Chapter 2

I dropped by the Ettinger abode around 7:30 Friday night and, true to his promise, Pete was nowhere to be found.

Laura let me in and offered me refreshments. I asked for a Diet Coke and she got herself one as well.

"Did Pete discuss with you our little conversation of last night?" I asked her.

"If you're asking how much I know about what he told you, I think I know all of it. I mean, I guess there's no telling what Pete might have said to you that he didn't want to tell me, but as far as I know, he told me all of it."

"You know why I'm here?"

"Pete said you wanted to hear it from me, that I was on board with the Master Plan."

"And I take it that you are. That you both are ... comfortable with me photographing you, making love."

"Fucking," Laura said.

"What? Oh! Yeah. You want to be plain-spoken about it."

"We will be making love," Laura said, "but when somebody's recording the whole thing on a video camera, it seems more appropriate to just call it 'fucking.'"

"Part of the reason I wanted to talk to you," I told her, "was to make sure you didn't have any illusions about my ahh ... motives. What Pete told me was that I am not going to be an active participant, but that he was hoping my presence would be ... inspirational, for you."

"Pete has noticed that the only times in our sexual life together that I've gotten off completely have been the times we had ... other people in the room with us."

"Yes."

"What he told you was true," Laura said. "And it has caused a lot of pain for Pete. He wants me to have these earth-shattering orgasms, like in the erotic stories. I tell him I love him, and love to make love to him, even without the big finish, but for him, it's not enough."

"Surely you would prefer, also, to experience orgasms more ... regularly," I said.

She smiled. "Yeah, I would. But when I tell Pete it isn't the end of the world if I don't make it, I'm telling him the truth."

"What about you, though?" I asked. "Do you share the theory that my being in the room, manning the camera, will be a turn-on for you?"

"Oh, it'll be a turn-on, all right. Whether it causes me to have an orgasm, I can't predict for certain."

"I want you to understand that this isn't some kind of altruism going on here, in my case," I told her. "I agreed to do this on two conditions: that you convinced me it was something you both wanted, and that you fully understand I'm doing it for myself."

She grinned broadly. "Because you want to see me naked?" she said.

"Very much," I said. "And because I want to see you open your legs and accept your lover and I want to see Pete's big cock sliding home."

"How did you know Pete has a big ... Oh! Yeah, the shower at the club."

"I want to see you naked and fucking and maybe going down on him —- the whole works. But you need to understand that I'll be hard as stone the whole time. And I'll be shaking so hard I probably will mess up your home movie."

"Don't worry," Laura said, laughing. "that camera's got all sorts of features that will keep the image steady in spite of everything."

"You know Pete doesn't want me to, like, participate in this in any way, directly," I told her.

"I assumed that," she said. "Pete hasn't ever brought up that kind of scenario. I don't think he'd be too thrilled if I raised the question, either. But, keep in mind, the two past incidents Pete told you about didn't really involve my being stimulated by anybody besides him. We both fondled the girl —- my old roomy —- but Pete and I are both secure in the belief that he's the one who lit my fire that night. He lit hers, too."

"I hope this works for you," I told her. "I really do."

"It's going to be a blast, either way," Laura said. "Trust me, I'm looking forward to it, with or without the orgasm."

"Just curious: Have you ever, you know, consulted an expert about this problem? A sex therapist, maybe?"

"Yes," she said. "And the therapist told me exactly what I knew she would. I need to be relaxed, receptive, patient. I need lots of foreplay, and a considerate lover capable of postponing his own gratification for a reasonable period, so that I can make it.

"Well, Adam, I've had all those things. Pete's a most considerate lover; he's got a big hard cock; he's patient with me to a fault; he'll eat me for hours if I want him to, and he hasn't got a quick trigger. A woman couldn't ask for a better shot than I get. But, sorry. No brass ring!"

"Anything I can do —- short of joining in -— that might increase your chances?" I asked her.

"Maybe you could get naked with us," she said, grinning. After all, the other times we had third parties in the room, they were naked, too."

"Maybe you'd better run that one by Pete. I don't think it's something he's envisioning."

