Summer work becomes summer play when a grad student has his naughty way with both a male and a female coworker who just may teach him a thing or two.

Being an undergrad at a large urban university, I engaged in my sexual fun — a lot, in fact.

At nineteen, I was on my game in every way — scoring both male and female lovers. I was a responsible student. I never worried about exams. Why should I, when I had full confidence that I knew all I needed to know? I shied away from nightly drinking parties, instead hanging with the students on campus that liked to keep things mellow and explore the contours of their sexual natures rather than pass out in pools of overindulgence.

But then, as a grad student, I wound up going to a school in the Pacific Northwest that was in the boonies. From an east-facing window on the top floor of the library, you could actually see cattle grazing in a green field not that far in the distance. Coeds at this college had beer bashes like all college kids do. And they fucked each other, too. But it was all a little too predictable and frantic for me.

When you’re twenty-three, those eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds can seem pretty unsophisticated. I thought about hooking up with one or two of my fellow grad students, and I even nurtured some fantasies about a couple of faculty members. But, honestly, during my first year of the program, I practically lived like a monk.

In the second semester of that first year, I worked as a teaching assistant in an “Intro to Western Civ” course. I gave a couple of short lectures during the semester and helped the instructor grade tests and tend to other administrative business. The experience stretched my horizons and solidified my belief that I’d be a fine college professor one day.

There was one undergrad in the class who made me — and my dick — sit up and take notice. Her name was Olivia, and she was a curvaceous pixie. I found her generous figure undeniably sexy. She was about five-foot-four and had short auburn hair and lovely, large breasts that bounced happily in a succession of pastel t-shirts and sweaters. Also, she had a perfectly gorgeous ass. Most importantly, Olivia was a highly intelligent young woman, a characteristic that always turns me on. She was probably one of the few people in the class who had some idea before enrolling in the course who Marcus Aurelius and Thomas Aquinas were.

I knew from the way she looked at me that she was interested in getting better acquainted. But while I was technically not Olivia’s teacher, it would have been bad form as a T.A. for me to pursue her during the semester. So she and I indulged in a pattern of mild, intermittent flirtation that would end with me returning to my off-campus apartment to wank like a wild man while waiting for the semester to end.

I thought about returning east for the summer, but I was offered a chance to assist with a small seminar, two mornings a week. The job appeared easy, and I knew I would have plenty of time on my hands. I figured I’d exercise at the gym and read some long-neglected books in my spare time.

Then, right before the spring semester ended, I spotted a notice about a new work-study program for summer students. It was purely physical labor — painting rooms in a couple of vacant dormitories. The job required only twenty hours per week. The pay wasn’t stupendous, but it would help me buy groceries and the occasional six-pack. I decided to apply, and I landed the job easily. I showed up the first day with about fifteen other students hired for the project. We gathered in the building’s lobby and pretended to listen to a middle-aged townie named Vincent drone on about the care and feeding of tarps, paintbrushes and rollers.

Five minutes into Vincent’s lecture, two stragglers arrived. One was a slight young man with curly hair so blond it was almost white. He had an angelic look about him that I found appealing, and he seemed more than a little sheepish. The other late arrival was Olivia. She didn’t appear concerned about her tardiness. She looked especially sexy that morning. She smiled and waved at me as she and her pal entered.

“Sorry we’re late,” she said breezily — not sounding sorry in the least. “It’s been one of those mornings! But we’re happy to be here, sir!”

Vincent grumbled, but clearly he found it difficult to be miffed with someone as stunning and confident as Olivia. His eyes kept drifting to those magnificent tits, which were bobbing in bra-less playfulness beneath the thin lavender t-shirt she wore.

“Please, just resume where you left off,” Olivia said. “We can find out what we missed from my friend, Davy here.”

She gestured my way and winked. Vincent shot me a dirty look and went back to his lecture. The teams for the dorm-painting project were each made up of three workers. You won’t be surprised that I managed to slide onto a team with Olivia and her shy young friend, Charlie. We took turns painting walls, ceilings and trim. The units were unfurnished except for built-in desks and the four bed platforms with their thin plastic-covered mattresses. There were no air conditioners in the apartments, and the weather was sultry. The three of us wore old shorts or cutoffs, ancient t-shirts and little more.

