Chapter 16

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“But we’re almost home!”

“Then I guess I’ll have to be efficient.”

“But I ... oh god, Kathryn...”

After a somewhat anticlimactic coupling against the wall, they’d showered, dressed, and left his apartment a post-bacchanalian ruin that he still wasn’t sure how to deal with. His mattress wasn’t quite a lost cause, but it was most certainly in need of a deep cleaning.

Moments after retrieving the car, she curled up in the passenger seat and fell asleep, leaving the task of navigating out of the city and back to her lakeside estate to him. Keeping his attention on the road was difficult, and not just due to fatigue; his mind was reeling over the events of the previous twenty-four hours.

She said she’d agree to a date on her terms, but how could I imagine that she meant a ménage-à-trois with my closest friend ... who also happens to be an avowed lesbian? I know Kathryn’s had sex with women, obviously including Irina, and somewhere in the back of my mind I guess I considered her hooking up with Wendy as a possibility, especially since that day on the boat, but I never thought I’d be involved. Nor do I have any idea what all this says about us. I finally reveal that I love her, things get weird — granted, that was as much my fault as hers — and the first thing she does is set up a threesome? How am I supposed to interpret that? Was immediately proceeding to an outrageous sexual adventure her way of reminding me that all I am to her is one of those adventures? I’m more or less prepared for that to be her answer, even though it’s not the one I want to hear, but at the moment her motivations are more than a little opaque.

He gripped the wheel, trying to focus on the road before him. I’m also struggling to understand what Wendy got out of it, other than orgasms and sating her curiosity about the two of us being together. That she desired Kathryn was clear from the start, and obviously the attraction was mutual. But she did so much more than I’d ever guessed she would, and the whole night and morning were like exposing a raw emotional nerve that we were all too afraid to talk about. I felt like we were on the verge of something truly dangerous, but I have no idea what it was, or whether or not we crossed some sort of line. I’m going to have to talk to Wendy about it, though I should probably give her a few days to process everything. Frankly, I could use some more time myself, because I’m so very confused.

It was while he was contemplating just how long an interstitial period might be ideal when Kathryn woke up, sighed, stretched, leaned over, and started casually unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

His climax filled her mouth about a minute after he pulled into the courtyard. The engine was still running as she detached, licked her lips, and gleefully exited the car.

He was dutifully recording and refiling bottles (albeit at a much slower pace than usual) while Kathryn napped. He was close enough to being done that, if he’d been at full efficiency, he probably could mark the end of phase one. But his body wasn’t up to the task. His mind, however, continued to race at breakneck speed, constructing and then discarding increasingly unlikely paths forward.

“Need any help?”

Kathryn was standing in the entrance to the cellar ... naked, sleepy, and incomprehensibly beautiful.

“Need? No. But I’m always grateful for your company, though I feel like I should remind you that it’s fifty-five degrees in here.”

“Did you forget that I promised you sex in the cellar? You’ll just have to warm me up.”

“Now?”

“No, let’s save that for when I have more energy. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

This feels so ... comfortable, he mused as they worked, idly chatting about nothing in particular while the specter of their date hovered overhead. Eventually, their conversation submitted to the inevitable.

“So, did you enjoy yourself?”

“I feel like ‘enjoy’ is a grossly insufficient description for what I experienced. It was as unbelievable as it was unexpected.”

“Was it really all that unexpected that Wendy and I might fool around if given the opportunity? Or that the two of you might?”

“Again, I’m not sure ‘fool around’ is how I’d describe what we did. As for you two, let’s say I’ve pictured it without actually considering whether or not it would happen outside the confines of my perverted imagination.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And did it live up to your fantasies?”

“It obliterated them. Here’s a better question: did it live up to yours?”

“Mmmmmm,” she purred, “it absolutely did. That girl has has an amazing tongue, and quite the collection of toys. Plus: caramel-covered apples!”

He chuckled at the memory. “She said the same about your tongue. By the way, and just so you know, we’re very close to the end of logging the cellar’s contents. That said, my efficiency is dropping with every word of this conversation.”

“That’s okay, because I’m a little revved up, and we might need to make some time to do more interesting things sooner rather than later. But before we head upstairs to be inefficient with each other, I have to ask the most important question of all: how did you feel about having sex with Wendy?”

“I still have no idea. Obviously, the physical part of it was beyond anything I could have hoped for, but I’m still trying to process the rest. It’s one of those things that I never really thought would happen, despite the fact that we’d talked about it, and even while it was happening I couldn’t shake that feeling. I suppose, in retrospect, it was the only way it could happen; I wouldn’t have had the foggiest idea how to pull the trigger, aside from drinking too much and just going for it, and suspect she felt the same way. So I guess we both have to thank you.”

