A porny epilogue I felt like writing. Welcome back ;-) It's going to be M/J AND F/M/J for those keeping score

If you'd've asked me what I thought about her a year and a half ago, I'd've told you: She's a little piece of trouble. She's probably a virgin. She's jailbait for sure. And yes, I'd fuck her...but I found that outcome improbable (Christ, Jon's rubbing off on me). Same question about Jon would get you a this answer: He's hard but he's never done a day inside. He's a trouble magnet. And he can kill without a flinch. Would I fuck him? I didn't know.

After we left her with her dad, I figured that was that. I mean, it had to be the end, right? What the fuck else could she have to do with us? Why would she want to keep us around?

Six months passed. Radio silence on Fuu's end. Jon and I kept travelling, falling into easy fights, keeping each other sharp. Ready. Falling into bed, sweaty. Usually keeping our activities confined to the back bedroom of the beach shack we'd drifted to. It was here we set up and played as much house as we were capable of, renting beach shit to tourists, fixing surfboards. Things like that. Facilitating the idleness of others (fucking Jon...).

Jon's usual icy, single word, nod and gesture based communication warmed gradually into sentences. Conversations. I started letting him in, listening more than I'd usually talk.

Some nights we lay in bed and he told me about his life before we'd met. His childhood, even. He was once well off, shipped off from boarding school to boarding school. Kicked out for killing a kid. Seriously. Self-defense. The dead boy had been a bully, brutalizing Jon every day he'd been there. When Jon moved schools, the bully convinced his parents to let him transfer. And the brutality began again, at which point he knew it had to end. His parents didn't let him come home. I don't know where he went next.

In exchange, I told him about my absent mom, and my pop, beating me up all the way to the day he walked out the torn screen door and never came back. When the door smacked back closed, I tried to explain to Jon how final it seemed. How much it hurt that I knew he was gone and it hurt worse that I couldn't've been happier. Told him about running, living on the streets. Learning to survive, to fight, to dance, and to have sex with strangers without losing your soul.

We never brought her up. Ever. Even though it shouldn't of, it hurt too much. Regardless, we fell into an easy rhythm. Work. Dinner. Home. Then we'd fall together, usually me. I'd do something like wrap my arms around him and hold him against me. Let him feel how hard I already was. How much I wanted him. This was how we continued til we'd been with each other for something like two years all together.

One particular night, he surprised the fuck outta me in the best possible way. I grabbed him like I do, but this time he turned his head, brought his lips to mine. It wasn't his habit to kiss, so this was a little treat for me. I'll be honest: I like cuddling, and kissing, and lovey dovey shit like that. I don't care how hard a man is, cuddles and shit feel fucking great.

And that night, he held me. Kissed me, opened my lips and put his tongue to mine, taking his time.

So, we've fucked each other many many creative ways. I've fucked any number of other people in a variety of holes. Lemme say this was something different. Special? I don't know. Alls I can say is that night he couldn't get enough of me. He slipped to his knees and rubbed his face up against the front of my board shorts, over my dick.

He took my clothes off after a little begging on my part and returned to his knees, taking the head of my dick into his mouth. He almost never goes down on me, but he's amazing. He worships my dick with the same single minded focus he fought with. When I just couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed him under his armpits, dragged him to his feet and tossed him to the bed.

He flipped us immediately and went back to sucking my dick, using one hand to ring the base, squeeze what he couldn't fit in his mouth, the other played with my balls before creeping lower. I let him rim me that night for the first time (fucking looooooooved it, embarrassed to say). He prepped me good n thorough and fucked me from behind. When I knew he was close, I asked him to pull out and I flipped over.

"Cum on my face," I asked him, locking eyes. He did, almost instantly. Kissed me right after, avoided my hair and eyes.

It seemed like maybe it'd been a couple hours, couple days, couple months. It was like vicodin, really good bud, and maybe a few beers, all at once. The sun had long since set, but seemed ready to rear its ugly head once more.

"Do you know what day it is?" I asked him, cracking a grin. Hoping he'd laugh.

"It's the anniversary of the day we met," he replied.

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Fuck me, I didn't get you anything," I replied, rubbing the creases out of my forehead. My phone began buzzing somewhere on the floor, beneath our sweaty discarded clothes. Bluish dawn light started creeping in through our curtains. Fuck me, 'our curtains'. Well, we did pick em out together. I hung em.

"You should get that," he said. His eyes were closed, so I know what he meant. He meant, 'Turn that fucking thing off so I can get more fucking shut eye.'

I obliged him and dug my phone out. Number I didn't have or recognize. 2 unread texts. Clickity click.

1/2 Hey...so this is Fuu. Idk if u even want to hear from me but a friend of a friend

(More likely her dad's friend of a friend)

told me about 2 guys in SoCal by me & they sound like u 2. so I looked into it &...

(Oh no. Oh no.)

2/2 it's u guys. I just know it is. & Im like 20mins away & please please please let me come visit! I miss u guys so so much & Im so happy u are w/each other

"Jon," I said. Just his name. Handed him the phone. He stared at the screen til it went idle. Nodded. Bzzzzz. New text.

I wont just show up ur place w/o ur permission...plz plz plz!

"Do you think she remembered? Do you think that's why?" I asked.

He shrugged and asked the time. 'Bout seven. We piled into the shower and washed each other's long limbs, utilitarian. No time to play grab-ass. My gut was heavy, not sure if this was a good thing at all. Not sure what this meant for him, for me, for us (and does us mean her, too?). He still hadn't told me, so I had to ask.

"What should I tell her?"

