I'm at the mall and decided to get some frozen yogurt.

This mall is very flashy, and that scares me, which is why I don't usually go to these kinds of places. I tend to be very cautious with my finances, and the last time I came here, a year ago, I left with ten bags and five hundred dollars less.

I stopped at a clothing store and tried on some pants. They fit well; a couple of guys stared at me as I passed. The young clerk suggested a matching, modestly checked shirt and brown suede shoes.

I'm a 45-year-old guy with red hair, a wide face, gray eyes, a thick mustache, a firm chin, and full lips. I have a bit of a belly, but I'm generally in pretty good shape, since I exercise twice a week. I usually dress casually and modernly, but without the impression of a teenager. I wore my hair gelled, a raw linen shirt, tight gray jeans, and black felt loafers. Many people consider me damn attractive, while I perceive myself as just plain old ordinary.

In the end, I decided not to buy anything, much to the disappointment of the saleswoman, but she still gave me her best smile and announced that she was always there for me. She reminded me of her name: Marlenne.

She must have been used to providing excellent service, or I really do have a lot of charm.

I left the store heading for the frozen yogurt stand. Some girls who might have been my daughters looked at me greedily, and even some older women did, and others were sneaking up on me from their husbands.

I finally arrived at the yogurt stand.

"Welcome to Fruti Yogurt," the young clerk greeted me. "How can we help you?"

He was a tanned young man with a strong Italian accent; Massimo Rocca, I read on his badge. I couldn't resist looking at him more closely; some chest hairs were sticking out from under the franchise's striped shirt; he was very muscular, and the shirt fit him tightly. His hair was a little more coppery than his skin. His features looked like they were chiseled by the gods.

He was probably half of my age.

He showed me the sign with the combinations and prices. I chose my usual combination: pineapple, mango, and fiber. I like to exercise my intestines and take care of my figure at the same time.

Despite my strict savings habits, I earn very well. I work as a financial advisor for an accounting firm, so I can be as lavish with my spending as I want, and on occasion, I've even invited young people in their twenties to my house for a couple of months.

I smiled at the cashier; she was a short brunette with highlights, a round face, and lots of curves. Laureen, I read on her badge.

"What's Special Service?" I asked, pointing to the part of the sign advertising it.

They both exchanged suggestive glances.

"Do you really want Special Service?" they asked almost in unison.

"Well... yes," I stammered. "It sounds interesting, and I'm feeling adventurous."

Massimo put up the Closed sign, and they both took my hand and led me behind the counter to the door at the back. We crossed into a room with several freezers filled with yogurt tubs and a mixer.

It must have been at least 10 degrees in there. Massimo slid a bottle across one of the tables, and a well-hidden door opened in the wall. It was excellent camouflage.

When we walked through that door, I couldn't believe my eyes; this had nothing to do with ice cream. We had entered a very intimate and cozy space, with a minibar, a couch, a pole, red satin curtains, pink carpet, and a large, half-full tip jar.

"A drink?" Laureen asked, heading for the minibar.

"Yes, please," I heard myself say.

She headed over. Her hair fell to the middle of her back, very shapely by the way, and her butt looked spectacular; it looked like a peach.

While Laureen prepared the drinks, Massimo began to shift in his seat.

"It's hot in here, isn't it?"

No, it wasn't hot at all; it was about ten degrees, just like in the ice cream parlor. But I understood perfectly what he was getting at.

He began to unbutton his shirt, feigning difficulty.

The sofa we were sitting on was a loveseat, red, of course.

"Would you please help me?" he asked, looking like a scared kitten.

The dim light from the bulbs cast pastel glimmers over our bodies; the whole scene looked like an Edgar Degas painting.

I began to slowly unbutton his shirt, keeping eye contact with him. My fingers tangled awkwardly; I felt his warm breath bouncing off my chin.

He guided my hands with his, and we finally completed the task.

Laureen brought a tray with three martinis and placed them on the table in front of the loveseat.

"Let's drink, guys," he suggested. "We have all the time in the world for the rest."

I didn't dare ask her what the rest was.

She passed one of the glasses to Massimo, who drank it slowly. Beneath his open shirt, his coppery chest, with its line of golden hair down the center, invited me to touch it in a way I could barely resist.

Laureen then passed me my own glass, brushing my fingers as she handed it to me. She then took her own.

"I propose a toast," Laureen announced.

"I don't think there's a reason," I replied.

"Yes, there is," she insisted. "To us and our newly formed friendship with you."

"That's a good reason to toast," I admitted.

We clinked glasses, the clinking sounding clear in the apparent stillness of the room, where a fire was lighting up, contrasting sharply with the coolness provided by the air conditioner. We both took a sip of our martinis.

"How are you a good kisser?" Laureen asked me.

I was momentarily distracted by the swell of her breasts.

"N-n-o-o-r-bad, I guess," I answered hesitantly.

"Do you want to demonstrate for us?" Massimo asked, caressing my cheek.

I brought my face close to Laureen's, but she slowly turned my head toward Massimo.

Massimo brought his face close to mine as well; we kissed with great urgency, while Laureen touched us.

My demanding tongue forced its way between Massimo's lips and intertwined with his. I explored his mouth like a madman. His breath tasted of cherries; he'd probably eaten a few before we got there.

I nearly ripped off Massimo's shirt. Then they both took over my own.

Laureen took over my mouth, while Massimo captured my left nipple between his lips.

