"Come on!" Sherlock yelled. "That sky is going to open up any second now!" He peered around his backpack at Jim and me, his dark brown hair whipping around his face.
I could barely make out his words over the thunder. We were crossing a spacious field, easily three miles square, and ascending the mountainside in a long slope. The grassy expanse was preternaturally green in the humid, pre-storm haze; beautiful in the same surreal, vaguely threatening way as a Dali painting.
Beautiful, but not the best place to be in an electrical storm, I reminded myself, casting an anxious glance upward as the dark sky was suddenly illuminated by a flash of light.
"Molly, where the hell's this coming from, anyway?" I heard Jim call. I paused, waiting for him to catch up.
In a matter of seconds he did, puffing lightly. His gold T-shirt was damp with perspiration and a sheen of moisture glazed his forehead. "You said the forecast was 'sunny and clear', girl."
"It was," I insisted, hitching my backpack a little higher on my shoulders, "but this is English weather, remember?"
"Move it!" Sherlock yelled again, drowning out Jim's answering snort. He was a good bit ahead and we had to jog to catch up.
"How much farther to the shelter?" I asked once we'd overtaken him.
"You can see it from here," Sherlock said, pointing without slowing his pace.
I squinted, just able to make out a brown roof at the field's ridge. "We're almost there, then."
"Not quite," Jim said. "It's farther than it looks. It's probably still… what Sher?"
"A mile," Sherlock replied. "Maybe more, and it's going to pour. We have to haul arse if… Shit!" The sky opened, just as he predicted, and the rain came in a sudden downpour.
We sped up a trot but the pace was impossible to maintain, given our heavy packs and the steep field. Our gait levelled off at a brisk walk, but even that was hard to keep up once the rain turned into a torrent.
I struggled against driving sheets of water, my long brown hair plastered to my face and shoulders and my pack getting heavier by the minute. I was a seasoned hiker and my body was firm and muscled, but I was quite a bit smaller than either Sherlock or Jim, and it was a challenge to keep up with their long strides. I trudged through the tall, wet grass with my eyes riveted to the shelter and the lyrics from 'Gimme Shelter' echoing through my head.
By the time we reached the shelter we were all soaked to the skin. "This blows," Jim declared, dumping his pack on the floor.
"I have to agree," I said, unhooking my pack and letting it fall, then wringing out the front of my drenched T-shirt.
"At least it warm out," Sherlock said, gesturing toward the front of the shelter. "We have a hell of a view, too. Look, it's fantastic!"
That was so typically Sherlock that Jim and I both burst out laughing. Sherlock was an incorrigible optimist, a purveyor of cheer who could see the bright side of any situation no matter how wretched. It was the thing I liked most about him.
Jim was different, apt to be a little cynical, but his quick wit always kept me laughing. His wry sense of humour was a perfect foil to Sherlock's perpetual brightness; he'd once told me that was why they made such a good pair.
"That's right, Sunshine Boy," Jim was saying, chuckling, "you just keep on smiling. Here we are," he continued, turning to me, "stick in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain. Can't even light a fire to dry off, and all he can say is 'nice view'."
"Well, it is nice," I replied, and it was. The shelter was a lean-to, a three-sided shack with an open front affording a broad panorama of rolling hills and distant trees. The vast sky view was crowded with dark thunderclouds occasionally illuminated by forked bolts of lightning.
The view inside the shelter was equally stunning, I noted, looking back at my hiking companions. Sherlock had raked his hair back off his face and pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing a firm, sculpted torso. His skin was light and fair; wet cargo trousers rode low on his hips, revealing the matching colour of his skin below his waist. A light swirl of hair decorated his chest.
Sherlock looked up and caught me checking him out. He grinned and winked at me, a twinkle in his clear blue eyes.
I flushed and looked away, only to find Jim shucking his clothes as well. He was as physically different from Sherlock as he could possibly be, but every bit as hot. Whereas Sherlock was fair, muscular, and a shade below average in height, Jim was tall and lean, his skin was very pale and clear.