"What do you want to tell her?"

I paused and frowned, crookedly. Everything I do's crooked. "I want to see her, but more than that I want you to be okay. With, uh, seeing her, or not being pissed with me. I'm trying to say," I paused again, grappling with pretty new feelings, lacking the words.

"You want me to be happy more than you want to see her?" he asked. Bless that fucker. Couldn't've said it better!

"Yeah. Because you were there for me first. You'll be there for me after. Who knows where she'll end up?"

He combed a hand through his wet hair, longer now. No haircuts since we'd last seen her, other than a botched trim I'd given him one night. My hair'd long since stopped being blond. The very tips were still fucked, but the rest was back- thick, bushy, dark.

"You can tell her yes. I'll see her, too," he finally said, tying his hair back. Just long enough for a little ponytail. Like a samurai or a medieval knight or something.

I texted her back our address and told her to come anytime after 4pm. We spent the rest of the day sunscreened, working a little and knocking off early to catch some fish for dinner.

And she did come. Fuu's shiny silver big ol Lexus rolled in while Jon was squeezing lemon over the finished fish. We had some little potatoes I did up with thyme and a little salt and pepper. Butter over em.

Fuu looked good. She'd transitioned from her whorishly wholesome routine into a kinda parody preppy coed: tight miniskirt, thigh high socks, but tits covered, hair tied back in a high ponytail. There was still a little edge to her, something a little trashy, a little rough. Nails too long, too red. Eyeliner that looked slept in. And of course, high heels like stilts.

"Hey boys," she said. She sounded sleepy, a little sedated. Later I'd find out she'd started playing around with xanax and valium, but for now it was sweet. Like she'd come so far for us she'd hardly be able to keep her eyes open.

"Welcome," Jon said. He offered to take her bag, a big leather monstrosity. An overnight bag, I think. (C'mon, I don't know know about that shit).

We sat and ate in a kind of comfortable silence that was good- I can't explain it unless you've got that person in your life who just gets it. You've spent hours with them, fighting, screaming, laughing til you cry. What was there to say? 'I'm glad none of us are dead'?

"I thought you two might be mad at me," she said, fiddling with a little sterling silver charm bracelet 'round her little wrist.

"Look at this wrist," I said, circling my fingers on it. She stiffened and froze. "It's tiny. So tiny," I flipped her hand palm up and kissed it. Sweaty. Little lemony fishy from dinner.

Jon took her wrist next and kissed her palm as well. Then, without thinking on it, I leaned in to kiss him. She gasped a little. I thought she always suspected, but I guess seeing it is different. One thing led to another though, and Jon's lips found hers. Then mine again. Then it was my turn to place a little kiss on those perfect lips.

We got up from the table and I took their hands, headed us three to the bedroom. It had to happen at some point, yeah? It all felt so inevitable, felt right for sure but also like we couldn't have stopped this. Overwhelming? Whatever word works, the feeling of inevitability was suffocating. Little scary.

I slipped her top off, maybe popped a button or two in my rush to strip her naked. I needed to see what that hard body looked like. Million little memories of her hips, her legs, slivers of her belly. Those glimpses she'd inadvertently given of her body in our former life. I wanted to see the whole picture. Tore her bra off and threw it over my shoulder, brought my mouth to her nipples, bigger and darker than I imagined, but perfect. Her whole body was perfect for that moment.

Jon stood behind her and started to creep his hand up her legs, up her thighs, under that tight skirt. He moved his mouth over her neck and bit her. Hard. He slid the skirt off and left the thigh highs and panties.

She ended up on her back on the bed, legs wide, panties off. I took the first taste, my head finding its way between her legs, Jon's clever hands taking my clothes off, stroking me, squeezing the head of my dick, rolling my foreskin over the head. He slipped lower and put his mouth over my dick. Couldn't focus, let Jon take over eating her pussy, and he did, like a kid at a pie eating contest. I made my way to the top of the bed and kissed her, letting her taste what Jon and I both enjoyed so fucking much.

I'll admit I slipped a hand under her ass and slipped a spit-slick finger in her ass. Nearly mad me cum right there, she's so tight. I knew how I wanted this to go- me in her ass, Jon in her pussy. All three of us swapping spit. I wanted something dirty, something she might even be ashamed of, but that she'd fucking love every second of it. I pressed my luck with another spit-slick finger, stretching her, kissing her. Watching Jon finger her pussy, fingertips sliding over her clit, teasing her hole. Once he had a finger inside, I could feel him through her tight warm walls.

Without words, he slid his fingers out and retrieved two condoms, rolling one over his own dick, handing me the other. I pulled my fingers out and replaced them again, this time lubed up, secretly enjoying her little hiss of pain. Jon switched their positions and she started riding him, tits bouncing hard. I worked her ass open, til I was sliding in-out-in-out and she was bucking back on my hand. Rolling my own condom on, I shoved her forward, folded over Jon, and started working my dick into her, slowly.

We rocked like this, the three of us finding mouths and tongues tangled, not caring who it belonged to, where we were. Just lost entirely in fucking each other, an impossible triad that just worked. Against all odds. Sweat, slick with lube and cum and all wore out, we slept.

She got up and showered at some point. She kissed us both goodbye, we knew it was goodbye, but no one said anything. There ain't words. Not for people like us. She left some shit behind in our bathroom- the blouse I ruined when I pawed it off her, one of her socks, and a bottle of perfume that smelled like sunflowers. The clothes we tossed.

Doesn't make me proud to admit it, but days that I missed her, I sprayed a little of that in the air. Inhaled deep like I was bumping a rail of coke.