Three cups

Three cups, and none of us in a hurry. The chairs were pulled out already, sunlight on the rims, my navy cardigan buttoned once and uselessly. Pete had poured for Claire before she was in the room. She came in, kissed him thank you, kissed me longer, and said she still wanted what we had named last night. Last night's naming counts, and I still like a morning check. I said I wanted it. Pete said he wanted to watch me want her cunt and then have his cock wanted too. Clear enough.

I pushed my chair back and patted my lap. Claire sat, facing me, bare under a t-shirt, and the kiss was all coffee and sleep. Pete stood behind her and kissed her neck, and I got to see her face change, the drop of her mouth, the trust in it. Warmth hit me so cleanly I had to say it. I told him his mouth on her made my cunt wet. I told her the sound she made for him made me proud, not jealous. She hid her face in my neck and said good, because she did not have the energy to be a crisis. We already had rules we actually like.

Pete got his fingers in her cunt while she sat on me, and I rubbed her clit, our hands bumping, a clumsy generous mess. She came fast, surprised, laughing into my shoulder. Then she slipped off my lap and licked my cunt, kneeling on the sunny floor, while Pete kissed me and stroked his cock. I watched his face over her shoulder. I like him like that, undone and kind. I came with both of their names in my mouth. He fucked my cunt in the chair after, Claire on the table edge beside us so I could hold her thigh, and the chair creaked while he fucked me, a rhythm I will think about during worse mornings. He pulled out and left his cum on my stomach, today's agreement, and Claire kissed the sound he made.

We did drink the coffee, cooler than planned. Three cups, three people, empty chairs meaning we had left them to fuck. Nobody missing, nothing stolen, sunlight doing what it does.