Cat and Mouse

"You two are always arguing," I interjected, trying to be funny.

"So why then did you ask me about Toni?"

"I wanted your opinion."

"On what?"

"Let's pretend you don't like her, which you don't, do you think she'd make a good candidate for a threesome?"

"Jesus! I don't have any opinions on that."

"Oh shut up, you have opinions on everything. And just so you know, Pete, he's on your side. He thinks I should find us another girl."

"You told him what I'd said?"

"I'm a bartender, Pete, it comes with the job."

We continued this line of conversation and it actually sounded as if John was helping me get my wife to agree to a threesome––with a girl––and I was wondering if there was anyway to nominate this guy for President. The talk was so candid that I felt rather turned on at the prospects, and then Ellie finally asked, "So I know this whole girl on girl thing gets you guys all hot, but where's my fun, huh? That's all I want know."

"OK," John began, "then I have to ask you both the same question: would you actually be willing to have someone of the same sex join you in love making if it meant that on another night you'd be joined by someone of the opposite sex?"

"Absolutely," Ellie blurted, with absurd conviction.

She was still calling my bluff, still trying to rattle me and play hard to get, and something told me that if I answered no, I'd regret it. "Sure," I said, after a moments pause. "Sure, why the hell not."

Two days later my mistake would become apparent, and boy would I ever regret saying yes.

I woke up to Ellie gently shaking my shoulder. It was getting harder and harder for me to stay up until her shift ended and she'd cabbed it home. Unlike her, I had to quietly get up at seven, hit the gym, and make it into the office by nine. I ended up passing out fully clothed on our bed the last two nights. The prior night she woke me up just to get me out of my clothes and into bed, but this time she'd wanted to talk.

"Babe, John's here, can you get up for a bit?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to focus my eyes, "What's going on?"

"I think we should try it."

"What? Try what?"

"You know. What we've been talking about. Adding another to our love life for a night."

"You're serious?"

"Yes. Come on, it'll be fun."

I was still waking up, and my mind wasn't fully registering reality yet.

"Come on, Peter. Let's be wild tonight. Have we ever regretted getting wild before?"

"John, huh?"

"Yeah, John! You like him. He already knows about us. He can keep quiet. And I'll try to swing things with Hailey next time. Promise!"

I sighed, and said, "Fuck, lemmie have a minute to wake up."

She went out to the other room and shut the door. I could smell alcohol but she didn't seem too drunk, and I honestly didn't know what to do or think. For some reason John seemed OK, anyone else would have pissed me off at the mere mention of it. I didn't know why. John and Ellie were already good friends, and even though they were a bit flirty with one another, I could never see them in a real relationship, and maybe that was why. But still, this was going to be her getting nasty with another guy, and my stomach began roiling with all kinds of fucked up panic, hurt, and anger.

They were talking low in the other room, but not low enough that I couldn't hear.

"Who did all your headshots?" he asked.

"Pete. He's been getting really good with the camera." Our living room was filled with the pictures I'd taken of Ellie. I'd pretty much practiced my lighting techniques exclusively on her.

"These are great, he should go pro."

"That's the plan."

"So, is he coming? You sure Pete's cool with this?"

"It was his idea. Of course he's coming."

"I got the impression he wasn't too jazzed to have another guy around."

"He knows this will get him a girl, so he wants this, believe me, he wants this."

"OK, but why me?"

"Why you what?"

"Tonight. Why me, here, now?"

"Oh god! Don't make me say it."

"What? What shouldn't I make you say?"

"Please. This is already embarrassing enough."

"Oh no, if I'm going to do this you owe me an answer."

"You are cruel! You're just amazingly hot! There, are you satisfied?"

"You're so full of shit."

"Am I?"

"You think this is going to keep me from going on another date with Toni."

"Would it? Would one night with perfection make you realize what a smelly catch she really is?"

"If you and Pete are actually cool with this, I'll give you a ride to remember, but it's not going to change things with Toni and me. You understand that, right?"

"What's taking Pete so long?"

They started whispering after that, probably realizing I was taking in everything they said. Then I heard dull footsteps on the carpet and the door popped open.

