Delicious white liquid.

His father was talking - glowing, in fact, about how thrilled he was that Michael had found such a sweet girl to date; that, "between you and me, Chrissie, I never thought he'd ever find someone who could put up with his funny ways."

"Ah, they're not so strange one you get used to them," I answered, and I raised his hand to my lips, his wonderful cum-covered hand, and kissed it slowly, lovingly, hungrily. And afterwards, I thought, there can't be many girls who've got to swallow their boyfriend's cum, while his parents are sitting across the table from them.

Perhaps Tony could do the same thing? But, I wondered, would it seem quite so thrilling this time around? Somehow, I doubted it. I wanted more than the tang on the tip of my tongue; I wanted to swallow him whole and hard.

For the second time that evening, it was as if he could read my mind. We passed one another at the buffet table, and I could taste his desire in his barely audible whisper. "Christ, I want you."

I touched his hand. "The feeling's mutual. But it's not me who's moving away."

His expression told me that was a few words too far, and I smiled. "Not that I can blame you for doing so. Hey, I need a cigarette. Let's step outside and you can tell me ALL about the hassles you've been having with the phone company."

So we did; and he did. I wasn't the only smoker at the party; there was half a dozen other people on the deck in the back garden, puffing away and fluttering around us, wishing him luck and patting his back and, no sooner did the first few leave than more stepped out to replace them. Including Maggie, who had never smoked a cigarette in her life, but who seemed more than happy to join us puffers on the patio - and was it my imagination? Or was she really watching us with more than a hint of interest?

Instinctively, I stepped away from Tony, turned to talk with someone else. He, too, drifted away, to busy himself emptying ashtrays and then back over to where Maggie was standing. I saw them exchange a few words; saw her glance again in my direction. Then, while Tony walked back into the house - or did he slink sheepishly, a bad dog waiting for the whip to come down? - she was heading towards me, and her smile did nothing to calm the tight bands of nervousness that were suddenly coiling around my stomach.

"Looks like you two could do with some quiet time together." She was still smiling. "You've known one another for so long, this must be hard for you both. Our leaving, I mean."

"It is a little," I agreed. "Both of you - I don't think there's any other couple I've known for so long."

"I don't think there's many other couples who've stayed together this long," she replied. "Tony and I, though; sometimes, I think we're indestructible." She looked around. "Things are beginning to break up here, just about everyone has to work tomorrow. If you want to hang around and help us pick up, then maybe we can say goodbye properly...." Her voice trailed off.

"Sure, I'd love to."

"Great." She turned and left, and a pang of guilt crossed my mind. She was such a sweet girl - in some ways, I was going to miss her even more than Tony. I wondered how sweet she'd be if she knew what had been going through my mind just a few minutes earlier... correction: what was still going through my mind. "Say goodbye properly," she said. Well, a farewell fuck would be nice. Mind if I borrow your boyfriend?

Half an hour later, while Tony busied himself carrying bottles out to the recycling bin, Maggie and I were in the kitchen, washing glasses, scraping plates of half-eaten sandwiches into the garbage, and giggling over the pile of going-away gifts that balanced on the table. "It's amazing," she was saying. "People just don't think. We're moving halfway across the country, our stuff's going to be shut up in a truck for a week - and somebody brought us a pot plant. Would you take it?"

I nodded. "You're going to have fun repacking that crystal set as well. Nice of them to bring it; not so nice to insist on you unwrapping the whole thing, to make sure it never got damaged in transit."

"Well, if it didn't then, it probably will later," Maggie laughed. And then, "I saw you, you know."

"What?"

"You and Tony. In the basement. And everywhere else, for that matter."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say. "Sorry" wouldn't work - friends don't say sorry, because they should never do anything to say sorry for. And one of those stock explanations that we've all pulled out at some time or another... "I don't know what came over us; we just got carried away"... might have worked if she'd only seen us once. But all night long? So I said "oh" again.

"Tony said you never slept together."

I looked at her in astonishment. Of course we didn't - apart from five minutes in the basement, we were upstairs at the party the entire evening. I started to speak, but she interrupted me. "Before, I mean. Before I met him, when you two..."

"Oh, back then? Never. We never even dated. In fact..." - and the story came flooding out: how he'd spent five minutes flinging his best pick-up lines at me, before my date came back from the pool table and told him to take a hike. I told him to do the same thing a few days later, but the next time I saw Tony was the night I met Maggie as well. And the reason why, when Maggie emerged from the bathroom, she discovered her boyfriend of the past three days laughing with a girl she'd never seen before, was because the boot had landed firmly on the other foot. I'd walked in and spied him alone in a booth, and walked straight over to offer him a very easy second chance to sweep me off my feet. Which is when he told me he was with someone else.

