Chapter 14

She dropped right off, aided by a surfeit of wine. I lay awake for a long time thinking about this.

The more I thought, the stranger it felt. Would this change my feelings for Emma, or hers for me?

Each question I thought of raised others. I finally got so wound up in it that my brain shut down and I slept.

When I awoke, Emma was already up and I could hear her downstairs. I got up and took a shower, feeling a bit groggy. Downstairs I found Emma and Amy eating toast and coffee. They hadn’t gone out, so I don’t think Emma had told Amy about the decision, which I was already having second thoughts about.

I made myself some cold cereal and toast while they talked between themselves, and I sat down at the table, a third wheel. For the moment.

“Okay,” said Emma, picking up her dishes and putting them in the sink, “we’re off. We’re on a mission. Bagels to be rescued. Wine to be replenished. See you later.”

They were out the door, chattering to each other, and I was left with something that felt like foreboding hanging over me. I gave myself a pep talk. One, it’s not like cheating, Emma will be there. Two, if it gets weird in any way, we can call a halt. I hope she’ll explain that to Amy. Three, what if I turn out to be a dud because it’s not Emma I’m working on. Emma affected me in a very specific way and I think it changed how we made love, what we felt together.

I batted number three around in my head for awhile. With other women before Emma, the sex had been pretty good, I’d been told. They’d nearly always gotten off, often several times.

Plus, Amy didn’t really have much to compare it to, except for Donny, so it was bound to be an improvement.

I eventually decided that it was a fruitless circular argument to over-worry about this. I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll work at it to make sure it is.

I went out and mowed the lawn, which killed thirty minutes, then washed the dishes they’d left in the sink. I’d been thinking about later on an unconscious level, and I realized that condoms were probably the way to go. Emma and I didn’t use them because she was on birth control and felt it was reliable. Emma hadn’t said, but I thought that Amy was, too, but even so a condom would probably be the polite thing to do.

I went upstairs and checked in the bedside table. I had about a half dozen left, more than enough. I found the lube on Emma’s side, next to her dildos, and put it on the table. Okay, all set.

Now just an unknown number of hours to wait until they came back, get sufficiently deep into the wine, and decide that it’s time for the orgy. Or whatever this is.

It hadn’t been that long since Emma and I arrived at that resort and faced each other for the first time in the hotel bedroom. She’d been, literally, a virgin, not even some groping in the dark with a boyfriend. She came in with no expectations, except for the gloomy message her mother had left her, ‘don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.’

Her openness, her willingness to try new things, had been a delight, and she’d taken to sex like a natural. But this was almost a step beyond that, and I wondered at it. I thought most women, even those who had had some sexual experience prior to marriage, would be suspicious of how this thing Emma had proposed would play out. There would certainly be some jealousy involved, perhaps some resentment. Maybe they’d think their husband was enjoying it way too much.

It didn’t seem to worry Emma. She’d said she trusted me, that she loved me and knew that I loved her. She’d be there to supervise and guide. I felt that the two of us were missing something important here, something we’d overlooked, but I couldn’t think what it might be.

I looked around the house, wondering if there were some chores that needed doing so I wouldn’t get trapped in this worry. I didn’t see much, except for the shopping list on the fridge. Emma hadn’t taken it, so I think there’d only be bagels and wine coming back with them.

And as if on cue, I heard the car pull into the garage. They came in as they had gone out, chattering non-stop. Amy did give me a glance out of the corner of her eye, and I was pretty sure I saw a blush there, too.

Yup, bagels and wine only. “You forgot the shopping list, Emma. There were a few things to pick up at the market.”

“I only got the important things. That stuff will wait.”

Actually, it wouldn’t. There were some dinner ingredients that we were out of. I told them that I’d go and get them, but they were busy uncorking the wine. I took the car keys and went off to shop.

I wasn’t gone that long, but long enough for them to go through a half bottle of wine and they were already a bit giddy and giggly. I wondered if this was emotional anesthesia for what they knew was happening later, to calm the nerves.

I had bought some cheese and crackers, so they wouldn’t just have wine in their stomachs, and put them out in front of them on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Jeeves, that was very thoughtful of you. You may go,” said Emma in a particularly dreadful British accent. Amy giggled behind her hand.

“Yes, madam. Shall I feed the giraffe?”

I was just goofing on her stupid British thing, but Amy thought it was hilarious. I thought she was going to spill the wine in her glass all over the couch. Butler or not, I’m not cleaning that up.

Emma had no response, so I retreated back to my worrying in the kitchen.

I put away dishes and rearranged the refrigerator, busywork, trying to slow down my racing brain, but soon there was nothing more that needed attention.