I gasped with pleasure between these two wicked satyrs.

Laureen's lips were large and generous; her small, mischievous tongue darted between the hollows of my mouth. My tongue was allowed to enter her mouth, and it was granted, but not without a brief duel. The inside of her mouth was small and very warm.

Massimo guided my hand to his crotch; it felt rigid against the touch of my palm. Meanwhile, I felt his tongue play against my erect nipple.

I stroked Laureen's hair and spread it; she rewarded me by deepening the contact of her tongue.

Massimo guided my hands under his pants and underwear. I explored his bare crotch; he was quite well-endowed. I went down to his scrotum, sweaty despite the cold. I pulled back his foreskin and caressed his glans; he moaned a little.

I removed my hand from Massimo's crotch and brought it to my nose; it held the scent of his manhood. Laureen took my fingers and sucked them with relish. Massimo smiled slyly at our side.

We both removed Laureen's blouse; we once again tangled with the buttons, and she helped us, brushing our fingers in the process. She was wearing a tiny red lingerie bra.

"You're such a slut!" I whispered to her.

She giggled softly.

My fingers slid to the clasp of her bra, which I managed to undo on the first try. As the bra fell, the most shapely breasts I'd ever seen appeared before my eyes.

Meanwhile, Massimo removed his pants and underwear.

I played a little with Laureen's nipples; it was incredible. I had the most beautiful bust in the world before me, and I couldn't think of anything creative.

Laureen guided my head to her right nipple, while I gripped Massimo's penis with my left hand.

I tasted all the honey from those deliciously fragrant nipples, which became erect at the warm touch of my tongue, eliciting low moans from Laureen.

Laureen buried my head between her breasts, almost suffocating me.

"Ahhh, ahhh! You little devil!"

While I was driving Laureen wild, I masturbated Massimo. He couldn't take it anymore, sat up on the couch, and offered me his reddened cock.

First, I licked it a couple of times. It tasted salty and had a hint of smegma on it. I've always liked cocks with a bit of sweat and odor, but not too much. I hate clean, tasteless penises, no matter how visually appealing they are.

I took Massimo's entire cock in my mouth. Laureen pushed my head against the guy's pubis. I gazed at the groin and the slightly hairy pubis of the Italian guy, who began to rhythmically move his hips, also trapping my head in his hands.

"Ahhh, caro mio!" Massimo stammered, with his Italian accent. "Aaaahhh, aahhh, aaahhh!"

Massimo couldn't take it anymore. He pressed my head so tightly against his pubic area that I felt like I was suffocating, and a few seconds later he ejaculated in my mouth. I held his abundant semen in, and the three of us shared a kiss, sharing Massimo's delicious juice.

We both set about removing Laureen's pants and panties. Gazing at her left me breathless; she was an exquisite woman.

I touched her vulva, somewhat timidly at first, but she guided my hands. I amused myself by playing with her lips; my naughty fingers then slipped inside.

Massimo, meanwhile, sat to her left and took hold of her nipples with his playful tongue.

My fingers explored Laureen's interior and her clitoris. She delighted me with her wetness and her moans; she began to move her hips rhythmically.

"Aaahhh, ohhh!"

Laureen desperately grabbed us both by the head and led us to her warm cave.

We gazed in admiration at her delicious, fully open orchid, albeit briefly, as we were both pulled into the voracity of her hungry lips.

Massimo moved on to her clitoris, while I focused on her lips. The abundant nectar of this beautiful flower was a reward for the two eager hummingbirds pollinating it.

"Aaahhh, ohhh! You wicked perverts!"

She writhed as if she were being exorcised, and we continued licking and sucking until she gave us every last drop of her viscous fluid.

Our lips oozed small trickles of her drool, and we sealed it all with a group kiss, sharing that delight.

They finished undressing me, and then Laureen took my head and boldly brought it close to Massimo's butt.

Massimo had a few hairs there too; his butt was very round and firm, almost feminine. I licked with relish between his buttocks, causing indescribable sensations in Massimo, who rewarded me with caresses of my hair and low moans.

Massimo was erect again, and so was I. I took advantage of my erection to tenderly yet firmly grasp Massimo's hips and guide his butt over my erection, barely managing to uncover my glans at the last moment.

Massimo allowed me to slowly enter him, which felt warm and tight. Was he a virgin? Lauren positioned herself over the Italian's erect, turgid cock. The three of us moved rhythmically and let out uncontrolled moans.

"Aaahhh! I'm cumming!"

Finally, the three of us had almost synchronized orgasms. I'd never ejaculated more semen in my life, nor with such force.

Then we separated and lay exhausted on the couch, caressing each other's genitals.

"Will you come back and see us from time to time, dude?" Massimo asked, caressing my glans and nipples.

"Will you?" Laureen asked in return.

"I'll think about it," I suggested, my hand still on her lips.

Then she said something that surprised me greatly:

"It's two dollars and fifty, sir; thank you for choosing us."

I woke up to reality with a jerk.

"Huh?"

"I said it is two and fifty, and I thanked you for choosing us," Laureen repeated.

I paid and prepare to leave, taking one last look at their smiling faces. If only they knew!

I came back, as I remembered a curiosity.

"And what does the Special Service entail?" I asked casually.

"Oh, of course," Massimo seemed to remember, "you can upgrade your combo with our Special Service."

I forgot to mention at the beginning: I'm also very imaginative and tend to daydream.