"So when he introduced you as an old friend," Maggie began.

"I was actually the girl he tried hitting on the week before he met you. Oh God, it sounds dreadful, doesn't it? But if he hadn't...."

"We'd probably never have met." Maggie's voice was suddenly soft and serious. "He still fancies you, you know."

It seemed foolish to feign surprise. "I know. He's never been a big fan of unfinished business."

Maggie shook her head. "No, I don't think that's it. Don't you dare tell him I told you this, he'd die of embarrassment. But a couple of Christmases back, we were messing around, trying to coax one another into confessing the fantasy they'd never told a soul."

"Okay...."

"His was a threesome with you and me."

Fuck, I never expected that. NEVER. But I tried to act composed. "And what was yours?" I asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes laughing excitedly. But before she could say another word, Tony walked back in and flopped onto the floor at our feet with a sigh. "You would not believe how many different places people can find to put their empty bottles and glasses. I've spent the last 15 minutes crawling around in the bushes, pulling them out. And there was a condom in one of them. I think someone was doing the dirty in our back garden."

"Our ex-back garden," Maggie corrected him. "Any ideas, Chrissie?"

I named a couple of the guests, a pair who were no more likely to have a furtive encounter in the rhododendrons than I was going to fly to the moon. But, behind the banter, my mind was racing. My conversation with Maggie still hung open-ended in the air - as open-ended as my tussles with Tony, earlier in the evening. And they were flying out the day after tomorrow. Say goodbye properly. We must say goodbye properly.

Maggie was saying something. "Chrissie finally told me the story of how you guys met."

Tony grinned. "I wondered what you two were gabbing about so earnestly. Well, all I said was that she was an old friend. I didn't say how old. Two weeks, wasn't it?"

"Just about," I agreed. And then, "but it probably worked out for the best."

"Only probably?" Maggie interrupted. "Well, thanks."

"You know what I mean," I teased, but she shot back immediately, "I'm not sure that I do. After all, I never had the chance to answer the question you were asking when Big Ears here walked in on us. And you never had the chance to respond."

"Should I leave?" Tony stood.

Maggie looked at me. "That depends on Chrissie, I think. What do you say, Chris? Two of us, one of him. Do you think we could have him?"

I'm still not certain precisely how I responded to that. But, when I replay this moment in my mind, I know what I hope I said. "Only if you'll both have me first."

Maggie took total control - if she hadn't, the three of us would probably still be there now, Tony standing, frozen to the spot, and looking exactly like I felt, absolutely thunderstruck; me paused with my mouth wide open; an Maggie looking expectantly from one of us to the other.

With one hand, she tugged at the bottom of my sweater; with the other, she deftly undid the waistband of his pants (so how come I had so much trouble with it earlier? , I wondered as I watched.) Recovering fast, I slipped my arms out of my top, then reached over to unbutton her blouse. Tony still stood looking helpless, his pants wide open to show off his boxers.

Maggie slid back to complete her own undressing; I stood and began pulling at Tony's T-shirt. If we'd been alone, I probably wouldn't have bothered - after everything I'd been through this evening, there was only one part of his body that I wanted to see and touch. But he was still Maggie's man, and some bizarre sense of propriety told me that she should be the one to unwrap his treasures, something she did with so little ceremony that the movement reawakened all the suspicions I'd voiced to myself earlier, about how their lovemaking had long since lapsed into over-familiarity.

If I'd been her, I'd have peeled his boxers down slowly, caressing him as I did so, waiting while he built up such strength that, when I finally snatched away the last shred of cover, his erection would spring up before my starving eyes. Instead, he was barely semi-hard, but before I could even consider what to do, Maggie's hands were on my breasts, pushing me back onto the couch before her lips fastened onto one of my nipples and began softly, sweetly sucking.

My eyes were still on Tony, but my attention was wandering fast. Maggie's hands were on my stomach, palms down, her fingernails softly scraping over my skin as she slowly worked her way down my body, to my hips, my groin, my inner thighs. Her kisses were following slowly... too slowly. I wriggled myself, hitched myself up a little further on the couch, hastening her progress towards my flooded puss. I wondered if she'd ever done this before? In all the years I'd known her, and all the conversations we'd had, there was never the merest hint of bisexuality - but then I flipped the thought around and wondered if the same thoughts were going through her mind? I'd scarcely advertised my own experiences, either.

