Puck Yes bonus!
I’m excited to share this bonus scene with you.
Filthy Instructions and Fashion Shows
A Puck Yes bonus short story
By Lauren Blakely
One night in October as our new season is underway, I’m stretched out in bed in our Seattle hotel, an episode of Schitt’s Creek I’ve seen twice already playing softly on my laptop, and my pillow calling out to me. But instead of giving in to eventual bedtime, I’m scrolling through trade rumors on The Iceman Predicteth’s social feed on my phone.
This time I’m not looking for news about me. I’ve got my new contract, and knock on wood, I feel secure in it. But I’ve got some friends in the minors, like Sawyer. Maybe he’ll be called up soon, like Hollis was. I check on them, but as I thumb through the headlines, a text pops up on our group thread. From…our wife.
I jump on it so fast, setting trade rumors and buddies aside.
Ivy: It’s been a while, guys. Do I get one?
Hayes: One what?
Ivy: A pic. It’s been a while since either of you sent me one.
I laugh when Stefan—just down the hall in his hotel room—responds right away with a shot of his abs and the waistband of his lounge pants, pushed down artfully.
Stefan: As you wish.
Ivy: Oh yes. And now I know what I’m doing under the covers.
Stefan: Our wife is so horny, Hayes.
Hayes: And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Stefan’s a tease, sending her something subtle, like she likes. But I like to tease our wife too. So I reply with a demand.
Hayes: Pic for a pic.
Ivy: You drive a hard bargain.
Ivy: You first though.
Stefan: Sexy and clever.
Hayes: That she is. Did you already shoot your load, man?
Stefan: Nope. I’m just eager to please. Now get on it too.
Hayes: Fine, fine.
I oblige, pushing down the elastic of my boxer briefs barely an inch as David chides Alexis on screen over something. I lower my briefs just enough to tease Ivy, then angle the phone and snap a shot of my ink. The constellation of stars, starting at my right hip and disappearing under the waistband. That’s all there is in the shot. Just a close up of that section of my skin. I hit send. Seconds later, she fires off an emoticon face melting, then follows it with another text. With a smirk, I park one hand behind my head, sighing happily as I reply.
Hayes: Your turn.
Stefan: Yes, I’d really like a pic too, so I can put it to good use before bedtime.
Ivy: Far be it from me to deprive my husbands of their bedtime sexy selfies.
Stefan: Exactly. Now be a good wife, and send us some pics.
Ivy: Be patient…
I can hear the tease in her words. Can picture her twirling a strand of her hair as she lounges in bed back home, spread out on our Alaskan king, her little dog at her feet. Can imagine Ivy’s naughty smile. As the Roses argue some more over who knows what, I wait impatiently for a reply. I clench the phone so hard I nearly snap it in half, only loosening my hold when a picture finally lands. It’s a close-up. This one is of black lace, covering the swell of both breasts, and there, right fucking there, is the outline of the silver barbell from her piercing.
Hayes: Look at our wife. She’s so fucking sexy.
Stefan: Our wife is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. This picture is going to make me very happy in just a few minutes.
Ivy: I’m very happy with your pics, guys. So happy, there’s buzzing and vibrating right now in our home.
I groan. My dick thumps. My mouth waters, but I want more, and I know how to get it. I up the ante, pushing my black boxer briefs down a little more. It’s not a just the tip shot, but it’s a happy trail for sure as I hit send.
Hayes: Here’s one more. How about another?
Thirty seconds later, I get a reward in our group thread. A new picture. She’s tugged the cup of her bra a tiny bit lower, revealing a millimeter of shiny metal.
I die of lust.
I strip off my boxers and stroke my dick, studying the image, savoring her soft, creamy flesh, hearing the sounds she makes as I lick and suck her tits. I’m lost in the sensory overload when a reply hits.
Ivy: Do you need another thousand words to help you along? Here you go.
Hayes: Fuck yes.
One more shot lands. The bra cups are lowered a fraction more, and this time I’m gazing at her nipple, pert and pierced. I can’t stand how aroused she makes me. Can’t fucking take it. In no time, I’m jerking, groaning, staring. I can’t believe I’m getting off to a picture of some of her tits. It’s a goddamn artistic shot, for fuck’s sake.
But this is what she does to me.
My mind’s a slot machine, and with every jerk, I’m seeing a different jackpot.