"Better get out of those wet clothes," Sherlock advised, nodding at my sopping T-shirt as he unzipped his trousers. "You look like you're getting chilly, and you don't want hypothermia."
I glanced down at myself. My nipples stood out, clearly visible through my T-shirt. "Hypothermia? It's got to be about twenty-one. If I didn't know better," I added tartly, "I'd think you just wanted to see me naked."
They both laughed as I dug in my pack for another shirt. Privacy wasn't an option, so I turned my back and peeled off my T-shirt, struggling with wet fabric. I quickly slipped on the dry one, then removed my soaked utility trousers. I hadn't packed any others, so I was clad in just a white T-shirt and filmy pink knickers.
When I turned around, Jim was grinning. "Nice undies," he commented. "Can I borrow them sometime?"
I raised my eyebrows. "I didn't know you were into that, Jim."
"Honey," he said. "I'm into everything."
I laughed. Sherlock remained silent, but his lips wore a little smile. His eyes were fastened to my body in such a way that, if he were anyone else, I'd think he was regarding me with lust.
Colour rose in my cheeks again and I ducked my head to hide it. I'd known Sherlock and Jim for several months, having met them through a hiking club. We'd struck up a fast friendship based upon a mutual love of the Cotswold Way, and had since taken many day hikes together, although this was our first attempt at an all-nighter. Sherlock and Jim were flatmates and they'd had me to their flat for drinks several times.
Actually, flatmates wasn't the best word to describe them. Couple was. They were gay, which accounted for my confusion at the unmistakeable sex vibe Sherlock was putting out. The gleam in his eye wasn't something I'd ever expected to see directed at me.
I shot another glance at him; he was still watching me. His thin boxers concealed little – little enough to provide evidence that the lust I thought I saw wasn't just in my imagination. I experienced an odd twang deep in my belly.
Jim turned away and was unrolling the sleeping bags. "Let's get cosy," he suggested. "We have a long, wet night ahead of us."
xxoOoxx
The rain persisted for several hours so we couldn't light a fire, but we used a small camp stove to cook Ramen noodles, our standard hiking fare. By the time we finished eating and polished off a wineskin of Bordeaux, night had come and the rain let up.
We doused the lantern and stretched out side by side in our sleeping bags. The clouds were dispersing, revealing a sky full of stars. The moon was full and low above the hills, bathing the inside of the shelter with soft, colourless light.
We'd hiked a good distance that day – over fifteen miles – and I was ready for sleep. The temperature was warm and balmy and the sound of the wind in the leaves was like a lullaby. My eyes grew heavy; I was almost asleep when I felt a soft breeze against the side of my neck.
I rolled my head sleepily and felt the same breeze waft over my face, smelling lightly of mint. It was Sherlock, blowing gently against my face.
"Are you sleeping?" he whispered.
"Almost," I replied, but I wasn't, not anymore.
He moved closer. "I'm not tired. I don't usually sack out early when I camp. I like to lie back, look at the sky." His hand slipped over my sleeping bag and touched my chin, turning my face toward the front of the shelter. "See how the moon sits on the hills?"
"Uh-huh," I replied, my voice wavering a little.
His hand relaxed against my face. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His index finger touched my mouth. "Lots of beautiful things out here."
I didn't answer. I was having difficulty forming coherent thoughts and wasn't sure if it was the pressure of his hand against my lips or the tickle of his breath against my face that was causing my discomfiture. He passed his finger lightly over my lower lip, and a long, delicious shiver ran down my back.
"You're shaking," Sherlock observed. "Are you cold?"
"No," I said, but he pulled away and I heard the unmistakeable sound of the sleeping bag zipper separating. A moment later he rolled out his bag and on top of mine, wrapping his arms and legs around my down-swathed body.
"Is that better?" he asked.
I looked up at him poised over me. The moonlight illuminating him from behind, bathing his skin in a soft glow. He was so beautiful I could hardly bear to look at him. "No," I whispered again, this time in a gritty voice that hardly sounded like mine. "I mean… thanks, but I'm warm now."
