Unicorn

I am happy to be a unicorn for a couple. I've made my position on threesomes clear enough on this blog: I cheerfully participate whenever possible. That said, I don't go looking for couples to make happy, and much of the time that's what winds up happening.

Ages ago, back before COVID and my extended hiatus, you may recall that the Mrs. America pageant came to my place of employment. If not, go read about it now.

I think I made my feelings about beauty pageants pretty clear in that post, but the short version is that I think they're degrading, but I get why some people do them. I also made my feelings on the subject of Mrs. America pretty clear, but the short version is that I think it's a way for fading beauty queens to try to hold on to their youth and a way for husbands to make their wives participate in a meat market. I'm happy to say that that's not always the case, but I don't care for it.

All that preamble out of the way, the Mrs. America pageant once more graced our shores and I wasn't really looking forward to it. It had been a bunch of years since the last one and I don't miss it at all when it's gone, plus my friends of the last time were probably no longer involved. I was proven right in this supposition.

The pageant was just as horrible as last time. I didn't really even have a clear favorite. Whoever she would have been, she wouldn't have won because the women who won were the plastic ones. Stupid. Very stupid.

The organizer of this pageant is a woman who is definitely a fading beauty queen. Let's call her Fantasy, not because that's her name but because her name is similarly stripper. I remembered her from last time. Only this time she was much more friendly for whatever reason.

It started when I was getting tables out for them. She was so thankful. And so impressed with my strength because I could lift a table. I get it lady, you think I'm not womanly. You don't need to rub it in. But she was oohing and aahing over me like I was the world's strongest woman. 

Then she was all compliments for the rest of the rehearsal process too. Not about my strength, either. She wanted to know why I wasn't doing the pageant, and I resisted telling her the real reason. "But you're gorgeous," she said.

"If I don't work the pageant, it won't get done," I pointed out. "Plus I'm not really a Mrs."

"But you're wearing a ring."

Indeed I was, and do. I screwed my courage to the sticking place and prepared to be denounced as a harlot, then explained the situation, as far as it needed to be explained.

When she found out I was married to a woman, I thought she would get judgmental, or maybe not care. She looked... I don't know. It wasn't what I expected. Maybe a combination of eager and disappointed. I figured it was indigestion.

But she didn't stop talking to me or get judgmental. In fact, she was very nice about it. Said, "Oh, you count as a Mrs. You should enter next year."

And then she started hitting on me. Like, I don't know how else to describe it.

So I figured, the old girl is horny and hubby isn't satisfying her needs. She started not-so-delicately asking whether I was totally unwilling to go outside the bounds of marriage. Stuff like, "A cute thing like you, your wife must have to keep a close eye on you."

Now understand, this woman is old enough to be my mother. Maybe not as old as my actual mother, but definitely not my type. Plastic fantastic, to go with her name. But despite all that she's got a tight little body. Not gonna lie, it was definitely a butterface type situation, at least with her clothes on, and she didn't seem to be wearing any shapewear or anything. Big tits, possibly fake but possibly not.

And I was feeling... charitable. So I was entertaining thoughts. It helped pass the time. Helped put me in a mood to enjoy ogling the contestants a little bit. Yes, there weren't any of them who really caught my eye, but they weren't hard to look at.

After the show, she was all over me again, compliments, questions, just basically all over me. And her direction turned subtly from figuring out that I wasn't in a closed marriage. I made no real secret of it. She didn't seem surprised. I don't know, a lot of people think that all queer people are DTF at the drop of a hat.

But her direction turned to asking me whether I was interested in joining her and her husband for drinks afterward. And it clicked. She thinks I'm her unicorn. This isn't about her being hot for me. This is about her recruiting me for her husband.

Which soured the equation for me a lot. It made me feel kind of tawdry. And I almost turned off of her and the idea completely.

Except she insisted that I meet her husband. And her husband, let's call him Stone, was not the type to be telling his wife to do anything. Meek. Very meek. Agreed to everything his wife said.