First, I discover Ivy on her knees in our living room at midnight, staring up at us, red lips parted, asking for me to fuck her pretty mouth, while Stefan fucks her tight cunt.
My hand grips my cock harder, my fist shuttling as the image flips.
Now, I find her in bed, perched on the edge of the mattress, roaming her hands over her tits. She offers herself to me, with legs spread, her glistening pussy ready to become my meal, as Stefan sucks on her tits.
That drives her so damn wild.
My body hisses. My thighs shake. I’m sweating, I’m so fucking close, and the pictures switch one more time.
We come home and our house is dark. We don’t see her, but we hear her whimpers, so we follow their seductive sound. Turning the corner into the bedroom, we find her on all fours on my bed, fucking a toy, pretending it’s one of us, moaning our names.
When she raises her face, she doesn’t even look shameless as she begs us to finish her. She looks helpless to the lust, and I fucking am too as I get behind her, and take over, making her scream, until he shuts her up with his cock in her mouth.
And on that fantastically filthy image, I spill in my hand.
My head is ringing, my chest is on fire, and I can barely think. Can barely catch my breath as I get up and wash my hands. Once they’re clean, I press my palms against the sink, and stare at my savage reflection. “You are the luckiest fucking man in the whole damn world.”
Wait. That’s wrong.
When I return to bed, I grab my phone and tap out a reply.
Hayes: Hey, Stefan, did you know we’re the luckiest guys in the whole damn world?
Stefan: Yes. Yes, I do.
Ivy: And I’m the luckiest woman.
Before I fall asleep, there’s another text from her.
Ivy: Next time I want to watch both of you.
At the same time, Stefan and I both reply with I know.
A few months later…
I need my list.
Where is it?
There’s so much left to do. My pulse is spiking and my heart is racing fast as I rush downstairs in our home, nerves nipping at my feet. I practically skid into the kitchen on a Friday morning.
“Guys!” I shout, jerking my gaze back and forth between Stefan and Hayes. I’m so frazzled. I’m speaking at the speed of sound. “I need my list. I can’t find it. I have twenty four hours before the show.”
In the kitchen, Hayes sets down the bagel he’s biting, and confidently, coolly, grabs a purple notebook from a corner of the counter. It sports a gal in a 1920s flapper dress on the cover.
“Is this what you’re looking for, baby?” he asks, voice calm and gentle.
I set a hand on my chest. I breathe out, long and relieved. “Yes. Where was it? I’ve been looking for it.”
Stefan sets down his smoothie, and flashes me a warm smile. “We found it under a couch cushion a little while ago. You were up late working in the living room and fell asleep. You need to get your sleep, sweetheart,” Stefan says, chiding me as he looks out for me.
“And you also need some caffeine. So we made you some,” Hayes says.
I shoot a look at him. Then at Stefan. These guys are known for a lot of impressive skills. But kitchen skills aren’t among them. “Wait, let me get this straight. You two made coffee?”
“Please. No,” Stefan says, laughing like that’s ludicrous. “We learned how to make a vanilla latte.”
That’s something else.
Stefan brings me a cup, complete with latte art of a little dog. My heart thunders. I laugh as I look at it, and then my very own little dog trots into the kitchen, barking out a yippy little hello. I scoop up Roxy, then take a drink of the latte.
“I don’t want to puff you guys up, but if this hockey thing doesn’t work out, you two could be baristas,” I say.
They knock fists.
“Goals,” Hayes says.
I let Roxy take a lick of the dog art. She laps it up happily. “It’s dog approved too,” I add.
“What more could a guy ask for?” Stefan quips.
And really, there’s not much more I can ask for than these two. Well, three really, as Roxy settles in next to me on the couch as I get to work tackling everything on my list on the final day before my biggest project ever comes together.
* * *
The next day, I’m buzzing with adrenaline. I’m at the Luxe Hotel, backstage in the ballroom, chatting with Beatrix and Birdie. “Everything is ready,” I say to Birdie, because I want her to know that I’m on top of what she asked me to do.
The older woman sets a reassuring hand on my arm. “I know, Ivy. I absolutely know. You’ve always given one hundred and ten percent.”
“She’s the best un-secret weapon,” Beatrix seconds.
I beam inside.
With their confidence and support, I head to the runway at go-time and take the mic.