As he relaxed his body sank into the down covering me. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I…" My voice trailed off as his mouth touched my face.
He kissed me, very gently. I didn't know what to do. This was my friend, my good friend, and his lover who was also my good friend was lying two feet away. I wanted Sherlock to stop and yet I didn't, because his lips were so luscious.
He must have taken my lack of response for assent, because he kissed me again, harder this time, curling his arm around my head to hold my face steady. When his tongue slipped into my mouth I experienced a stab of desire so acute it caused actual physical pain. Sherlock's lips were firm and his tongue was sweet and succulent, like a piece of fruit. His hand moved inside my sleeping bag and traced light circles over me, causing the flesh beneath my T-shirt to rise up in goosebumps. A soft, involuntary moan escaped me and Sherlock pulled his hand away. He grappled with my sleeping bag, and the next thing I knew he was climbing in beside me, slipping his hands underneath my clothes and nuzzling the curve of flesh between my neck and shoulder.
A bolt of electricity shot through me. I forced myself to resist. "Sherlock, stop."
"Should I?" he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Don't you want me, Molly?"
His body was warm and hard against me; I was aware of how slippery the region between my thighs was becoming. "No," I lied. "I mean, what about Jim?"
"He's asleep," Sherlock assured me, his hands beginning to retrace those little circles, this time against my bare flesh. "Trust me, Jim can sleep through an earthquake."
I looked over Sherlock's shoulder. Jim's profile was clearly illuminated by the moonlight and he was indeed asleep, eyes closed, his breathing deep and even.
"But if we… wouldn't he be pissed?" I persisted, a liquid warmth spreading through me as Sherlock's hands cupped my bare breasts.
"It's fine," Sherlock murmured, gently thumbing my nipples. "Don't worry."
My nipples contracted into tight, hard pebbles as Sherlock fondled them, but I was still worried. "But I thought…" I began, and Sherlock kissed me again, muffling my words with his lips. He shifted and pressed the length of his body against mine, swivelling his hips.
I was becoming warmer and looser, responding to the rhythm of his fingers blazing a trail across the moist hills and valleys of my body. His skin was like silk under my hands and, when I parted my thighs, his cock pressed insistently against my cunt, nothing separating them but a thin layer of fabric. Then he slipped his fingers inside my knickers and ran them over the velvety seam between my legs, which opened readily to his touch.
"Christ, you're wet," he whispered, his voice roughening as his index finger parted my vaginal lips. His head began to move down my body, his breath tickling my flesh as his fingers caressed between my legs. "So wet, and so hot, and so beautiful. I've wanted you since the first minute I laid my eyes on you, Molly."
My body was on fire, my breath catching in my throat, and I checked on Jim: he slumbered on, his sleeping bag pulled up snugly to his chin, while his lover spread my legs, kissed my stomach, then buried his mouth between my thighs. My vaginas yawned wide, glistening wet, as Sherlock lapped it greedily. When his lips wrapped around my clit, my hips took on a life of their own. I squeezed my eyes shut and gyrated against his mouth until a sudden heat deep in my belly told me I was going to come.
Involuntarily my legs rose, toes pointing to the ceiling as waves of pleasure begun to build within me. I bit my lower lip in effort to remain silent and opened my eyes to shoot another glance at Jim – who was up on one elbow staring straight at me.
I froze and stared back, open-mouthed. I saw myself as Jim saw me, with my legs in the air and his boyfriend's face buried in my crotch – and I couldn't make a sound.
Jim's white teeth flashed in his face as he kicked his sleeping bed aside, revealing that he was naked. His fist was wrapped around his erect cock, and I realized he must have been awake and watching for quite some time.
"Don't stop on my account," Jim said, his voice husky.
The suction of Sherlock's mouth increased and, as I watched, Jim began to stroke himself. His cock was enormous, rising out of the dense nest of his pubic hair like a thick, sturdy tree. It was incredibly hot, watching Jim stroke that huge dick while Sherlock's lips sucked my clit. The pressure from my interrupted orgasm began to build again and I rocked against Sherlock's mouth, helpless against the sensations unfurling inside me. This time I was going to come, and it was going to be mind-blowing.
