Three of a Kind

Eventually, Oliver is able to roll to his back after he comes down from his sex high. He tosses one leg over me, and one leg over Nash while peering up at the ceiling. There is still a blissed out little smile on his mouth as he runs his fingers through my chest hair, and Nash’s actual hair.  We pet him too—fingers in his hair, across his smooth chest, down his sides and over his thighs. None of us are attempting to start anything, not right now at least.  For the moment I’m happy to exist in peace with my...