Chapter 3

Laura's little failure put a bit of a damper on the remainder of the evening. The whole athletic event had been, for me, spectacular, and I had new admiration for the skills of my friend, Pete Ettinger, as a lover.

But, skillful or not, the effort had been unsuccessful. I was embarrassed that my much-anticipated presence on the scene hadn't turned out to be the difference-maker. Selfishly, I found myself imagining, and regretting, that I would likely not be invited to participate, however passively, in any future Ettinger Orgies.

Laura was cheerful and energetic after her lengthy and strenuous manhandling, and she renewed her earlier offer for me to stay the night with them and to join them in critiquing their latest cinematic effort, come Sunday morning.

I had thought that the lack of success they'd experienced might have changed her attitude toward my hanging around, but she seemed less disturbed about missing the Big "O" than were either Pete or I.

Well, she'd been trying to convince us that orgasms were overrated.

She served dessert (two hours late) and decaf and we, dressed now, all sat down in the living room for the debriefing.

Pete was still visibly disappointed.

I felt responsible —- despite my cameo role in the whole enterprise. After all, the strong expectation had been that my presence as a third party was going to bring Laura off -- and for only the third time in their lengthy relationship.

But it hadn't worked.

"Maybe it's because I'm a guy," I ventured. "The other two times you told me about, at least one of the people with you in the room was another woman. This is the first time you've tried it with just another man in the room."

"I can't see that as being the problem," Laura said. "If anything, the idea of you being the one with us, and having you photographing the whole thing, seemed like more of a turn-on for me than the other two times.

"I mean, sure, making it with Pete and my roommate was sexy as hell, and that time when we doubled up with another couple? That was fun. But gosh, Adam, I was really confident that your being in there with us was going to do it."

"I thought so, too," Pete said. "I was already thinking about the future. About how we could maybe make this a regular thing. I even pictured Adam bringing in some nice, liberal-minded future girlfriend to turn it into a foursome again!"

"I'm just real sorry it didn't work," I said. "Hell, Pete, I was thinking ahead, too. If I turned out to be the big difference, I figured I'd be a regular part of your sex life, indefinitely. Maybe you wouldn't invite me over for every bout you had, but I could show up for the Saturday Night Specials."

"That would sure run our tennis game into the ground, wouldn't it?" Laura said.

"You sure you want me to hang around here for the first showing of your movie?" I asked them.

Laura was a little put off by my question. "Just because I didn't come doesn't mean it was a bad porno flick," she said with some heat. "I'll bet most of those professional porn actresses don't ever have orgasms on screen! The main thing is, we're expecting that your camerawork is going to make this our best home movie, ever."

We all went to bed, reasonably early, and with the mood of our little group somewhat cheerier than it had been during the post-mortem.

After breakfast Sunday morning, we downloaded the camera's content onto a disk and prepared to view our evening's work on their wide-screen television.

There were a few rough spots in my photography, but I was proud of the overall result, and both Pete and Laura were positively knocked out by it.

"God! Look at that!" Pete exclaimed when the first close-up of Laura's moistened labia came onscreen. "We all should have watched this nekkid!"

"Wonderful work, Adam," Laura said.

It really was pretty damned good. "I was inspired by my subject," I told her. "Oh, and you were —- adequate too, Pete."

"Yeah, right," Pete said. "I noticed how the camera lingers on my bod. Gosh, I must appear in —- what? — twenty percent of the shots!"

The first penetration shot also drew rave reviews from my actors, and I was sort of glad we hadn't watched the movie together naked, because, being dressed, only I knew at that point that I was dripping with the involuntary ejaculation I had just experienced.

"That's just so much more satisfying than any of our earlier attempts at making movies!" Pete said when we finally reached the non-climactic ending. "We really appreciate it, Adam."

"It was a tough job," I offered, falling back on the oldest joke going, "but, hey, somebody had to do it."

"It really was a tough job, in a way," Laura said. "I mean, watching the two of us getting it on, every which-way, for over an hour, and having to just stand by like that."

