I fingered the sweat-dampened cotton. The mouth of my sex gave a little gasp and a trickle of warmth ran out.
This was too kinky. What the hell, though. Men liked women's lingerie. Why shouldn't I be aroused by a jockstrap? I brought the cotton to my nose and sniffed the combination of good clean sweat and young man's musk. Immediately, I felt an urge to keep the thing, to sleep with it under my pillow or press it between my thighs while I stroked myself to climax.
I told myself the urge was juvenile, not to mention thievish, but I shoved the underwear in my pocket and ignored my twinge of guilt. Worse, I continued my survey of his room. I touched the military crease at the bottom, of his mattress, evidence of Joe's self-disciplined nature. It was a young man's bed, narrow, the sort a man could carry from his parents' house because he couldn't afford to buy something bigger. That bed made me think of raging, unrequited hormones, of jacking off with his big brother's Playboy, or waking up to sticky sheets.
God, I was crazy to even consider messing around with someone that young.
Annoyed with myself for more reasons than I could name, I turned to gaze at my reflection in the small, square mirror on the back of his door. At five foot five, I could see myself from the neck up.
Trying to be both fair and honest, I faced a smooth-skinned woman with wide blue eyes and a mop of unruly auburn curls. My fitness walking, in addition to keeping my curves where they belonged, lent me a flattering outdoor blush. My lips were generous, softly pink, and my cheekbones owed a debt to some forgotten Scandinavian ancestor. All in all, my face appeared a good deal more open than I really was. People would never guess at my reserve from looking at me. Only when I smiled would the twinkle in my eyes lead anyone to suspect I harbored secrets.
My lips curved upward. In my opinion, that grin and the mischief in it were my best features. I shouldn't have let my sense of fun become a stranger to me. I'd been burnt by my divorce, it was true, but that was no excuse for failing to take advantage of the opportunity Fate had so kindly set in my path. Joe was twenty-three, an adult. If I had any nerve at all, I'd let him know - in no uncertain terms - that I was more than ready to play.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Losing my smile, I sighed and shut Joe's door behind me. The third floor called: my bedroom, my big grown-up bed, my two hundred pages of masturbation aid.
A sound halted me at the door to my room: a rhythmic rattle, like a blind flapping against the window - except the sound was too fast for that, too fast and getting faster.
'Slow down,' hissed a voice: Joe's voice. 'I think I heard someone.'
Another voice groaned something coaxing. The rattling slowed but did not stop.
My hand flattened over my pounding heart. Joe and Sean were fucking in my room. A wave of heat swept me from scalp to ankle - instant, intense arousal. I didn't even have time to take offence. Awash in cream, my clit beat a frantic tattoo against the seam of my jeans.
My knees gave way. My hand brushed the door. The latch clicked. The door swung open an inch. Wincing, I grabbed the frame for support.
I could see them through the gap in the door. Oh, could I see them. Both men were stark naked. Joe was bent forward at the waist, his arms propped straight on my footboard. His legs were straddled wide; every muscle in his thighs and calves stood out with tension. There was no mistaking what that tension was, either -Sean was sodomising him. The force of his thrusts made the bed rattle. His tight pink buttocks clenched as he forged in and out.
What a cute rump Sean had. I'd been so distracted by Joe's crush on me, I'd never noticed. Now I longed to kiss it, to bite it. My knuckles whitened on the door. With an effort, I forced myself to remain still.
Sean was shorter than Joe, but he looked at home on top. He caressed Joe's hair-shadowed torso with a handful of yellow silk. Its trailing edge brushed Joe's up thrust cock, which bobbed like a spring at the contact. Sean chuckled and repeated the tease.
Apparently, he enjoyed tormenting Joe as much as I did.
But what of it? Sean wasn't my concern. Joe was. I turned my attention to my favorite tormentee.
Sweat spiked Joe's straight dark hair. His face red, he grimaced - but not, I thought, with pain. As I watched, he arched his back and tipped his buttocks higher.
Accepting the offer of access, Sean gripped his shoulders and levered deeper. 'Gotta have it, don't you? Can't hardly go a day without it. Hell, if I did you every hour, you'd still want more.'
‘Fuck you,’ Joe responded, even as he pushed wholeheartedly into the next thrust.
Sean laughed. He nipped the apple of Joe's shoulder and rubbed his cheek across the smooth olive skin. The gesture made my insides turn over. I hadn't thought Sean capable of tenderness - or that his relationship with Joe was more than a power trip.
'Would she do this for you?' he asked. 'Would she lay you over the end of my bed and bugger you till you begged?'