A**hole

Camille and I clung together as our orgasms subsided and fell over sideways onto the bed. Mike lay on his back gasping for air with my left leg over his abdomen and Camille's right leg over his thighs. Mike rotated onto his left side with his, now relaxed penis, between us. My right leg was under his waist and Camille's left leg under his knees.

I put my hand on his cock. Camille put her hand on top of mine. Mike reached out and put his hand on my thigh. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm wonderful," I replied. "How about you?"

"Never been better," he said.

"Hey, you two," spoke up Camille. "Are either of you interested in how I'm doing?"

"We're getting to you," said Mike. "How are you?"

"I'm freakin' incredible," Camille said. "We've never climaxed that hard with each other, ever."

"I think Annabelle had something to do with it," suggested Mike.

"So," opined Camille, "you sucking on her pussy caused the earthquake orgasm that set me off?"

"It seems so," said Mike. "What do you think, Annabelle?"

"Well, you sucking on my pussy certainly set me off," I suggested.

"And made Mike grow inside me until he exploded," added Camille.

I pulled on Mike's penis. Camille followed up with a pull of her own. Mike smiled. "Too soon ladies," he said.

"We know," said Camille. "We're just checking. Annabelle's next and I don't want her to wait a second longer than she has to."

A few minutes, and several dozen pulls later, Camille freed her leg from under Mike's knees, pushed him onto his back and crawled up between his legs. I pulled my leg from under Mike's waist and knelt next to him so I could continue to stroke his cock. Camille added her lips to my effort and eventually replaced my hand with her mouth.

Camille pushed her arms under Mike's thighs. Mike's legs came up on his heels alongside her head. I scooted behind Camille. She was lying on her stomach, sucking on Mike's penis. I pushed her legs apart and kissed the space between her cheeks.

Camille responded as I hoped. She got up on her knees and leaned her backside in my direction. I used one hand to slide between her legs, between her labia and up to her clitoris. I used my other hand to spread her cheeks and tongued the tight sphincter I found there.

Camille jumped. "What are you doing to me?" she cried.

"Just confirming a thought I had," I said.

"What's going on?" asked Mike.

"Nothing, darling," said Camille. "Annabelle just discovered my ass. You need to focus on a more immediate opportunity."

I slipped two fingers inside Camille's vagina. She squeezed my fingers with her kegel muscles and I forced them in and out of her several times.

"Damn, Annabelle," she said. "Do that again. Mike responded as much as I did."

I did and so did Mike. When I found her rectum with an extremely well lubricated finger, she screamed.

"Damn it, woman," cried Mike. "Warn me when you're going to bite."

"Annabelle didn't warn me," defended Camille. "Hey, pucker pusher," she said to me. "Mike's ready."

"So am I," I informed them both.

I rolled on my back and spread my legs. Mike crawled between them and dragged his tongue in a long journey from my rectum to my clitoris.

"Mike," I begged. "More of that later. Now I want what Camille had."

Mike obliged me. He supported himself on his arms over me and aimed his renewed erection at me. Camille took his erection in hand and helped him find and enter me. There was no doubt that having Mike fuck me was exactly what she wanted and knowing that made it even better than ever. Mike slid into me until our pubic hair was entwined. When he gave an extra push, I fell him hit bottom.

Mike continued with his double tap technique, a long stroke with an extra push at the end. Every stroke was a bump, bump and my tits bounced twice for each stroke. Camille noticed and helped stabilize them with her hands, and later, her mouth.

As my, and Mike's orgasms built, Camille moved behind Mike and began to fondle his balls as they bounced against my cheeks and then stroking up my slit, around Mike's cock and fingered my clitoris. Without warning, she pushed a finger against my rectum and it slid inside me.

Her timing was perfect in an imperfect way. Her finger in my ass caused me to lurch upward. Unfortunately, Mike was on the back stroke and he missed the target on the forward stroke. Only Camille's finger in my ass prevented an unexpected penetration.

Mike quickly recovered and restarted his push and bump fuck. Everything catalyzed everything else and my orgasm built quickly and I was past the point of no return before I was ready. I gushed fluids in surprising amounts, well beyond any I had experienced before and my vagina clamped with a strength I didn't know I had.

Mike struggled against my grip and, when I relaxed, he convulsed in a furious, deeply penetrating expulsion of semen.

