12 comments/ 21570 views/ 7 favorites Goodbye Greenpeace By: Acktion People are funny. A person, an individual, may have their head on straight about most things. But, as a collective, the human race is a strange animal indeed. Any other group of sentient organisms on the face of this ball of rock will swell to meet the conditions of the environment. For example, if there is more food, more cubs will be born. If there is less, then fewer. There are other organisms that change the environment around them, but none so much as human beings. And it's all someone else's problem when things go wrong. I stared into the reflection of my grey eyes in a bathroom mirror and thought these and other things. Anything at all except what it was that I was there for and what was waiting for me in the other room. Well, I was done being the one who would deal with it when things went wrong. My contract was up yesterday and, as of midnight, I was a free man. I could go anywhere and do anything. Maybe now I would go to college. Like I should have five years earlier. I suppose it was inevitable that I would follow the path that I did. What choice did I have really, being born on April 22, 1970? Probably anybody born after 1990 or in another country would not grasp the significance of that date. So, I will spell it out. On April 22, 1970, as I was being born, so was an American institution known as Earth Day, an attempt by an American senator to turn the protest movements so indicative of the American youth of the time to something other than the Viet Nam conflict. I don't know. Perhaps that senator really did believe in the environment and my thought that he was just trying to turn attention away from a war... excuse me, "police action", that was causing his constituents weapons making plants to do land sale business is overly pessimistic. Every school age American child during the seventies, as well their parents, was taught environmentalism as something more than just a word on a spelling test as a result. The thing that had always made me curious, but no one had ever answered, was if all this rampant environmentalism would have been necessary if America had not switched over to assembly line production facilities due to pressure for war three decades earlier. A knock at the bathroom door interrupted my musings. Just as well really, since my reflection had never had the answers either. "Are you going to hide in there until your plane leaves?" The sweetest contralto voice I'd ever heard called out to me. "This is supposed to be your going away party!" "Not hiding." I called back. "Just trying to make myself pretty and you know how hard that is given what I have to work with." I avoided saying "make myself ready" with our old joke. Primarily because I wasn't sure I could be ready for what lay beyond that door in the bedroom of the hotel we had found, however long I took. Then again, if five years wasn't enough preparation, then perhaps I should just open the door and admit that I couldn't do it. I opened the bathroom door and words failed me as my eyes fell on a nude amazon type beautiful woman. Sandra Little. At times over the past five years, I had hated her. But in the fourteen years I'd known her, I had never stopped loving her. Sandra was the real reason I had dropped out of high school less than a month from graduation in 1989 and signed a five year contract with a group that specialized in cleaning up oil spills. While my classmates were walking across the stage to receive their diplomas, I was on the coast of Alaska helping to clean up the second largest oil spill in American history. Sandra was beautiful. She had been since I had first met her and lost her when we were nine. And was even more so when she showed up once more on my parents front porch when we were eighteen to recruit me away from the world that I knew. And there in front of me was just exactly what it was that had led me to make the decisions I had, nude before my eyes for the first time not counting that brief accidental glimpse in Angola in 1991. Or maybe it was the Fergana Valley in 1992? It seems odd that I would forget the when and where of that brief glimpse of this woman I had loved and lusted after. But, where in the world I was didn't really matter. It was all oil spill clean-up and Sandra as far as I was concerned. I was thrilled to be out of the oil clean up business. But, I was going to miss seeing Sandra day after day. "Are you just going to stand there ogling my wife? Or are you going to do something about it?" Another male voice said. Michael, I wasn't sure I was going to miss or not. I liked the guy. If I hadn't come to like him, this whole scenario would have been more palatable. If Sandra had been my wife, I'm pretty sure that I would not have been lying there on the bed just as nude as she was waiting for another hairy chest to finish up in the bathroom and join us. "Well, she's worth an ogle or three." I shrugged and grinned, trying to hide my uneasiness at the situation. "And you've been ogling her for five years." Michael laughed. "Now's the time for doing, not looking." The old mantra he had quoted at us and the other seven members of our team when he was motivating us over the years seemed really inappropriate in our current situation. "Are you guys sure about this?" I asked. "Of course we are." Sandra smiled at me gently. "We wouldn't have asked you if we weren't. But, maybe you aren't sure. It's okay if you aren't. We can get dressed and have a more traditional going away celebration. Maybe drink some tequila and play Scrabble." "God, no!" I laughed, holding up my hands. "If I never see another Scrabble board it will be too soon." "Well, I notice you don't say anything about the tequila." Michael said, rising from the bed. "So, why don't we have a drink and we can talk about it." My attention was about equally torn between Sandra's well rounded assets nicely on display and Michael bouncing just short of a foot out in front in of him. The one had me thinking this was the greatest idea ever while the latter was