****** Sarah's Triangle by Claud Friday ******
===============================================================================

Sarah's Triangle


Prelude

She was having trouble even thinking about what was going on. This was her
husband fucking her, she was now beginning to completely understand that, but
what had happened to him? She was bent over the arm of her expensive sofa, her
dress around her waist, her panties around one ankle and she was drooling,
moaning incoherently. Her husband. He had come home and embraced her and before
she even had the time to say "No," he was thrusting insider her. She didn't
even know she was wet enough, but she was. Now he was pumping, rhythmically,
quickly, insistently and somehow he felt...bigger, thicker, more alive, than he
ever had before. And he was so good. Her face, buried in the cushions of the
sofa, was hot, her breasts flushed with the pleasure. Her mound was grinding
against the arm of the sofa. She knew she was going to cum soon. She needed it
so badly. Yet fifteen minutes ago, she wasn't even thinking about sex. Now it
felt like this cock, her husband's cock, had been teasing her for hours.

Then he stopped.

"Oh God, Tom, what are you doing."

She spoke to him, but he wasn't paying attention. Tom was Tom, his body was
Tom's, but something in his eyes told her he wasn't exactly there. He pulled
his cock out of her and she suddenly felt like crying. She needed him back
inside her, she reached for his cock, trying to pull him back in. He rubbed her
wet pussy, making her relax and moan. He put three fingers inside her, all at
once, and she gasped, her back curving as she sucked in air.

Then he took the moisture and rubbed it on her asshole. Then she knew what
would be next. She knew she should say no. She knew she couldn't take it, but
all she could do was shudder in anticipation.

As she felt his cock pressed against her asshole, she went into what can only
be described as a meditative state. She knew she wasn't going to resist, so she
might as well try to relax and facilitate the motion. Her upper body went limp
against the couch, and she began breathing slowly, trying to relax all her
muscles, including her sphincter. Tom licked his hand and rubbed the saliva
around her anus, gently probing with one finger, then placed his cock back at
her entry.

Later, Sarah realized that the penetration couldn't have taken more than ten or
fifteen seconds from the time that he entered her until he was fully inside
her, but at the time, each second seemed a minute. The head of his cock sliding
past the ring of her anus, her breathing, the pressure, his arms around her,
all seemed distinct moments of sensation. That's all she could determine
immediately was sensation. Pleasure was not yet present, nor pain. It was more
base than that. All she could think was "I feel this." And she did feel it.
Felt his cock, which seemed to be growing by the moment, sliding inside of
flesh that had never touched other flesh. Felt his upper body against her back,
as he slowly relaxed himself against her, and finally, felt his pelvis fully
against the cheeks of her ass as he was deep inside her.

Between the time that his cock was firmly in her and the time that he began to
stroke, she thought she might have passed out. She never really was sure. There
was his entry, and then the time seemed to shift, and she found that his right
hand was now underneath her, clutching her pussy, rubbing her clit, and his
left hand was inside her mouth, and she tasted herself on him, the fingers that
a moment ago had been inside her cunt were now inside her mouth. This too was
something she hadn't done before, but knew she would be doing again. And then,
the thrusting was moving outside of the basic feeling of sensation and into
something else.

At first, of course, the sensation became recognizable as slight pain, but it
didn't take long for her threshold to rise. His hand on her, probing inside
her, raised her arousal and lowered her awareness of the pain. Soon she heard
the word "Fuck, fuck, fuck." and was somewhat surprised to find it was her
voice repeating it over and over. In her mind, all the dirty words she knew
were flying around with no coherent structure. Cunt cock pussy dick fuck screw
ass cum cum cum.

"I'm coming" was what she meant to say, but her mouth could only manage her
litany of "Fuck," only with increased intensity and volume, and a hint of a
scream. His right hand, now almost violently frigging her cunt, his cock in her
ass matching the rhythm of his hand were too much. She thought she must faint
now, she couldn't handle it anymore, must faint or explode or something. He
didn't seem to care less that he was going to make her come. Tom had become a
machine of some sort, steady, beating rhythmic machine, and god he felt so
good.

The choice between fainting and explosion was not Sarah's to make. Her body
decided for her, and it was much like a huge rock falling into a pond, striking
first at what had become her center, her cunt and ass, seemingly joined by his
hand and cock. This was where the explosion began, but it rapidly caused
ripples across her body, energy moving into her breasts, her legs, her arms,
her head, rolling over her and cleansing her like running water. "Fuck" became
a long "Ooooooh GaaaaaaaaaaahD!"

