Emily at the Mountain Cabin

The cabin sat above Big Bear Lake in the first cold week of autumn, and the porch lay dark with wet pine needles when I killed the engine. Emily Thompson was twenty-five, my wife of only a handful of days, and she looked at the two cars already parked there as if she were reading a sentence I had written without her. Julian Ward was thirty-four and had photographed her for three seasons. Connor Reid was thirty-one and had stood close enough at our wedding to know the sound she made when she stopped pretending. I had invited every man who had already had her, and she understood it before she touched the door handle.

“You asked them here,” she said.

“I did,” I told her. “You can still leave. I will drive you down tonight.”

She got out without taking my hand and walked toward the lit windows. Inside, the fire had been going long enough to take the damp from the room. Julian stood near the hearth with a glass he had not really drunk from. Connor sat on the couch with his sleeves rolled. Emily set her bag down and unbuttoned her coat, and the four of us were quiet while the pines moved against the glass.

I waited for the old pause, the one in which she went still and let other people find what she wanted. That pause did not come. She looked at Julian, then at Connor, then at me, and her mouth was not doing the light work it did on bookings.

“I know why you are all here,” she said. “I am staying.”

If she named the rest of it, the men who worked in her industry would have heard her ask, and the polished version of her would no longer be a story she could fully sell. If she did not, she would spend the rest of her working life pretending she had never wanted this. Julian set the glass down. I kept the keys in my hand because I needed her to be the one who moved.

---

She walked into the middle of the room and used our names.

“Julian. Adrian. Connor. I want you to take me.”

Julian heard it without the tease, and something in his face opened that I had only seen once before. Connor’s breath left him in a sound that was almost a laugh. Emily did not look away from us. She pulled her sweater over her head and dropped it, then stripped the thin shirt underneath, and she stood there in the firelight with her breasts bare and her nipples already tight from the cold that still lived in the corners of the cabin. She unfastened her jeans herself and pushed them down with her underwear, and when she stepped out of them she was naked in front of three men who had already been inside her.

“Do not make me repeat it,” she said. “I want to be used. I want you to watch each other use me. I want to be the thing in the middle of this room that you pass around until I cannot stand up.”

Connor stood first. Julian came off the hearth. I put the keys on the table and went to her, and when I kissed her she opened her mouth like a woman who had decided, at last, to stop being found. Her tongue was already greedy. Behind her Julian’s hands went to her hips, and Connor took her jaw in his fingers and turned her face so he could see it while I kissed her.

“Say it again,” Julian said against her ear. “Use our names.”

“Take me, Julian. Take me, Adrian. Take me, Connor. Put me on the bed and on the floor and wherever you want. I am asking.”

We put her on the bed.

---

The rented mattress complained when her back hit it, and I got between her thighs. She was already wet. I pushed two fingers into her cunt and she lifted her hips into them, shameless. Julian had his cock out, thick and already hard, and he brought it to her mouth without asking twice. Emily opened for him and took him in, and the sight of her lips stretching around him while my fingers worked inside her made my own cock ache.

I got my clothes off badly, too fast, and I lined myself up and pushed into her in one long stroke that made her moan around Julian’s cock. She was hot and tight and she took all of me, and I held still for a second just to feel her clench. Connor stood at the side of the bed stroking himself, watching her throat work on Julian while I fucked her. Emily’s eyes were open. She looked at Connor while she sucked, and then she looked at me, and the look was not the old quiet one. It was filthy and chosen.

“She is taking it,” Connor said, almost to himself. “Look at her.”

“Look at you,” I told her. “My wife with another man’s cock in her mouth, getting fucked where anyone could see if they walked up to that window.”

She moaned around Julian and pushed back onto me harder. I fucked her in deep, steady strokes that moved the whole bed, and Julian held her hair and used her mouth with a patience that was worse than roughness, letting her feel every inch. When he pulled out she gasped and a string of spit hung from her lower lip.

“Connor,” she said, wrecked already and still clear. “Your turn. I want you in my mouth while Adrian keeps fucking me.”

Connor took Julian’s place. His cock was different, slightly curved, and she took him the same way, hungry, making a wet sound that filled the cabin. Julian stood back and watched with his cock shining from her mouth. Emily reached back and pulled her own ass open a little, and I slapped the inside of her thigh hard enough to sting.

“Greedy,” I said. “You want all of it at once.”

“Yes,” she said, pulling off Connor just long enough to get the word out. “I want all of it. Do not be gentle with me.”

I was not. I fucked her until her breasts shook and her mouth went sloppy on Connor, and when I felt her start to come I did not slow down. She came on my cock with a broken sound, cunt pulsing, and Connor held her head and kept her on him through it.

---

We rotated her the way she had asked. I pulled out and Connor took my place between her legs, pushing into her used cunt with a groan, and Julian brought his cock back to her mouth. I stood where I could see everything, my cock wet with her, and I watched my wife get fucked while Julian used her throat. Emily’s hand found me anyway. She stroked me while they had her, and she looked at me the whole time Connor drove into her, as if the marriage were the thing that made this possible instead of the thing that should have forbidden it.

“Tell her what she is,” Julian said, and his voice had gone rough.