"And stand he did!" Pete laughed. "He stood the whole time we were going at it."

I tried to be a good sport and join in the teasing. "It's a good thing nobody touched me the whole time," I said, "I figure one finger on that thing and I'd have drowned you both!"

Laura got up and refilled our coffee cups. "It feels strange, not getting ready for tennis this morning," she said.

"We probably could still get a court today, if you want to change your mind," I told her. "I've got my gear in the trunk of the car."

"Naw," Laura said. "Threesomes are better in bed than on a tennis court."

"Pete could probably be competitive against the two of us together," I said, responding to her last statement without stopping to examine it for possible overtones.

"Maybe we'll try that, just the three of us, next time you have trouble finding a partner," Pete said. "But Laura and I stayed awake a little while last night, talking. She has a little proposition for you."

Both of us looked at Laura, who was, I thought, blushing a tiny bit. That was uncharacteristic. She was usually too cool and naturally self-possessed to allow herself to blush.

"I was reluctant to bring this up last night with Pete," she said. "I was afraid he'd be mad, or jealous, or something. But he was pretty cool about it."

"Well, I was a little disturbed at first," Pete said, "but after our ... our unsuccessful experiment last night, I'm absolutely on board with it."

"Well, spit it out," I said. "What have you two cooked up?"

Laura looked to Pete. Her eyes told him it would be up to him to explain.

"Laura wants to try it with you ... with you participating more," he said. "I mean, it would be kind of unfair to you, really. You'd still be a sort-of second-class citizen."

"He means we don't want you to fuck me," Laura said.

Pete spoke again. "But, besides doing your thing with the camera, Laura would like ... we'd both like ... for you to, y'know, be with us a little bit. Things like touching her, and maybe kissing her."

"You're talking about while the two of you are... ?"

"Right," Pete said.

"And maybe," Laura said, tentative now, perhaps even a little embarrassed, " ... maybe also I could ... suck you."

I looked at Pete, looking for a sign of what he might be thinking behind his almost-expressionless eyes. "You sure you're okay with all that, Pete?"

"I'm not claiming to be thrilled to the core at the prospect," he said. "But me and Laura are wanting the same thing here, and she thinks maybe this is the way to get it."

"I'm sorry we're not offering you ... an equal role," Laura said. "We know it's a little unfair. We, Pete and I, we discussed it. But you need to understand, this is kind-of hard for Pete, going along with me on this."

"And I know it's a little bit insulting to you," Pete said, "proposing to give you just a ... a secondary role."

"Well, you can stop worrying," I told them. "I'm not fucking insulted! Jesus, no! I'm pleased as hell. But it's just like before, Laura, when you and I discussed my taking part in the filming. You two need to keep in mind that I'd be doing this stuff for me, too. Not just helping out a couple of friends.

"I mean, when I spring that instant hard-on from seeing Laura naked, it isn't just because I like her big brown eyes. I get that bone for the same reason you get yours, Pete —- because I'm wishing I could put it to good use!"

Laura smiled sweetly. "We both do understand that, Adam. It's just that Pete doesn't want to actually ... to let you have intercourse with me."

"I guess I just can't make myself be that broad-minded," Pete said.

"The truth is," Laura said, "I wouldn't object, and I've admitted that to Pete. But he's my husband. He's got a right to draw some lines."

"This is going to be a one-time thing, right?" I said. "I mean, if we do this and it still doesn't help you with your ... problem, that would be the end of it, right?"

Pete stood silent, looking to Laura to make their response.

"I don't know," she said. "Neither one of you guys ever believes me when I tell you the sex is good for me, even without the big finale. I think I would enjoy us, in a threesome, even if I still didn't come. But I won't make any promises. And, maybe, after we try this, Pete won't want to try it again."

"Well, I don't mind being second banana, so to speak," I told them. "Feel free to use me as you will!"

"You'll still operate the camera?" Pete said.

