Subject: Story: Triad (Sp, MM/F, cons.)
From: Kfry2k@aol.com
Date: 20 Aug 1996 19:40:47 -0400

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction dealing with adult subjects. If you are not of legal age, you might want to discuss it with your parents before reading. Any resemblance between the characters in this story and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Credit once again to MissLilyO for the inspiration. Thanks, Lily. You seem to bring out the best in me.



Jeff and I were shooting pool when Ellen came by, attempting to compete for our attention. Pool is a serious game though, and we dutifully ignored her. The result was a water balloon down the back of Jeff s pants when he wasn t looking. What followed was like the chase from a Mack Sennett comedy. As I roared with laughter, Jeff pursued Ellen all over the VFW Hall, jumping over folding chairs as Ellen dodged between them, giggling like a schoolgirl in mock fright. People scattered in all directions, but didn t show much concern. Ellen and Jeff were an item, and during the annual Labor Day picnic in a small town, anything was bound to happen. Jeff finally cornered her and unceremoniously dumped her across his lap, smacking the seat of her jeans smartly with his hand. In the hazy sun filtering through the back door, I could see dust explode from her seat with every swat. The entire audience, consisting of most of the town, cheered him on, laughing with the enthusiasm born of draft beer, good companionship, and a glorious summer afternoon. A few of the women showed some concern, but they didn t need to, as the spanking was brief and mild. His anger quelled, Jeff took Ellen on his lap and kissed her with customary passion, she returning his ardor without hesitation. The exhibition over, folks wandered off to have another burger or throw some more darts, or horseshoes. Jeff whispered in Ellen s ear, and I knew without a doubt that he was saying Wait until I get you home. She grinned impishly back at him, arms around his neck, hugging him lovingly, fully aware that she would get her bare bottom warmed later on, and loving the prospect. They were both blissfully unaware of the solitary figure still standing near the pool table across the room, gazing at them with a mixture of fellowship and envy.

As a lifelong friend of Jeff s, I was generally in his company. When he and Ellen got together, she accepted my presence without question or complaint, quite content to have me along with them, and even flirting a little now and then. Jeff always found that amusing, but every now and then would feign anger, just for effect. We were blood brothers, he and I, having watched the Cowboy and Indian movie as pre-teens and cut our thumbs with our scout knives, pressing them together in a covenant of friendship. Neither of us would do anything to hurt the other, and we both knew it. It was for this very reason that I could never let Jeff know how I felt about Ellen.

From the very moment he introduced me, I was enthralled by her. A beautiful red-haired pixie, fun loving and intelligent, her company was delightful and challenging. Uninhibited but restrained, sexy but not cheap, passionate but controlled, smart and witty but low key, she was everything I always desired in a woman. She also enjoyed being spanked, and Jeff obliged her, finding he enjoyed it himself. He first told me about it one night when we were bar-hopping by ourselves. In the company of Jack Daniels, he described to me how her glorious bottom turned rosy red from slap after slap of his palm, of their intensely satisfying love-making afterward. I found myself incredibly excited by the mental tableau, having had some secret interest in spanking myself. It became almost an obsession with me, and each time they would go off together, I would imagine her across his knees, squirming and squealing with painful delight as his hand smacked her bare bottom into crimson splendor. Against everything I believed in, I began to imagine myself in his place, warming her tender bottom and loving her afterward. It was a battle I would fight for many months, and eventually lose.

Gulls cried stridently, riding the wind off the water. The same breeze rippled through my hair, making my eyes tear slightly and causing me to turn away. Low gun-metal gray clouds scudded across the horizon, headed south. The late October air bore a chill, a harbinger of storms to come, borne out by numerous whitecaps on the bay. Leaning on the houseboat s weathered railing, I took a swig of beer. With summer gone, it tasted flat and a little too cold. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lone figure approaching across the wooden walkway. Turning to get a better look, I sensed rather than recognized a familiar gait and carriage. Ellen. Oh, Christ. Not now. I thought miserably. Mustering up a smile, I greeted her with a lackluster Hi. The fresh breeze was tattering her gorgeous red hair, whipping it about her face which sat gracefully above her turtle-neck sweater. Hands jammed in her jacket pockets, she said Hi. right back at me, with a glance down, and then back up to meet my eyes, which didn t want to play the game, and looked away toward the horizon. We stood for a long moment, surrounded by the pungent smell of the salt air, tinged with decaying wood and the countless odors common to all marinas. Far up the bay, a tugboat hooted mournfully. It spoke for both of us more eloquently than we could have managed. Please, Danny. We ve got to talk about this. her voice reasoned. Talk about what? I snarled back, angrier now. About betraying my best friend? Is that what we should talk about? I snapped, my words full of accusation. Having kept her distance, she now came close, leaning her head against my chest. Stiffening, I glanced down, terrified of my emotional state, and saw tears streaking her face, blown by the wind. A small sob escaped her throat, and she put her arms around me. The tugboat hooted again, twice. A big Herring gull slid by overhead, cocking his head sideways to see what we were about, then mewed plaintively and banked away in the wind. Stabbed to the heart by Ellen s misery, I cracked, crumbled, and fell into the abyss. With my own tears now flowing, no longer caused by the brisk breeze, I hugged her to me, kissing her flaming red hair softly and leading her into the shelter of the cabin.

