Drei-Loch-Benutzung: Der beste Skandal nach dem Picknick

So this drei-loch-benutzung thing happened after a picnic I swear I wasn’t planning it, we’d been sitting on this blanket all afternoon with wine and stupid sandwiches and she kept giving me that look, the one that means trouble, and by the time the sun dropped low she just crawled over and unzipped me right there in the tall grass, no hesitating, and I remember the scratch of dry weeds on my knees and the smell of cut clover and her piercings glinting every time she glanced up, then she turned around and pulled her skirt up and I slid into her from behind while she braced against a tree trunk, the bark rough under her palms, and she moaned low and pushed back hard, and I reached around to touch her while she moved, feeling every ring and ridge, and then she wanted more, wanted all of it, so I pulled out and pressed into her other hole slowly, spit-slick and tight, her breath hitching in that way that meant yes keep going, and I held her hips and went deeper while she worked herself against me, and honestly the whole thing felt reckless and funny and weirdly tender at once, two people half-naked in a field with bugs buzzing around us, and when she finally came she laughed, and I finished right after, and we just lay back in the flattened grass catching our breath like idiots, grass stuck to our skin, the picnic basket tipped over somewhere behind us.