Page 32 of 3 Daddies to Go

13

Kendall

Idon’t usually take two showers a day, but after what happened, I need to clean myself off again. If I’d known I was going to get so sweaty with the guys, I wouldn’t have bothered with my shower before meeting them. Then again, I’m glad I was totally clean before we…

Holy shit. Did I really lose my virginity? At twenty-five, I started to believe it would never happen. All of my friends had crazy lives between the sheets, and I was the one left on the sidelines pretending to understand what they talked about. Now I know what my coworkers mean when they talk about how great being with a man is. Or being withthreemen, in my case. It’s insane and unbelievably, and yet this is truly my life. Holy cow, the change is enormous.

I want to call Trudy and talk to her about this. After all, Trudy’s the one who told me, in great detail, about when she lost her virginity in high school. It’s different now, though. Back then it was an accomplishment. We talked about how cute the guy was, and how it hurt a little and didn’t last long. If I remember correctly, they didn’t even take their clothes off completely.

Now, it’s more an embarrassment than anything else. Not the fact that I made love, but the fact that it took me so long to do it. I also don’t need Trudy to tell me it’s a bad idea to hook up with guys three guys who are leaving soon. Obviously, it’s not exactly conventional.

But that’s not the point. The point is, that I have no one to talk to about the amazing time I just had with three incredibly handsome, hung men.

Three of them!I can’t believe I lost my virginity to three gorgeous men at once. I mean, sure, Tanner was technically first, but every experience today was new and exciting. They made it pleasurable for me too, over and over again. I’ve never climaxed more than once in a night, but they got me off three times, and each time felt better than the last. By the time Trace finished, I thought I might die, but I’d be dying happy, with my pussy clenching a hard cock.

Tag, Tanner, and Trace’s faces race through my mind. Are they thinking about me right now, too?

I doubt it, considering we’re still basically strangers. At least I learned their last names at brunch yesterday. Trace Morgan, Tag McAllister, and Tanner Bryce. Even their last names sound imposing and important, like they were born for the jobs they hold.

The shower is calling to me, but it can wait. Nude and wrapped in a towel, I pull out my laptop and google each guy’s name. Photos come up from company websites. If they look domineering in person, these photos make it even easier to notice. The photographers took care to make their blue eyes look as intoxicating as possible, and the strong, carved look of their faces is intimidating and impossibly gorgeous.

I click on Trace’s website first. All I know about these guys is that they’ve been friends with Herbie their entire lives. What will these profiles say?

Unfortunately, the text is incredibly boring. Something about their education, yada yada yada, their experience, yada yada yada, and then more about their businesses.

“Come on,” I say aloud to my empty bedroom. It’s about the size of the bathroom in the guys’ suite. Come to think of it, my whole apartment would probably fit in one of the bedrooms in their suite. “Where’s the juicy stuff?”

I scroll through some more articles, but these only highlight the guys’ philanthropic efforts and business successes.

Then, an article pops up that features all three guys standing arm-in-arm with three beautiful women. I click on it, expecting to find out they’re married or engaged or have girlfriends. Instead, I discover they chaired a brother-sister dance that raised money for a mentoring program. The women in the picture are their sisters, not their significant others.

I go back to the search and find a few more similar articles. It seems the guys spend a lot of time at charity events. They’re not always together, though. I see a few with Tanner and Tag, a couple with Tanner and Trace, and some with Tag and Trace.

When other friends have tried to befriend Trudy and me, it always becomes difficult. We’re so close that we have trouble letting others in. Not even Monica, Leonore, or Jenny have been able to crack the code to our inner circle. It ends up being Trudy and me with them, rather than one big group. It’s not like that with the guys. I almost envy their ability to have a close-knit group of three. Sometimes things get lonely with just Trudy and me.

I read a few more articles, but none of them give me any real insight into the guys.

I close the laptop and toss it onto my bed. That was a bust. I guess I’ll have to learn about them the old-fashioned way, by actually talking to them.

That is, if they ever get in touch with me again. I check my phone, but I have no new messages. I don’t want to be the girl waiting by the phone for a guy to call. Instead, I check my social media. A few guests have tagged me in photos from the wedding. Ugh. I don’t want to see that ugly dress anymore. I still hate Trudy for making me wear it.

Screw it. I turn off my phone so it can’t distract me anymore. I throw the towel aside and head for my tiny bathroom. It’s barely big enough for the walk-in shower, toilet, and sink. I have to keep all of my toiletries on a shelf in the hall because there’s no way they’d fit in here.

I turn the water on and wait for it to heat up. Once it’s scalding, I step in, my mind in a daze. The shower gives me plenty of time to think about what I’ve done.

“What was I thinking?” I ask the walls of my shower. They don’t answer, thankfully.

My brain alternates between disgust at myself for losing my virginity to three guys I don’t know, and happiness that I finally got it over with. I may not know Tag, Tanner, and Trace that well, but they are damn hot. I’d do it again with them anytime. I wonder how often they share girls like they did me. I wouldn’t mind enjoying them a few more times before they leave.

My heart lurches, thinking about them going back to New York.I don’t want them to go, I think, surprising myself.

“You don’t even know them!” I remind myself. I never listen to me.

I lather my legs with shaving cream. I need to make sure I stay smooth, just in case I do see the guys again. When I lift my leg to start, my pussy aches. Is it always this sore after making love?

Suddenly, something warm trails down my leg. I pick it up with my finger and discover it’s sticky male fluid. But oh my God, it’s not justanyseed. It’s the spunk of three guys all mixed together!

I stare at the white liquid dripping from my finger. Without thinking, I raise it to my lips and have a taste. It’s saltier than I expected, mixed with something sweet.