“But...?”

He sighed, for she continued to read him like a book. “But ... I’m also not sure that I’d characterize what happened as Wendy and I being together. It was pretty clearly all three of us, or at least it was whenever I wasn’t sleeping on the sofa so you two could destroy my bedding. I don’t have much experience with threesomes, and I understand both of you have more, but I have to believe the vibe was different than it would’ve been were it just Wendy and me.” Kathryn was staring at the wall, her brow furrowed and her expression pensive. After a few minutes of silence, he inquired, “What did you think about it?”

“The threesome, or you and Wendy?” Her voice seemed oddly distant.

“Both, I suppose.”

“It’s been a long while since I’ve been with more than one person at the same time, and this was the first time a man I cared about was directly involved. Most of those memories are extremely positive, and this will absolutely join them. As for you and Wendy, it went pretty much as I’d hoped. You two are ridiculously, hilariously compatible, aside from the rather glaring exception. Anyway, I still think that, one day...” She drifted off.

“... ‘one day,’ what? That we’ll do it again, you mean?”

When her focus snapped back to him, he was dismayed to see that she didn’t seem altogether pleased. He wondered at the reason. “That you and Wendy will have a chance to be together without the interference of a third party, of course.”

“I don’t think either of us were exactly averse to the third party in question.” It was an attempt at levity, but the effort was strained, and he knew it.

“I do remember her insisting that my presence was the key to round two, you know.”

Why does she sound annoyed? “I don’t think she meant it in a mercenary way, I think she was just expressing her attraction to you.”

“Well, I’m attracted to her too, but that’s not the point.”

The point? I must have missed it too. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Her shoulders slumped. Whatever strange tension was building within her, it fell away. “Never mind. I guess I need more time to think about it.” She handed him a bottle. Puzzled, he took it and went back to work, silently noting that her desire to go upstairs and have sex had been forgotten within the space of a few minutes.

For another hour or so they worked, mostly in silence and wreathed by the vague discomfort that silence caused. Eventually, she stopped handing him bottles and looked around. “Are we done?”

He looked up and confirmed her guess. “Stage one is over!”

“Oh thank god,” she sighed. Her head slumped until her chin touched her chest.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Luke, I have a law degree. I’ve spent the last month as a bored housewife handing you things.”

Ouch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were so unhappy. I could’ve done it myself, or we could have changed roles, or...”

“No, no, I’m sorry I snapped at you. It was just a transparent excuse to spend time with you, anyway.”

“Well, that’s okay, then,” he joked, privately observing that it didn’t seem okay at all, at least not to her.

“But even you have to admit that it was pretty boring work.”

“Not the most exciting, no. If it makes you feel better, the next stage is even worse.”

“How could it be worse?”

“What I have to do next — source and purchase wine — isn’t something that you can help me with.”

“So ... you mean I can’t work with you anymore?” To his relief, she looked disappointed.

“You can, but the other thing that needs doing is moving bottles around to make room for the new arrivals.”

“Great,” she groused, “I’ve graduated from conveyor belt to freight truck.”

“I repeat that you don’t have to keep helping.”

“But then I won’t have anything to do, which is exactly how I ... no, I’ll stay, but I’m going to ask for a raise.”

What was she about to say? “Well, let’s hear your salary demands.”

Suddenly, she stood up and reached for his hand. “Here’s my first demand: stop working. Come upstairs and hold me.” Despite his growing anxiety at her odd behavior, he followed. As soon as they reached the bed, she efficiently undressed him, shed her own clothing, and laid down behind him, wrapping her limbs around his body. Puzzled, and unsure just what it was she was seeking, he tried to focus on their most pleasurable points of contact, especially the softness of her breasts as they pressed into his back.

“I’m sorry, Luke. I know we were supposed to be a tangled pile of sweat and fluids right now. But my head’s in chaos and I can’t concentrate. If it goes on for too much longer, I might have to ask you to fuck it out of me, but for now I just want to hold you for a while. Is that alright?”

“Our usual athletics aside, I do like a lot more about us than just sex, you know.” Why did I say ‘like’ when we both know that I meant ‘love’? “I’m happy to be present for whatever you need.”

Her encircling arm tightened, but she didn’t respond. He could tell by her breathing that she wasn’t drifting into sleep. Instead, she seemed fidgety and uncomfortable. As in the cellar, he felt an unaccountable tension building between them, but he remained utterly baffled as to its cause. It started when I said that I wasn’t sure that what the three of us did gave me much of an idea what it would be like to be alone with Wendy. But why would that bother her? She’s been our principal cheerleader all along. Though he rolled the question around and around in his mind, he never settled on an answer.