We lay alongside each other, suspended between life and death. When I opened my eyes, Camille was sitting next to me on her heels. "That was fucking incredible," she told me.

"That from someone who didn't want to watch," I said.

"True and thanks for convincing me to be here," she said. "Nothing, even in my imagination, could ever come close to that."

"Thanks for the assist," I said sarcastically.

"Anytime," she said and laughed.

We slept in the same bed that night. While the three of us did a lot of touching and kissing, none of us was ready for a repeat of our earlier excesses. We slept soundly, cuddled together.

I woke Sunday morning, with Camille's face between my spread legs and gently stretching and sucking my clitoris. Mike was sitting in a nearby chair, slowing stroking his erection as he watched.

"Good morning, lover. Are you ready for Mike?" Camille asked.

"Mike?" I asked. "Not you?"

"Mike has a morning wood problem," Camille explained.

"Why don't you take care of it?" I asked.

"I do most mornings. This morning it's your turn," she insisted.

I looked over at Mike and beckoned him with one finger. He walked over to the side of the bed with his erection leading the way. I reached and held his erection in my hand. "Do you have a morning problem?" I asked.

"Most mornings," Mike said.

"Camille says I should help you," I told him.

Mike looked at Camille who was still between my legs. "Is there room for me?" he asked.

Camille moved aside. "She's ready," she said.

I was ready. Mike slid gently inside me and began a slow, erotic stroking without the extra bump. Last night was sex. This morning was love. My orgasm built slowly and warmed my body without rattling my bones. He was kissing me when his orgasm warmed my body a second time. He rolled off me and sat on the edge of the bed.

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," exclaimed Camille.

I rolled out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. "Where are you going?" asked Camille.

"I need to pee," I said and half ran the rest of the way. I peed and thought about the last eighteen hours. I had hoped for something similar when I invited myself over yesterday morning but what developed was beyond my imagination. I headed back into the bedroom to see what would happen next.

Camille was on the bed and Mike was running his fingers through her pubic hair. "I have to pee," he said. "Can you help here until I come back?" he asked me.

I replaced him on the bed and began to run my fingers through Camille's pubic hair. I ventured lower, spread her labia with my fingers and slowly entered her with two of my fingers.

"It feels so different when you do that than it does when Mike does it," Camille declared.

"A woman's touch?" I asked.

"A different emotional response," said Camille.

"What's the plan?" I asked.

"Mike's going to fuck me and then we're going to have breakfast," Camille said.

Mike came back from the bathroom and we traded places again. "I think I'll go downstairs and start breakfast," I suggested.

"You can find a robe in the closet," said Camille. "We'll be down eventually."

I picked a short, diaphanous robe and put it on. I stood in front of the full-length mirror to check the look. It was perfect. Almost transparent and you could see the bottoms of my cheeks and my pussy lips when I bent over.

In the kitchen, I found the ground coffee and started a pot in the coffee maker on the counter. There wasn't much in the refrigerator. I found milk, butter, orange juice and cream cheese. In a bread drawer I found cinnamon bread and bagels. I organized everything on the kitchen table along with a toaster I found in a cabinet.

I was sitting at the table drinking a mug of coffee flavored milk when Camille sauntered in wearing only a pair of bikini panties. "Where's Mike?" I asked.

"He's taking a shower," explained Camille. "He has a tee time later this morning."

Camille and I were munching on toasted bagels and cream cheese when Mike entered the kitchen. He was wearing plaid red, white and blue Bermuda shorts and a not quite matching blue golf shirt with white stripes.

"You're certainly a fashion plate this morning," I suggested.

"Thanks," he responded completely missing the sarcasm.

Mike sat with us, drank a mug of coffee and ate several pieces of buttered raisin bread toast. He never mentioned the night we had with each other or the state of our dress that morning. He stood up, rinsed his mug and plate in the sink and put both in the dishwasher. He looked at the clock on the microwave.

"Time to go," he said. He kissed both of us. "Have a nice day," he smiled. "As if that wasn't possible," he added. "I should be home in about six hours," he said as he headed out the door.

"That was interesting," I commented.

"It certainly was," agreed Camille. "He usually wants to fuck me on the table for good luck before he leaves."