As her orgasm reached it's peak, and then lessened in intensity, she began to
think of Tom again, who was now thrusting with less fervor. What had become of
his orgasm, almost always taking place long before she was ready?

Then she felt his hands, both around her waist turning her over. His cock and
fingers no longer inside her. Her pussy and ass gaped obscenely at the absence.
She was lying on her back now looking at him and before she realized that he
was going to cum, it was shooting all over her, landing on her pussy, her
stomach her breasts. It seemed timed to the ebbing rhythm of her own orgasm,
and she was amazed at the copiousness of Tom's semen. It was like glaze,
shimmering across her body, from her crotch to her neck. On her dress, her
stomach. She had heard the term hosing before, but this was the first time she
had seen it in living Technicolor. She had been hosed. She scooted fully onto
the couch, her legs no longer hanging over the arm, and whether she went to
sleep or actually fainted, she was unconscious before she could even begin to
wonder what was going on. She was layed out, legs splayed, naked from the waist
down, cum splashed across her body.


June 30

The next day was one of those days in which everything moves at different
speeds. Hours passed in a mere minute, minutes seemed like hours. When she woke
up, it was 9:30, though she was sure she had looked at the clock only a minute
ago and it had been 5 a.m. She was sore, in various and sundry places, but it
wasn't a strong pain, just a dull humming reminder of what happened the
previous evening.

She had not seen her husband since his copious orgasm. After regaining
consciousness, or waking up, or whatever, she hobbled to the shower to get
cleaned up. She tried to be angry. After all, he had almost raped her, hadn't
he? She thought back to the moment before he penetrated her ass. No, it hadn't
been rape at all. She turned the hot water up a little higher and leaned
against the shower wall.

It hadn't been rape at all. That was a rationalization. She wanted him to do
what he did. She remembered his three fingers, sliding all at once insider her
vagina, how she had gasped and loved the fullness she felt there. Evan as she
thought of it, her hands were playing between her legs, rubbing the still-
swollen flesh of her cunt. Her other hand reached behind her, remembering the
feeling of his penetration, how intense the pain, the pleasure of it. It took
no more than ten strokes of her finger in her ass, in combination with the
fingers now rhythmically driving into her pussy, to lead her to orgasm. It was
the first time in her life she could remember coming so quickly. She felt the
sense of time escaping her again. She thought the hot water should be gone, her
skin wrinkled from the length of time she had spent in the shower. She finished
washing and got out. Ten minutes had passed.

She put on simple clothes, pajamas her husband had given her. Conservative
pajamas. Conservative husband. Not so conservative though, after all. She
walked to the kitchen and looked at the calendar. Saturday. She wasn't sure
that she understood that it was Saturday, or what Saturday should mean. She
opened the cupboard and grabbed a glass, took it to the refrigerator, got
crushed ice and water from the dispenser on the door and drank all the water
from it in a gulp or two.
She refilled the glass and drank it as well. And then a third glass. Each glass
seemed to make her thirstier. Finally after the fourth glass, she seemed sated,
and considered what she might eat. That was when her husband walked in.

"Good morning!" he said, moving quickly to get himself a drink.

Sarah refilled her glass. "Here, you can have mine," she said before throwing
the contents of the glass at him, soaking his back and causing him to gasp as
the cold water and ice hit him.

June 31

Of course she knew it wasn't June 31. It was July 1. But the calendar said June
31. It also showed the month as having 50 days. What did that mean? All the
other months were the same as the poem.

30 days hath September, April, June and November
all the rest have 31...

and then she couldn't remember how February fit in... except February, which
has 28, and 29 every fourth year, excepting turns of century not divisible by
400. It made her head hurt. She didn't really need to know, however, she only
needed to know why June had 50 days.

That and why her husband was behaving this way, and why she was tied up to her
bed, face down, spread eagled with a dildo in each of the orifices below her
waist and a ball gag in her mouth. She should probably also figure out what
happened to the day since she had thrown the glass of ice water at him. She
remembered utter abject fear as he turned to face her. Not the fear of having
made someone you know angry. This was the fear that comes from seeing someone
you don't know staring at you as you look over you shoulder in the mirror.
Breathtaking fear. Heartstopping fear.

