"

 FAGS 

It had been six years since we had graduated from college, and for the first time since graduation, all three of us were together again. From the enthusiastic hugs at the airport and then the conversation and laughter during the dinner we shared at a local restaurant on the way to my home, it was clear that while plenty of time had passed and we had kept in contact, the comfort and attraction between the three of us when all together in the same physical location was still undeniable.

Having returned to my cozy, semi-secluded home in the suburbs, we all sat in the living room, sipping wine and continuing the tales of our lives. With the exceptions of the location – a house – and the presence of alcohol, it could have been any of our final two years of college together: The three of us, tight-knit friends-with-benefits, sitting and chatting and sharing a drink together. Then, Justine and Beth had been roommates while I lived in another dorm across the main quad; now, they were much-welcomed guests who had fortunately been able to clear time in their hectic schedules to come and visit me for a weekend.

As I sat in the recliner and took another sip of wine, I allowed my eyes to truly linger on Justine as she told Beth about a recent situation at work. The Florida sun had certainly added a glow to Justine's skin, and may have also been responsible for the lighter shade of her shoulder-length brown hair. As when we were in college together, she wore virtually no make-up, just a thin gloss upon her lips – an enticing strawberry flavor, as I had discovered upon meeting her at the airport earlier in the evening – and red fingernails. Her red dress was indeed elegant, with a plunging sequined neckline that permitted a very welcome display of her cleavage, a display which Beth and I both certainly appreciated. The long slit up the skirt of the dress revealed that she was wearing stockings held up by a garter belt, one of its descending white straps definitely noticeable against the well-toned thigh. The red heels provided enough of a contrast for the white stockings to truly attract the eyes. Surprisingly, however, she wore hoop earrings, something she had never worn during college for fear that they would pull at her ears and widen the piercing holes more than was considered safe.

The conversation turned back toward me, but a few minutes later, the two beautiful young women were again chatting primarily to each other. I took the opportunity to once again study Beth, and was equally impressed. While noticeably shorter than Justine, Beth was also paler in complexion, a testament to living in northern Canada ever since graduation and spending virtually every waking moment inside to conduct her research. As in college, Beth preferred the color black for her outfits: a somewhat-tight sweater, form-fitting slacks, and a pair of low heels. Four tiny earrings adorned each ear, plus she bore a small sparkling stud against her left nostril. Beth's black hair flowed over her shoulders and down her front, and she absently twirled several strands around a finger as she listened to Justine.

It felt so good to be in their presence once again. Especially since all three of us had been in several failed relationships since graduating from college, I was thankful that I had thought to invite them to spend the weekend with me. I had absolutely no doubt that our chatter would eventually give way to intimacy, but for now, I was quite content to simply sit back in the recliner and openly admire the two stunning beauties perched upon the sofa.

The intimacy began when we finally went to bed... together. I was on my back under the covers, with a very feminine head resting softly upon each shoulder. An arm wrapped around each of them, I held the two women close to me as they absently stroked my bare chest, dipped a finger into my navel, brushed my thighs through the sweatpants I typically wore to bed, caressed my stiffening manhood. My eyes closed, I reveled in their touches: inherently familiar, yet full of rediscovery due to the lengthy passage of time.

No words were needed. And as their hands occasionally made contact with each other upon me, I smiled to myself in the darkness, having always enjoyed watching Beth and Justine in their own intimate encounters. But eventually, their touches slowed and ultimately ceased, their breathing falling into the regularity associated with sleep. I stayed awake a little longer, immensely enjoying the closeness with two of the people who had been most important in my life.

I awoke in the morning to the scent of French Roast coffee, faint yet unmistakable. Justine was gone, clearly the one who had brewed the morning nectar, while Beth and I held each other as she slept. The feel of her pajama-covered breasts against me was a welcome sensation, as it had been over a year since