The Three-Way Tie

They staggered into the house laughing and dressed in the same ill-fitting uniforms they’d gone out wearing some five hours earlier. They’d all unfastened some buttons and loosened their ties, and two of them were barefoot with their shoes balanced on their index fingers, but otherwise nothing had changed: the four women were still squeezed into school uniforms that Gordon Lister didn’t think would even have fitted them thirty years ago.

“Oh good. You’re still up,” said his mother slurring her words, “you can keep us entertained. It’s the best night out I’ve had since your father left, but we’ve all had such a good time watching those oiled-up muscle-men gyrating about, drinking and dancing that nobody wanted to stop partying, so when Emma suggested coming back here…”

Her voice trailed off as Gordon gestured towards the drinks cabinet and politely asked each of his mother’s three friends in turn what they wanted, but got nothing coherent in reply: just stifled giggles.

“What are you offering?” asked the tallest of the three women, grinning as she said it. “Er, well ….. whatever you want,” stuttered Gordon in reply, “have you got a preference?”

Debbie Wright sat down in between the other two women his mother had brought home, exchanged knowing glances, and all three started to drunkenly snigger as Mrs Lister sat directly opposite shaking her head. “What’s so funny?” she asked looking puzzled, “my son’s happy to give you whatever you want.” which only made the laughter even louder.

He tried to make himself heard and suggested “Shall I just shake some cocktails?” while walking across the room and opening the cabinet but all he got by way of reply was a shouted “We’ve been watching young men shake their thing all night so why stop now!” from the oldest of the three women as the other two convulsed helplessly as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

He filled the mixer with several different spirits, added some fruit juices, shook it vigorously as three women applauded, turned over three wine glasses and a tumbler, and poured four drinks, handing the smaller glass to his mother, and passing a long-stemmed glass to each one of her friends.

“I’m Emma by the way,” said one of the women as she took the glass from him, “and that’s Jess at the other side of Debbie. Were we too intimidating for you talk to us earlier? Women our age can have that effect on innocent young men like you. ”

“Not at all, and I can assure you that I’m not innocent,” he said laughing, “I just didn’t want to intrude. It’s nice to meet you all,” and then adding, “do you all go know mum from school?”

“Innocence is relative Gordon,” said Jess Robertson smiling “and as I’m quite a few years older than she is I’ll take that question as a compliment.” “And so will I,” said Emma Harris, “but it’s a good job that your mother’s passed out or she might be insulted. Debbie’s the only one who was at school with her.” Gordon Lister looked over at his mother who had slumped down off her chair and was now crumpled in a heap on the floor. “I’d better carry her up to bed” he said to no one in particular as he lifted his mother carefully into his arms while Debbie Wright opened the door in the corner of the room for him to walk thru.

He returned to find the women sat together on the long chair, but none of them looked quite the same as they had done when he’d left the room: they’d straightened their hair, removed their ties which they were now holding in their hands, and each now had the top two buttons of their white blouses unfastened so that he could see an equal amount of cleavage and the upper edges of what even he could tell were very expensive bras.

All three were now barefooted and Emma Harris was stuffing the tennis socks she’d been wearing when she arrived into a small ball. “Have you ever thought about older women Gordon?” she asked raising her eyebrows, “or wondered what they talk about doing when they get together?”

Gordon paused as he tried to work out what reason she might have for removing her socks and pairing them like that, but was more curious to ask: “Thought about how?” before adding “are you three drunk?”

“Well of course we are” laughed Debbie Wright, “we’ve been drinking all night, and want to know what you think about ….. well… us.”

“Are you asking me to decide which of you is the most attractive or something?” asked Gordon, “have you had some of wager between you while I’ve been upstairs?”

“Nothing happened while you were upstairs, other than us making ourselves a little more presentable,” said Jess smirking, “It’s that one of the more …er…. shall we call him forward strippers we saw tonight looked just like you, so it got us talking and wondering and well….. thinking….. That’s why we persuaded your mother to invite us back here after you’d been staring at us earlier when we doing each other’s hair, because there wouldn’t have been any point in asking a male stripper anything, now would there?” Her smile widened to a grin as she glanced at each of her friends who confirmed the statement with nodding and grins of their own.

Gordon tried and failed to stammer an excuse. None of the women were particularly overweight, and the earlier sight of them wearing very short skirts, knee-high white socks and overly-tight blouses had kept him in state of almost-permanent arousal all evening, but he wasn’t even certain that they’d noticed him. “I errr…. you all look very nice….I mean… you’re all equally…..”

Emma Harris emptied her glass and grinned again: “So what you’re saying is, if you had a choice to make, you couldn’t choose?”

“Choose?” said Gordon, “Choose for what?”

“Which one us would you ….well if you had the chance….which one of us would you rather……?” Jess Robertson didn’t finish her sentence as she stood up and placed her empty glass on the table to his left. “You must have at least thought about it while we’ve been out?”

