The Rabbit. In her mind I am responsible for that menage a trois with the Italian prostitute. As a matter of fact it is The Rabbit herself, if one wants to talk of Italian high fashion, who stuck her head out the car window, finger-called to the whore and described our needs and how much we would pay. I sat behind the wheel silently, slight pressure of my foot on the gas, ready like a bank robber, to get away...And, I swear, when the prostitute got into the backseat of the rental, my insides balked "No!" and in the hotel room with her in the shower and The Rabbit and I on the bed, again "NO! NO! NO!"
She wasn't my type, sort of chubby, bouncy, but not half bad-looking. She had a round sweet face and the milkiest udders. Those were her great selling point, what we had chosen her for, after checking out the rest of the meat on the Via Veneto. The prostitute's name was Ina. She stood in the middle of the room and took her dress off. Not sensually or slowly, but fast and businesslike. She wore a corset that caused her breasts to erupt out of the top of it and her thick thighs to spill out underneath. I was taken aback by the theatricality of the outfit, but everything was astonishing that night, especially the fact that, after all these months of talking about it, we had finally gone ahead and done it.
The Rabbit emerged from the bathroom in her short cream silk chemise; a site that always made me hot for the cute little rabbit inside of it. This time, I was too anxious to rid myself of my own clothes to pay much attention. I sat on the edge of the bed with the two semi-clothed women in front of me, and a hard-on to rival all hard-ons. The fact that Ina hardly spoke a word of English only served to intensify the feeling between the Rabbit and me that we were entering into a sort of refined sadism; we could say bad things about the whore, swap secrets and cruel plots without the whore's understanding. This was true too of The Rabbit and Ina; they could whiper Italian to each other without me knowing what they were saying or planning, right in front of me.
Ina spoke first. The Rabbit translated it: "She says you have a big cock." "I'll bet she says that to all the johns." They continued to stand there in their underwear, waiting. I was waiting too; waiting to see my fantasy become real. Oh were my heart and cock throbbing in unison! Finally, two women and me! Now what was supposed to happen? Still, there was some resistance. I was still saying "NO!"
"She wants to know," said The Rabbit, "where the signore would like her to start." "The signore," I said, "would like her to begin at the beginning..." So witty, so nonchalant, that one! Still we sat there, me with my killer cock, bobbing every now and again as blood pulsed through it. Again, it was the Rabbit who initiated things, who got our juices flowing. She moves to Ina, over whom she towers like a giant. (I wonder, for an instant, if she isn't enough of a woman for me. How many dicks do I have anyway?) The Rabbit puts her hand between Ina's legs. We had imagined all the details before, all the possibilities, fantasized out loud, in the open, for months, and now, I was struck speechless by the Rabbit's middle finger disappearing up the whore's cunt.
I can describe the following scene only in it's busy-ness. There was a constant oscillation of arms and legs, like the blades of a fan. She would go down on Ina while I headed up with my big dick into Ina's mouth. Then, straddling Ina's crotch with her own, wedged in so to speak, I moved between both their mouths. Then, I placed them next to each other, bums pointing upwards, like a line of defence, and penetrated one, and the other, and then back again, until I came. Ugh! The Rabbit positioned her clit right over my mouth while Ina rode my cock. They faced each other and I could hear the sound of their smacking lips as they kissed each other. Wow! A second round of orgasms! And so it went on until I shot my third and final load, into whose or what hole I cannot say. All I remember is Ina's pendulous tits being fed into The Rabbit's mouth, and The Rabbit lying flat on her back amid a pile of wet vari-colored stained sheets.
-Inspired by Philip Roth