“You are a slut,” I told her, and I watched her eyes go darker with it, not smaller. “You are my wife and you are a slut who asked three men to pass her around in a cabin. You wanted to be seen like this.”

“I did,” she said, muffled, then clearer when Julian let her breathe. “I wanted you to watch. I wanted them to watch. Put me on the floor.”

We put her on the floor in front of the fire. The rug was rough on her knees and she did not care. She went on her hands and knees and Connor got behind her and pushed back into her cunt, and I went to her mouth, and Julian knelt beside her so she could turn her head and take him when I pulled out. We used her that way until her arms shook. Then Julian lifted her as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the big window that looked out over the dark pines and the unseen lake. He turned her to face the glass, her breasts flattening against the cold pane, and he entered her from behind while Connor and I stood close enough to see every inch of him disappearing into her.

“Anyone could be on that path,” Connor said. “They would see you getting fucked like this.”

Emily’s breath fogged the glass. “Let them,” she said. “Julian, harder. Adrian, I want you to watch my face.”

I watched my wife’s mouth open against the window while another man fucked her, and I watched her reach down and rub her own clit. She came again with Julian buried in her, thighs shaking, and when he pulled out she was dripping down her own legs and she still was not done.

---

“Both of you,” she said, turning from the glass, hair stuck to her cheek. “I want two of you in me. Cunt and ass. And I want the third in my mouth. I am asking. Do it.”

We did it on the bed again because the floor had started to hurt her knees and because I wanted her held. I lay on my back and she sank down on my cock, facing me, and I felt how swollen she was, how used. Julian got behind her with spit and patience, pressing the head of his cock to her ass until she pushed back and took him. She made a sound I had never heard from her on a set or in a restaurant or even on our wedding night, a raw, open sound, and then she was full of both of us. Connor stood at the head of the bed and she took his cock into her mouth, and the three of us were in her at once.

I could feel Julian through the thin wall of her, moving, and the sensation was obscene and intimate in a way that made my hands shake on her hips. Emily’s eyes were wet and awake. She sucked Connor with messy devotion and she moved on us as much as we moved in her. Connor held her hair and watched the place where Julian and I split her, and he said, almost gently, “We can all see you. You asked for this.”

She pulled off him long enough to answer. “I know what I asked for. Do not stop. Call me what I am and do not stop.”

“Our slut,” Julian said against her shoulder, fucking her ass in short, deep strokes that made her cunt clamp down on me. “The model who let herself get shared. The wife who wanted to be filled until she could not talk.”

She came like that, shaking so hard I had to hold her down on my cock, and the contractions pulled at both of us until I could barely think. I did not come yet. Neither did they.

---

We pulled out of her slowly and she collapsed forward onto my chest, breathing as if she had run, and then she laughed once, a real one. She rolled off me and onto her back and opened her legs.

“Again,” she said. “Connor in my cunt. Adrian in my mouth. Julian, you can have my ass when you want it. Pass me. I am not finished.”

Connor pushed into her and fucked her with a rhythm that was almost grateful, and I knelt over her face and she took my cock, tasting herself, tasting Julian, and she looked up at me while she did it. That look is what I will remember when we are back in the city. Not the polish. This. Julian watched for a while with his hand on himself, then he spat and worked back into her ass while Connor still had her cunt, and she was full again, stuffed, moaning around me, drooling.

We passed her. I had her cunt while Julian had her mouth and Connor stood over us stroking himself and coming across her breasts because she told him to, told him she wanted to be marked where she could see it. She smeared it with her fingers and put them in her mouth. Later I had her ass, slower, and she pushed back onto me and said my name like a vow and a dare at the same time. Julian came down her throat and she swallowed and showed us her tongue. Connor took her mouth after that and she sucked him until he was hard again.

When I finally came it was in her cunt with her legs over my shoulders and the other two watching, and I filled her while she shook through another orgasm. She kept us going after that until the fire had burned down and her voice was hoarse and her thighs were a mess of come and spit. Only then did she say, “Enough. For now.” We cleaned her with a towel from the bathroom because she asked us to. She lay between us on the ruined sheets and let herself be held, naked, claimed, and still the one who had given the order.

---

Morning in Big Bear was pale and cold, and the lake was a sheet of dull silver through the pines. Emily woke before the rest of us and I found her in the kitchen in my shirt, drinking coffee, looking at the four cups on the counter as if they were evidence. Julian was still asleep. Connor was in the shower. She did not pretend, when she looked at me, that the night had merely happened to her.

“I said it,” she said. “They heard me. Julian is going to be on sets with me next month, and he heard me ask to be shared. You heard me. I cannot put that back.”

“No,” I said. “You cannot.”

She nodded once, and there was fear in it, and there was also a kind of clean relief I had not seen on her when she was still waiting to be found. We packed without much talk. On the drive down the mountain she sat in the passenger seat with her forehead against the glass, Julian and Connor following in the other cars for a while and then turning off toward their own lives. Los Angeles came up out of the haze the way it always did, too bright, too professional, full of bookings and fittings and the version of Emily Thompson that magazines knew how to sell.

I watched her watch the city. What she was drawn to was now a fact in our marriage and in her working world. She reached over and put her hand on my thigh, not teasing, not quiet, just there, and neither of us said that it would be simple.