They say curiosity killed the cat but I really wanted to know what was up. So I took them up on their offer of drinks. At their place. I was expecting there to be an after-party, but no, everyone went home after the pageant. I closed up shop and drove to meet my destiny.

They had a mansion in the burbs. Very nouveau riche, very gray. Stone tossed back a large amount of scotch. I stuck to nursing my girly drink despite Fantasy attempting to ply me with more. She had white wine.

Finally, I guess Stone got his courage up and asked, "So Fantasy, does she?" 

"Well I haven't really asked her yet," said Fantasy, and I enjoyed seeing her squirm a little. Honestly, what was getting me through was feeling sorry for Stone. He wasn't terrible to look at, for an older guy. And he was clearly henpecked, but at the same time he had been eye-banging me all evening.

I didn't enjoy the tension, so I decided to end it. "If you're wondering whether I'd like to have a threesome with you, the answer is yes."

Fantasy laughed. I think it was the first genuine thing I'd seen her do. "Oh sweetie, you cut right to it," she said. "You've got a cute body and a dirty mind. I like that." She downed the rest of her drink. "Ground rules. No kissing. I won't go down on you, but I'll finger you if you like. You can do whatever you feel like to me. Stone watches. Once I get off, he's free to do whatever you two want as long as you two feel up for it."

You might think that I'd have a problem with this. The thing is, it was so matter-of-fact. It wasn't fake like her demeanor had been. And I respect people who know what they want. "I can live with that," I said. Because of the butterface situation, I wasn't going to miss kissing Fantasy. She looked like it would be like kissing a blow-up doll.

We adjourned to the bedroom, where we all undressed rather perfunctorily. I hadn't been expecting any sort of fun, though I guess in future I should plan ahead, so I was wearing basic black at usual at work. Fantasy was wearing rather sensible undergarments, flesh colored. Stone was wearing boxer briefs, gray. I was pleased to see that Fantasy hadn't been hiding anything. In fact, her body looked even tighter in underwear. Her skin was kind of sun-weathered but she wasn't saggy or anything.

She took off her bra first, and tits which were too perky for her age spilled out. She's had work done, I'd bet the farm on it. Then she pulled down her panties and lay back on the bed.

I know some people would be freaked out in this situation. I have seen my mother naked more often than not, and I've seen my parents fucking, sometimes each other, so I felt slightly... nostalgic maybe? I've never eaten my mother out though, but fortunately Fantasy looked nothing like my mother, so that didn't bother me either.

I took my undies off because why not, then settled in between her legs to do what I had promised. She smelled like baby powder, which is actually a smell I like in a woman. Better than most perfumes. And when I got close enough to examine it, her vulva was actually quite appealing. Little tan-colored lips, a cute little clit just hiding under her hood, and a pink opening beneath.

I should stop here for a moment to say that I don't judge books by their covers or anything. I've had great sex with women who have had large pussies and small, of many colors, with lips and clits of every size, and none of those things have to do with age. I don't know, I was just expecting Fantasy to have a different pussy. That's all. I should learn not to expect the carpet to match the drapes nor the floor to match the windows, I guess.

Fantasy was very vocal about what she wanted. Which I should have expected, but which also made me both happy that I didn't have to guess but then annoyed that she seemed to be treating me like a sex toy with voice control. At least she didn't have much taste. Just mild pussy.

I started kissing her inner thighs, but after a few moments she claimed to be ready, so I moved to kissing her labia, then when she instructed, I began licking them. She liked long slow licks over her whole pussy for a while, though she continually adjusted the timing and strength until she was happy with it. "Okay, now put a finger in me," she said, so I slipped my middle finger into her cunt. She shivered, and I felt her muscles tense a little. "Not so fast," she said like she was instructing a child.

