Triple Crown

Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Jun 10, 2004

We’re on the subway platform and I’m watching Leslie stroll a few paces ahead. A guy wearing oversized headphones cranes his neck to stare at her ass and makes a hissing noise, sssst, calling out to her like she’s an animal.

Pupils dilate. Heart quickens. Muscles tense. I blink and I can see the capillaries pulsing.

“Shut the fuck up!” I yell, as much for his benefit as for the other people on the platform. I’m marking my territory—that odd moment when you remember you’re nothing but blood and guts and sinew and reproductive organs. I’m indignant, too, wanting to rid all the subway platforms in all the world of these cocksuckers.

Headphones pulled aside now, he’s challenging me. “What did you say?”

Turning to face him, dead on. “I said shut the fuck up. Bitch. That’s no way to treat a woman.” I size him up, already planning my opening gambit should he decide to charge, and I have no idea who’d win. It’s a confidence game. I fix a steely gaze. Bring it.

But he’s already lost his resolve. He’s mumbling, averting his gaze.

“Well, that was entertaining,” I say, pulling Les to me.

I return to our previous topic of conversation. “I guess it’s just that I feel like I’ve lost a friend—and there’s no reason for it.”

“I told her this was all in her head,” Leslie says. “I only asked her to be honest with me.”

“I really don’t want to think the worst, but I’m getting the sense it had nothing to do with her feeling guilty. She wanted to keep her options open so she kept us in the dark.”

“We’re not going to sit on the sidelines while she makes up her mind about this guy.”

“But that’s the fucking crux of the thing, isn’t it? We were there for her when she needed someone to lean on and now that she’s found someone else to shower her with attention she ignores us. And the irony is… I would’ve been fine with just being friends.”

“I wasn’t losing sleep over her being with someone else. She could have called. I don’t know what made her think having a boyfriend means she has to hide from us.”

“She met a guy—big fucking deal. Did she think the three of us were gonna move to Westchester and make babies or something? I told her she’d meet someone sooner or later. Why all the bullshit? Why the ‘you guys are my number one priority’ routine? And then the disappearing act.”

“I guess it’s always the same,” Leslie sighs.

“Ha!”

“What’s so funny?”

“Even you can’t figure women out. Now you see what men have been complaining about since the beginning of time.”

The subway doors slide apart and that’s that—there will be no answers today. There are advantages to dating women as a couple. At least, when it’s over, you can bitch to each other and spare your friends the tedious minutiae of a breakup.

In the evening we trot out to a pool hall to watch the horse race. Jack-n-Jill are there with a few people, including the German girl. A horse named Smarty loses the race and a lot of people are upset. Smarty, however, doesn’t appear to care. Give him a feedbag and a stable of mares and he’s probably as happy as the proverbial pig in shit.

We smack balls around for a couple hours. There’s a pregnant woman in our group and I can’t help but look at her and smile. She’s beautiful. The woman calls me over and places my hand over her abdomen. I feel the kid kicking.

Later on I’m sitting next to the German girl, Katia. I ask her if she plans to have children.

Her words tumble out in staccato, accented English. I try not to think of how much this reminds me of my mother. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it yet. And you?”

“Well, yes… but I want to get in as much practice as possible.” Winking.

Katia tells me it’s been awhile, practice-wise. “A friend asked me to come over late at night… you know what zat means. And all he wanted to do was watch baseball. I had to attack him in the morning. A forty-dollar cab ride for five minutes of fun.”

“Doesn’t seem fair.”

Enter Natalia, sporting curly locks of medium length. Heads turn. “Love the new hair, dear,” I tell her.

Jack-n-Jill depart. The rest of us decide to wring a little more entertainment out of the night. Seeing as we’re in the neighborhood anyway, we end up at Ruben’s party. I fret over finding a seat for the pregnant girl until the staff come through with a section that’ll seat all of us comfortably. Ruben’s outdone himself this time: not just bottles and drink tickets for his crew, but hors d’oeuvres too.

We aren’t there long. Our group dwindles to Natalia, Katia and Les—the three of them dancing together—and it looks like things might take a turn for the pornographic. I tell Katia she should come uptown with us to watch some baseball. She laughs and smacks my shoulder.

Soon I’m standing in our living room, fully clothed, except that my cock protrudes lance-like through the fly of my trousers. I feel silly but I can’t seem to stuff the thing back into my banana briefs. The girls giggle. I approach Katia and she’s shy, afraid to look at it. “You know you want this,” I say, pressing her hand to me. She removes her glasses. I kiss her, my stiffy insistent against her midsection. Leslie and Natalia sit idly and watch us.

I was wrong about Euro girls and their shaving habits. I pull Katia to the couch and toss aside her pants and thong. She’s shaved bare, her pussy very pink; smooth and wet around my index finger. I stand and Leslie practices her sword-swallowing as the girls look on. And then she mounts me, kissing Natalia as Katia slobs hungrily at her tit. “Ever seen two people fucking?” I ask Katia. She shakes her head. When I push into Leslie from behind, Katia and Natalia each place a hand on Leslie’s ass, spreading em for me, white and black skin set beautifully against Leslie’s cinnamon. It’s not long before Leslie grabs at the leather cushions and comes.

I plop down next to Natalia, intending a momentary break, but Natalia latches on and soon she’s wrapped her full lips around me, really working at it and making all sorts of sloppy wet noises. “Oh, Natalia,” I say as I paw at her double dees. Leslie’s draped herself over Katia and she’s got her finger in the girl’s cunt. Better get on with it before I give Natalia a mouthful of jizz. Still tingling from Natalia’s blowjob, I rise and stand before Katia’s face, my cock a ticking metronome. “Suck it,” I command. I gather up her hair and glance in the mirror to have a look from the side, at cheeks hollowed from the suction. She rakes her fingernails across my ass. I pull my penis out of her mouth and tap her lips with it. “I’m going to fuck you with this,” I say.

And she’s stoic, silent, just how I expected a German girl to be. With four of us on the couch it’s cramped, so Katia’s legs are spread wide and her back’s over the armrest. I have a good view of her pink, her small tits, her flushing chest. Natalia’s stretched out next to me, twitching under Leslie’s fingers. I flip Katia over, inch my way in again and prod her mercilessly, pulling all the way out so I can watch her pussy engulf me over and over. I tug at Katia’s hair and give her small ass a firm smack. She lets out a yelp.

Katia hops onto my lap and reaches down to impale herself upon me. She grinds and brings her pelvis crashing down. I pull her hair again, bite her nipple, then grasp her neck with both hands. Katia throws her head back. Natalia and Les have switched off—Natalia’s got her face between Leslie’s thighs. I set Katia on her back, slinging her legs over my shoulders, and deliver the final series of sweaty thrusts. A smack smack smack fills the room. I hear Leslie cry out and then, at last, it’s my turn, watching myself piston in Katia’s cunt, seized by that last great hurrah…

Cigarette in hand, Les inserts a tape of Grego’s VH1 special and I make comments over the show, pausing and rewinding every time Les and I pop up on screen. There’s me talking to the NY Post reporter. There’s Les looking pretty. There she is again, kissing a couple girls. There’s the Cock, Schoolgirl, Jimmy, Daniella, Miguel and Leandra… they’re all on the teevee showing you what to do in New York when you don’t have any clothes on.

As I watch the video I realize I feel the same about three-way relationships as I do about planned sex parties. When you tame the orgy, when you domesticate and regulate it, you lose everything that makes it interesting. “We know we’re getting laid tonight,” the teevee says. Where’s the fun in a guarantee?

Tension—the eroticism of not knowing what’s coming next—that’s the beauty of nights like this.

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