"He'll go along with it if I ask him to," she said.

"You're really serious, then?"

Her eyes fixed on mine. "About you getting naked with us? Oh, yeah. I'm serious."

I couldn't resist a postscript. "I'm afraid, after Pete, seeing me naked won't be that much of a turn-on for you," I said.

"Oh, Adam, really! Look at it this way: I've got smallish breasts," Laura said, "but you've heard that old saying, 'Anything more than a mouthful is a waste?'"

She giggled. "Maybe the same thing is true of penises."

The image produced in my mind by her teasing statement gave me something that our earlier discussion had not produced: an instant erection. I think Laura was watching for it. At any rate, she noticed. "Looks to me like more than a mouthful," she said.

I blushed.

Laura didn't.

It amazed me that a woman so comfortable and carefree about sexual matters was having difficulty with experiencing orgasms.

"You're really serious ... about my taking off my clothes?" I asked her again.

"Utterly," she said. "And don't worry, I'll clear it with Pete in advance."

"Any chance I could maybe obtain my own copy of this movie?" I asked her.

"I don't think giving you your own copy would be advisable or wise," she said, "but you can come over and watch it with us, after."

"Just don't forget you made that offer," I told her.

I got up to go and, after she had escorted me almost to the door, Laura asked me to wait. She left the room and came back a moment later with a small but elaborate digital camera and an instruction manual. "Get familiar with the operation of this thing," she said. "It's pretty simple, but, hey, we want everything first-rate: focus, lighting, backgrounds, the works."

"I'll practice operating it while naked," I said. "When is this event scheduled?"

"Tomorrow night, after dinner," she said. "Saturday nights are best for ahh, strenuous activities, because we can all sleep in on Sunday. You're invited to dinner, and bring your pajamas so you can spend the night. We're liable to be up late."

"What about our tennis date?"

"Pete's already called in to cancel. I hope you can break the bad news to your prospective partner."

"You really expect to be too tired to play Sunday morning?"

"I expect to be busy reviewing my debut in non-tripod-mounted digital porn. And if your cinematography is up to expectations, after we all see the film, maybe we'll be up, so to speak, to make an on-the-spot sequel."

I went into the office for a few hours early Saturday, but long before my appointed arrival for still-another dinner at the Ettingers, I had carefully studied their camera and satisfied myself that I wouldn't botch the job of immortalizing their copulation.

I even deliberately jiggled the camera incessantly while filming various in-house targets, after which, reviewing the result, I saw for myself that their little digital wonder was remarkably capable of smoothing out a nervous cameraman's shaky photography.

I was ready. Picturing my upcoming assignment in my mind's eye, I sprung another first-class erection and reflected that, at least in a sense, Pete and Laura's camera was still going to be held by a tripod.

That evening when I got to their apartment, Laura met me at the front door and thanked me for still-another bottle of cheap wine. No flowers this trip.

"C'mon," she said. "Pete's in the bedroom. We're all going to take off our clothes now and have dinner naked."

"Now?" I said, more than a little shaken by the prospect. I had expected that we would ease into this whole thing very gradually over the next two hours or so.

"It's okay," she said. "Dinners ready and we're not having anything fried. I'm not trying to shake you up, Adam. We just thought it would give us all a chance to relax. And we won't have any belt marks or elastic marks on our nekkid bodies!"

"You guys are too weird by half," I said.

"Hey, don't blame Pete. It was all my idea. Actually, I wanted to meet you at the front door naked, but we were afraid you'd drop the camera."

Five minutes after arriving, I found myself completely nude in the company of the also-nude Pete and Laura Ettinger. Laura was every bit as tasty looking as I had anticipated, and I felt myself, involuntarily, becoming semi-tumescent. For the nonce, at least, Junior was filling out but still pointing more down than up, and thus I was getting slightly more credit from Mother Nature than I otherwise would have.

Pete's hammer, in contrast, remained entirely flaccid, but it was still about the size that I could expect to attain only at full arousal.

Laura, gorgeous, totally at ease and seemingly oblivious to both our protuberant penises, led us back into the dining room area and began serving dinner.