Olivia and Charlie were friends from high school. She was an English major. He was studying painting — the kind involving an easel. I could tell he had a crush on Olivia, but she was not in the market for a new beau. She had recently broken up with her boyfriend of two years and was reveling in the single life.

We three became fast friends, but sexual tension among us grew every day, especially when Charlie or I brushed up against Olivia as we worked. Pheromones wafted like a heavy musk through the closeness of each room we painted, and I found myself in a constant state of semi-arousal. I caught Olivia checking me out frequently. One day she announced,

“You’ve got the sexiest chest and arms on campus, Davy.” Charlie looked chagrined at that remark, but Olivia soon undid the damage. “Between your torso and Charlie’s tight little butt, I feel like I’m Queen of the May.”

Charlie blushed handsomely, but he also smiled. His hand automatically tugged at his crotch, apparently making breathing room for his rapidly awakened penis. The thing was, Olivia was right about Charlie’s ass. I found myself noticing how toned it was. Charlie had a gymnast’s body — his trim, athletic form was a good complement to Olivia’s abundant womanly curves. My bisexual side — which had been dormant over the past year — was rapidly awakening.

Whenever he smiled at me, I would imagine his lips around my dick. If his back was toward me while he painted, I lost myself in daydreams about taking his ass. Although I wasn’t sure about it at first, I came to believe that Charlie definitely was attracted to me, too. More than once I saw him looking at my flat abs and bare legs. This could get interesting, I thought. One especially sweltering Friday afternoon, we were running late on finishing the dorm we’d been working on. The heat had slowed us down. Vincent had come by a little after noon to check on our progress, bring us some fresh rags and make sure we had enough paint. He said he was leaving early for the day and to pack up and put everything in order before we quit for the weekend. We’d finished painting the living area of the unit and were working on completing the bedroom.

“I’ve got to go cool off,” said Olivia, who was wearing a sports bra and shorts. Her exposed belly had kept my dick hard and twitching all day.

“Back in a minute,” she said, hurrying into the apartment’s large bathroom. I was standing on a stepladder, using a brush to paint the last corner of the ceiling. Charlie had a pan and drenched roller and was painting the wall beside me.

“Charlie, you really like Olivia, don’t you?” I asked.

“Sure. I mean, of course. What do you mean?”

“I mean, you think she’s cool, right?”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Finally, he muttered, “Sure. She’s totally cool.”

“Cool and … at the same time … hot?”

He was embarrassed, but he smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s just how it is.”“So, have you ever hooked up with her?”

His face was that of a startled fawn. “No, we’re friends, you know.”

“Friends can hook up with each other. You do realize that?” I looked square into his dark, alert eyes.

“It’s not like that with us,” he said. “But you’d like it to be, right? You can tell me. I won’t spoil anything for you.”

He stepped closer to the ladder, whispering, “Sure, she’s amazing. Who wouldn’t want to … be with her?”

“I sure would,” I said.

“Well, you … ” He hesitated.

“Me what?”

“You probably will … hook up with her. She really likes you.”

“We’re a likable bunch,” I said. “We’re really lucky, the three of us. Aren’t we? Winding up on a team together.”

If Charlie wasn’t smart enough to know I was flirting shamelessly with him, he didn’t belong in college. He grinned. His face was only a few inches from my bare leg. I smiled down at him, and then I resumed my work. I dipped the paintbrush into the bucket, climbed one more rung on the ladder and reached to touch up the last inch of ceiling. Suddenly, I felt a shot of cold liquid hit the back of my sweaty neck, the surprise making me lose my balance.

Startled, I dropped the brush, and somehow it hit me in the face, leaving a big glob of white paint on my cheek and neck. I grabbed for the top of the ladder to steady myself and knocked over the bucket. Paint flew into the air, splattering directly on Charlie’s shoulder and running down the side of his body, drenching his t-shirt and shorts and all the way to his leg. He jumped back reflexively — into his paint-filled roller pan. He slipped to the floor, upending the pan and thoroughly soaking himself in wet, warm stickiness. The whole thing must have looked like an old Laurel and Hardy routine.

When Charlie and I finally realized we hadn’t sustained any fatal injuries, I turned to see Olivia with a wet towel hanging around her neck. She was holding a large, comical-looking water gun. And she had removed the sports bra, freeing her big, beautiful breasts. What the fuck!