"Well, I might put it down from time to time," I told him. "I know it's pretty-much shake-proof, but I can imagine some scenarios where we might need to go to full blackout for awhile."

"Maybe you could take a few shots of Adam, now and then," Laura suggested to her husband. "Get a few angles he won't be able to manage himself."

I tried to digest that last statement of hers. It was distracting, I can tell you, imagining what those angles might entail.

"Good idea," Pete said. "We'll work up some silent signals for sharing the camera work."

"As well as the subject," Laura said, smiling.

A question occurred to me, and I was almost, but not quite, afraid to ask it. "Wait," I said. "Something's not completely clear. You made clear, Pete, that Laura and I wouldn't be having intercourse. You said mostly I would be like a ... a junior partner. That maybe Laura would grab my cock, or even put me in her mouth."

"Right," Pete said. "We don't want ... I don't want you to actually fuck her. I'm sorry, I know that's selfish of me, but..."

"No, no! Don't apologize. God, there's nothing to apologize for. This is great! I'm just trying to understand the limits. So, I gotta ask: Am I going to be allowed to go down on Laura?"

"I won't say we haven't discussed it," Laura said, "but we haven't exactly resolved that one, either."

"I think we have," Pete broke in. "Here's the deal. If, while we're all going at it, Laura asks you to go down on her, it will be okay."

"So, you're saying I don't go unless I'm asked?"

"Right," Pete said, sounding a little reluctant, I thought. "The basic rule is, anything Laura asks you to do is okay by me."

"Except actual intercourse," Laura amended.

Pete sat silent for a moment. "Anything she asks you to do is okay by me," he said again, without changing the inflection in any way.

Well, I thought. How's that for ambiguity?

Around eleven a.m., I got myself together and prepared to leave for my own apartment.

"When's this going to happen?" I asked.

"How about Saturday again?" Laura said.

"Good idea. Give you a week to think it over, maybe change your mind."

"We're not going to be backing out on you," she said.

"Tennis next Sunday, though?" I asked.

"What the hell?" Pete said. "Why not?"

"It's my turn, twice-over, to provide dinner," I said. "Let me take you out to Herman's for dinner Saturday night. I'll make the reservation."

"Make it for early," Laura said. "We should try to get an earlier start this time, on the after-dinner entertainment."

"I'll try for six-thirty at Herman's," I told them, "but I guess you'd better dress for dinner this time. Nothing fancy, but at least some underwear."

"How about I leave off the underwear, but put on some overwear?" Laura said.

"Works for me," I said. "Just don't flash me at Herman's. It's you we're trying to help to come. I kind-of have the opposite problem!"

"After tennis Sunday, we'll come back here and review the new film," Laura said. "Maybe this time, we'll make you your own copy."

"You know giving me a copy could play hell with your chances, if either of you ever decides to run for president," I told them.

That week at work, I had a little trouble avoiding daydreams about the Saturday night to come. I arranged for a Sunday morning tennis partner, deliberately choosing a woman who, I knew, would depart for home quickly after our court time expired, or at least after joining us for a restaurant breakfast.

My tennis friend wouldn't be invited to the early-afternoon screening of "Adam Gets Lucky II."

I spoke to Pete and Laura, separately, by telephone during the week, and detected no newfound reticence about the proposed Saturday night threesome.

Pete, I thought, might be wishing I would come up with a new female companion for more than Sunday morning tennis, but he didn't say so. For me, my total focus, at least for the moment, was on Laura Ettinger.

No illusions on my part. I knew she was in love with her husband, and that I was, at best, a sexual aid. I did sense, though, that Laura had at least some interest in me as a friend, fellow human being, and maybe even as an auxiliary penis. I could easily convince myself that this opportunity wouldn't be offered by the Ettingers to just any swinging dick who fell off the turnip truck.

I was at least a little bit special.