Jim realized it, too, and his eyes gleamed. "Give it up, baby," he urged, stroking himself faster. "Come for us."
I cried out when I did, shaking and lurching, my pussy quivering against Sherlock's mouth. The spasms made my body twitch and buck against him until I fell back with an exhausted moan.
"Damn," Jim growled. He jerked himself with one hand and reached for me with the other. "Damn, that's some hot pussy. Let me have some of that."
Sherlock pulled his mouth away. "Fuck off," he said to Jim, then grinned at me. "We're not finished yet, are we, Molly?" He tugged at the front of his boxers, and his dick sprang free, stiff and insistent.
"Fuck her, then," Jim instructed him. He rolled out of his sleeping bag his heavy cock bobbing, and lifted his hand. In it he held a condom. "Don't keep the lady waiting."
Sherlock eased his hips back, but never took his eyes off me. His hand stole between my legs. "You want this, don't you?" he asked as Jim unrolled the condom over Sherlock's cock.
I looked up at them and although it somehow felt right – two beautiful, naked men over me, two hard, slick cocks within my reach – a suspicion nagged at me. "Why do I think I've been set up?" I demanded.
"Because you have been, obviously." Jim's voice was rich with suppressed laughter. "My man here has had a hard-on for months, Mol. And like I told you, I'm into… well… everything, so I suggested we try and interest you in a little group action."
I looked at Sherlock. "But I thought you were gay."
"I prefer the term 'versatile'," Sherlock replied. It was impossible to resist the lure of his fingers stroking between my legs and, when Jim's hand joined his, two fingers, then three glided into me. I couldn't tell who was touching me where.
"You do want it, don't you?" Jim asked. He slid closer and kissed me, his breath smelling of wine and cinnamon. "You need it, don't you, baby?"
I moaned as one of the hands between my legs moved higher and a finger nudged my clit. "Give it to her, Sher," Jim said. "Give her that sweet cock of yours."
Jim massaged my clit as Sherlock steered his stiff cock into my slick opening. Then Sherlock was drawing my legs over his shoulders and fucking me with hard, deep strokes.
"Tell me how she feels, Sher," Jim prompted, taking my hand and guiding it between his legs. "I want to know."
"Damn good." Sherlock buried his face against my shoulder while Jim kissed my mouth, his cock thrusting and pulsating in my hand. "So wet, so tight… you're right, Jim, this is some hot, sweet pussy."
I writhed as Jim continued to fondle my clit while Sherlock's hard cock plunged deep inside me. "I'll have you next, "Jim breathed, his lips devouring mine. "When Sher is done, I'll fuck you next."
I felt like a different person, like a wild, wanton creature doing things I'd never considered, never even thought of before. I wanted Sherlock, I wanted Jim, I wanted them both. "I want you inside me now," I said to Jim. "Let me suck you."
Jim was there in a second, his heavy cock pressing against my cheek. It was huge, bigger than Sherlock's – a solid, sinewy bough of flesh oozing drops of clear fluid. I took the thick head into my mouth and tasted salty drops of pre-cum against my tongue.
Jim reached down, cupped my head, and then his enormous cock was pushing past my lips. I opened my mouth wide, trying to take every inch of it, feeling it pulsate in my throat. A guttural moan erupted from Jim as his hips moved in firm, short thrusts.
I tightened my legs over Sherlock's shoulders and inched higher against his groin, so he could pound deeper into my pussy while Jim's cock pistoned in and out of my mouth. I was in heaven, so filled with cock I could barely move. The pressure in my body kept building up, up, until I could barely stand it, then something broke and I came again, nearly sobbing with the intensity of it. Jim chose that moment for an especially deep thrust and I choked, emitting a strangled cough.
Sherlock lifted his head from my shoulder and his movements paused. I opened my eyes and saw that his face had taken on a hungry glow. "Want some help with that?" he asked, his voice husky.
