Here's an excerpt from work in progress. It's a three-way for male narrator and married couple:
"Damn straight," Harvey sprung from his chair like a leopard on attack. "My beauty queen makes me forget many things." He sat between us, flared both arms and wrapped our shoulders. Leaned toward his wife and pecked her cheek with a kiss. Leaned toward me and gave me one. "You're good therapy, too. If I could just get you to stop with the questions. Use your mouth for more important activities."
My hand reached for him, my finger slipping through a gap between his shirt buttons and poking his belly button. "Let's rough him up. Want to, JoAnne?"
"Harvey Beckman," she snapped. "Didn't I tell you to throw that old shirt into the trash?" She finagled her fingers into a gap at his sternum. Rip, she yanked her direction and buttons popped. I followed her lead and more popped, opening him all the way to his trousers.
"Oh, no," he groaned. "What are you gonna do to me?"
JoAnne winked at me, and together we stood with Harvey's arms still draped over our shoulders, dragging him up with us. "Going to rack you, mister," she sniped. "Strip you down. Tie you up. Stretch you out, and slobber all over you for an hour or two."
"Will I ever get off?"
How quickly poor Harvey buried all his angst, as JoAnne produced actual ropes. Had her system all set, running them up from the bed frame at head and foot rails, until our stripped down hero was bound and stretched like a letter X. For added emphasis, JoAnne put their pillows beneath his back before tying him up.
Oh, sure, he did get off. After suffering through nearly an hour of bodily assault. After JoAnne inserted his achingly hard pecker into her well-lubricated vagina and rode on him while I stood over him with my dick in her mouth. I could see his belly so handsomely stretched out. I could see his toes curling and legs pulling on his ropes. I could catch glimpses of his cock's base pounded by her bouncing pussy as she screwed the crap out of herself.
Certainly, our Harvey in bondage did get off. After JoAnne and I got ourselves off by using him. After we calmed ourselves down a bit from our orgasmic highs and proceeded to drive him batty by tag-teaming on his stretched tits. She sucked on his right, I on his left, and even though he told us it did nothing for him, we knew better. Too much of him straining his neck to watch us suck. Too many complaints. Too much name calling. Too many questions as to why we were so terribly tormenting what he claimed was taboo, what he protested should never be touched -- his nipples. Way too many gyrations of his cock and flinging of his pre-come for us to believe our tit attack wasn't doing something for him.
The load he shot into my mouth proved him an insufferable liar, because JoAnne was still working his nipples at the time. She'd positioned herself to face me while I sucked his dick. Positioned her vaginal zipper to smother his lips while her fingertips scraped and twisted his orbs. One of the hottest images I could ever imagine.