And, even if I wasn't special, it was going to be my penis that Laura fondled (and maybe swallowed in whole or in part) next Saturday night in that big king-sized bed of theirs. Mine would be the first extra-curricular cock she had sampled since well before their three-year-old marriage.

Oh, I was special, all right.

Surely she'll take me in her mouth, I thought. Even if she doesn't get overcome with passion by my second-rate little erection, it stands to reason that she'll appreciate the cinematic qualities of such a joining.

The only way I am not going to get my cock sucked is if this little experiment is so overwhelmingly successful that Pete takes her over the moon all by himself, before she has time to grab me by the handle and growl.

I figured it was definitely a win-win situation.

The contemplated cunnilingual congress was far less certain, I knew. Possible, but highly unlikely.

Don't think I didn't give the imagined scenario ample thought. My getting any nose-nookie was unlikely to happen because, most of the time, it was Pete who was going to be down there, either tonguing it himself or filling it up with his own happy warrior.

Conceivably, if we got our bodies rearranged to the point where Laura was giving Pete head, there might be an opportunity for her to remove him from her mouth long enough to say, "Go for it, Adam!"

If that should happen, she'd only have to ask me once. Actually, a simple "Omfffft" would be sufficient. I wouldn't expect her to interrupt Pete's pleasure.

So I figured I was odds-on to get, at the least, the business end of my favorite organ inside Laura Ettinger's delightful mouth. And I maybe had something like a thirty-percent shot at returning the favor.

I also thought, a little, about the possibility that Pete might change his mind about sharing Laura's favors, once push (so to speak) came to shove. What if the sight of my dick in Laura's mouth aroused a sudden fit of jealousy on his part, quickly turning into rage?

I had no doubt that Pete Ettinger was capable of whipping my ass, possibly without even taking the time first to withdraw his cock from Laura's warm body!

I thought it unlikely, though. Pete was determined to bring Laura to the point of orgasm, not just once, but, if possible, on repeated occasions, on into the distant future. If this experiment were successful, well, my future looked pretty damned bright, too. I was sure to be invited back for encores.

The other inspiring thought that continuously raced through my mind that week, while I should have been working, was the somewhat-strange statement Pete had made —- twice — during our Sunday morning after-the-movie discussion.

Something to the effect that anything Laura, in the heat of passion, asked me to do was going to be okay.

There had been the express understanding, by all three of us, that my participation wouldn't ... would not ... include actual intercourse. The two of them had discussed the ground rules into the night and the very first thing they had made clear, in inviting me into my limited role, was that I was not going to be fucking Laura.

Then, when I asked about going down on her, Pete had made that statement about "whatever she asked me to do was okay."

And then Laura had interjected the Big Exception. The "Wait just a minute, there," rule.

There was to be no intercourse.

But then, surprisingly, Pete came back with the exact same statement he'd already made! About how whatever Laura asked me to do would be okay.

Everything about his declaration had been the same as the first time he'd said it. Why hadn't Pete just said, in response to Laura's important caveat, "That's right. No intercourse"?

Instead, it had almost sounded as if he was contradicting her. Revising the rules, significantly in my favor.

Well. It probably wouldn't make any difference in real-world terms. Laura wasn't going to be asking me to fuck her. Why the hell would she? Whatever contribution my presence on the scene was, there was absolutely no reason to think she was going to prefer my scrawny little cock to that Excalibur model that Pete was sporting.

Maybe my always-erect cock could help her overcome whatever little mental blockage was keeping her from the Ultimate Experience of intimacy. Maybe it really would turn her on, having my cock in her hand, or in her mouth, while Pete pounded her pussy into Paradise.

"Laura Ettinger goes off like a cannon! ... Film at eleven."

No, I concluded. It definitely wasn't in the cards. Pete's repeat of his earlier "whatever it takes" statement wasn't to be over-interpreted. He definitely did not want me to fuck his wife. Why the hell would he?

And, hell, I didn't even care! Last Saturday night, I'd literally creamed myself just from seeing her naked and from photographing her long, passionate bout with her husband.