Eventually, her hand drifted down to his cock and stroked it to hardness. Rolling him onto his back, she mounted his shaft and rode him until he came, treating herself to several orgasms along the way. But instead of the usual continuation or escalation, she collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. His erection slowly softened inside her cum-drenched channel, and her silence lingered. Several minutes later, he realized that she was asleep.

When they finally awoke it was dark outside. Whatever she’d been stewing about seemed, at first, to be behind her, and they animatedly discussed their date and its orgiastic aftermath while he made dinner. But she dismissed his invitation to talk about the wine he’d opened, said nothing (positive or negative) about the veal braciolone he’d prepared (and about which he was rather proud), and fell back into silence as they cleaned. Dropping the last few utensils into the dishwasher, he turned to see her standing with her arms folded across her chest, staring out the window. Her face wore an embittered frown. Not knowing what else he could do, he wrapped his arms around her. Though she acknowledged the gesture by resting her hands on his forearms, she didn’t relax into him the way she usually did, and for the first time within memory he didn’t tumesce at the feeling of her body against his.

About ten minutes of silent standing later, she turned, kissed him, and disappeared into the bathroom. Shrugging, he disrobed and got into bed, but when she returned she gently put off his tentative sexual advances, protesting that she was too fatigued and head-scrambled for it to be any good, and promising him a resumption of their usual schedule in the morning. Moments later, she was unconscious.

Though he was little less tired than her, it was long before he was able to find his own path into slumber.

She kept her promise, enthusiastically fellating him to a spectacular orgasm within moments of him waking up, but when he recovered enough energy to reach for her and return the favor, she stopped him with a smile full of erotic possibility. “Later. Go work out, or run, or whatever you feel like doing. Then shower, throw on some trunks — or don’t; it doesn’t really matter, because they’re not going to stay on for long — and meet me by the pool. I’ll provide breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I might even feed you as well.”

Intrigued and relieved at the return of her usual playfulness, he chose to use their basement gym rather than go for a run, deeming stamina a more important thing to preserve than strength. Though I wonder just how long she’ll want to have sex before she puts a stop to it. Bill’s coming home tomorrow, which means we’ll be sleeping in separate beds tonight. I have a feeling it’s going to be an even more difficult parting than usual, at least for me. He added more weights and pushed himself harder than usual, sweating away his anxiety and doubt, but not a single molecule of his guilt.

When he arrived at the pool, Kathryn was nowhere to be found. He was just about to check if she was still inside when she emerged from the house, gloriously naked, carrying bowls of freshly cut fruit and carafes of fruit juice chilling in Champagne buckets

“Did I taste that bad this morning?” he quipped as she set both on a nearby table.

“As delicious as always, but when it comes to semen I’m afraid my vaunted connoisseurship is actually a slutty lack of discernment. If only my taste in wine was so catholic, because we could save a lot of money. Now, if you start taking medicine I might actually protest the taste, but it still won’t stop me from sucking your cock, and as long as I’m doing that I can’t imagine what could possibly keep me from swallowing. If I like someone enough to give them head in the first place, that decision’s already been made.”

“You’ve really never sucked someone off and then decided that they didn’t deserve to finish in your mouth?”

“Luke, you’re not getting it. It’s not about what they want, it’s about what I want. Speaking of which...” She eyed his absurdly tented trunks; he’d expanded to full length as she talked. “I don’t suppose you’d like to garnish my breakfast, would you?”

“Seriously?”

“What part of my little confession was unclear? Drop ‘em.” A bit stunned, he lowered his swimsuit. She practically salivated at the sight, spooning a half-dozen sliced strawberries into a small bowl, then falling to her knees and inhaling his erection, sucking with fierce purpose.

“Holy mother of... Christ, Kathryn, I’m going to fall over if you don’t ease up a little.” She ignored his protest, reaching for her bowl of fruit with one hand and clawing at his buttocks with the other. In mere moments she had him on the brink, and he realized that all the casual displays of skill with which he’d become familiar weren’t even close to what she was actually capable of. As she proved the other day, she can tease me for hours without making me come, but as she’s proving right now, she can also force me to climax without even breaking a sweat. “It’s ... I’m...”

Tearing her lips from his shaft, she pointed his spear at the bowl and pumped with her other hand. Streaks of translucent semen spattered against the vivid red fruit. Despite the rapidity and ferocity of his orgasm, he couldn’t help but shake his head at the lurid absurdity of covering fresh fruit with his ejaculate. But then he watched her greedily consume every last morsel, moaning with theatrical satisfaction despite the depravity, and any doubts as to the propriety of such deviancies disappeared into the ether.

“Could you oil my back?” She was lying face down on a lounger while he stared at her, as enraptured as he’d been when he’d first seen her in a microscopic bikini.