strangely... "intimidating" might not be the right word as I hadn't had any complaints in that department. Perhaps "disconcerting" would be a better choice. "Yeah, I think I could use a drink." I nodded. "Honey?" Michael asked as he grabbed the bottle and some glasses. "None for me." Sandra shook her head. "On the off chance that this is a go, I want to remember it clearly for as long as I live." I glanced away from Michael to see Sandra sitting demurely on a towel neatly folded under her at the small table while she looked at me. The look in her eyes... If she had looked at me that way before tonight, I might have considered staying. Another reason that I had for wondering just what this was all about. I could see Michael choosing to share Sandra with me to try to keep me on the team. Just as I could see Sandra seducing me to get me to stay just as her thinly veiled not-promises were enough to recruit me in the first place. "Konpai!" Michael handed me a glass filled with amber liquid and lifted his own. "Skal." I said, lifting my own halfway between the couple in response. With half the tumbler down my throat, I was a little more inclined to sit across from Sandra as Michael sank onto the bed. I shan't describe the visual of him saluting the room from around his waist other than to say it was easy to turn my gaze from it to Sandra, if not my attention. "Ask." Sandra said. Just the one word, but a world of meaning. "I am leaving." I said firmly. "I am getting on a plane tomorrow and heading back to civilization where I will buy a gas guzzler and drive it to buy fast food and throw the paper wrapper beside the trash can and not worry about it." "No you won't." Michael snorted. "We know you better than that." "Fine." I sighed. "So, I'll probably do something environmentally conscious like ride a bike. But, I am still leaving. Whatever happens here tonight, I'm all but gone." "And you'll probably pick up the wrapper someone else missed the trash can with." Sandra said quietly. "But, yes. You'll be there. Not here with us. Not anymore." "Then why?" I asked. "If you both know that and understand it, why would you want... this?" I waved my hand to indicate the three of us in a hotel room and with me the overdressed one in nothing but a towel. "Why not?" Michael countered. "Why wouldn't we want 'this', as you call it? A sweet memory for all of us after five years of being a family before you leave us?" I peered at Michael, trying to see if he was serious. How could me fucking his wife be a sweet memory for him? I mean, for me, you bet. And I would do my damndest to make it one for Sandra. But for Michael? Unless... "Um, I'm about as non-gay as I could be without having a sex change operation to become a misanthropic lesbian." I said. "You know me at least that well, right?" Michael didn't dignify that with an answer beyond a snort. "Um. Yeah, we do." Sandra said. "We don't expect for either of you two to touch each other at all. I'll touch both of you and you'll both touch me. But not each other." "Then I don't get it." I shrugged. "Why would this be a sweet memory for Michael?" "Cal, do you remember when we watched that Greenpeace boat protesting the deep sea rig and how hard we all laughed?" I remembered the incident, but didn't see how a bunch of idiots riding a tanker boat that was using somewhere in the neighborhood of a thousand gallons of diesel an hour as it circled an oil rig while they held up signs protesting was at all relevant. "I'll make you a deal." Michael cocked his head and grinned at me. "Let's both fuck my wife and you can chuckle at me for being enough of a fool to share her and I'll chuckle at you for not understanding we were all sharing the moment together. Fair enough?" "Fair enough." I felt one corner of my mouth tug ruefully. "But, just one thing. Why now? I mean, if you're all into sharing is caring, then why wait until now to spring this?" "Actually, we didn't." Sandra said. "I've been trying to seduce you for five years. And Michael has all but thrown you at me and even tried to get you involved in a threesome a couple of times. We thought you weren't interested and gave up." "I told her you were, by the way." Michael said. "That it was because she and I are together. But, here's the deal. I love you like the brother I wish I'd had growing up. And I love my wife like the air that I breathe. I love you both enough to share this with you. But, not enough to give her up completely." "And I have loved you since we were nine." Sandra admitted. "I haven't loved my husband so long, but I love him just as much. I love you both enough to share this with you. But, not enough to give up my husband completely." "But, we don't want to pressure you." Michael picked up on the heels of Sandra. "If you would rather get on that plane tomorrow and go back to civilization without fucking Sandra, then that's ok. We can get quietly drunk and reminisce and she can kiss your cheek goodbye at the airport and I can shake your hand. And then you can get on the plane and we'll never see each other again." "Or, you can let me suck your cock while my husband fucks me," Sandra said before I could respond. "And vice versa. As many times as we can manage before your plane takes off. And then tomorrow, we can hug goodbye with your cum coating me inside and out under my clothes and you can get on your plane and we'll never see each other again." "It's your call, Cal." Michael shrugged. "We're good either way." Perhaps any other guy would have been jumping at the chance to fuck the woman of his dreams, whether her husband was there or not. Or perhaps another guy wouldn't even have been tempted, seeing that she was married and her husband would be there too. That was me in a nutshell, I suppose. If I hadn't cared about the environment at all, I wouldn't have worked as hard as I had for the past five years. If I had really cared all that much, I wouldn't have stopped but re-upped my contract. What it came down to, though, was which memory I wanted to carry with me. Another look at Sandra, with her breasts