We laughed together. Together, we put the leftovers away and cleaned up the dishes and utensils. Camille wiped the counters while I wiped the table. We poured two mugs of coffee and sat at the table again.

"How do you want to spend the day?" asked Camille. The smile on her face suggested that she already had an idea in mind.

"I thought I'd head home," I answered hoping for a reaction.

"So soon?" questioned Camille. "I was hoping you could stay for a couple of hours."

Reaction confirmed. "I thought this whole scenario was so you could have less sex," I reminded her.

"Less sex with Mike," she countered. "Sex with you is different."+

"You're right about that," I agreed. "Since I like sex with you almost as much as you like sex with me, I guess I could stay awhile."

Abandoning our coffee, Camille and I headed up to the bedroom. Camille took one look at the bed. "Sheez, we slept in that?" she said.

Rather than changing the sheets, Camille pulled a blanket over the mess and crawled into the bed. I followed her. We cuddled up together.

"You know," said Camille, "Just holding you, feeling your softness against my body, is enough to make my day complete."

We shifted around to get comfortable and I ended up with my head on Camille's chest and her left nipple tickling my lips.

We came upstairs to the bedroom to "sleep" together. Unfortunately, we fell asleep. I woke some time later alone. The bathroom door was closed and I assumed Camille was inside. I knocked on the door. Camille called, "Come in."

Camille was sitting on the toilet. "I'm sorry," I said and began to leave.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm almost done and I'm not concerned. In school, I lived in an all-woman's dorm and we peed with others in the room all the time and you're probably more familiar with my pussy's details than I am."

"You may be right but I think I need a reminder," I suggested.

"Great idea," she confirmed. "Head for the bed. I'll be right with you."

"Not until I pee too," I insisted.

We headed to the bed together. An hour later, we took a shower together and headed back to the bed.

"You taste different after the shower than earlier," commented Camille.

"Probably missing Mike's leftovers," I speculated.

"I like this better," commented Camille.

The comparative tasting, and other activities, continued until early afternoon.

"I really need to head home now," I insisted.

"If you insist," grudgingly agreed Camille. "I can deal with Mike alone."

"I'm sure you and Mike will be up to it," I assured her.

I found my clothes, dressed and walked with Camille to the front door. We kissed and we agreed on how and when to contact each other either for Mike's relief or Camille's satisfaction.

The beginning of the week was relatively normal. Mike stopped by once, on Tuesday evening. It was far from the best evening of our relationship. He seemed disconnected, almost absent.

I talked to Camille every day. Her tone changed as the week progressed, like she wasn't as enthusiastic as over the weekend.

Thursday's poker game was subdued. Mike seemed never to take his eyes off me and the rest of the players noticed. Mike hung around after the game, obviously expecting a continuation of our relationship. He left, angry and unsatisfied, shortly after the others left.

Camille called Saturday morning. "Can we talk?" she asked.

"Lunch?" I suggested.

We met for lunch in a small café north of the city. As soon as we were seated, Camille started the conversation. "Have you noticed a change in Mike?" she asked.

"I've seen a number of changes," I told her. "Is there something in particular you're referring to?"

"Well," she filled while thinking. "He's as interested in sex as ever but there's something about different about the sex itself. It's almost as if, sometimes he's disassociated."

"I've noticed something like you describe," I agreed. "I've wondered about whether he's involved or his mind is wandering."

"I think that, sometimes, he expects to have sex without the need connect emotionally," suggested Camille.

"Yes," I agreed. "It's as if he feels that he's entitled to have sex with me."

"That's it exactly," exclaimed Camille. "Like he's a sheikh or something and just has to snap his fingers and one of us will show up and have sex with him."

"I'm not sure about the royalty angle but entitlement for sure," I confirmed.

"What do we do about it?" asked Camille.

"We confront him," I suggested.

"When?"

"Where is he now?"

"Home, probably watching football," said Camille.

We ate a quick lunch and I followed Camille home. Mike was sitting in the living room, in shorts and a t-shirt watching football on the television.

"Well," he said when we entered the room. "If it isn't my two favorite women."

"That's what we want to talk about," said Camille.

"Sure," said Mike, his attention on the game.

Camille picked up the remote and turned off the television.

"Hey! I was watching that," exclaimed Mike.

"We need to talk and we don't want distractions," explained Camille.

