My Foursome During the Heatwave Left Everyone Sweaty, Musky, and Drained

It was hot in every sense.

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Original illustration by Eduardo

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It was day eleven of the heatwave. I had resigned to a life of reclusivity, staying in my apartment with the AC roaring until the humidity broke. Alas, it was early July, and according to the weather forecasters, no end was in sight. 

The heat wasn’t merely oppressive; it was offensive. Each breath stung my nostrils and burned my throat. I could taste the sidewalk, the burning asphalt. 

I chugged gallon after gallon if I had to step outside, but the water never remained inside me. I was a sweaty mess, and no part of my body was safe. My asscrack acted like a luge; sweat from my back slid down to my swampy hole.

“Greatest city in the world,” I mumbled as I languidly roamed the blistering boulevard.

Back at my apartment, I texted my friends to see how they were coping with the heat. All were indoors except for a few brave souls at Riis Beach, who didn’t fear the sun’s deadly UV rays or the lack of shade.

“I’m having an MMF threesome,” said Bradley. “An entire afternoon affair.”  

“Nice!”

“Want me to see if you can join?” he asked. 

“Yes,” I replied, despite thinking I was unlikely to attend. That would require leaving my apartment and heading to Bushwick, which is not a mere stone’s throw away from my apartment. Reaching Bushwick requires I take a train out to the city and then back into Brooklyn or a thirty-minute (and $36) Uber each way. 

“I just showed her pictures of you, and she’s very down.” It was good to know I still got it.

He then sent over a safe-for-work pic of Allie. She, in the bathroom of her office, bent over, pushing her breasts together. Her skirt rolled to her upper thigh. She was biting her lower lip, her eyes yearning, making the “sub” face popularized by porn. She was begging for cock without uttering a word. 

Goddamn it.

“Yeah, I’ll be to yours in an hour,” I texted Bradley. 

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The Uber driver refused to blast the AC as we drove through the inferno. I could have demanded, but I didn’t want to be that guy.  

“5 minutes out,” I texted. 

“Front door is unlocked. Come up to the 5th floor. FYI, the AC isn’t really working, so it’s hot up here.”

You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Way to bury the lede. 

With each floor, I felt like I was descending deeper and deeper into the depths of hell. Science was indeed doing its thing, and the heat was rising. 

Before entering, I raised my arm and did a quick sniff test. The verdict? Not terrible. I opened the door to Bradley’s bedroom and was hit by the smell of sex, freshly fucked pussy, and of course, heat. More motherfucking, muggy, sweltering, smothering heat. 

Bradley sat on the couch, his erect dick in his hand, stroking himself as he watched Allie and a long, blond-haired fellow on the bed. Allie was on her back, her pink, lacy bra underneath her exposed tits, her thong pulled to the side. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and her legs rested on the man’s shoulders as he fucked her with slow deep thrusts. Strands of the man’s hair escaped from his scrunchy with each thrust. 

Unfortunately, the bed had direct sunlight, whereas the rest of the room was hidden in the shade. 

I stripped nude upon entry. I wanted to get started ASAP, as I wasn’t sure how long I could last in the muggy room. 

“Hi,” I said to Allie while lying beside her. 

She opened her eyes, and a smile swept across her face. “Hi,” she replied breathlessly. 

“Hello,” the man said, continuing his pace. I had a made faux pas, only caring about the person I was going to fuck. “I’m Carl.” 

“I’m Zach, a pleasure.” He gave me a solute, and I returned my attention to Allie. I wiped the beads of sweat from her brow before gently kissing her tender lips. With one hand, I squeezed her nipples, and she involuntarily arched her back. 

“Stay there,” Carl said. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Do you wanna suck on Zach’s cock while you get fucked like a good slut?” Bradley’s voice echoed from the other side of the room.

“Yes, please let me suck on your cock,” Allie begged. “Please, I need it.” 

I slid my hard cock into her mouth and could see her smile, even with my dick down her throat. She attempted to take all of me but couldn’t and gagged. 

“Fuck,” Carl said. “I love how your pussy clenches when you gag.” 

Allie mumbled affirmatively and kept sucking. Hard, wet sucks, her spit fusing with sweat.

“Do you want to fuck her?” Carl asked, needing a break.

“I would love to.” I turned my attention to Allie, “Would you like that?”

“Please, Zach. I need your cock. I need your load.” 

Carl removed himself. Bradley handed him a large cup of water, and the two men sat on the couch, stroking their stiff dicks. 

I mounted Allie in Missionary, my stomach pressed against hers, our sweat co-mingling. Allie’s skin was hot to the touch—I could have fried an egg on her torso. We locked lips, and I plunged my cock deep inside of her. 

“That’s a good girl,” I said. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said. 

“Thank you for what?” Bradley barked. 

“Thank you for your cock,” she corrected. 

I moved to be more upright, my skin unpeeling from hers. I draped her legs over my head, grabbed her thighs, and started to thrust. Sweat was flying. Her pussy was soft and moist. With each thrust, I would flex my dick to feel all of her. Her pussy, wrapping around me like cellophane on leftovers.

I should have been out of breath. I should have been too hot to fuck. I should have fainted from dehydration. But for the first time since the heatwave began, the heat wasn’t the enemy.

It was making our sex, well, hotter. Wetter. Better. Our muscles were relaxed. Our breaths were deep. Our movements, slower—but not sluggish—more purposeful. The heat demanded that we fuck slowly, and so, we obliged. I took my time relishing every one of her curves, her soft skin. The way she greedily smiled with her pronounced dimples while taking my cock.