Insatiable Pt. 04

"Yes, he likes to do that."

"A little later he slipped a hand down my front and took hold of my pussy. When he was about to come he started playing with it—I guess the idea was that we would come together."

"And did you?"

"Almost. I think I came a few seconds after he did. It wasn't so much his fondling of me as the feeling of his stuff in me back there that set me off. But man, did I ever come! It was even more intense than when I was sitting on his lap."

"How nice for you."

"After that he pulled out and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. Then we cuddled some more."

"So how many times did you do it last night?"

"Um, four."

"Four times?"

"Yeah. And he—he also did it once more this morning."

"This morning! You're telling me he came five times?"

"Yeah."

"Holy smokes! He's never come five times with me."

"I guess it was just the novelty of a new girl."

"And he wasn't—rough?"

"No! Not in the least. In fact, there was one time—I think this was the third time, and he was just in me the regular way—when he was so gentle that I actually had to whisper in his ear, 'A little harder, please.'"

"'A little harder, please.' That's what you said to him?"

"Well, I was a little embarrassed. I'd never said that to a man before! I almost felt like—I don't know what."

Certain words flashed through Laurie's mind, but she said nothing.

"In fact, this morning there were times when he just lay on top of me, not even pushing. Just being in me. It was just the most incredible experience—just like what the Bible says. You know, 'one flesh.' I felt a part of him, and he felt a part of me."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself so much. So let me get this straight: he went into your pussy how many times?"

"Um, three, counting this morning."

"And in your ass—?"

"Twice."

"Twice?"

"Yeah. The second time was when I thought we were going to sleep. But then he came up behind me as I was lying on my side and went in that way."

"I see. Did he make breakfast for you?"

"Yes. It was fabulous!"

"I'm sure it was. So where he is now? He hasn't come back here."

"He left a few minutes ago."

"He left? Shouldn't he be spending the day with you?"

"Oh, he doesn't have to do that. He says he has work to do."

"Work! Him and his everlasting work!"

"Well, Laurie, he's a busy guy!"

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Tamara."

"I should get in the shower. I'm a bit—you know, messy. Bye—and thanks for everything!"

By the time she got off the phone with Tamara, Laurie was seething. When, twenty minutes later, Patrick walked in, she let him have it.

"I hear," she said acidly, "you had a great time with Tamara."

"I did," he replied. "Do I detect a hint of anger in you?"

"Angry? Me? Hardly. It just seems—" She had trouble articulating what she wanted to say. "You seem to have treated her with kid gloves. Don't get me wrong: she seems to have had a fantastic experience—the best of her life, she says."

"I'm glad I was able to please her. As for the way I treated her—well, she's different from you. I deal with people as individuals. You can take the horseplay we engage in; I don't think she can. That's just not who she is." He paused, then went on. "Laurie, I hope you're not jealous."

"Jealous!" she cried, suddenly vaulting up from the sofa and approaching Patrick menacingly before stopping short and choking up. "You just don't get it, do you?" she said, her face crumpling in misery.

Now Patrick was alarmed. He'd never seen Laurie in such a state before. "What's wrong, dear?" he said. "You don't doubt that I love you, do you? Tamara is a wonderful creature, but she hasn't yet touched my heart the way you have. I—"

"Oh, Patrick!" Laurie cried. "For someone who's so smart, you can be really dense sometimes!"

And she flopped back on the couch, lying at full length face down. And then she started to cry.

Patrick just stood there staring at her. In even the brief period he'd known her, he sensed that this was an extraordinary and uncharacteristic display of wrenching emotion.

"Darling," he said, approaching her cautiously.

She turned her head to face him. "You treat her like a delicate flower, but you're more than happy to toss me around the way a kitten plays with a toy! You think I'm 'tough,' and maybe in some ways I am—but I don't like being manhandled by the guy I love! You call it 'horseplay'? It's a lot more than that! And you know very well that I can never win in any physical contest with you. I don't even want to try. I have no idea why you ever thought I liked it that way!"

Now her crying turned into uncontrolled sobbing and wailing. Patrick had never seen a woman in such an agony of torment—not even his ex-wife. He placed a hand gently on her back and said:

"Laurie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I've totally misunderstood you. I've been an idiot—an insensitive idiot. Please forgive me. I won't do those things to you anymore. I promise."

Gradually Laurie allowed Patrick to bring her up to a sitting position, and he held her close while she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Her crying went on for a long time. He wisely didn't try to end it artificially; he sensed that she needed to let out her anguished feelings thoroughly and completely before she could settle down.

But as her paroxysm of tears was coming to an end, he did do one thing that he hoped would make her feel better.