I let Jim's cock slip from my mouth. It rested, throbbing, against my lips as Sherlock kissed me, then rubbed his cheek lightly over the head of Jim's cock. Then, he turned his mouth to it.
"Oh," I breathed, as Sherlock took Jim's cock into his mouth. Oh, God.
I stared at them, mesmerized. Jim curled his hand around the back of Sherlock's head and pressed deep into his throat, much deeper than he had pressed into mine. I watched, hypnotized, as Jim pulsed in and out of Sherlock's mouth. Then Sherlock's hips began to pump, matching Jim's rhythm, fucking my pussy as Jim fucked his face.
Jim moved closer, spreading his legs and straddling my head to thrust even deeper into Sherlock's throat. His balls hung over my face and I lunged, inhaling them into my hungry mouth. They were too big to fit so I settled for just one, cupping it with my mouth, tenderly sucking the firm orb within the soft sac. I could see the tight pink bud of his anus and reached for it.
When I touched his anus, Jim let out a loud moan. I used my finger to stroke it, watched it quiver and flower under my caress, and slipped inside. Jim emitted another groan, one that didn't sound human, and I pushed deeper into his arse, feeling it tighten around my finger.
The muscles in Sherlock's throat worked hard as he swallowed the full length of Jim's huge cock. I kissed Sherlock's throat while I finger-fucked Jim, then Sherlock opened his mouth to release Jim's cock with a soft plop. Jim hissed as his cock bobbed in the air, but then Sherlock and I were sharing it, sandwiching its thick length between our mouths. It glided between our lips, our tongues mingling around it.
Sherlock's hips paused in their thrusting, but Jim's movements became frantic as we concentrated all our energy on him. We engulfed his cock, our tongues streaking across its thick length. It threatened to burst, the skin stretched so tight and shiny, and when Sherlock gave it a last mighty suck, it exploded between us, ropes of hot jism spurting across Sherlock's face and down over my breasts. Jim's anus contracted around my finger.
"Oh, God," Jim groaned. "Oh, fuck." He hung there for a moment, gulping for air, his cock swaying between us, his hands gripping Sherlock's shoulders.
Sherlock continued to nuzzle Jim's cock, stroking it tenderly with his tongue. Jim was still for a moment, accepting Jim's ministrations, then eased back to sit on his heels. He reached down, touched Sherlock's hair lightly, then slipped his hand under his chin and drew his head upwards. Sherlock rose up on his arms and they kissed.
I'd never seen two men kiss before, not like this. It was a deep, intimate kiss, tongues curling, lips caressing, and it got me hot all over again. "Oh," I breathed. "Oh…"
They looked down at me and Jim grinned. "You're getting a real education tonight, aren't you, sweetheart?"
"Yes, and I want more." I pressed against Sherlock's still-hard cock.
Sherlock gave Jim a little nudge and Jim moved his leg aside, allowing Sherlock to slip out and off of me. He rolled over, revealing his cock still standing straight up.
"Fuck me, then," he directed. "Fuck me good."
And I did. I crawled on top of him and impaled myself once more on his cock, then rode him hard and fast, my breasts bouncing with every thrust. My tits were slick with Jim's come. Sherlock slid his hands over them, massaging the slippery juice into me, his wet fingers like hot flames on my nipples.
"Oh, yeah," Jim said, and when I looked at him, I saw that he was fingering his cock. He crept closer, lowering his head to where my groin was soldered to Sherlock's, and his tongue searched between my legs. I braced my hands against Sherlock's thighs and arched back.
Jim's tongue fluttered against my clit like a hummingbird's wing, making me writhe atop Sherlock's hot cock. I felt another orgasm building inside of me and when it hit, it was so potent that Jim had to catch me to keep me from falling over. Sherlock was thrusting hard, his hands cupping my naked arse, until suddenly his grip turned to steel.
"Stop," he choked, "Stop, or I'm going to come."
I pulled myself upright and regarded him with an expression of such disbelief that Jim burst out laughing.
