Lawless Attraction

Oya Calor
7 mins read
Published over 3 years ago
Chapter 1

Lawless Attraction

It was both the most arousing and the most revolting experience of my life. For someone who likes sex as much as I do, I have a long list of things (wet things) that turn me right off. For example, I don’t like being spat on. Maybe that’s a given in some of your sex lives, but when you spend as much time exploring fetish websites like I do, this type of “hang-up” is often viewed as prudish. Not cool, of course. There’s also peeing - “watersports,” they call it. Not so into being peed on, though a guy I was dating once did pee on me one time in the shower, and I think because we had such great chemistry, none of his fluids disgusted me. And sweat. I know it’s normal to sweat when you’re getting down. I sweat with the best of them. But there is something so gross to me about someone who sweats so profusely that while he’s hovering over you doing any number of sordid things, you’re getting droplet after droplet of the stuff in your eyes, on your face, everywhere. Disgusting. Get a fucking cloth. And the whole swallowing thing: I only do it if I love you and your fluids are like a magical nectar of lust to me rather than gagworthy.

Crazy but true: My first threesome was gagworthy, but also one of the hottest experiences I’ve ever had in my time on this planet. Sometimes I wonder how fine the line is. Call me a philosopher. 

I met John in the park at 9pm. Because I don’t go to strange guys’ houses when I’ve never met them before. I don’t like to be careless with my life if I can help it. It being impossible in this day and age to tell what the hell someone actually looks like, feels like, sounds like, smells like, etc. when you’ve only seen their virtual profiles and never set eyes on their real ones, I was nonetheless surprised at how fat he was. You heard me. No offense whatsoever to fat people (both those who wanna be and don’t wanna be), but there had been no clue whatsoever that might lead me to understand this man’s absolute… girth. Fat. Still, I am attracted to men of all shapes and sizes if that glimmer is there, if those pheromones are present, if that self-reflective humor runs through the conversation. You know what I’m talking about, right?

Sitting there on the park bench beside this guy, I knew without a doubt that none of this was there. 

But desire is a very complex thing. That’s not some wise thing I’m saying. That’s a truth I’ve lived over and over again. Try as we might, we can’t make logical, absolute, moralistic, politically correct, or defining statements about what our bodies want—ultimately what our minds want. The two are inextricably connected and send information back and forth. At a certain point, it’s impossible to tell if one is bossing the other around, sharing pleasure with the other, or if they’re just conversing as equals.

Anyway, back to John. He was dressed all in white, like a Cuban trumpet player. He was only missing the hat. In this way, his size was stylized. 

We both knew why I was there. John and I had talked back and forth for upwards of six months online about the threesome I wanted to have with two men, about how I wanted to be treated like a little slut, and about how I often fantasized about being with multiple men at the same time, too. He was experienced.

We hadn’t said much. Just surface banter. I was biding my time, watching passers by with their grocery bags and bicycles as they dwindled slowly with the late summer light. A part of me wanted to leave, but another part of me, the part that had carefully oiled and groomed every crevice in my body, the part that was wearing a lacey pink thong and no bra beneath my tight tank top and short, girly skirt, didn’t think it mattered if I was attracted to this man. And yet another part of me was incredibly aroused by the idea of fucking a guy I did not feel attracted to. Call me an adventurer, call me a rogue. I won’t deny it. There was something about it that made me feel like more of an animal, more of an object, more of a slut. A simple set of holes with needs.

And then we were silent. He reached his hand around me to grab my hair tightly in his fist at the nape of my neck. My breath caught in my throat as I gasped with both pleasure and surprise. He knew how to execute this move in such a way that it made my pussy gasp a little too. My legs parted a little on the bench. 

After a while, he asked me if I wanted to go to his house. He lived just across the park. To be clear, I wasn’t sketched out by John. I wasn’t worried that he would harm me. I trusted him. My hesitation then, was instead due to the fact that if I closed my eyes while he discreetly pulled my hair or ran his fingers down my thigh, or plucked at my rock hard nipples (all of which he did) I was deeply aroused, but if I opened my eyes, I began questioning whether I should go home with a man I felt so little attraction for. 

“My friend lives right next door,” he said, smiling. “I’ve told him he should expect a call. Why don’t you just come and have a drink with us. No pressure whatsoever.”

He took out his phone and showed me a picture of said friend. Mmm, surprising. He was muscular, lean, built. Quite sexy, at least according to the photo…

But my rational mind simply could not let me go home with this guy I wasn’t attracted to in order to meet another guy I’d never met. So instead I writhed on that park bench. But I could not go home. No, I had come for something. Something I’d wanted to try for years. 