Perhaps that was it. She was dead. She simply had a heart attack, and despiter
her belief that there was no afterlife, she was in hell. She wondered what
would happen next.

June 32

The next thing that happened for which she had consciousness was that there was
a moaning, distant but she recognized it at once as her own moan. The kind of
moan she had vocalized the night her husband took her all those years, days,
minutes ago. Then she came into her body and found several others to be there
as well.

One was in her anus, a cock which seemed inhuman. It was hot and had to have
been as thick as her own forearm. It was thrusting very steadily, with the
opposite rhythm of the cock fucking her in the "natural" way. When one plunged
in, the other pulled out. She could feel her own wetness and possibly something
else, lubricant or something, all over her bottom and thighs. She was
straddling the one man and the other was crouched behind her. Her moans were
now more like gasps. She could feel her anus stretching, her cunt being filled,
the alternating of the two men was just this side of what she could handle. She
felt that she must be going mad. How had this started. Where were these men
before they were fucking her? Who were these men?

And who was that woman in the chair facing them. Naked, yet somehow demure, her
hands laid casually in her lap. The one who called her name in a whisper, yet
somehow louder than the moaning elicited by the fucking on this bed.

"Sarah."

Her mouth hadn't moved, but Sarah definitely heard it. She knew she didn't need
to open her own mouth to communicate back.

"I love you," Sarah said, and then the darkness came again.

June 33

This time Sarah woke not to being fucked, but being licked, gently, all over
her body. It was the woman, Love. Love licked Sarah and her tongue felt like
silk. Like the silk she used to touch herself the first time she masturbated.
Like the silk of the stockings she wore on her wedding day, like the silk that
held her hands and feet to the bedposts.

Love was licking her but not making her body wetter. She was actually drying
her. Sarah was covered in fresh cum. Semen dripped from her forehead, plastered
her hair, was on her cheeks, her lips, her neck. Love was licking her stomach,
where what seemed like half a cup had pooled in her belly button. Love reached
out her tongue and gathered it into her mouth. She then crawled upwards a bit
and put her mouth to Sarah's, kissing her wetly as they shared the copious
semen in her mouth. Sarah felt Love's body, sliding on her own, rubbing the
semen between them as they kissed, naked breast to naked breast.

Love's thigh was between Sarah's legs and then began to rub each against each
other, sperm making their bodies glisten. It was the most conscious Sarah had
felt in days. She rolled Love over and was on top of her now, rubbing her cunt
harder against the warm thigh between her legs. God, she was so beautiful. Her
hair a rich, honey blond color, her skin pale, her lips red. Her breasts were
smooth and supple, and the semen dotting her torso made Sarah flush with her
need. She was doing what only could be called humping now, her clit thrusting
against Loves thighs, wanting so badly to come, yet not wanting to stop any
time soon. Then Love moved her hands behind Sarah's back, and down to her ass,
rubbing her cheeks, then sliding her right hand between them, a finger began
probing. Sarah didn't mean to speak, but she did anyway.

"Fuck my ass."

Her voice was loud, insistent, demanding. Yet she knew that Love couldn't
actually do what she needed. She had only fingers. But it didn't matter,
because now Tom had entered the room, and he was behind her, and he was naked,
and his cock was so large, and her body was so ready and he was behind her
and...

"Ooooh. Oh my God. Tom, fuck me, please fuck me."

And he was inside her and Love was beneath her and Sarah and Love kissed like
they were trying to kill each other with their mouths. Their tongues were warm
and their lips pushed and their teeth bit and their thighs kept pushing,
humping against each other.

For a few minutes, things calmed down a little bit. Tom was only slowly
thrusting into her ass, and her approaching orgasm seemed a little further away
as Tom and Sarah both tried to calm her down some. The loudest noise in the
room was breathing. Sarah's head was next to Love's, and she could feel Love's
breath in her ear, her arms around her back. Her own breath was slightly
labored, and she tried to breath in through her nose, out through her mouth to
relax a little. She was overwhelmed.

She knew she should say something, ask Tom how she got here, ask him who Love
was. Ask him to stop. But these were only vague thoughts, equal to her
wondering where the slight draft was coming from or even whose room this was.
She didn't care.

For the moment she was sandwiched between two people, one who she would die for
despite knowing nothing more than her name, and one she could kill despite
having known him for years. She looked again at Love.

