When the last of my possessions were unpacked, Mack told the truth.

It took a month to end things with the old roommate, gather my things, and slowly migrate my life to Mack and Kyle’s place. Through all of that, I had helped her keep the secret and she continued to pretend that mine and Kyle’s was kept. I’d make an excuse for Kyle to help me load the entertainment console or a shelf-load of books and Mack would slip away to meet up with Ash or Liam or both and Kyle fucked me in my slowly emptying room.

On lazy mornings or the odd hours when only she and I would be home from work, Mack would tell me about her escapades with the other couple. One weekend, she’d gone with Ashley into the bathroom of the same movie theater in which she, Kyle, and I had once made secret love to eat her out with Liam outside, watching the previews.

“What if someone had recognized me?” she’d said, both thrilled and concerned.

More often, though, she just visited in their apartment to make out with Ashley to Liam’s growing discomfort.

Invariably, when McKenzie told me these stories, they would end with her on her back in the living room or the guest bed and my cock inside of her.

Within a week or two, I had noticed that our sex lives had grown into a new pattern. It was me and Mack or me and Kyle or Kyle and Mack, as though there were three relationships cohabitating in one house instead of three people in one relationship. For my part, I wasn’t really bothered. It only meant that Mack’s secret was one she had been keeping from Kyle, not one that was my business.

“And it’s not really cheating,” Mack said once in our post-coital musings. “Not on you. Not if you’re okay with it, right?”

And, I guessed, I was okay with it. Things with Liam were good—perfect, even—and things with Mack were good. The stories she brought home were just icing on a perverted cake for me.

It changed when the last of my things came through the front door and I was officially out of my lease. We’d planned a big date night in. Pizza, beer, sex. It had been a teasing sort of plan, worked up over the course of the days and weeks that had come up to it. The night had felt, as much as anything, like an anniversary.

“Why,” Kyle had said when the last box was emptied, “are we still wearing clothes?”

Mack had laughed and swayed against him, kissing first him then me. We’d already started on the beer, if not the pizza, and the thought of our lives finally coming together had gotten at least the two of them ready to get started.

I watched them from the living room armchair I had collapsed in, sipping my beer and wondering if this is what it had been like for them before I’d showed up.

I watched them kiss and slowly shed clothes until Mack’s tits were spilling out of her little, black bra and both our cocks were fully hard. Then, I slipped mine free and started to stroke.

Kyle knelt first, letting her pussy ride across his lips and chin, her eyes locked with mine. Then, he bent her over the coffee table and it was his turn to watch me stroke. Finally, I got up, cast away my shirt, and moved to kiss him.

Mack slid out from under him and I felt her lips on my cock, my pants sliding around my ankles. I traced the hard lines of Kyle’s body—and the soft ones. His tongue was in my mouth. He was all I really wanted.

“I want you both inside of me,” Mack whined, eyes big, one cock in either hand. “I want more.”

I thought she’d looked at me when she said it. And I knew what she really wanted.

I stood her up and pulled her down on top of me and into the couch. Her tits swayed into my face and I caught a nipple between my teeth. Kyle pressed into her backside as she rode me. I watched her face as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. I felt his balls against my gently thrusting cock.

“Oh, yes,” Mack whispered. “Liam.”

I kissed her to quiet her, but I was feeling the fantasy, too.

Kyle pressed his face against ours and I kissed him, too, feeling the heat of the three of us together, one body. Kyle fucked Mack’s ass until she had enough. She crawled, sore, back to the floor and took first my cock into her mouth, and then his.

I took a long pull from my beer and finished it. Kyle grinned at me.

I held the mouth of the bottle up to my cock and finally allowed myself to release, squirting once, twice, three times into the remaining amber liquid.

Kyle laughed.

“Now that’s a cocktail.”

Mack was still on her knees as though waiting for permission. Kyle grabbed her around the throat and led her, dog like, to my side.

“Drink it,” I said.

To my surprise, Kyle took it from me and, still softly stroking his cock, lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. He smacked his lips and passed the bottle down to Mack.

“Drink,” he said.

I watched as she drank, making a face and swallowing performatively, a rivulet of cum and beer leaking past her lips. She passed it back to me.

“You gonna drink your own cum?” Kyle said.

I shrugged and took a swig. It tasted not much worse than Kyle’s had ever tasted, nor than the beer itself, but it made an unpleasant combination.

“Nasty,” I said.

I upended the last of the bottle over Mack’s tits. She gasped.

“Nasty slut,” Kyle said, as though agreeing. He pulled her by the hair towards him and she eagerly took him into her mouth.

Kyle pulled her down over his cock until his balls brushed against her chin before he let up. I moved behind him, softening, to rest against his ass, feeling his sweat against my skin. He turned his head to kiss me and I could taste the lingering beer and semen.

Then, Kyle turned in my arms and reached down to my cock, allowing Mack to press her face against his asshole. I felt him breathe out in pleasure.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered to me.

I knew then that he’d been holding himself back for me and eagerly went to my knees beside Mack, taking my turn with his cock in my throat.

“Yes, daddy,” I said, unsure where the words had come from.

He made me swallow them with his hands hooked behind my ears until hot cum washed them down.

When he pulled out, Kyle was still going, mixing his with mine on Mack’s chest. We slumped together at his feet like exhausted worshippers at his shrine. I felt nasty, dominated. It was a new feeling, but not altogether unpleasant. The familiar, post-coital rush of misplaced guilt and love washed over me, but Mack rolled on top of me to kiss it away and Kyle joined us on the floor.

There was still beer and pizza and I knew the energy hadn’t left us for the night, but it was pleasant to lay still together, each satisfied.

And then, Mack had to point out that she wasn’t.

“Kyle,” she said. “There’s something you should know and something I want to try.”