“He’s coming here,” said John, thumbing his phone. 


“You can meet him here in the park, and if it doesn’t feel right, you can still run away.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” I sighed, wondering who the hell I was and what I was doing with my life. 

Within ten minutes, Nelson sauntered up to us, and the photo had indeed been accurate. He was sexy. Mixed, light skin. Glasses. A devious smile, kinda like Prince’s smile. Prince, my eternal idol, my forever unconsummated love. 

“Holy shit,” he said, taking one look at me. “You are damn fine, lady. Shit.” He took my hand, pulled me off the bench, and twirled me around to get a better look. He whistled.

“Damn, John, where on earth did you find this one?” 

Standing between these two radically different looking and feeling men, I was getting incredibly wet. It was dark now. Fewer people were visible. Just the whir of traffic.

“Come sit on my lap,” said John. So I did, lifting my skirt a little so my bare ass in that lace thong rested directly against the white fabric of his pants. My legs rested on his. He opened his legs wide to open my legs wide, and Nelson walked up to stand between them. John hooked my elbows gently but firmly behind my back, and Nelson reached down to fondle my little titties. He inhaled sharply. 


I felt like a very little girl. I was so tiny on John’s lap, and it turned me on. I was so helpless, sandwiched between the two of them, and it turned me on. Then Nelson reached down and stroked my engorged pussy with his finger. The fabric of the thong was wet. His eyes went large and he looked at me with fire in them.

Back at John’s house, it was no time at all before I was bent over the kitchen table in just my thong. Filthy dancehall was playing. John was making my ass dance by pulling the thong up higher and higher into my asshole, and slapping it. I bent down lower, stuck my ass out further. Nelson watched, stroking his cock. 

When I stood up, Nelson said, “Dance for my friend,” motioning to John. His order both terrified me and electrified me at once. “Wait,” he said. “Take off that thong first.” I bent over slowly and lifted one foot, and then the other, to slide it off. Nelson’s eyes landed on my oiled up pussy. I like to rub coconut oil on my pussy after a shower, especially post waxing. It’s good for the skin. It wasn’t my fault it also looked like I was oiling and maintaining my holes in anticipation. He couldn’t look away.

I swung my hips playfully in time with the beat, squatting onto an imaginary cock repeatedly as I moved. That’s good dancing, after all. When you can fuck the air as you move (or make love to it, as the case may be). No one can take their eyes off you then. I looked John right in the eye for the first time if I’m honest, and fucked the air in front of his face with my bare, little, oiled pussy. Slow, strong jolts. I felt I could probably have done anything with Nelson watching the way he was. I opened my legs and sat my pussy down on John’s knee, wining and pumping onto it with the rhythm. 

Nelson came up behind me, lifted me right up by my underarms, no joke, like a small child or an object. John stood up then and held my other side up by the spaces under my knees, and the two men hoisted me up onto their shoulders, so that my elbow hooked onto Nelson’s shoulders, and my knees naturally hooked onto John’s. I was precariously balanced in this way between the two men and had to angle my pussy upward by squeezing my ass cheeks together, which was the perfect angle for John to eat me in.  He licked, sucked, and bit my labia lightly but hungrily. And then he started ramming his tongue inside of me. I moved with it, pumping upward as though my brain was in my pussy.

And then I hit the beat that sent a hot, thrilling shiver from my pussy hole, up straight through my stomach, my solar plexus, my nipples, my throat, my quivering tongue. I could feel my neck expand as I cried out loud, shooting up and expanding out. They both buckled under my violent shakes, and moved me slowly over to the mattress on the floor.

“Suck his cock,” said John, motioning to Nelson, who was kneeling on the bed beside me. So I did. On my knees, I leaned forward, ass in the air, and sucked that cock like I’ve never sucked any cock ever before. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. I wanted it all. I looked up into his eyes I sucked him off. He looked right back, unflinching, but overtaken. “Good girl,” said John. And then he was behind me, opening my ass and spitting inside, licking it in a circle, opening, stretching, fucking my hole with his tongue. We all hold so much tension in our assholes. John was helping me loosen up. It was crazy, not seeing him, but feeling his tongue in my ass, and simultaneously looking into Nelson’s eyes while I tasted the head of his cock with the back of my throat.

We took a water break. I was both in and outside of my body, and my self. I cracked a few jokes, traipsing around the apartment naked. I loved being the center of attention. 

I came and sat on the couch between them. Nelson leaned into me, hand secure around my inner thigh, hiking it in toward him, and began kissing my neck, my jawline, my mouth. I melted into him. John secured my other thigh with his hand, so I was spread wide open between them.

“So are you guys both gonna fuck me?” I asked with a smile.