“Kenny, c’mon in here, would you?”

I went in and the two of them looked at me. Amy’s eyes kept darting away, embarrassed.

Emma motioned me to a seat, so I sat.

“I think we’re sufficiently lubricated now. Perhaps we should start.” I swallowed.

“I’ve been worrying about this since last night,” I said. “I’m still very nervous about this. Amy. I need to hear you say it, that you really want to do this. I need to know that you’re fully on board, that you’re not being pushed into this in some way.”

She was quiet for some time, swirling the wine in her glass around as she watched it. “I lay awake for a long while last night, even with all the wine, wondering if this was going to happen, or if I wanted it to.

“I feel like my parents, my church, even my friends lied to me all my life, about marriage, I mean. That it would all be wonderful and that once you were married God would make everything perfect. But that never happened, and I feel cheated. And angry, too. At everybody who fostered that stupid lie.

“Like they fostered the lie about playing with yourself, making yourself feel good. What else have they lied about?

“Anyway, I finally decided that I owe nothing to anyone now, because they perpetuated this falsehood about marital relations and sex in general. I’ve thought a lot about what Emma and I talked about the past few days, and I think she’s right. I need to find out what it’s really like with a caring person so I have something to compare Donny to, to figure out if it’s worth trying to make it work with him.

“So that’s the long answer. Yes. Fully on board.”

“This is probably going to feel somewhat awkward, for the both of us, just because of the circumstances and the participants. And the observer.” I looked at Emma.

“I’m there just because Amy’s right,” said Emma, “I need to be there so I’ll feel like there’s nothing going on beyond what we all agreed to. I’m not sure if I’m just going to sit there and watch, or make suggestions, or even join in. I’ve never done this before so I’ll have to see how it develops. Are you okay with that, Ames?” She nodded.

I said, “Amy, this is an awkward question, but are you on birth control?”

She blushed again. “Funny you bring it up. It’s an absolute no-no in my church, getting in the way of God’s plan. But I thought a lot about this after I agreed to marry Donny. My parents were sure he was the safe choice for me, that he’d make a good father. There was something nagging at me about him and I wasn’t so sure. So I made an appointment with a new Ob-Gyn and got a prescription for birth control. My mother does not, must not, know. After living with Donny for awhile, I’m glad I did it.”

“Okay, good. If it’s all right with you, I’ll use a condom, just to be extra safe. Another thing...”

I cleared my throat. “Another thing, I know you and Emma talked a bit about some of the things we tried, but I don’t know what details she shared. This was all new to her, too, when we got married, and there were a lot of things that frightened her about sex in general, but she was willing to experiment, see how things felt, even if they scared her.

“Is there anything that terrifies you, Amy, that you really don’t want to do?”

Amy took a healthy swig of the wine in her glass. “Until I talked to Emma the past few days, I didn’t even know there were other things you could do. Ordinary sex itself was scary until I’d done it. With Donny, there wasn’t much to it. So I guess I won’t know until I try it.”

“Fair enough. How ‘bout we come up with a safe word, something you shout when it gets to be too much and you want to stop? You have one you use regularly?”

“I’ve never even heard the phrase ‘safe word’ before.”

“It’s a word you choose that wouldn’t come up normally, and when you say it your partner stops what they’re doing. Maybe ‘antelope’?

“Antelope? Then you stop?” I nodded.

“Okay. I guess that makes sense.” She tried the word on. “Antelope.”

I gulped. I’d said everything I could think of that needed saying. There was no avoiding it anymore. I stood up and held out my hand to Amy.

“Are you ready?” Amy smiled shyly and stood up, taking my hand. Emma swallowed the last of her wine and rose also. I led her upstairs, Emma following.

At the top of the stairs I looked at Amy. “Go to your room and bring back the toys Emma got for you.” She looked so embarrassed, as if she wanted to sink into the floor, but avoiding my eyes she went and retrieved them.

I thought that if there were as many as three of us, we should choose the larger bed. The guest room had a double mattress, but ours had a queen-size. We could all fit on it if it turned out that way. I chose that one. There was a chair on the side where Emma could sit and score my performance. She had said she wouldn’t, but I knew that she’d do it unconsciously anyway.

As soon as we stood there, by the foot of the bed, I felt self-conscious again. I shook it off and decided to pretend that it was Emma that I was making love to. I put my arms around Amy’s waist and pulled her in close. “Remember your safe word?”

She nodded, so I leaned down and kissed her, just lips to start, letting my hands rove up and down her back. After a minute I added a little tongue and she jumped, but then tentatively darted her tongue out, too. I let my hands fall to her butt and squeezed the cheeks of her ass. She made a little whimper.