bared, cupping her chin in her hand and looking at me was all that it took to set that indelible event into motion. "As the man says," I shrugged. "The time for looking and talking is past. This is the time for doing." All three of us cracked up at my parroting Michael's key phrase, Michael loudest of us. The decision made should have been the hardest part. But, that moment that followed was actually harder. Having decided that I was going to fuck another man's wife while he not only watched but participated, how does one begin? Who makes the first move? Our laughter died and we each looked at the other. I don't know if they were as unsure as I, or if they were just waiting for me to lend concrete actions to my declaration. But, seconds turned to a minute and then another with none of us moving. I don't know how long we might have sat there if Michael hadn't moved. "Time for doing." Michael said hoarsely and stood. One stride of his long legs closed the gap between the bed and the table where we sat. His long cock pointed lewdly at Sandra as he stepped up beside her. Sandra, for her part, glanced up at her husband's face, then down at his cock, and then across the table at me as she reached up to take it in her hand. Her eyes stayed on mine as she turned her head slightly and began moving her face towards her husbands waist. I could see her lips part and her pink tongue flickered out to touch the tip. The sight of Sandra licking a cock was intoxicating and was arousing mine. I realized I hadn't breathed since Michael stood and let it out in what was part gasp and part moan. I saw the corner of Sandra's mouth quirk up as her eyes dipped downward and realized that I had put my own hand where the towel about my waist was beginning to tent. Those sweet lips that I had fantasized about slipped slowly over the helmet of that cock and began sliding down the shaft. It was surreal. Images of the Sandra that I had known overlaid this beautiful woman fellating her husband in front of me. In a strange way, my consciousness seemed to be torn from my body as I watched, both there and not there at the same time. As Michael's long fingered hand lay atop her short cropped blonde hair, guiding her head to take him deeper into her mouth, I saw a mental image of the laughing girl I'd first known teasing me when we were nine. How? When had that tiny, long haired tomboy of a girl turned into this delightful vixen okay with sucking a cock while another man, and potential lover, watched? I hadn't been there to see her grow as her family had moved away when we were ten. The next I'd seen her, Sandra had been standing on my parents front porch when we were both eighteen, talking me into giving up everything else to follow her in an environmental crusade. The long blonde waves of hair that she'd had to be careful not to sit on had been shorn even shorter than my own and Sandra had sprouted from being the only person in our class shorter than I to towering at well over six foot. Still, on that day, she had not struck me as all that different other than physically. Nor at any time in the past five years as we worked to clean up oil and give the environment a chance to recover from the folly of man. I would never have imagined in a thousand years as I watched her clean oil from the feathers of eagles in Alaska that I would see her bent in a similar position, all but worshipping her husband's cock five years later. I could not have imagined that that stolen glimpse of her, nude from the waist up standing in a river in some third world country would be repeated more leisurely here, three or four years later. I would not have dreamed that this was what they had in mind yesterday when they offered to drive me in to the city for a going away party and wait with me until I boarded a plane to leave as she stood with her elbow on her husband's shoulder facing me, the way she had many times before over the intervening years. "Are you going to watch or join in?" Michael asked. The words were the same, even if the tone was a little different, as the words he'd said to me countless times over the years when he'd come up on me by surprise as I paused in my own work with my eyes on Sandra as she worked. Had there been a hidden message there all this time that I hadn't caught as I'd guiltily turned back to my own task? They seemed to indicate there had been an invitation before now and I wondered how much I'd missed as I'd turned my attention back to the work and away from the couple I'd worked with. After tonight, I wouldn't have to wonder again. At least not about this much. Rather than say the words, I dropped from my chair to my knees, and walked upon them closer to the couple. There had been something I'd wanted to do for far too long to wait even one more moment. Michael's cock caused Sandra's cheek to swell obscenely as she half turned to watch me as my hands joined my knees on that ratty hotel room carpet and I crawled towards her. Towards the treasure hidden between her thighs. It did not stay hidden for long as she parted those sexy long legs to allow me in even as she went back to bobbing her head on her husband's cock. The lean muscles of her parted thighs seemed to narrow and focus my attention even as they narrowed to that delicate outcropping of folds of skin topped with curls that were just a shade darker and almost as long as her crowning glory. Sandra's pink wetness beckoned to me, calling me closer and I went into her with my eyes open and fixed on that sweet pussy singing a siren's song to me. A scent like a pristine sea along an unadulterated beach filled my nose. I didn't, quite, pause to think how like the freshness of the waves crashing against white sand after we had cleaned away yet another spill the smell was as I lowered my mouth to taste the strawberry and honey flavor of her. I used my tongue to separate those delicate lips and felt her thighs against my arms shudder as I drew the nubbin hidden there between my lips to suckle on it. The skin of her thighs was oddly softer against my shoulders than I thought