"Another thing you've learned tonight," Jim confided, drawing me up and off Sherlock's cock, "is that my man here, he is the original all-night."
As Jim eased me down on my back and pressed a kiss onto my pussy, Sherlock crept between his thighs. I saw that Jim was becoming hard again, but Sherlock bypassed his cock, instead using his tongue to trace a slow, sensuous path to the pink ring that was Jim's anus.
From between my legs Jim's moaned as Sherlock's tongue burrowed deep into his arse. I reached for Sherlock's cock, still hard as an axe handle. I shifted my body close enough to take it in my mouth, being careful not to disrupt Jim, whose mouth was busy with my pussy.
Our bodies formed a perfect triangle. I swallowed Sherlock's cock as Jim's tongue stroked my pussy and Sherlock's mouth worked Jim's arse, rimming him with a circular motion that made Jim moan loud enough to cause his lips to vibrate against my clit. The three of us squirmed against each other, a wriggling mass of hot, slippery sex.
Jim withdrew his head from between my legs and reached for another condom. He slipped it on as he reversed his position and drew my legs around his hips, his thick, meaty penis pressing against my pussy.
Jim rubbed his cock against my pussy lips, his eyes closed and his head arched back. I could tell by the sounds that Sherlock was still tonguing him, rimming with a circular motion that he seemed to love.
"There's one more johnny left," he told Sherlock. "Why don't you use it?"
The foil wrapper rustled. When Sherlock's face appeared over Jim's shoulder, I knew what to do. I reached for Jim's arse, spread his cheeks wide, and felt Sherlock's sheathed cock prod Jim's wet hole.
I looked up at Jim. His eyes were filmy, his mouth agape, and his breath shallow. "Put me inside you," he commanded me in a thick, viscous voice.
I pointed his engorged cock into my wet flesh and it pushed into me, opening and stretching the tight walls of my vagina. I thought I'd lose my mind; Jim's face was contorted in ecstasy.
"Fuck me, Sher," he groaned. "Plough my arse while I fuck Molly's hot pussy."
My hands were on Jim's arse as Sherlock penetrated him. He pulsed in and out in perfect time with the thrusts of Jim's cock into my pussy. Our rhythm was flawless, our bodies moving in perfect cadence as we fucked, thrusting and writhing against each other, lost in utter sensuality.
Jim came first, with a violent, savage abandon. Sherlock was fucking him hard – hard – and Jim's eyes were glazed over with passion. "Fuckin' good," he groaned. "Shit, you feel so fuckin' good… both of you."
Sherlock kept it up, fucking him harder and faster, Jim's cock plunging in and out of me in the same furious rhythm while I ground and thrashed against him, until Jim pulled himself up on his arms, arched his head back, and emitted a shriek of pleasure.
Sherlock gave me one final, powerful thrust, then pulled his cock out of Jim's arse. "Get me off," he begged me. "Make me blast all over Jim's back."
I whipped off the condom and wrapped my hands around Sherlock's cock. The thing seemed to have a life of its own, thrusting and twisting in my grasp, as Sherlock surged against Jim's backside. Jim groaned encouragement; the muscles in his buttocks tightened and squeezed as I sandwiched Sherlock's cock between them. I used Jim's arsecheeks to jerk Sherlock off, the head of his cock pulsating and throbbing as he ground against him. Suddenly Sherlock's body went rigid.
"Fuck, yeah!" he cried, and a flood of warm wetness shot over my hands and spread across Jim's back. I ran my fingers through it, massaged the slippery juice into Jim's buttocks, and then Sherlock relaxed against us.
The three of us lay loosely intertwined for a long time, letting the night air cool our flesh. My body was sore but sated, satisfied in a way I'd never before experienced. A heavy mist of sleep descended over me.
I was barely awake when Jim pushed the three sleeping bags together and Sherlock drew one over our bodies. They snuggled around me with Jim spooned against my back, his warm cock tucked snugly between my buttocks, and Sherlock nestling against me on the other side, his arm curled around both my shoulder and Jim's
I drifted into sleep, safely sheltered between their strong male bodies.