"Are you coming, babe?" She asked in a sweet concerned tone, like I might be sick.

"You kind of caught me off guard with this," I whispered, as she came in and sat next to me.

She put her hand on my thigh. "You know I love you, right? If this is going to be upsetting I can call it off."

"Maybe."

"Listen, John wanted me to say that when we'd confided in him at the bar about doing this, that he had no idea he would be the one we had over. He doesn't want you to think he somehow planned this."

"But you were considering him at the time?"

"Not really, no. I was still planning on that big drunk guy," she joked.

We talked for a little while longer and kissed some, and the weird thing is, I was more bothered by the discovery that John was about to date Toni than I was about another guy in a threesome with my wife. Probably because I'd had a phone conversation with Toni that led to lunch that afternoon, and I let it slip that Ellie and I were thinking about opening up our love life to new possibilities. I sensed Toni was a little interested in me, and I think I was being relatively obvious about pursuing her for a threesome. And the thing is, if she'd been interested in John the whole time, then all I did was make a huge ass out of myself.

It actually sounded like John thought this all had to do with Toni, but I'm pretty sure I knew better. Ellie had become more sexually daring in the recent months, and I had a theory as to why. Her semi autobiographical script for a play covered her time from MiMi's up until now, and she'd discouraged me from reading it because she focused a lot on her past boyfriends. I understood, because hearing about a boyfriend is one thing, but reading words that recreate all the feelings and emotions as they'd were, that was something else entirely. But I knew the script focused on the promiscuous playhouse, and it was hard to end something like that with a happily ever after marriage. I honestly thought she was trying to stage a final scene, to stir up an awkward situation and let it play out.

In the end, I half-heartedly told her that I'd be out in a few minutes after everything had sunk in. She got up to leave, and from the doorway she kidded, "Don't take too long or we'll start without you." And then, not joking at all, she mouthed, "I love you." She shut the door behind her, and I felt horribly alone.

They talked for awhile longer as I sat on the bed balling up my fist, tapping my forehead with it, and then flattening it out again. Soon they grew quiet, and I froze, realizing they had started without me. I fell back on the bed and waited awhile longer, until I finally felt prepared for whatever might be going on.

She was on her belly with John leaning over her, massaging her back. She was wearing her cocktail waitress uniform, which comprised of an unimaginative white collared shirt and a simple, very short, black skirt. The skirt was riding up close to the edge of her ass, and she'd already pulled off her white stockings, her least favorite part of the getup, and had left them balled up in the corner by the door.

When she heard me enter the room, she sat up and John took a seat beside her. She stood as I approached her, and I put my hand on her face and felt her tremble. Then she threw her arms around me and forcefully drew my face to hers and molested me with a shockingly vital kiss. Her tongue was hot, and her lips soft, and all the little physical sensations that I'd stopped paying attention to over the years were now electrifying me, and I instantly understood why she jolted at my touch. Eventually she grabbed John's hand and pulled him up, and gave him a long deep kiss, as well. Was I ready for this or not? I didn't really care one way or the other, because the one excited kiss I'd experienced had left me hornier than a Viking hat convention, and I reached around between them to unbutton her shirt. After the second undone button she turned back to me and pulled off my T-shirt while I undid the rest. It had been a long time since we'd undressed each other, and I realized I'd missed it pretty bad. When her shirt came off, John unfastened her bra from behind, and as I drew it forward, she pointed her arms rigid in front of her, allowing it to slide free. Topless before me, she took hold of my jeans and underwear at the waist, then kneeled down, pulling them to my ankles as she went, and I stepped out. She ran a hand from my ankle up to my thigh as she returned to her feet, and whispered in my ear, saying, "God, I feel so good."

Her tits looked too perfect to grab, so I just ran my hands along the side, framing the vision. She then turned back to John, topless, and seized up his lips with her own once more. I was still OK with what they were doing, and that surprised me, but then I wanted to noodle her hot little snatch so bad I don't think freight train coming through the house could have distracted me. I unfastened the single button on the waistline of her skirt, causing it to split apart and fall away. Her light blue panties took no more than a tug to free over the apex of her ass, and then they fell, joining the skirt to form a minuscule pile. It was strange how amazing she appeared, my eyes traveled from her skinny neck over her sharp shoulder blades, down the long sweep of her spine, and settled on her healthy ass. I had a heightened sense of awareness about her body, so much so that I barely recognized her, as if I were discovering it for the first time all over again. And then, as if for no other reason than to echo my sentiments, John said, "I would have never believed it, but there it is: the legendary hot body of Ellie Harrison."