Oh, God, Danny! Ohh! Ohh! Ellen s passion-soaked voice intensified my desire as we made intense, frenzied love, lost in the physical delight of each other. Our cries crested together as the pinnacle was reached, sweeping us up and over, into windswept heights of glorious ecstasy. Temporarily satisfied, we collapsed into each other s arms, melding together in an embrace, having forgotten everything but the wonderful warmth of the present. It had begun innocently enough, a simple flirtation. Ellen had come to my apartment, expecting to meet Jeff when he arrived from work. We had planned an evening of music appreciation, one of the things we loved to do together. Wine was chilled, snacks at the ready, and the evening stretched before us like a school kid s summer vacation. Jeff had called just before she arrived, however, announcing that he had to stay in the city on a job, and so our triad would have to become a duo. Have fun, he quipped, tritely, and don t do anything I wouldn t do! Prophetic words. Ellen and I began on opposite sides of the living room, coming together sort of naturally, but innocently as the evening wore on. With the conversation focused between us, we noticed things about each other that hadn t been apparent before. Little things, endearing things. We were of a kind, and the synergy was wonderful, intoxicating. Perhaps it was the wine (ahh, dear old Bacchus gets blamed for so much of mankind s sin!), but Ellen became more and more playful, teasing me, tempting me. Fearful at first, then ashamed, I was finally led, willingly, into the trap which waits for those who love from afar. At the breakaway point, Ellen confessed to being a naughty, wicked wench, and playfully turned herself across my lap, daring me to spank her. The decision was mine, and I take full responsibility for it. I folded like a two-dollar umbrella in a typhoon. My right palm smacked her plaid wool mini-skirt twice, three times, producing very little effect, except to stimulate us both even further. Ellen looked back at me over her shoulder, her sly glance tempting me to the obvious. Fully caught up in it now, I slipped past the point of no return, flipping up her mini-skirt and then yanking down her wispy panties. She helped, raising up slightly to make it easier. The sight of her creamy smooth bottom excited me beyond belief. Hesitating for an instant, I almost regretted my intention to change that incredible landscape from its pale hue to scarlet, and then the baser impulse won out. Oh, the delightful sensation when my open palm smacked that glorious bottom! Ellen squealed, squirming as my hand spanked her again and again, her cries spurring me on, the fast reddening skin of her backside making my heart pound with passion. Like a Vulcan in amok time, my blood burned, my eyes became flame, the raw, primitive passion filled my loins with incredible desire. And we were as one; the spanker and the spanked, riding a wave, the ninth wave, totally ignorant of everything but each other and the passion.

I awoke to an empty bed. Ellen s fragrance still lingered, but in the cold, hard light of dawn, it was far from intoxicating. Instead, it was a pale, bony finger of accusation, pointed straight at me. The import of what I had done came crashing in on me, squeezing me like a python. Completely devastated at my betrayal, I began to avoid both of the others, hating myself and blaming them for my actions. I moved out of my apartment and leaving no forwarding address, moved into my aunt s houseboat in a seedy and secluded marina. Jeff was bewildered and hurt beyond belief by my sudden reclusive nature, calling me at work and obviously wounded by the terse nature of our conversations.

Several hours and many cups of coffee later, Ellen departed, kissing me gently on the forehead. She would have made a great nurse. With coolness and rationality, she dragged me kicking and screaming out of my morose self-exile. It took some time, and I never could bring myself to disclose to Jeff how I (we) had betrayed him, but we got past it, learned to live with it. On the one hand, it was a marvelous interlude, one I will never forget. On the other, a testament to the weakness of man where passion is concerned. Our triad came back together, the innocence lost, but the comradeship remaining.

Epilogue: Danny s Journal, on a particular anniversary.

Time it was, and what a time it was....; the many "wine-kissed nights", and were they ever. Hours fled like milliseconds before our dialogue, shape-shifting as we went seamlessly from topic to topic, enjoying our differences at least as much as our consensus. Taking, on occasion, opposing points of view clandestinely to test the others' resolve and commitment, sharpening our wits and arguments.

(Wistful sigh).

Sadly, I have absolutely no idea where the other two are now. We whirled crazily about each other like an unstable star system, breaking apart at last to recede into the vastness of space. It is a part of the journey of my life I wouldn't trade for anything. Funny, I hadn't thought about it in years. We were three star-crossed, life-blessed, kindred souls.