it would be and I heard her moan around the cock filling her mouth. I flinched as an unexpected hand touched me. But, relaxed as I rolled my eyes up to see that it was Sandra pulling my head into her pussy as Michael pulled hers onto his cock. A flood of wetness filled my mouth and I saw her head bobbing faster as her hand tightened, pulling me closer, deeper into her and I obliged by sticking my tongue as deep into her hole as I sucked harder against her clitoris. Sandra's mouth came away from Michael's cock with an audible pop and those beautiful bright eyes turned to look at me nestled between her thighs. She didn't say a word to me as her breath came faster and more ragged and I felt her thighs press harder against my shoulders as her hips tried to rise to meet my questing tongue. Her hand continued to hold the cock her mouth had let go and I couldn't quite keep from glancing at Michael to see how he felt about this turn of events. Michael, for his part, was watching me burrowed into his wife's pussy and I couldn't read the look on his face. Was he having second thoughts as he watched another man lick and suck his wife to orgasm? Half afraid that he had a change of heart, and this was all I would have, I burrowed deeper, sucked harder, and licked faster, determined that I would squeeze as much as I could from this delectable pussy before I was pulled away. Enough to last me for the rest of my life. "Oh fuck!" Sandra gasped as she let go of him with her other hand to grip my head with both. Goodbye Greenpeace Her feet came off the floor to hook her knees over my shoulders. My neck and upper back took the strain as her hands and strong legs pulled at them, lifting her hips to meet the grinding of my mouth against her sweet pussy. "Shit! Shit! Sh- grgglemphf" Sandra said from somewhere above me. I couldn't see anything but her toned stomach and the underside of her tits as she pressed harder and firmer to meet my questing tongue as her pussy seemed to tighten around it and almost suck at it as it plunged and quested, lapping at the fluids that suddenly seemed to pour out to coat my face faster than I could drink them. "That's right, baby." Michael's voice said. "Cum for us while you suck my cock and he fucks you with his tongue. Cum hard. Cover his face with your pussy slick." "Pussy slick"? I wondered as I began twisting my head back and forth. What an odd thing for a guy who cleans up "oil slicks" to say. And yet, oddly fitting as I fought to clean up every bit of the juice I was wringing from her with my mouth. Sandra caught me off guard as she sagged back against the chair. The loss of the strain against my neck and shoulders cause me to jerk back just a little. Michael grunted as Sandra's knees hooked on my shoulders tugged her with his cock still in her mouth. Sandra pulled her mouth from him, and let her head sag back against the chair. "God, that was awesome." Sandra panted. "Every bit as good as I'd imagined. But, I need to get fucked now." Michael stepped back, his hard cock bouncing just a little with the step. I rocked back on my knees as Sandra took hers from my shoulders and sat up in the chair and then rose to her feet. Unsure what was happening, I watched Michael's face almost as much as I watched Sandra step lightly to the bed. "Come here, stud." Sandra said as she laid across the bed. "Stud"? To whom was she referring, I wondered as I glanced, again, at Michael. Whom did she want to come join her? Michael answered that question by stepping forward and rounding the bed to the side by her feet. I stood and watched as he knelt on the bed and began walking on his knees up between those thighs I'd just been between. "Fuck me, Michael." Sandra said, breathily. "Fuck the pussy Calvin got all hot and wet with his mouth." "Mmmm. Yes, he did, didn't he." Michael said as he rocked his hips forward, sinking his cock into his wife. "He got you so hot and wet, I think he deserves a reward, don't you?" "Oh, yeah." Sandra said. "Come here, Calvin." Sandra reached out for me and I stepped forward to meet her hand. "You won't be needing this anymore." Sandra said, as her hand dropped to my half-forgotten towel. "Mmm. You do like what you see after all, don't you?" Sandra's hand seemed almost cold as she gripped my swollen cock exposed by the dropped towel. She wiggled a little on the bed, scooting until her head was off the side away from where her husband was between her legs. As she wriggled, Sandra had pulled at me, leading me by my cock in her hand, around to the side of the bed where her head hung off. Michael adjusted by walking further onto the bed on his knees and Sandra gasped as he plunged into her once more. "Fuck my face while Michael fucks my cunt." Sandra panted. My cock flexed at the language coming out of my dream girl. I was so hard I ached with a stronger need than I'd ever felt, either before or since. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to just thrust into her open mouth and tried to ease forward. Sandra's hands gripped at my ass, pulling my hips as my cock slipped past her lips. I felt something tight on the head of my cock and saw her throat bulge as her gripping hands pulled me further than I would have. Michael gave a particularly hard thrust just then and I felt that tightness tighten down even further as Sandra made a gagging noise. Sandra's hands went from pulling to pushing and I quickly pulled my cock from her throat and mouth. "Sorry." I said. "Don't be." Sandra grunted as Michael thrust into her again. "It's just a little too thick. Give it to me again." I glanced up at Michael a tad embarrassed. What must he think about his wife saying that my cock was too thick? Was there some sort of etiquette here? "Give it back." Sandra whined from beneath us. I looked back down to see her tits bouncing in time with Michael's thrusts, but I could only see the underside of her chin when my eyes sought that beautiful face with the bright eyes that had captured my heart so long ago. Michael grunted and, when I glanced up at him, nodded his head to indicate I