"Ellie Robertson."

"Sorry, Ellie Robertson. Sorry, Pete"

She kissed him again before he could finish speaking. I clutched onto her bottom and squeezed, while I pressed my lips to the back of her neck and shoulders, sucking, but not enough to mark her with a hickey. She pulled off John's collared white shirt while he unbuckled his slacks. I began to finger her from the backside, and she moaned into his mouth, and then shoved him back on the couch with his slacks around his ankles. She climbed onto the couch, lying on her back with her head sideways on John's lap, while letting her tongue explore the length of his cock, and occasionally taking it in as best she could. She rotated her head slightly to increase the motion and distance that her lips would slide over the hard rod.

As I stroked her thigh I felt goose bumps rise up and she trembled like she'd received another mild electric shock. I grew an almost uncomfortably large erection, and then I caught a quick glimpse of his wet cock as she now sucked it and a torrent of rage finally overwhelmed me. And then, almost as if she knew what I was thinking, she twisted her body slightly, and I realized she'd parted her legs a little. I climbed onto the couch and rubbed Alikabobi along the little heat factory between her legs. I forgot all about ole John at the other end, mainly because I was kneeling against her raised hips, and occupied her wet, fervent foxhole with my army of one. Just being inside her made me feel secure, physically bonded, inseparable, love locked. My might and her moxie, conjoined like epoxy, ha!

I quickly learned how to watch John without thinking about John, and that made it OK. It was just Ellie wetter than I'd ever felt her, getting more thoroughly fucked than I could've accomplished on my own. She moaned passionately, but her moans were strained by the cock that she deeply devoured, and I sensed her working towards orgasm. It sent a wave of desperation through me, and I suddenly had the need to give her more than I already had. The desperation came with added strength, and I pushed harder against her pelvis, lifting my ass further up, and feeling every muscle from my toes to my head strive to satisfy the soft housing of her body, which began to welcome the increased pressure by bracing itself for each meeting and squirming for each departure. Our bodies clashed with a meaty thud, my hardened stomach gliding across her sweaty indented belly, and she inched closer and closer to climax, until she pulled her head free from his cock, squinted her eyes, and moaned her little choir boy hymn through a very wide open mouth. I had her foot in my hand, which I'd brought up beside us, allowing admittance into unexplored territory, and felt her toes curl tightly toward my fingers. Each little toe, precious, each little, painted red toenail, even more so, and they cramped tightly, locking shut, then relaxing, and then cramping up again. She was coming, if the moans didn't prove it then her toes certainly did.

I was close, too, and in another minute I was there. I grunted, felt my dick begin to throb uncontrollably, become painfully sensitive, and deliver a giant cargo of jimmy jam. I slowly recovered as her hips eased their motion and her muscles relaxed, until it felt right to pull myself free, breaking our connection, and leaving a very wet perfect pussy to close up with my absences. It was a wonderful loving fuck that had started gentle and slowly built up to an awakening rumble. That moment in Bolero were the drums become unbridled, we'd experienced that, and then we ended by fading out on a slow mellow note, and I'm sure it was that final slow mellow note that allowed us to separate and remain astonishingly satisfied. The condom I had on was practically bursting, and I was glad I'd worn it or else I would've left her a real mess to deal with, yet I couldn't decide if that would've spoiled it or made it all the more sensual.

With her slightly lost, green-amber eyes she looked up at me from her supine pose, slightly twisted to fit in between us, sacrificing posh comfort to meet the needs of two voracious studs. Her left hip jutted upwards, while her flat belly had rolled the opposite way, allowing her left shoulder to rest on John's hairy thigh, and appearing like a classically painted figure. I admit she was as beautiful in that moment as I'd ever seen her, and I anticipated basking in these wonderful feelings for days to come.