“You know what they say about all work and no play: dull boys.”

Her laugh was one of sheer mischief.

“Jesus, Olivia, you could have killed us!” I shouted.

I looked at paint-drenched Charlie. He pulled himself to his feet.

“What were you thinking?” I demanded, my voice filled with annoyance. “Look at this fucking mess! And why are your breasts out?”

Christ, what beautiful nipples she had. The paint that had splashed on my head was dripping perilously close to one of my eyes. I ripped off my shirt and used it to wipe my face. I threw my shirt to the floor and just then felt another blast of cold water hit me. This time Olivia had aimed the water gun at my exposed left nipple. She hit the target exactly and laughed devilishly.

“Damn it, Olivia!” I said.

But she only laughed louder. Next, she took aim at Charlie’s crotch and fired. She was a good shot: It looked like the poor guy had wet his pants. I started toward her, but she ran from me, giggling and sprinting to the bathroom. I followed her and found her leaning up against the door to the shower stall. I came toward her, not exactly certain what I was going to do. Everything was happening quickly. I drew very close to her and grabbed her by her bare shoulders. She didn’t pull away. I kissed her on the mouth. She squirmed perfunctorily but soon kissed me back vigorously, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I stepped back and looked at her flushed face.

Moving my hand to scratch my neck, I found a dab of paint I’d missed when I’d wiped myself with the shirt. I finger-painted a circle around one of her nipples.

“‘O’ for Olivia,” I said.

“You’re making me a sticky mess,” Olivia said sexily.

“I’ve only begun with that,” I fired back.

We kissed again. My cock was fully erect by now as we ground our bodies together in a sort of thrashing frenzy. I felt Olivia fumbling to unbutton the fly of my cutoffs.

“Get undressed, “ she said. “Take a shower with me.”

I kicked off my paint-soaked sneakers and tore off the cutoffs. Within moments, I was standing naked with my cock hard and gently throbbing. Not in the past year had I felt as aroused as I did at that moment. Olivia had shucked off the rest of her clothes, too, revealing her marvel of an ass and her neatly trimmed pussy. She stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water. I followed her, and our bodies ground together under the soothing lukewarm stream. There was some liquid soap left in the wall dispenser. We began sudsing each other up.

“Don’t close the door,” I said, thinking of Charlie.

“Nasty minds think alike.”

We kissed deeply again as the water washed over us. I cupped Olivia’s supple buttocks and began slapping and massaging them. Soon one middle finger wandered toward her asscrack and found her puckered opening. She moaned softly.

“Fuck, yes,” she murmured. She leaned her head against my chest. My cock was pressed up against her silky lower belly, and I occasionally felt her prickly patch of clipped pubic hair scrape across my shaved ball sac. We both looked up. There was Charlie. He stared at us as if in a trance. Then he emitted a barely audible “oh” as he took in our brash, wanton nakedness.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” said Olivia with a wink.

Charlie continued gazing intently at our bodies as he methodically pulled off his clothes. Thirty seconds later, he stood before us, bare-assed and beautiful. His body was compact: tightly muscled and hairless, except for his blond-fuzzed legs and a barely discernible downy patch in the middle of his chest. His circumcised penis was just shy of six inches, but it was rigid and assured: a cupid’s love arrow. We motioned him into the stall, and his naked limbs were soon entangled with ours.

The sensation of our three soapy bodies squirming and sliding against one another under the shower spray was mind-blowing. Charlie focused at first on Olivia’s breasts. He touched them, caressed them, kissed them gingerly. As though reading braille, he fingered the nipple around which I’d drawn the bull’s-eye.

Olivia smiled and said, “Why have we waited so long to do to this?” I moved back behind Charlie, pushing him up tighter against Olivia’s body. My hard-on rested against the slippery slope of his toned ass. Olivia pulled Charlie’s face to hers and kissed him full on the mouth. His knees seemed to buckle, and I caught him under his armpits with my hands. I wrapped one arm around his belly and held him fast. Olivia’s breasts pushed even more tightly against his chest. I managed to pump some soap out of the dispenser and reach between Charlie’s legs to lather his boner. He moaned as he continued kissing Olivia. I nuzzled the back of his neck and licked his earlobe, making him gasp.