should give his wife my cock in her mouth once more. I let Sandra's grasping hands on my ass guide me as I eased past her suckling lips once again. Michael picked up his pace, driving into Sandra's pussy and pushing her forward to impale her face with my cock once again. I flinched back as I saw him thrust forward and didn't gag her this time. Michael's eyes were gazing at where his wife's mouth was wrapped around my cock as he thrust faster and faster and harder and harder, grunting with each powerful thrust between Sandra's quivering thighs. I tried to keep timing my own thrusts so that I was pulling back as he was pressing forward, but Sandra's gripping hands and the quickening pace threw off my own timing until we were thrusting into her at the same time from both ends. Instead of gagging once more, Sandra began making strange high pitched noises, and I saw the legs Michael held wide in his hands start to tremble and shake. "Is it as good as you thought?" Michael gasped out as he pounded rhythmically into her pussy. "All those times you fantasized it was Cal's cock instead of my thumb as I fucked you. Is this as good?" Sandra's hands shoved at my hips and I took the hint, pulling my cock from her mouth. "Better!" Sandra gasped when the obstruction was removed. "Now, shut up and fuck me!" I gave in to her clutching hands once more as she grabbed my ass and yanked me closer. Her mouth suckled greedily as my cock reentered her lips while her husband picked up his pace once more. Michael was thrusting away into his wife's pussy like a jackhammer with beads of sweat forming on his face and chest, shoving her further against me, forcing my cock into her throat. Sandra's heaving chest bounced in time to her husband's thrusts as her throat bulged around my hard cock as it slipped past the end of her tongue again and again and again. For my part, the erotic thrill was dampened somewhat as I worried to much about hurting the girl of my dreams and woman of my fantasies as she lie mewling and writhing between her husband and I and missed the opportunity to make the climax that washed over our little group unanimous. Michael grunted and froze with one last powerful thrust, the deepest yet, into his wife's pussy. Sandra made a sound that might have been a muffled scream as the waves of sound vibrated up the shaft of my cock lodged in her throat. Between that sound and the tremors that shook her long legs in her husband's grasp, I guessed that she must have been wracked by another orgasm. I, oddly, considering that my long time crush had her mouth and throat wrapped around my cock, wasn't even close. As Michael fell back on his ankles and his softening dick plopped free of his wife's pussy and he lowered Sandra's legs which had stopped shaking to the bed, I pulled back my still aching cock from her lips and wondered if I'd missed out, if we were done. Sandra surprised me by pressing her head further between my thighs and giving my balls a quick kiss before she slithered out from under me. "That was... was..." Sandra beamed at her husband and I and couldn't seem to find the word to finish her sentence. "Awesome?" Michael asked, smiling at his wife. "Everything you'd dreamed for the last five years?" "Better." Sandra nodded firmly. "I'd say 'thank you', but I hope like hell we aren't done. And from the look of things, I'd say we aren't." It's one thing when a woman I am engaged with looks down at my still hard cock that way. That night, I found it is another altogether to have her husband sitting beside her look at it as well. I didn't, quite, soften. But, I wasn't aching quite as much either when Michael turned his eyes on my swollen member in addition to Sandra's. It sounds odd, in this context, but I was reminded of the way he'd looked at some task I'd done earlier on in my contract. AS if I'd done good. But, not quite as good as he'd expected. Since I was a little curious as to how I hadn't cum in Sandra's mouth and throat, I might have been reading a little more into that look on Michael's face than was actually there. "I'd say you still have some work cut out for you." Michael said. "Are you up for it?" "You even have to ask?" Sandra laughed. Something about the words and the playful tone reminded me of a similar, if not exact, conversation in... Uzbekistan in 1992? I'd paused in what I was doing to watch Sandra for a moment as I did, probably too often. Michael had walked up to her and they'd talked briefly. Then, he'd glanced at me and said those same words to both of us. Sandra had said the same thing and laughed the exact same way. Now, I couldn't help but wonder if that conversation had been just about the task at hand but one of the many cues they claimed I'd missed over the years. "Hello?" Sandra laughed. "Earth to Cal? It's not cool to let your thoughts wander with a naked woman in the room, you know." "Sorry." I smiled. "I was just... reminiscing. I am going to miss you." "We're going to miss you too, brother." Michael said as he turned and leaned back against the headboard. "A lot more than you'll miss being elbow deep in oil, I imagine. But, you aren't gone yet. And, as my wife just pointed out, there is this naked woman in the room." Sandra was sitting up on the bed, beside her husband looking at me. With the exception that we were all unclothed, I'd lost count of the number of times I'd seen this exact tableau over the years. Michael, leaning back against some rock or log with his feet probably towards a fire. Sandra sitting beside him, with her arms wrapped around one bent leg while the other was folded beneath it along the ground. Her head would be cocked, looking up at me as I rose to go to my tent. Usually, the comment that would drive me away from relaxing by the campfire after a long day was something about the fact that we were doing what we were so that our children could have clean air to breath and clean water to drink. Our children. Their children. The child of the only woman I'd ever truly loved and another man that wasn't me. I think it would take a stronger man than I not