We sat down in two chairs facing Mike on the sofa. "Okay," said Mike. "You've got my attention. What's the topic?"

"Sex," stated Camille.

"Great stuff, isn't it?" Mike asked.

"It used to be," said Camille.

"What do you mean it used to be?" asked Mike. "We still have sex as often as you like and Annabel's there the rest of the time."

"I'm not commenting on the frequency," clarified Camille. "I'm referring to the quality."

"What do you mean the quality?" questioned Mike. "I have an orgasm every time and you do too."

"Oh, you have your orgasm and sometimes so do I," said Camille. "It's just that the personal involvement has waned. I don't get the feeling that you're as emotionally involved as before and that effects my emotional involvement. The intensity is missing and the fun is too. I'm feeling that you expect sex and you don't have to work for it anymore. There's no warmup. No setting the mood."

"I thought we had a deal. That stuff wasn't necessary anymore," Mike stated.

"Mike," said a serious Camille. "You're not the only one involved. There're two of us and we both need to be involved. We both need to feel the moment. An orgasm without the emotional commitment from both of us is just a bodily function without real meaning."

"We have a deal," repeated Mike. "We do our thing. We're not responsible for how each other responds or feels." He looked at me. "Are you hearing this shit?" he asked.

"Mike," I said. "That shit is exactly how I feel. You've lost an important part of sex and, without it, we've all lost the meaning. Without the meaning, I might as well just masturbate alone in my bed."

"But, we have an agreement," Mike repeated again.

"Not any longer," said Camille. "New deal. From now on, you ask and if, and that's a big if, you can convince me that you're emotionally committed then maybe we'll make love."

Mike looked at me. "Don't expect me to bail you out," I said. "I'm not married to you and I don't have the same marital obligations that Camille might have. So, you have a bigger hill to climb if you want to fuck me in the future."

Camille and I stood up and left a confused and unhappy Mike sitting on the sofa. We headed out. In the driveway, Camille suggested, "I could use a drink."

"I'll drive," I said.

Shortly, we were seated in a corner booth and a nearby pub with double lime cosmopolitans.

"I can't believe you took that conversation in the direction you did," I commented.

"He pissed me off with that we had a deal shit," said Camille. "Thanks for backing me up."

"You're welcome," I said. "Where do we go from here?"

"Hopefully, Mike will wake up and we can go back to sex as usual," commented Camille.

"You think that's possible?" I asked. "I got the feeling that he might be angry."

"I hope not," said Camille. "Right now I'm having dark thoughts about the foundation of our marriage. I'm wondering if our relationship is based on a true emotional bond with great sex or sex as a substitute for masturbation."

"Jeezz, Camille," I said. "Try not to go there."

I drove Camille home and we parked in her driveway. "I don't think I can go back inside right now," she said. "Can we go to your place for a while? I need some human contact right now that I can trust."

I drove her back to her place late in the evening. "Are you going to be all right?" I asked.

"Thanks," she said. "But I think I be fine now."

We cuddled up together, naked but without sex. I held her in my arms until she was ready to head home and face Mike. I drove her home. "Call me if there's a problem," I told her as she got out of the car.

"Thanks," she said and headed up the walk. I waited until the door closed before I left.

Camille and I talked every day. The conversations followed a similar theme.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. You?"

"Me too. How's Mike?"

"I hardly see him. I think he's avoiding me."

"Me too. What do you think he's up to?"

"I think he's getting something on the side."

"Why do you say that?"

"He needs his sex fix and he's not fucking either of us."

"I hope that's not true."

"So do I but the odds favor it."

"Give it time. Call you tomorrow."

Thursday's poker game was subdued. Mike made a point of avoiding talking to me and the others noticed. The fun was definitely out of the game. Josh lingered after the game to ask what was up between Mike and me. I couldn't tell him the truth so I improvised. "He's pissed at his wife and I'm friendly with her, so, he's also mad at me."

"Well," suggested Josh, "Mike's attitude is affecting all of us."

"Mike can get focused on a single slight," I shared, "and that can creep into how he relates to everything else."

The conversations with Camille over the next week continued to be short and similar in content, until Wednesday. When I asked about Mike, she said, "He's definitely getting laid on the side and frequently."

"How could you know that?" I asked. "Did you catch him at it?"