I look out at the packed crowd. Some are people I know, friends like Trina and Aubrey, but most of them are people I don’t know. Other fashionistas. People who have the same interests as me. Who have been following my newsletter as it’s grown over the last few years since I started it. Other personal stylists who I’ve come to know. Writers who cover the industry with all its fascinating twists and turns.
I’m breathless with anticipation. Grateful too that my life has brought me here. “Welcome to the First Annual San Francisco Secondhand Fashion show. Brought to you by Your Runway and curated with recycled fashion by Beatrix Martinez and me,” I say, thrilled to voice those words.
Then, I take a step back and let the models do the work, showing off outfits that Beatrix and I have assembled as we watch from the wings. When Birdie asked me to helm this project, I was nervous, but also chomping at the bit. The chance to build out the extension of her flagship fashion show was a dream come true. I’ve been burning the midnight oil to make it happen but finally, it’s come together.
When the show ends with clapping and cheers, I take the mic once more. “Thank you so much for coming. And thank you to Birdie Michaels for putting this together and Beatrix for sharing her vision.”
My eyes scan the crowd, locking on two men in the second row. My two favorite people. They have been the biggest supporters of all as I grow in my career. I couldn’t be prouder to be their wife. “But I especially want to thank the two people near and dear to my heart. My two husbands, Stefan and Hayes.”
Later, when I find them in the lobby, Stefan whispers in my ear, “You can give us a show tomorrow night.”
I shiver. I can’t wait.
* * *
The next night, I find one of their notes on the dining room table after I come home from walking Roxy after work. While she settles into a dog bed, I read the note. It comes with instructions. The kind they’ve left me before. They tell me what to wear, where to be, what toys to use.
There’s a fantasy we’ve been playing with recently. Something we’ve done a few times, and it’s become one of our greatest hits.
So while they’re out at dinner with their agents, I get ready, my skin tingling with the prospect of our plans for this evening. When they’re due to come home, I’m on our bed, wearing a white lace thong and a demi cup bra they bought for me. I’m surrounded by a few toys. Soon, I hear their footsteps and my pulse flutters.
An ache between my thighs builds. And since I’m a good girl who knows how to follow instructions, I take a pink vibrating toy and I press it against the fabric covering my pussy.
By the time they cross the threshold into our bedroom, my breath is coming faster, my skin is tingling, and my lips are parted. “Look at her. Playing with herself before we even get our clothes off,” Hayes says with an appreciative growl.
“Bet she’s soaked,” Stefan says, all raspy and gravelly.
“Bet you’re not wrong,” I murmur.
“Show us,” Hayes demands.
Grateful for the order, I slide off my panties.
In seconds, their clothes vanish too. They’re both climbing onto the bed, Stefan on one side, Hayes on the other and me playing with myself.
I turn my face to Hayes, drawing his hard cock between my lips as Stefan uses the toy on me, getting me hotter, more aroused.
Then, Hayes drops his dick from my mouth, so I can turn to Stefan, licking my lips for him.
“Such a pretty mouth on such a dirty girl,” Stefan praises, then feeds me his cock, while Hayes takes over with the toy, working the vibrator against my greedy clit.
I groan from the taste of Stefan, but also the aching pulse between my thighs.
They trade off, taking turns fucking my mouth, and operating the toy, till I’m panting and writhing.
“Fuck yourself now, sweetheart,” Stefan growls.
Grabbing the vibrator once again, I take over, rubbing faster, more feverishly, seeking pleasure. Stefan kneels next to my face and fists his cock. On the other side, Hayes does the same, stroking his dick. We’re all flying solo now, touching ourselves, rubbing, jerking, chasing.
And soon, I’m shaking, and crying out, while Hayes shuttles his fist till he comes on the hollow of my throat, then Stefan grunts and comes on my belly.
But they don’t stop there.
With my chest covered in them, they slide down between my thighs and devour me, taking turns, trading off eating me out, till I’m so aroused, so sensitive, I don’t even know who’s making me come anymore.
And I don’t care.
It feels like both of them are.
A minute later, maybe more, I breathe out and say, “I love your filthy instructions and your shows,” I tell them.
“And we love you,” they say, together.
After we clean up, they settle in next to me, with our dog curling into a ball on a pillow, letting out a contented sigh.
This is the good life, and I have it.
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