Valentine's Wet Wild 3-Way (Book 6 of "PotErotica")

By Kethandra Wilde

It’s Valentine’s Day, but this Valentine is lonely and horny and wondering how that will ever change for him.

Then he opens a door to unexpected ecstasy involving two beauties and the fulfilment of a deep longing tied to his past.

With a little help from a glass pipe of weed, how much ecstatic delight can three caring, creative people share?

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

Max guided me along one side of Ingrid and she snuggled close on the other. We eased tangled hair back from her face, offered light kisses and strokes as heart rate and breaths slowed once more.

"How?" Ingrid's voice was faint.

"How what, sweetness?" Max asked.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"How did you know...there was more...in there?"

"You weren't a complete quivering mass of jelly on the floor. Yet." Max looked at me. I had the impression they had asked and answered similar questions in the past. "Though just cuz she's a puddle of jelly doesn't mean there isn't another little bitty one hiding deep inside still. Isn't that right?"

"Max! Shh."

"Is that right?" I joined in, leaned close to sniff bright, soft, intoxicating hair. "Could there really be more? Down here?"

On all fours, I kissed down to her belly, after making a point to hover over her chest without touching there. It had had enough attention for now. Her ribcage rose, reaching for the contact at didn’t arrive. I moved a knee between her legs, nudging them wider, to kiss lower, above the darker red patch of hair.

Smooth, toned belly shuddered, but Ingy didn't make a sound. The shuddering increased when I pushed her legs wider, both knees between hers to keep her that way.

I eased lower, knees encouraging her smooth calves and ankles wide. Lowering my head, I sighted up along the landscape of her body. Nearest me, the narrow cleft that divided her thighs and unified so many urges. The reddish Royal forest, manicured and planned, before the nearly-flat, gloriously subtle undulations of her central plains, the belly I had just kissed.

After a long stretch of the plains, punctuated only by the shadows of a single oval depression, they rose to the ridge of her ribcage, where a central shallow dip betrayed her rapid pulse. The ridge separated the plains from two of the region's most sacred locales: the puffed peaks that rose out of the soft flesh of her chest. Leaning back like this, gravity held down and stretched flat all signs of her except these glorious raised rosy twins.

Rose-brown, they rose and descended with her breaths, the pace increasing as I watched. Crouched low to sight along her body, I watched my own hand, palm down, settle between her navel and the red hair below. "I think I feel it. Right here."

Even though I was playing the game, teasing Ingrid, I thought I might sense a kind of vibration through the palm of my hand. She looked down at me, shaking her head hard enough to send red-blond hair wide. "No. There is nothing in there."

Maxie laughed, stepping close again. When I had begun to tease Ingrid, Max had clambered up to her feet, moving to my table. "Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtain. Or his boat. Methinks the girl protests too much. Keep your hand right where it is."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Feb 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463164105

Book preview

PotErotica #6

Valentine’s Wet Wild 3-Way

By Kethandra Wilde

Copyright 2020 Kethandra Wilde

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

All characters are above the age of 18

"Saint Valentine, if saints are real and do intercede on behalf of those who beseech you, grant me a boon. Just one. Just once.

On this day named to honor you, from a petitioner named after you, who was conceived on this very date, please hear my plea. I don't need love, not yet, not now; but I could sure use some lovin'."

------

My eyes went wide when the doorbell rang precisely as my frustrated, tongue-in-cheek beseechment ended. I shook my head, smiling at the coincidence. I knew that there was no St. Valentine, prayers don't get answered, and there would be no sweet, simple lovin' for me in this small town today. Not even for a special case like myself, named Valentine because my parents were quite certain that they had conceived the little bun in the oven that became me on this day that is so special to the patron Saint of Love.

My smile faded as I wondered again why I had agreed to take over my parents' small business, necessitating that I move back to Unity, Ohio, to the home town I had fled at a sophomoric 18. I hadn't belonged here then and I didn't look forward to trying to belong now, ten years later. Sucking in a slow, steadying breath, I reminded myself that this was a new start, on my terms, and a positive attitude couldn't hurt. And it's not like I had felt I belonged in Boston, after five years of school and another five of work.

Slipping the door chain free - a security habit I had acquired living in a much bigger city - I twisted the knob and swung the door open. Silence.

My silence. And her wry smile growing into a broader grin at my reaction. I had expected a delivery driver, or perhaps the building manager who had turned the small semi-furnished apartment over to me yesterday.

I had not expected a tall, slim beauty, red-blond hair brushed down over her shoulders in soft waves. A beauty in a fitted skirt that showed toned legs from just above the knee to where three narrow buckled straps held on matching pointed-toe heels. A long-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to drag my attention away from the rest of her, showed only the smallest swelling hints of her breasts.

Well? She broke the silence and my paralysis. May I come in?

I'm so sorry, of course. I stepped back, swinging the door wider. The faint splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks reminded me of yesterday. A tall girl in a ball cap and sweats, holding the door as I hauled a load of boxes into the building, an awkward four-plex carved out of a once-grand Victorian house.

Thank you. She almost sang it. I noticed the rounded curves of her from behind, in contrast to her chest, as she passed me. She had been pretty yesterday, in a casual way. Today she was head-turning striking. The hint of a scent I caught in her passing wasn't perfume, or floral, but it had a noticeably tantalizing effect. I suddenly wanted to sniff along her path until I could bury my face in her hair and neck, inhale deep.

Could I ask you something, and maybe offer some advice?

Sure. I was puzzled by my unexpected visitor a well as curious. And very attracted.

This is a small town, and people talk, and are curious about anyone new or different.

This much I know. I knew it too well. The gossip was what had driven me from Unity, when my 'affair' with a single mother a decade or so older than me had become public knowledge.

Smart Aleck. Do you also know the smell of pot is pretty obvious when it suddenly wafts in the window on the same day the new guy moves into the apartment next door?

Ohh. Gotcha. I am so sor...

Sorry? Say thank you for the reminder.

Thank you... It was time to get a name, so I stuck out my hand. I'm Val, by the way.

The only reason you would need to be sorry is if you continue to be such a hesitant host. She crossed her arms, which pushed the open placket of her shirt wider. A second dusting of freckles showed there. You don't recognize me, do you?

Sure I do. You held the door for me yesterday. And you must be my neighbor since you smelled the smoke.

Wrong and wrong. Well mostly wrong and wrong. I'm not your neighbor, I was visiting a friend who lives here. And I didn't mean recognize me from yesterday. I meant from longer ago.

Longer ago? I hadn't set foot