Sarah's hair was dark, and long, and it looked so beautiful draped on Love's
white skin. She began dragging it across her breasts, her face, her shoulders,
and then nuzzled down into Love's neck. She kissed her, licked her, breathed in
her ear, licked and gently chewed her ear, bit at her neck. As she bit at
Love's neck, Love sighed appreciatively, so Sarah put her left hand under
Love's head and raised it slightly, allowing for more access to the back of
Love's neck, where her neck and head met. She bit more firmly, and Love said
"Yes."

Tom was still thrusting into Sarah from behind, but she began to notice him
pick up speed as he watched her making love to this beautiful woman beneath
her. She turned around and glared at him without speaking a word, then returned
to Love's beautiful body. Soon Sarah and Love had picked up the pace a little
too, as Sarah began to chew, rather than nibble, Love's neck, shoulders and
breasts. She realized she was leaving red marks all over Love's delicate skin,
and it was more exciting, seeing the imprint of her teeth all over the white
skin, on her neck, a large bite around her nipple, where she had taken Love's
nipple and areola and a good portion of her breast into her mouth.

The room was getting noisy again, with Love's "Oh Yes's" and a few "Oh God's"
from Sarah, as well as the low growl of Tom. This mixed with the feel of the
semen now mostly dried on Sarah's body, as well as the smell of the sexual
arousal in the room seemed to make everything highly stimulating. All her
senses seemed to be mixed up. She was hearing smells and tasting feelings. She
could see the words they spoke. Eyes, ears, nose, mouth, fingers seemed all to
be taking in each other's attributes. She felt her nerve endings might just
explode with the sense of it all. She knew Tom was going to explode soon.

She could feel and see the cock in her ass, though she knew it wasn't possible
to do both. Tom had grabbed her hips and was as much pulling her as he was
actually thrusting, which made it hard for her to keep her clit pressed tightly
against Love. The two women were practically slamming each other's cunts as
they approached their orgasms. Sarah wanted to time it so that she would come
when Tom came, and so that Love could join them too, but this did not happen.
Instead, Sarah had an orgasm that seemed to be forced by Tom's.

She knew Tom was about to come, could feel him swelling inside her, was ready
for the spontaneous bursts of his semen, but this is not how it happened. He
did cum, and his load shot right up into her, but then the unusual thing began.
It felt not like hot, wet, semen, but more like warm, slow molasses, forcing
its way further into her body, but not through the organs that she knew to be
there. It was like it had skipped the organs and had gone into her nerves,
moving upwards from the head of his cock, travelling slowly up to her breasts,
filling them, up into her throat, she could almost taste it, and into her head,
her scalp tingling with the feeling of it. Since Tom had cum, he was still,
Sarah was still, Love was still. Time was moving very slowly. Then, all at
once, the feeling moved rapidly down toward her pussy, like a violent rush of
wind and she was cumming, cumming so hard, thrusting herself against Love, her
body spasming from her belly button down and back up into her lower body, her
heart skipping, and Love was screaming and cumming and Tom was shooting again,
the normal way, but more cum tna ever, and Sarah was spurting, and there was
cum and cum and cum. Tom's and Sarah's and Love's and sounds and smells and
tastes and sounds, all mixing together as they all seemed to wash into each
other. Tom. Sarah. Love. TomSarahLove.tomsarahlovetomsarahlovetomsarahlove....

June 50

Now Sarah knew there was no June 50th, but she counted it anyway, and told Love
that morning when they woke up. "It's the 50th today, what a long month."

Love, whose name was actually not Love at all, kissed her. "Are you glad the
month is over?"

Sarah smiled. "Yes, and no. It was all so weird, but so wonderful. I feel
almost like a chrysalis who has finally opened up."

Love gave her a devilish grin. "How open are you?"

Sarah told her "Open enough for you, Love."

As the two began to roll around in the bed, Tom woke up and joined in, nibbling
and playing. They were not in frantic orgasmic need, so they just enjoyed the
play of an early morning when a day stretches before them. This is what they
had done for several days now, played. Gotten to know one another. Begun to
understand.

Sarah had been drugged, and though she understood why, she wondered if there
could have been another way. She had feelings to face. Her husband had fallen
in love with another woman, and she in turn had fallen in love with Sarah. They
all loved each other now, and it was true outside of the bedroom as well as in.
Sarah didn't know how they would make it work, but she didn't care. Her body
began responding to the two bodies rubbing against her and she smiled. Not only
because of what was happening in the moment, but because of what would happen
in the future.

------Finis

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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