“You tell me if I’m moving too fast, okay?” I kissed her ear and pulled at the lobes with my lips, then ran my tongue over it. She said, “Oh!”

I moved my hands a bit closer to where her thighs joined her ass and pressed my fingers in slowly as I nibbled my way from her ear down the side of her neck to where it joins her shoulder.

She had her lips partway open and I could hear the air being sucked in and out. Moving my hands slowly off her ass and up over her hips and waist, I reached in and took one breast in my palm and squeezed. I was surprised at how firm they were. They were a larger size than Emma’s but a smaller cup, and they felt great.

“That feels really nice, Amy, I like how they are under my hands.”

She didn’t answer, she looked terrified, like she’d gotten in too deep. But she didn’t use her safe word.

I went back to her mouth, kissing her, letting my tongue roam, while I reached up and, by feel alone, unbuttoned her shirt. When I got to the last button, I could feel her trembling. Again by feel, I pulled the shirt out of her waistband and rolled it over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

She had on a plain cotton bra, quite utilitarian, exposing just enough of the top of her breast that I lowered my head and kissed and licked the exposed part of each. She was making thin little squeaks, and was probably unaware of it.

“I have to see these, Amy. Wait.” I reached behind and got the bra clasp unhooked on the second try. She looked like she was trying to keep it close to her, but I pulled it off her arms gently and let it fall to the floor.

She really did have nice tits. She had taken pains to cover them up, hide even the hint of them from others, but they were beautiful.

“Damn. These are gorgeous, lovely. Emma, don’t you agree, beautiful boobs?”

“Nice, Amy,” said Emma, “I’m a little jealous. They’re bigger than mine.”

I leaned in and kneaded one in my hand while I sucked the nipple of the other. I spent some time on one, then switched, then flipped back to the first one. I took one nipple between my teeth, not too hard, and pulled until it snapped back. She said, “Oh!” I did it to the other one and she said the same thing.

“Is that too painful, or a little arousing, Amy? Is that something you like?”

“I don’t know yet. It doesn’t really hurt, but I don’t know if I like it yet.”

“We’ve got all day to figure it out. I’ll try it again later. But now...”

She was wearing loose shorts, like Bermuda shorts, lots of room so they didn’t hug her figure too closely. But first I knelt down and unlaced her shoes and took them off. Then I reached up and kissed her stomach just above her navel, and licked my way slowly downward.

I had to stop when I reached her waistband, just for a moment while I loosened the button holding it closed and the zipper. Above me she was saying, very quietly, “Oh. Oh.”

I put my thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down as slowly as I could while I looked up at her. Eye contact can be very erotic, letting the woman know you want to see how this is affecting her, paying attention to her feelings. My buddy Adam, who fancied himself a ladies man, passed that tidbit on to me in high school. I thought it was corny, and told him so, but it turns out he was more right than wrong, and women responded to it.

So I looked her in the eye as the shorts slipped over her hips and fell to her ankles. She was blinking rapidly, not sure what to do or say, no longer in control. I returned my attention to her waist. She had on plain cotton panties, but at least they had some shape to them.

I picked up the licking where I’d left it off and flicked my tongue back and forth as I moved lower. When I reached her panty line, I hooked my thumb in the waistband and moved it lower at the speed of my descending tongue. Above me, she was saying, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear it, “Oh, God, oh, God.”

When they got low enough I could see she was unshaved, not even trimmed. It wasn’t a full bush, but there was enough of it to show she’d never shaved. When I moved the panties a bit lower, there was no longer anything to hold them up and they slipped to the floor.

I kissed my way down, awkwardly because the angle was all wrong, and poked my tongue at the beginning of her slit. It was clear she’d never had anyone do this to her, because she sounded shocked. But it was mixed in with some feelings she hadn’t encountered before. “Oh, wait, what ... I don’t ... Oh!”

I stopped with a final kiss. “I need to see the back, Amy. Turn around.” She was so embarrassed that I think she was trying to come up with a way of covering her butt with her hands, but then she’d be exposing her pussy to Emma. She wasn’t sure which was worse. So she clutched her hands in front of her, stepped out of her clothes and turned her back to me.

I had been right when I’d seen her in a bathing suit at the beach. Cute butt, round and very firm, definitely worth squeezing. “This is gorgeous, Amy, it’s really round, great muscle tone. Emma, did you see this?”

Emma confirmed that it was an excellent butt. “Amy,” I said, “humor me, I’ve got to pay some attention to this. Just stand there.” I kissed the cheeks of her ass all over, then went back and licked it. I had one hand on the inside of her thigh and I brushed it up her leg until it stopped at her ass cheek and ran the tips of my fingers between her legs very lightly.