I felt rather than saw Stone put his hand on my ass. It spooked me and I exhaled sharply. I hadn't been expecting it. I thought he was supposed to watch. But my twitch and breath was a happy accident because Fantasy loved it. "Oh god, do it again," she moaned, sounding like she was losing herself in the moment for the first time.

Who was I to argue? I curled my finger sharply into the front of her vaginal passage and flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue. Correct choice. She gasped and arched her back.

Stone,unseen behind me, was caressing my left ass cheek. It felt nice, not imposing, now that I was expecting it. I curled and flicked again, and his wife moaned loudly, and he clutched the cheek.

"Oh god, come up here and suck my boob! I'm gonna go off!" Okay okay, jeez lady. I licked my way up her body, the skin smooth against my tongue, and fastened my lips around her left nipple. Oddly, Stone's hand stayed on my ass, in fact slipping fingers into the cleft between the cheeks, grazing my asshole.

Then I curled my finger, hard, as fast as I could while sucking her nipple so hard I probably broke capillaries, and she practically screamed and came, hard. I felt the spasm in her breast and on my finger.

Well, job well done Lexi, I guess. I've had worse experiences. She was fairly easy to get off and didn't expect more. After she came down, she gently stopped me. So no repeat was necessary either.

Now to Stone. I looked up from his wife and he was standing next to the bed naked. Not in great shape but not bad for his age. Graying hair, graying pubes which he must groom. His cock was hard and wasn't disappointing.

Then I got the shock of my life when he said, "Ok bitch, suck it hard," and practically pulled my head into his cock.

Huh. For such a meek man with his wife, I hadn't been expecting that. It threw me off a little. His cock was down my throat before I had time to think, and I gagged on it a little. Tasted a bit of bile when he let me come up for air.

"Yes baby, treat her like the dirty whore she is," moaned Fantasy from behind me.

I found my head pulled down on his cock again, but this time I managed to keep from gagging. Instinct took over and I let him pull me down until his pubes were tickling my nose. "Oh fuck yeah," he said, holding me there until I almost grayed out for a second.

A few more of those, with commentary from both, and I guess he was ready. "Now take it, bitch," He growled forcefully, pulling me to my hands and knees on the floor. There was a pause as he got behind me and pulled on a condom. In other circumstances, I might have told him to forget about it, but I was still reeling.

But goddamn if it wasn't making me wet. When he mounted me forcefully, I almost came right away. His cock filled me in a way I've been missing lately, not having regular injections of Vitamin D.

And then he was fucking me, hard and fast, his hands on my throat, in my face, pulling my hair. And I was cumming, over and over again. He grunted at a certain point and I felt him press deep and hold it for a few seconds, but my pussy was so battered that I didn't feel him cum. He stayed hard though. Little blie pill maybe. I don't know enough about it to know whether he had anticipated this.

He was degrading me with his words, he and his wife both were, and doing it very well because I was letting it happen and feeling pretty good about it. At some point we wound up on the bed, him beneath me, pulling my hips back and forth on him, his wife lying beside him holding my hand. He pulled me to the bed beside him, almost throwing me off the bed, and then moved to position, ripped off the condom and then spurted several weak jets of cum onto my chest.

I had barely registered that by the time he had on another condom and had my on my face on the bed, fucking me from behind again, just as hard as before. He slapped my ass and it barely made it through the haze of orgasm. He was driving me into the mattress with each thrust.

After a while I guess the pace tired him out finally and he pulled me up again to reverse cowgirl on his lap. I was about out of orgasms. I lost count of how many. His cock was thrusting directly into the front of my cunt in the best way, and it was still hard as a rock. It took what felt like forever for him to get off the third time, and when he finally got close he said, "Now finish me off with your throat, whore."

He basically fucked my head for a minute or so, then tensed and relaxed a few times, but whatever spunk there was I didn't get a chance to taste. It went right into my stomach.

Then he basically tossed me aside like a condom, went to his wife, kissed her warmly, then grabbed a robe and left the room.