Contact. Ask me what the biggest difference is between men and women. The way they eat pussy. Men (some men) may know how to do it, might have all the tricks and maneuvers down flat. But women understand how to do it, and there's a big difference. They don't need guidance, they don't need reassurance, and they don't need to hear you screaming and groaning to tell them they're doing it right. They just do it, and there's no sensation in the world can match it.

Except maybe one. Tony still stood, his eyes glued to the sight of Maggie's head, bobbing and weaving between my thighs. Holding one hand on her scalp, I sat up, extended my other hand to clasp his wrist, pulled him closer, then clutched at his cock. Now he was as hard as I'd felt him before, and this time, I didn't need to pick something up from the floor in order to get him where I wanted him. Pulling on his prick, I brought him close, waited while he arched his body over the couch, then raised my head just another few inches and took him into my mouth.

I relaxed completely. Something I learned long ago, the secret of giving head while receiving it is, don't try too hard at either end. Instead, just lay back and enjoy it. Between my legs, Maggie's mouth was transmitting pulse after pulse of pleasure through my body; above me, Tony's short, tentative thrusts were growing firmer and more confident as it dawned on him that he could fuck my face as hard as he liked, that no hand was wrapped around his shaft as a barrier against penetration. I wanted to feel his helmet in my throat, and now he was giving it to me.

His balls slapped my chin, his belly pushed against my nose. I felt saliva flooding from my mouth, running down his shaft, greasing his motion, easing his movements, and even when I felt myself coming, and the urge to cry out built relentlessly within me, I did not pull away from him. I just allowed the tension to build and build, until my entire body shook with the effort of containment and, at last, a long low moan escaped from my throat, as Maggie and Tony slammed themselves so deep inside me that they must be meeting midway.

I felt Maggie rise; my eyes were closed, but still I sensed her shifting first beside, then behind and finally, above me, her thin thighs spread on either side of my head, so close that if I'd opened my eyes, her ass would have blindfolded me regardless. Tony groaned; his own climax was approaching, and I felt that momentarily thrill of nervous uncertainty that strikes every woman when her man is preparing to cum in her mouth. Don't let me splutter, don't let me choke, just let it slip straight on down... and then he was gone, pulling away from my lips and shooting instead between Maggie's thighs, spattering her pussy with thick streams of sperm.

For a moment, I felt cheated - that was mine, I made it happen. But only for a moment. As his last few drops fell onto my lips and chin, so Maggie shifted forward a little, and now her cunt was at my mouth, spilling out an intoxicating cocktail of juices and jism.

I felt it smearing across my face, dripping thick on my tongue, oozing into my throat. My two favorite flavors in one soul-searing mouthful. I devoured every drop that my lips could reach, as Maggie rode back and forth ever faster, nearing her own spellbinding finale. And when she came with an almost violent scream, Tony, too, cried out alongside her, then collapsed alongside me on the couch as she toppled on top of us both.

We lay for a moment, neither moving nor speaking, before I felt Maggie roll off, to land lightly on the carpet. She shunted herself round, to kneel alongside me, and kissed my lips. Tony, too, was kissing me, before he took a deep breath and spoke, for the first time since we'd removed his clothing. "I don't know if you two were planning that, Chrissie, but another session like that, and I'll be asking my company to transfer you as well."

I laughed. "Well, I had to give you something to remember me by."

"Remember you? I'll never forget it. Maggie knows, it's been my number one fantasy forever, to watch another girl eat my cum out of her pussy." He kissed me again, but I was more interested in the self-conscious cough that was apparently the only sound that Maggie could make.

"But I thought..." I began, before she interrupted me. "Okay, maybe I embellished the truth a little," she smiled. "I told you Tony wanted a threesome and, like he just said, he did." She averted her eyes for a moment. "It was me that wanted to have it with you. And I won't ever forget it, either."

Her head was on Tony's leg, and I watched as his cock began to stir again, hungry for another bout. She kissed its softness and I felt a pang of jealousy. He may have fucked my mouth, but I still hadn't sucked his cock, not properly. I clambered onto my knees, then bent forward to join her in his lap. "Okay," I said. "That was fun. But, if we're talking about our greatest fantasies, and you two have just fulfilled yours', maybe I should let you in on a secret of my own."

And that's exactly what I did.