to be driven away by that thought. Why didn't they have children? The thought came to me suddenly and I wondered why I hadn't wondered it before. The thought came to me so unexpectedly and so hard that I almost blurted it out loud. Yet, somehow, I felt it would be a definite violation of whatever unspoken etiquette might exist for an adios fuck-fest with a woman and her husband. "Hey." Sandra said just then. "What did I say about letting your mind wander with a naked woman in the room? She might get the impression you aren't interested." I let my eyes wander over Sandra's nude body, letting her see them wander. I'd started to soften as thoughts that had nothing, or perhaps everything, to do with our current situation filled my mind. But, my cock sprang erect once more as I looked at her. "Oh, I'm interested." I said and licked my lips. "More than interested. So, what's next?" "Well, I thought I might fuck you." Sandra grinned at me. "What do you think about that?" I glanced at Michael reclining beside her. "Don't look at me." Michael shook his head with a smile. "I'm gonna need a minute or two here. So, I'll just watch while Sandra rides you if that's all right." If watching his wife ride my cock was all right with him, why would I complain? "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." Sandra said as she uncoiled those long legs and swung them over the edge of the bed to stand beside me. "Isn't that my line?" I joked as I met her gaze looking slightly down at me. "It's not a line." Michael said. "She's serious. You really have no idea just how long and how much she has wanted this." A thousand replies spilled through my mind to that. But what I finally settled for was, "Show me." Sandra's reply was to sink to her knees. A touch startled, I watched as she turned my body to face her and lowered her mouth to my cock once more. Sandra's eyes never left my face as she licked my cock that grew yet harder still, springing back to full life from the erection killing thoughts that I'd been having. Of everything that we did that night, I think that moment is the one that I have remembered the most often as the most erotic thing to happen during that long goodbye. Sandra's eyes looking up at me filled with a welter of emotion as she favored my shaft with the attentions of her tongue slathering along the first one side and then the other as she held me in her hand before she pulled back slightly to take the turgid head between her lips. Her bright eyes never left mine as she bobbed her head up and down my length until I groaned and my eyes closed and I threw my head back in reflex. "You like?" Sandra's soft whisper was a feather along the hot pulsating skin of my cock as she pulled off it to ask me what must have been the top of the all time silly questions list. "Yes." I hissed as I dropped my head to meet her gaze once more as her lips engulfed me again. "Please don't stop." "But, I have to." Sandra said, rising to her feet once more. I stifled my groan of objection at her next words. "I'll suck you more later, but I've waited too damn long to fuck you to hold off one more second." Sandra's lips closed on mine in our first serious kiss. Or the first that I knew, and felt, was serious. Many times over the years, she'd hugged and kissed me. But, those were just little light pecks, barely touching and gone. This... this was a soul searing, heart touching, full blown romantic kiss as her lips parted to mine and her sweet breath filled my mouth. My cock pulsed against her gripping fingers in the throes of that kiss as her tongue flickered out, seeking mine. If that kiss had lasted one more second, my first climax that night would have coated her hand and wrist. I still almost did as she broke the lock of our lips to whisper, "I'm going to fuck you now." If it hadn't been for the timely comment from Michael saving me from the dangling precipice her kiss and those words had brought me to, I would have coated her to the elbow with the aching need she'd aroused. "Lay down, Cal." Michael said. "Let her ride you like she's wanted to." In the pressing heat and emotion, I'd been able to almost forget her husband and that he was there in the same room. Now, his words, stopped the raging climax that had been rushing towards me with the inevitability of a thirty ton tanker loaded with fifty-three million gallons of crude oil traveling at thirty knots. I tore my gaze away from Sandra's heated gaze to see Michael patting the bed beside him with his other hand toying with his, not quite as flaccid, cock. The night almost ended there. There is just something about another guy patting the bed beside him indicating that I should join him that just doesn't do it for me. Fortunately, Sandra had the situation well in hand with my cock in hers. "Please." Sandra said as she turned me, her hand slipping up and down the length of my cock as she did. "Please, let me fuck this thick cock. I've wanted it so very long." With a slight push from Sandra, my knees folded over the edge of the bed and I sat. I was intently conscious of the other man in it as Sandra turned my legs so that I was fully on the bed and pushed against my chest to get me to lay back. "This is going to be so good." Sandra sighed with a smile as one long leg swung up to straddle me. "I'm finally going to fuck you Cal. Finally. After all this... ooh... time." I gasped as I felt her sweet pussy pressing down around my cock. Sandra was so incredibly tight that the pleasure of her was tinged with just a touch of pain as she squeezed me on her way down. "So fucking thick." Sandra moaned. "Bigger than me?" Michael asked the question that I was virtually certain should not be brought up just as Sandra bottomed out, taking me as deep as I could go. "Not as... as long." Sandra groaned as she began to lift up, repeating the journey in reverse as her tight slippery lips slid upwards along my shaft. "But, fuck, he's big around." "Is he stretching my little pussy?" Michael asked. I glanced over and saw his hand moving faster along the shaft of his lengthening cock