I lay there next to Fantasy until she got up and grabbed a robe too. "Here, honey, cover yourself up," she said not unkindly, and tossed another robe onto me. I managed to rouse myself enough to put it on, under her appraising eye, then followed her into the living room again. She offered me a glass of wine, which I accepted shakily. Stone was already there, sitting with a full glass of brown liquor and a cigar.

"Really Stone, do you have to stink up the place?" Fantasy asked, with a tone of voice that suggested she was back in the saddle again.

"Sorry dear." He quickly stubbed it out. "But that was..."

"You're incredible," Fantasy said to me, sounding like she meant it.

I didn't feel incredible. The afterglow had kind of worn off and now I was feeling the fatigue of an hour of hard fucking. But I accepted the compliment.

We sat in the living room drinking our drinks. They complimented me more. They talked about how they had found a few other women through the pageant. "But nothing like this," Fantasy said. "Honey, you're a trooper."

The compliments started to work on me, I won't lie. When they said I should totally do pageants, I didn't immediately say no, I just said I would think about it. Stone's robe fell open at a certain point and he was still hard, and by god I felt like sucking it a little, so I asked if that was okay. Fantasy was shocked but eager, Stone was shocked but willing. I wanted them to see that I could be more than just a sex toy.

This time I took charge a little and clearly Stone couldn't figure out how to get back in the Dom headspace because he let me. And then I knew how to put the icing on the cake. Plus I'm not going to lie, my pussy felt a little worn out.

"Do you want to fuck my ass?" I asked him winningly.

Fantasy was shocked into silence. Stone looked at me like he couldn't believe it, but strammered something affirmative. So I stood up, dropped my robe, pulled his a little more open, and then lowered my ass onto his spit-slick cock.

His hands moved instinctively to pull my hips down until he was buried in my colon, then I rocked slowly for a few moments. His legs spread and my butt squirmed down another fraction of an inch.

Then I began slowly bouncing, just an inch up and down. I wanted to keep feeling his entire length in my ass but I knew he needed a bit more stimulation. He started pressing up as I bounced down, and I felt the tickle of one last O eluding me until I reached down and stroked myself into it, short and soft.

Then it was all about him. I was really feeling the fatigue, so I suggested that he take over a bit more. I wound up on my hands and knees again, with him fucking me from behind, but gentle, like the bedroom had been a different person. I looked over and Fantasy was watching every move, her eyes hungry. But she didn't make any move other than to watch.

Finally he came. I didn't feel it and I don't know that he enjoyed it as much as he could have, but it happened. He pulled out of my asshole after a moment of tension and I rolled over and then crawled to the sofa and drank the rest of my wine.

No compliments. Just awed silence. I enjoyed that too. It helped me feel a bit of agency in the situation.

Fantasy offered me another drink, but I declined. I went into the bedroom and put my clothes back on. They made no move to stop me.

Then, after some goodbyes where both of them, despite their rules, kissed me, I was on my way to the door when Fantasy said, "Oh shoot," and ran to her purse. She pulled out a roll of bills and went over to me. "I meant to give this to you at the theater, but I got distracted." And she handed me a twenty.

"Just one?" Stone asked.

She looked chagrined and added a second to the first.

Now, I remember the last time the pageant was here. I got tipped then too. Ten bucks. So while I'm sure I had been destined to get some kind of tip, I'm pretty sure the sexual performance had added to the total.

Am I okay with that? I don't know. I guess I'd rather be tipped than paid for sex. Plus it wasn't enough. If I'd actually been charging, that would have been insulting. I've thought about it and I don't regret the experience. I do regret the fact that they'll be back next year and probably want more, but then again who knows?

It did make me feel a little bit like the help. Hell, for all I know they've fucked the help. Probably not though. Not like that. And that's where I'm sitting, in the top spot. Fuck yeah.

In the end, I made them happier than they made me, but I had plenty of orgasms. I guess the lesson is that sometimes the power dynamic is skewed.