“You’re in full shade. I don’t think you need sunscreen.”

“It’s not sunscreen, it’s oil, and you’re missing the point. I want your hands on me. The oil’s just an excuse. And by the way, if you want to use the fact that you’re rubbing oil into my naked body to excuse some untoward behavior, I’m probably not going to complain.”

“Right, of course. How foolish of me.”

“You said it, not me. Though I can assure you I thought it.”

Chuckling, he uncapped an unlabeled bottle of dark, vividly scented oil and drizzled it over her elegantly arched back. She shivered a bit, sighing as he began massaging it into her skin. Up, down, and around he moved, not sparing a single inch of her exposed flesh. For a few minutes she propped herself up on her elbows, allowing him access to her breasts — her swollen nipples required an extensive and detailed application of oil — and then sank back down as he moved to her legs, parting them so he could run his hands up the interior of her thighs to her drenched and overheated center. But when he began to probe inward, she closed them again.

Intrigued by her prompting, he poured a bit more oil on her buttocks and worked them in earnest, squeezing and parting, paying special attention to the seam in between. His fingers moved towards her anus, gathering excess oil and teasing her sphincter with a fingertip. Her sigh turned to a groan of arousal as the ring surrendered, and he pushed his digit several inches into her ass.

Her groans were accompanied by squirming and unsubtly rolling hips as he moved his finger in and out, soon adding a second, and then a third. She shuddered, hissing his name as she climaxed. He didn’t relent, thrusting his fingers in and out of her increasingly pliant rear entrance, and a few minutes later she came again. He kept on working her hole, and the involuntary oscillations of her pelvis responded in kind, rearing back against his penetrating fingers.

Two more orgasms later she was gripping the sides of her lounge chair. “For god’s sake, Luke, fuck me. Stop teasing and get your dick in my ass.”

Impishly, he removed his fingers and, instead of complying, bent his lips to her entrance and tongued the no longer impossibly tight ring. Her shrieks echoed off the concrete as he circled and probed, but now it was his turn to rear back in surprise.

“What kind of oil is this?”

Though she was writhing with pleasure, she managed an answer. “Styrian pumpkin oil.”

“What? You’re telling me that I’ve just rubbed about fifty dollars worth of rare culinary oil all over you?”

“Doesn’t it taste good?”

“Of course it does, but...”

“To be honest, I was kinda hoping it’d entice you to rim me, but then you did that thing with your fingers and I got too horny to wait. Since you’ve already started, though...” With an unsteady hand, she grabbed the bottle of oil and handed it to him. Shaking his head, he poured another stream onto her puckered hole and resumed his analingus with even more enthusiasm than before. He discovered that her tendency to climax from anal penetration wasn’t restricted to penises and their analogues, but that it could also be accomplished by a sufficiently rigid tongue, and fifteen minutes later he’d reduced her to a quivering mass of orgasmic jelly.

Sensing that the time was right, he rose over her and slipped his painfully erect cock into her nether hole. “Fuck, Luke, yesssssss!” she wailed as he bottomed out, pumping her well-primed orifice with fierce intensity and focusing on his own almost desperate need to come. A few dozen thrusts later, he buried his full length in her ass and released, filling her colon with his seed. She pounded the lounger with her fists, convulsing through climax after climax.

When he was empty, he blanketed her oil-slicked body with his and nibbled on her ear. The summer heat rendered it impossible for him to tell the difference between oil and their mingled sweat, but if either of them minded, it was far from apparent. Moments later, his hips were rising and falling once more, taking up a smooth rhythm as he fucked her ass. Her enthusiastic encouragement assured him that it would be a long while before either of them were willing to let him abandon her snug hole.

“Jesus, how much sperm did you leave in me?”

Thick, milky whiteness oozed from her reddened rear entrance. “I can only tell you that I feel about ten pounds lighter.”

“Mmmmm, sounds delicious. Hey, do you want to dash back to the kitchen and get me the leftover fruit?”

“You’re kidding me right now.”

“Actually, yes I am,” she replied with a laugh. “That would be going way too far, wouldn’t it?” With two fingers, she transferred his cream from her ass to her mouth, sucking them clean and then repeating the motion. Despite its oversensitivity after long and aggressive deployment, his spear showed no signs of flagging.

“Luke,” she murmured, “there’s something I have to say to you.”

“Of course. What is it?” After several more hours of increasingly athletic coupling, filling all three of her orifices again and again, they were relaxing on the same lounge chair. She was on top of him, facing the sky. His hands covered her breasts, idly massaging their fullness. He was far too relaxed and satisfied to feel even the slightest tension at what might otherwise have been an ominous conversational opener.