as his wife began the downward thrust taking mine inside her. "God, he's stretching my cunt so good." Sandra said, reaching out and pushing her arms against the headboard. I couldn't believe that Michael would be cool with that observation. God knows I wouldn't have been. Yet, he didn't say anything else for a time. Just lay there next to us, fisting a cock that gradually getting harder and harder as Sandra bounced up and down on me, slowly at first and then faster and faster. The painful tightness went away after a few trips along the length of my shaft leaving just the glorious slippery wetness still tight enough to grip at me. Sandra's eyes ran over my face as she pushed against the headboard, thrusting back against me. I lifted my hands to cup those fantastic tits as they bounced in time to her movements, causing her to moan and close her eyes, breaking the gaze. I wanted to look at the sweet mounds filling my hands and to see those hard nipples clearly for the first time in this position. But, as my eyes were lowering, they snagged on the lip caught between her teeth on one side and stayed there, studying the way it indented that soft flesh and she humped and thrust, driving my cock into her sweet pussy over and over and over. "Sorry." Michael said, rising to loom over us. "I can't wait for you two to finish like you want. I'm going to fuck your ass while you ride his cock." "Oh shit!" Sandra gasped, her eyes opening wide. "Lean forward." Michael said from behind her. Sandra took her hands from the headboard and rested them on my biceps as she leaned forward, crushing her tits hard against my hands trapped between our chests. Bent double, my arms were uncomfortable, doubly so with her hands trapped between my bicep and forearm, so I regretfully let go of her chest with my hands. My regret was short lived as I felt those delightful tits press just as hard against my hairy chest. Hard enough that I could feel the points of her nipples reaching through the hair to poke against my skin. I wanted to kiss her, but with our heights, the best I could do was to tilt my head up and kiss her chin. Sandra took the hint and bent her head down to touch her lips to mine. Nirvana found me in that moment with her lips touching mine and her pussy wrapped around my throbbing, pulsating cock. I barely heard Michael over the jackhammer pulse thundering in my ears. "That's it, Cal." He said. "Pull her cheeks a little wider for me." It took a moment to register that my hands had fallen naturally and reflexively to cup the cheeks of Sandra's ass, pulling her against me as we repeated our passionate kiss. And that her husband wanted me to pull those ass cheeks apart so he could fuck her asshole while I was buried to the hilt in her pussy. My cock gave a twinge at the notion and Sandra's lips tore from mine with a groaning gasp. "Do it." Sandra panted. "Do it. Oh, please. Do it." Goodbye Greenpeace I felt hands on mine and knew that Michael was spreading her apart with his hands on mine. I wasn't completely sure that I liked him touching me even this much. But, in that moment, I couldn't really see the difference between that touch and handshake. Sandra's eyes rolled back until I could only see white as I felt a pressure slide along the length of my cock inside of her. Her mouth moved as if she were trying to speak, but no words came out. "Damn, this is tight." Michael groaned. "You were right, honey. Cal's cock must be pretty thick up your tight little pussy." At his words, Sandra gave out a little scream and started shuddering. The tremor wracking her body went on and on as her nails dug into my bicep. "That's it, baby." Michael grunted. "Cum on your two favorite cocks. I'm just going to go ahead and fuck you. You just keep cumming for us." Setting action to words, I felt the pressure slip back along the length of my shaft and then forward again as Michael grunted in tempo. I could feel Sandra's nipples dragging through the hair on my chest as each of Michael's thrusts drove her forward and back along the length of my cock in her pussy. I could feel his hip bones smash into my fingers clutching her ass as Sandra made gibbering nonsensical sounds above me as her body continued to tremble as one long orgasm wracked her body. During one hard thrust by Michael into Sandra's ass, I lost it and with a bellow shot a pulsing blast of cum deep inside her pussy. "Oh fuck!" Sandra gasped. "I felt that." "Felt what?" Michael grunted as he slammed into her ass again. "Cal just shot his hot cum in cunt." Sandra moaned as another pulse flooded it's way through the tube of flesh I had buried in her. "Oh shit, another one." "Oh fuck." Michael snarled and pumped harder and faster. "Do it, Cal. Coat her inside for her." As if I had a choice. My hips drove up off the bed, lifting the two above me, pressing me down into it, as the third soul grinding wave crashed through me. My thrust hit just perfect with Michael's and Sandra screamed as two hard cocks drilled into each of her holes in synch and I felt a flood of wetness coat my slicked balls as she came yet again. "Hell yeah!" Michael shouted, not letting up in his powerful thrusts. "You're living the dream, baby. How do you like it?" My climax was done with me for the moment, but the sensation as Michael continued to pound his wife's ass atop me kept me from going soft as Sandra's pussy was forced back and forth on my shaft. "Fucking loving it." Sandra gasped. "Especially his hot cum coating up inside my cunt while you roger my ass. Do it again, Cal. Do it again." I couldn't help it and started laughing. "Well, it's gonna be awhile." I said. "Hope you don't mind, but we may have to just keep on like this for a bit while I build up some more." "Oh, God." Sandra whimpered. "How long?" "I dunno." I laughed. "It's usually longer the second time. What do you think, Michael? Half hour or so?" "Shit!" Sandra screamed and another tremor wracked her body as a fresh symbol of her cum gushed out to coat my balls while her husband laughed and continued to pound into her ass. ***** That