I tried not to stare, but I was enthralled. She had smallish breasts, as advertised, but they were beautifully formed and crowned with large, puffy, eminently lickable areola. Her vagina was completely, completely shaved and her labia were obscenely prominent.

I rushed to the dining room and took my seat at the table before my precise level of interest could be observed by Pete and Laura.

Dinner was delicious and afterward, still at the table, we lingered over second glasses of wine. Pete and Laura were cool about the nudity thing and, after awhile, I began to relax as well.

"You have a nice body, Adam," Laura said at one point, even though, mercifully, most of my nice body was hidden by the tablecloth at that moment.

"Your body is beyond description," I responded. It was nothing but the truth. I wanted her so badly at that moment that I could taste that freshly shaven pussy from across the room.

"She's always shaved that thang," Pete said in an exaggerated southern accent. "First time I saw it in college, I thought I'd accidentally hooked up with some high school freshman, masquerading as a coed!"

"He said it looked like his fourteen-year-old sister," Laura said, laughing. "Of course, I asked him when he'd seen his sister's cooze, right up close like that."

"I didn't even care if she was fourteen," Pete said. "I just had a brain freeze, trying to decide what I wanted to put in there first!"

"I guess there weren't any wrong choices," I said.

"No, there weren't," Laura said, "but all of Pete's choices that night turned out to be memorable."

"We didn't get married for another year and a half after that," Pete said, "but Laura was my last woman, right from that night. Well. With the exception I already told you about."

"And I knew this was a guy I would try to hang on to," she said.

"I envy you your relationship," I told them sincerely. "Here I am your same age and I've got nobody. Nothing going for me in the romance department at all."

"Well, it's not like you're pushing fifty," Pete said. "There's plenty of time. We got married pretty young."

"In a fever," Laura added.

Pete turned serious. "You know when I asked her to marry me, Adam?" he said. Aware that I, of course, didn't know, he continued: "A few days after that little threesome we had with Laura's roomy."

"He was waiting for me to have an orgasm," Laura said.

"That sounds dumb, probably," Pete said, "but I admit it. As crazy about Laura as I was right from the start, it really fucked me up that I couldn't give her a good come. Hell, Adam, you know how that goes. It's isn't altruism so much as male ego. You figure if you can't bring this incredible woman off like fireworks on the Fourth of July, you must not be much of a man."

"He makes it sound like he was just thinking of himself," Laura said, reaching over to touch Pete's arm. "The fact is, he really just wanted to bring me the best sex."

"Whether I was just ego-driven or the ultimate considerate male, it worried the hell out of me that Laura couldn't make it —- ever. So that night when I got her off, big-time, with the other girl, I figured that we'd had a breakthrough.

"I also worried about whether Laura might have some negative reaction, the morning after, so to speak, because I'd done her roomy. I felt like I needed to let her know, immediately, that she was the only one I wanted. So I proposed."

"And then he found out that his little problem with my orgasms wasn't solved after all," Laura said. "What he keeps leaving out of the story is, I still enjoy having sex, with or without. Men just can't ever really get that."

"That's because we can get off from just watching re-runs of Leave it to Beaver, on cable," I said.

"But men like how it feels, having sex, even before they come," Laura pointed out reasonably. "The poor things! They even try their very best -- for a few seconds, at least —- to put off ejaculation so they can make the preliminaries last longer." She was giggling now.

"What's so difficult about the idea that a woman can really enjoy how it feels to have sex, even without the big finish?"

"Once you had an orgasm that time with the roomy, Pete was a goner," I told her. "He would probably eventually have proposed to you anyway. I mean, how could he not? You're damned near perfect! But the orgasm clinched it. It sealed the deal."

"He thought if I could do it once, I'd do it again," she said.

"Sure. You were over the hump -- you should excuse the expression."

"Except I wasn't," Laura said, and poor ol' Pete has never quite gotten over it."

"He blames himself," I said. "Don't you, Pete? It's natural."

"Pete was my fourth lover. And the very first to give me an orgasm, by any means."

"That's why you're invited to the party," Pete said to me. "The magic number for Laura is three."