“Oh, my God, it’s so sensitive!”

“It’s beautiful, Amy, and I love getting my tongue on there, it feels so wonderful. Face the bed and put your hands on it, bend at the waist. Please. Do this for me, I have to see this.”

She did so, and looked back over her shoulder as if to say, “Are you sure?”, then put her hands on the bed.

“Like that, Amy. Put your legs a little further apart. There.”

It was quite different from Emma’s because of the hair, but women had had hair on their twats for millennia and men were used to it. I always thought that the hair hid the beauty of what was underneath, but maybe that’s just me. Amy’s was a very nice pussy.

I wasn’t sure what she was going to think about this. This would be very far out of her experiences, but there’s a first time for everything. I grabbed a butt cheek in each hand and kneaded them while I pushed them apart, then ran my tongue slowly down the crack, back and forth.

“Oh! Jesus, what are you doing? It feels funny. I don’t know...”

“Its going to feel really good in a second, Amy, please trust me.”

“Listen to him, Ames,” chimed in Emma, “I think you’re really going to like this.”

I continued my tongue tour, and when I reached her asshole I poked at it with my tongue, trying to push it in. I only spent a few seconds there, because I knew it would be feeling strange and she had to get used to this slowly, so I continued a bit lower and flicked it back and forth on the perineum, which got an “Oh, my God!” Progress.

And while I was in the neighborhood, I dropped by to visit her pussy, trying to force my way in. It felt different from Emma’s because of the hair, but I didn’t have time to ponder the difference because she started squirming. “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

“Is that hurting you, Amy, or is that a different “Oh” than the one you used just now?”

“It’s ... I don’t know, it feels funny, but good, I think.”

“I believe we can improve on that in a minute, but stand up for me now.”

She stood up tentatively and looked at me. “I want to feel your body against mine, play with yours while you play with mine. But I’m dressed. Take my clothes off.”

She looked shocked. In the chair, Emma suppressed a smile. Amy said, “But you can probably do it faster, why do I...”

“Because part of the fun of people making love is finding the skin hidden under the clothes. It’s erotic to undress your partner while you’re touching them. Emma and I do that. You try.”

She looked like she was being asked to run naked through Sunday Services. This went against everything she had been taught. I was not her husband and, I suppose, even if I were it would probably still be considered wrong to undress a man.

But she swallowed her reservations and started to unbutton my shirt. When she pulled it out of my pants, I shrugged it onto the floor. She looked uncertain of what to do next. “Probably shoes,” I told her, “because it’s easier to get the rest off when they’re gone.”

She nodded as if saying, “Of course, I knew that.” She unlaced the shoes and pulled them off, placing them under the bed. Now she was down to what she’d been avoiding. She swallowed and worked my belt loose, then the pants button, then – verrr-y tentatively, careful not to press too hard – the zipper on my jeans.

My jeans just sat there on my hips, unmoving. They were a bit tight, to be sure, and needed some encouragement, but she was trying to avoid touching anything she didn’t have to. I waited her out. Emma sat in her chair watching with a raised eyebrow.

Eventually, she had to reach up and put her fingertips in the pockets and pushed downward. They slipped over my hips and fell to my knees. “You’ll have to pull them off, Amy, they’re too snug.” I lifted a leg by way of encouragement.

She figured it out and got them off my legs and pushed them aside, leaving me in my shorts with a very obvious stiffy raising a tent. I waited again. She was fighting it, I could see, her years of dutiful training telling her no, no, but her recent epiphany telling her she had to do this.

Finally she took the bottom hems in two hands and pulled downward. It took a little effort because my stiffy was making it difficult, but the shorts slipped over it and fell loosely to the floor.

My dick sprang out, stiff and pointing up.

“Oh, my goodness!” She was genuinely surprised.

“What?” asked Emma.

“It’s, well, different from Donny’s. Longer, a little wider. I thought they were all the same size.”

“Nope,” said Emma, “some are smaller, some are bigger or thicker or both. Ken’s is – well, I don’t have any first-hand experience to compare, just pictures – maybe a little longer than average.”

“Does this ... fit where it’s supposed to?”

“Very well,” said Emma, “really well.”

“Touch it, Amy, put your hand around it and stroke it.”

It was patently obvious that she had never done this before, touched anyone’s privates but her own, and that probably only in cotton gloves. She was afraid of what would happen. I’m not sure what, maybe a lightning bolt from above, her mother’s voice from downstairs, something. So it took her a moment, but she tentatively brushed it with her fingertips.