Valentine's Wet Wild 3-Way

It’s called Valentine’s Day, but today a man named Valentine is lonely and horny and wondering how that misfortune will ever change, especially back in the small town he fled at 18.

After jokingly beseeching assistance from the patron Saint of Love who shares his name, he answers an unexpected knock on his door. It opens up on both a gorgeous young woman and a new beginning for himself, blending desire, heights of ecstasy he has never experienced, and even the possibility of romance.

Will he recognize the slim, transformed beauty from his past?

Will her secret longings concerning him be revealed?

~~~~~ 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.”