night was Earth Day twenty years ago. Michael, Sandra, and I didn't sleep at all during that long night. Not that any of us were complaining. And Sandra was coated with our cum under her clothing as we hugged goodbye at the airport, inside and out. However, in retrospect, all of mine was in one place. All of the rest in other places was Michael's. Which, I can't help but wonder, now, if was the plan all along. I made good my promise to myself and did get on that plane anyway. I came back to civilization and went to college. I was done with the environmentalist movement. But, it wasn't done with me. A degree in journalism is all well and good. But, whenever there was a story about the environment, the editor tagged me to cover it. Sometimes I swore I could hear Michael and Sandra laughing as I turned in yet another piece about environmental consciousness. I wondered if they would have been laughing if they knew the pieces that had been killed. In August of 2012, one of my favorite all time pieces of my career was filed unpublished covering the beaching and dismantling of an single hulled oil tanker called the "Oriental Nicety". Apparently, no one wanted to be reminded that ship twenty three years, six names, and three countries flags earlier had dumped it's cargo of crude oil along the Alaskan coastline. That filing along with contemplating the necessity of chemotherapy looming on my medical horizon didn't exactly fill me with joy that August evening as I sat on my back patio sipping at a tumbler of whiskey. Why did we do it? I couldn't help but wonder. People didn't learn their lesson. They didn't want to learn their lesson. After dumping fifty three million gallons of oil, that fucking ship was patched up and put back out to sea. Other ships and pipelines wrecked and crashed and dumped how many tons of oil into the environment. But, people didn't care that without their addiction to oil and the power that it brought, those tankers and pipelines wouldn't have been carting it around in the first place. Nope. They just shook their head when things went balls up and said "that's too bad" and then loaded the kids in their gas guzzling SUV and drove off. Nor would they care to know that the chemicals that we used to clean up their mess was killing those of us that had used it. At least it was killing me and had killed others. I wondered, not for the first time, whether it was killing Sandra and Michael as well. I'd written, but since I didn't know where they might be, it had gone to the main office. And God only knew when it would be forwarded to them from there. Hybrid cars, I thought as I stared into the amber liquid I swirled in the glass tumbler. That's what they wanted me to write about. Hybrid cars. Who gives a shit about Hybrid cars? Did anyone care back in the early seventies when the designs were published in popular science? Nope. They said, "oh, that's cool" and then fired up the old gas engine. Why would anyone give a crap about solar and wind power forty years after it first hit the open press? They wouldn't. They would claim they did, but then, they would still use what they had always used without even thinking about it. But, what did I fucking care? It wasn't like I was going to be around to worry about the way it destroyed the environment. Nor did I have any kids to worry about whether they would have clean air to breath and clean water to drink. Let the fucking soccer moms trade in their SUV's or do something about it other than have a fucking bake sale. After all, they had the kids who were going to be living in the shit they left behind. I was going down tomorrow and buying the biggest, baddest, most gas guzzling piece of automotive engineering I could find and then I was going to drive it down to the local fast food shop and, after I finished my burger, I was going to throw the wrapper on the fucking ground. Fuck them. Fuck them all. It was just then that a soft voice interrupted my slightly drunken mental tirade that I indulged in virtually every time that an environmental story I'd written was killed. "Excuse me. Are you Calvin Thompson?" I blinked blearily at the young lady with long brown hair peering at me over the gate at the side of the house. "Depends on what day it is." I took another sip of whiskey. "And just why a pretty girl would want to know. And I can't think of a reason a pretty girl would come looking for me that would make me admit it." "Um. Well, I'm looking for Calvin Thompson because my mother was Sandra Little. And she said he's my father." The tumbler fell from my hands to shatter against the concrete, staining it with a spill of amber liquid that spread to coat all it could reach. The past two years getting to know my daughter Molly have been a priceless treasure. It didn't take long for me to forgive Michael and Sandra for not telling me since it does no good to harbor a grudge against the dead. The same illness that has had me in chemo for the past two years killed both of them, Sandra only two months before Molly came to find me and Michael two years earlier. Some days when the treatments are really rough, I wonder if they didn't get off lucky. But, Molly deserves one of her three parents to see her walk across the college stage. I just wish the kid would have thought about something other than environmental recovery to study. But, whenever I try to talk to her about it, she goes on and on about battery disposal and how bad for the environment disposing of all of these modern electronics are. I tried to explain to her that people, as a collective, are stupid about such things. They will hear about how bad those lithium batteries they are throwing away are for the environment and shake their head. And then toss that old computer in the garbage for someone else to deal with when they get a new one. But, she doesn't listen. "If not me, then who?" Molly asks. "If we want our kids to have clean air and water, then we have to get off our collective asses and make a change!" Kid's like her mother. Living Earth Day, three hundred and sixty five times a year.