After five minutes or so of this shower-stall foreplay, I said, “Let’s take this to dry land.”

Back in the paint-damaged room, we dried off with some of the clean rags Vincent had brought earlier. I pushed Charlie back on one of the plastic-covered mattresses before moving my face to his crotch and engulfing his jutting prick with my mouth. He writhed and grunted as I deep-throated him.

After a while, I let Olivia’s mouth have a turn at his aroused dick. Charlie sat up against the wall at the head of the bed, and Olivia, on her knees, licked his glans and teased his prick with the tip of her tongue. She certainly knew her way around a cock. I got behind her at the foot of the cot and buried my face in her snatch. I ate her pussy and licked her clit, occasionally allowing my tongue to find its way to that smooth, dainty asshole.

A whole panoply of oral pleasure followed. At one point Charlie got up from the bed and stood so that kneeling Olivia could take turns sucking each of us. As she blew us, I kissed Charlie wetly. Purring sounds came from deep in his throat.

When our lips unlocked, he whispered, “I’ve never French-kissed a guy before.”

“How was it?” I asked.“It won’t be the last time,” he said, with a lecherous tone that surprised me.

Charlie proved surprisingly adept at eating pussy and sucking dick, too. He stared up at me with those dark eyes as he slurped on my pecker. I stroked his hair off his face and stared down as he took my dick in his perfect mouth. All of the fantasies I’d had about fucking Charlie were coming true in this moment. His lips and tongue teased my cockhead, and then he worked to pull me deep down his throat. As much as we were all enjoying the oral bacchanal, we wanted more. At least, I did.

“Fuck,” I said. “I wish we had some damn condoms.”

“I’ve got condoms,” said Charlie, not skipping a beat. “In my backpack.”

“You do?” a surprised Olivia asked.

“Of course. You should always carry condoms with you. Just in case.”

“You’ve gotta watch out for the quiet ones,” Olivia said.

“So, what are you waiting for, Mr. Boy Scout.”

Charlie had, in fact, brought along an unopened variety-pack of rubbers.

“That should hold us for a while,” I said. “What’s the expiration date, Charlie? You been carrying these around for ages?”

“Got ’em just this week. I was … hoping something like this might happen.”

“You’re right,” I said to Olivia. “This shy little fucker has been holding out on us.”

Charlie and I took turns watching the other screw Olivia doggy-style. I wouldn’t have been surprised if her excitable moans alerted Vincent, clear across town. The girl was a screamer. I didn’t think things could get better, then out of the blue Charlie said, “I feel like a sandwich.” For a second, I thought he meant a literal one. After all, we had worked up quite an appetite.

“Corned beef on rye?” I quipped.

“No,” he said quietly. “Charlie on Olivia. And Davy on Charlie.”Olivia and I looked at one another with amused disbelief.

“Okay,” she said. “Coming right up.”

She lay on her back with spread legs and pulled open her pussy lips with her fingers. Quickly, Charlie rolled a fresh condom on his dick, then began thrusting slowly in Olivia’s vagina. I hesitated for a moment, observing the two beautiful coeds as they fucked for the first time. Then I had to be part of the action. I bent on my knees behind Charlie and parted his rear cheeks. Slowly, gently, I let him feel my tongue on his anus for the first time. He stilled entirely, as if his body needed to absorb the sensation. Then he resumed fucking Olivia while I twirled and spiraled my tongue in his hole. Only when I could wait no longer did I stand once more, now ready to partake of Charlie’s ass.

I hovered behind him with my raging erection, slipped on a ribbed condom, and eased slowly into his tight butt hole, using my saliva as lube. We three found a syncopated rhythm that pushed us toward the inevitable climax. Who would have thought that the three of us could get up to such a sexy scene? This was the stuff x-rated dreams are made of, but I didn’t have to pinch myself to know I was awake. Charlie’s ass contracted on my dick, and he whimpered as he shot off inside Olivia’s snatch. Two seconds later, I came like a thunderbolt in his spasming anus.

Afterward, it took us two hours to clean up all the spilled paint in the apartment. But by that time, we were all ready for another bout of sex. And we had many more rounds that summer — only in the comfort of my apartment.

Inevitably it all ended, as good things tend to do. But for the rest of my life, when I smell wet paint, I believe my penis will rise and salute the memory.