Gently prying himself out of her grasp, he slid down to the floor and knelt in front of her. She was wearing only a thin baby-doll nightgown that came down to the middle of her thighs, and he pulled it up to expose her naked groin. Parting her legs and gazing reverently at the slightly damp cleft that was revealed, he bent his head toward it and began licking.

Laurie, with rows of tears streaking her face, looked down at her lover with a mix of tenderness and bafflement. This man, who could be so frustrating and exasperating at times, really was wonderful in his way. She began enjoying the sensations coming from her sex as he diligently tended to her needs, placing a hand on his head to indicate that he should feel free to continue.

Patrick was struck by how Laurie's pussy smelled and tasted so different from Tamara's, which he had sampled only an hour or so before. Tamara also didn't have the generous bush that Laurie proudly wore: maybe she had shaved it recently and it hadn't fully grown back. He suspected that Laurie had told her friend that he liked a bit of fur on a woman's delta.

Laurie's climax was surprisingly mild—but no less intense for that. She arched her back and moaned, pressing Patrick's head closer to her sex. He continued to use lips and tongue to stimulate her for many minutes, until he heard his beloved say, "Oh, Patrick, please stop!"

He stood up, his face smeared with Laurie's juices. "Was that nice, dear?"

"It was heavenly. Thank you."

"Still friends?"

"A lot more than friends. But you know, you really should go back to Tamara."

"Go back to her? But I want to stay here with you."

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's not fair to her. After the night—and morning—you spent with her, she really wants to spend more time with you. Not for sex, although maybe that will come up. She just wants you to be there with her. Women like that."

"You're really okay with my going back to her?"

"Of course I am. Spend all weekend with her if you like. I'll be fine here."

Patrick peered at her closely to make sure she was speaking from her heart. Eventally he became convinced that she was.

"All right. I'll just get in the shower and clean up. You can call her and tell her I'm coming back."

Patrick did spend the rest of the day with Tamara, and it was obvious that she was basking in his presence and his attention. But as dinnertime approached, Tamara made an unexpected request.

"Patrick, let's have Laurie over for dinner!"

"You really want her here?"

"Of course! I mean, she's been so good to me, letting me—" Stopping abruptly, she blushed and looked away. Letting me take her boyfriend to bed. "Anyway, I don't think she wants to be alone."

"That may well be."

Patrick called Laurie and, in spite of her protestations, insisted that she come by and share the evening meal with them.

He was wise enough to let the women talk by themselves as Tamara whipped up a substantial dinner of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. In fact, he decided to take several walks around the block so that the two devoted friends could put their heads together. He clearly understood that they needed to do that.

Tamara was struck by Laurie's appearance as she sauntered into the kitchen after Patrick had let her into the apartment.

"Laurie, for God's sake!" she cried. "Your eyes are all red and puffy. What on earth—" She stopped in utter incomprehension. "You've been crying?"

"Got it in one, dearie," Laurie said.

"But—but—you never cry! I have never, ever seen you cry in all the years I've known you. What happened?" Her voice suddenly dropped in alarm. "Was it over me? Are you mad at me?"

"Good Lord, no! It really had nothing to do with you. It had everything to do with Patrick's treatment of me. But everything's fine. Maybe bawling my head off is the best thing I could have done—the best way of showing that brilliant but silly man that he didn't know me as well as he thought he did."

Tamara shook her head as she continued preparing the meal, not really understanding what her friend meant. "I hope you, um, feel better now."

"Feel better? Oh, you mean that old adage that every woman loves a good cry? Well, I guess I do feel better—only because I think I got some things through Patrick's thick skull."

"Laurie, you shouldn't speak about him like that. He's very sensitive."

"To you he is—not so much to me."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, I don't know what I mean. But look, things are good between us—all three of us."

"Are they?"

"Of course they are."

"So . . . what do you want to do now?"

Laurie knew exactly what Tamara meant. "We'll have to work it out, but I have a feeling we'll be doing what the French call a ménage à trois."

Tamara giggled. "I've never been in one of those before!"

"Neither have I."

"It's really okay with you? You don't want Patrick all to yourself?"

"I probably do—but I have to face the humiliating prospect that I can't handle him all by myself. I'm not just referring to the sex: his whole personality is so—so big that he frightens me sometimes."

"Frightens you? Oh, come on, Laurie!"

"Maybe that's not the right word. Maybe I'm just a bit intimidated."

"I think he's a big pussycat."

"Well, if you want to think so, be my guest. Anyway, we'll put our heads together and see where we are."

"I don't think it's our heads we'll be putting together."

"Tamara, shame on you! Don't be obscene."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I have to say, he really is quite something."

"He's something all right. I just haven't figured out what."