But Ellie began to move, turning herself around, and positioning her legs for her second lover, and my mood shifted on me as well. John's presence became more prominent and hard to deal with, and I continued to back away, off the couch, and into the center of the living room. Ellie ran a foot up his leg as John slipped on a condom. He mounted her without wasting anytime, and she wrapped her legs around his back, her thigh muscles becoming clearly defined. I watched his ass pump against her and her head jerk when it hit, as a lusty smile smeared across her face.

I retreated clear to the kitchen, where I felt horribly alone once again. I drank a glass of water, starring out the small window into the alleyway, which was dead silent at this time of night. There were big dumpsters backed up against the neighboring building that I could see down into, and that was our lovely view from the kitchen. On hot nights like that one, we had to keep the window closed or you would smell it.

I went back into the living room and grabbed my clothes. Ellie sensed something wasn't right, and asked John, "Are you close?"

"Not really. I…, I don't think I can."

"No. Finish! I want you to at least finish." She looked at me and spoke to him, jokingly, "I don't want you to lose years off you life."

I know she wanted me to smile at that––my own joke that I've used so many times––but I couldn't offer her that comfort, not while she laid there with such steamed up eyes and her trembling flesh buried beneath another man. Then, as sweat dripped off his Adam's apple and onto her chin, John said, "It's the hair thing, I'm sorry."

She chuckled, "The hair thing? You're serious? You have to pull hair?" Her words were awkwardly punctuated by the rhythm of their intercourse. "Did you hear that, Pete? How did I end up with all of you freaks?" She was looking back at me, with her head upside down, and she wanted me to laugh so badly, I could tell. She finally looked back to him and asked, "With me? You even need to pull hair with me?"

"I'm sorry."

She pressed her check into his neck, collecting his perspiration across most of her face, and spoke with aroused tenacity, "Then for fuck's sake, John, grab my hair!"

He did, and she squealed. He swept his hand over the short hairs on the back and then took a fist full the longer hair on top, using it to pull her head back slightly. "Oh Jesus," she breathlessly exclaimed.

I went into the bedroom and sat on our bed, taking a position where the doorway blocked my view of them on the couch, and relaxed my hands, allowing my clothes to drop on the floor.

Ellie was so smart, and such a manipulator, and I tried to think just what kind of game was being played this time. She was always trying to get a reaction out of me, and react I would, but what I was feeling couldn't possibly be the response she had in mind. I didn't hate John, for some reason it was impossible to. At worst he was a pawn to her, and at best he was accepting an offer to partake in our wild fun. I couldn't hate Ellie, either, because I just had too many other feelings for her that I couldn't get rid of. Yet I still had all this rage building up, and nowhere to go with it.

About a minute later I heard them tumble off the couch, and then they appeared in my view through the doorway, sprawled out on the floor laughing. They quickly took up a new position on the carpet, with her on her hands and knees and him behind. Her cocktail dress had hooked on to his foot and was hanging off his heel, not looking much bigger than one of his socks. Bent over as she was, her naked ass to flaired out, widening it considerably into what could only be perceived as an invitation inside. He reached forward and grabbed her hair once more, saying, "Oh god. This is so wrong, so good and so wrong. Fuck that's good, fuck that's so good! This is so fucked up and so fucking good!" Her ass was up high and he began to fuck it, creating a loud quadriceps wailing on gluteus noise that traveled all through our tiny silent apartment.

At this point I put on my clothes, preparing to take off for awhile. By the time I was clothed, he was tearing her apart, just drilling poor little Ellie. Her snatch was audibly juiced up and I noticed her toes curling, and even though she was biting her forearm to muffle her moans, I knew she was cumming. Yeah, I'd hit her snatch in a ferocious way before, and I know it could rip an orgasm from her horny little heart, but stepping back and seeing someone else have a go––it wasn't right, he was killing her. Still clutching her hair, the big fucking horn-dog's arm was resting on her back, and he'd shifted some of his weight onto it, causing her tits to be smashed into the carpet. This position allowed for him to fuck down into her, banging her pussy in such a beastly way that I doubted she'd ever recover from the assault. He was fucking her like a fucking ogre!