Gordon was instantly aware that he must have looked embarrassed and whispered apologetically while looking down at the floor, “I’m not going to make any sort of decision like that. To be honest it’s not so much diplomacy or gentlemanly behavior…… but more that all three of you are very attractive. It’d be a tie.”

He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “Tie?” said Debbie laughing loudly, “Or ties maybe? We hadn’t thought of that!” turning to each of the other women who were both now laughing even louder than she had and taking it in turns to drink neat vodka straight out of the bottle.

“I don’t understand,” said Gordon, “How is a tie an idea? And why is it so funny? What if I just say all three of you equally and leave it at that?”

“All three of us? Together? Is that what you’re saying?” asked Mrs Harris looking at each of her friends and then back at Gordon.

“Er, ok, I suppose so. If that makes it…” Gordon Lister didn’t get to finish the sentence. The vodka bottle was knocked over as all three women gripped opposite ends of the thin strips of striped material they were holding, stood up and stepped forward while he was still too stunned to process what was happening.

They pushed him backwards off his chair and onto the floor as one woman grabbed his right forearm, one grabbed his left, and the other bound his wrists together above his head. He was still in state of shock as his arms were tied to a leg of the long, heavy chair, and his legs were tied together at the ankles with another of the school ties by Mrs Robertson as she sat on his shins with her back to him.

“We were kind of hoping you’d say that you couldn’t choose.” Said a voice from somewhere above his left ear, “It might have been a little awkward otherwise…..”

He was too stunned to speak, but before he could even begin to process any sort of protest Mrs Harris stood above him and started to remove the flimsy white panties from underneath the small pleated skirt he could now see directly up. “We don’t want to wake his mother” she said not expecting any sort of argument and bending down to push them into his mouth along with the sock ball she was holding in her left hand .

Debbie Wright reached across and grabbed her arm to stop her. “I’ve got a much better way,” she said very firmly before hitching up her skirt and sitting down very slowly on Gordon’s face. He couldn’t see anything and all he could taste was the sodden cotton material in his mouth, and all he could hear was the sound of one woman groaning and two women arguing about who was going to fuck him first.

His tracksuit and boxers were almost torn as two pairs of hands dragged his clothing down past his thighs, followed almost instantly by his now-erect penis being forcibly shoved deep inside whichever woman had won the argument.

Debbie Wright wriggled around on top of him rubbing herself up and down his mouth and chin, until she finally reached under her skirt with both hands ripped her panties apart down the side seam, grabbed the back of his neck and pushed his mouth so far inside her that his nose was pressed tightly against her abdomen making it difficult to breathe.

His own orgasm coincided with that of the woman sat astride his penis, and Debbie Wright’s followed shortly afterwards, but within thirty seconds of her rolling to one side he was once again under a skirt giving oral sex to who he assumed was the third of the three women, while of the two he’d just been used by sat on his legs and tried to bring his penis back to life.

Emma Harris’s orgasm took less time than either of the other two, and was more intense than any he’d ever felt before, as her thighs shuddered against his ears, and her lower body vibrated up and down on his jaw while what seemed like an endless stream of liquid cascaded down his neck. It was a relief when she finally rolled off him and slowly sat back up on the chair next to her friends and whispered “All three of us at the same time you said. Was it how you imagined it be?”

Gordon didn’t speak. Not only did he not know what to say, he wasn’t able to make any sounds at all as his tongue, mouth and jaw all hurt too much. He lay there as Jess Robertson leant down and untied his wrists while Debbie Wright unfastened his ankles “We want these back” she said holding up the ties, “but you can keep those as a souvenir” pointing at the soggy once-white strip of material near his left ear. “I can’t put them back on anyway.”

The three women stood and put their shoes back on, rang for a taxi and then left the house giggling like they had done when they arrived, leaving Gordon Lister staring exhausted at the ceiling for what seemed like hours until he felt strong enough to sit up. He stuffed the memento Mrs Wright had left him into the pocket of his tracksuit and took the three empty glasses into the kitchen along with the tumbler his mother hadn’t finished.

Gordon Lister then stood at the sink smiling and remembered the fantasies he’d been having all evening. He’d spent five hours doing nothing else but think of various ways any one of the three women might have got so excited by the sight of male strippers, and so drunk that they’d lost any thought of self-restraint, that they might have found an excuse to come back with his mother and maybe, just maybe, make some sort of pass at him after she’d gone to sleep, but all three of them? Even his wildest dreams hadn’t gone that far.

There was still enough dissolved tranquilizer left for him to be confident that his mother would wake normally in the morning, and that enough of it had gone for him to be sure that she’d not been woken by the noise of what had been going on for the last hour, so started to laugh as he poured the glass’s contents down the sink, congratulated himself on having the forethought to put six sleeping pills in his pocket when he’d gone to the bathroom in need of tissues just after he’d made the choice over which woman to fantasize about first, and congratulated himself again for not having upset the other two by telling them who that was.


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