The Humper Game Pt. 03 Ch. 05

Eventually, I rolled Sam up on top of me, and she moved so she could guide me in, and slid down me. Ellen turned toward me, and kissed my cheek. I turned my head so she could kiss my lips, but this was kind of awkward. I began thrusting, and Sam moved with me. I thought Ellen put her arm across Sam's back at one point, but then took it away. Sam's orgasm built and built, and she came strongly, though she kept the noise minimal, but it went on and on. I came during that. When it was all over, I hugged her to me, and after a minute she rolled off me again, so the two women were both facing me. I got my arms around both of them, one apiece, and hugged.

They looked at each other across me, and Sam said, "Go ahead." Ellen shifted around in the bed, and then took my cock in her mouth. I thought she was just cleaning me off, but it quickly became obvious that she was working to get me ready again. Sam got herself up on top of me some and kissed me. "We know you didn't want this instead of real sex, but Ellen really wants to have more than just watching us," she said. "It's an extra, not a replacement, and it's for her."

"You just don't want me to be too eager at bedtime."

"You'll be eager enough. Now pay attention to Ellen."

It seemed like it took forever, but finally I was ready, and she kept going until I came. I lay for a few minutes more between them, this time facing Ellen and with my arms around her, kissing her kind of gently, not wanting to rouse something in her I couldn't satisfy. Finally we all got up and got dressed.

Ellen gave us both hugs, and kisses on the mouth for me and on the cheek for Sam. She said, to Sam not me, "Thank you. That's got to last me the rest of the week, and we all know it's not everything I wanted, but it was a lot better than nothing.

"Phil, can we at least touch base on the phone every day? When is it OK to call?"

"Of course! Call any time. I'll try to remember to set it to go straight to voicemail if I'm tied up or asleep, but if I take it and can't talk, I'll just say so. And I'll try to call you, too.

"One thing I'm a little worried about is that I'm probably going to drag you along to history department functions. And Professor Wheeler has met Sam, and he knows her uncle, too, and he's going to think I'm cheating on Sam the moment her back is turned."

"Have Uncle John say something to him," Sam said.

"Good idea! I'd better do that."

We took leave of Ellen, with a couple more kisses from me, and drove back. Nobody asked us why we'd been gone so long. The laundry had been done without our help. We pitched in to help Aunt Sally get dinner ready and onto the table.

At dinner, Sam was the one who took the bull by the horns. She said, "We stopped in to see Ellen while we were there. We were taking stuff to Phil's apartment, you knew that, and she's on the next floor down. And we talked." Aunt Sally smiled at Uncle John. "OK, yes, we did that, too. But we talked with Ellen. And she's finally put some doubts to rest.

"We told you, she was afraid after this vision, whatever it was. The big thing for her was really a little piece of the whole thing, and if it's all true the whole thing is important. But you know some people, some Christians or people considering Christianity, run into this without visions or anything coming into it. If God is really in control, really sovereign, where's my free will? And here this vision was, telling her that something she really longed for was going to happen, and her reaction was, wait a minute, don't I get a say in this?" Sam smiled at me, and I knew she was thinking of how many times I'd said that, to her or to Jenny. And she didn't know the half of them—though she had been there the time I'd said something like that to Bella.

"Phil told her what he, and you, think the Bible teaches about this. It says God really is sovereign, and he determines even our choices, but his sovereignty isn't some arbitrary squashing of our choices, our choices are the means by which his sovereignty is exercised. Part of the means, of course! But she had to think about this. Even while she was here, she was kind of, um, afraid to let Phil get close to her, afraid wanting him would override her ability to figure out this whole mess."

I broke in. "I've heard Christians say things—Christians who want to be very insistent on eternal security—say things like, 'God can't force anyone to believe against his will.' I see three important answers to that. One is just ad hominem, but still important. They're denying God's omnipotence. If he's impotent against our wills, bound by sin as they are, then he's unable to keep us safe against a change of mind. And an appeal to regeneration doesn't really help with that issue.

"The second is that it says, over and over, that sometimes God hardens people's hearts—Pharaoh at the time of the exodus is the outstanding example, but there are others—and that no one can believe without God's bringing him to it. The answers to this that I've heard and read don't seem—to me—to do justice to the text. That passage in Jeremiah about the potter and the clay seems to me applicable, too, though that's not its primary application in context.

"But the third thing is the conversion of Saul on the road to Damascus. If that wasn't a case of God saving someone against his will, then the words don't mean anything at all.

"And this is the same thing. If God prepares our natures and our circumstances, Ellen's and mine I mean, so that we want and choose to get married, we're not doing it because some vision is telling us we have to—that's how Ellen put it—but because we want and choose to. If we were both believers, it would be right for us to ask whether this really was God telling us to do something, and if we decided it was we would need to obey. But even in that case, we'd have good reason to be skeptical if it didn't seem to make sense in other ways.

"Sorry, this kind of triggered a reflex. Sam, I apologize for interrupting. What you were saying is important."

"Anyway, the point is this. On whatever basis, she really has decided to put those issues behind her. She wants to be partners with Phil and me and Jenny again. She agrees that decisions about getting married are in the future, and we don't know enough to agonize over them. For now, anyway.

"The thing is that she'll be the one who's there with Phil, starting in about a week. They should be functioning as, well, as boyfriend and girlfriend, more or less. And that 'more or less' is important, they won't be leaving us out of the relationship even if we're not there. They'll be about where Phil and I were last week and are now and will be for a few more days.

"So the first thing is that you need to understand this yourselves. I'm not jealous, and I hope Jenny isn't. Phil, you need to touch base with her, too, sometimes! But I won't be, any more than Ellen begrudged me this special time with Phil. She was feeling all unsettled, but not in the least about that.

"And the second thing is that people will see them together on that basis, and they're not going to try to explain the whole, complicated situation to all those people. And in particular, well, Phil and I have done some chatting, together, with Professor Wheeler. Incidentally, he hopes to come up and visit you, for at least a few hours, sometime. I know what he now thinks about us. And he'll think Phil is cheating on me from the word 'go,' the moment I fly off. I assume he'll think it's his duty to warn you about this, on my behalf. Or at least to ask questions. Will you please set him straight? Not all the details, not any is probably best, but tell him I know all about it and I'm in favor of it?"

Uncle John smiled. "I'm sure I can tell him that. It will be hard not to give him any details, but you're absolutely right, if I start I'll never stop. I'll tell him I really don't have any say in the matter, but that Ellen seems to be perfectly nice, and you're both, all three in fact, adults in your right minds, so I don't get much say in it." I thought he was amused a little at the thought of explaining that he didn't necessarily approve of our behavior, but that it really was our business.

I sighed. "Thank you. I can't complain if he thinks I'm totally promiscuous or something, there's too much truth in that. I really do worry about people questioning my honesty, though. That's important to me."

Just to do something together after dinner, we played Monopoly. We put a strict time limit on it, and pushed each other to move and decide quickly. It was well that we did. Otherwise we probably would have played all night, and we might still be playing that game. So winning was determined by figuring each player's net worth at the end. Uncle John was well ahead of everyone else. No one really cared. Those not actually moving or acting as landlords for a particular turn chatted, lightly and amusingly.

They had one of the antique Monopoly sets, from the 1930s. I had never actually seen one before.

What Sam had once warned me of came true with a vengeance. I was, well, tested by means of having apt quotations and allusions tossed at me in conversation. I needed to at least identify the source, if not reply in kind. Both Uncle John and Aunt Sally were experts at this second, simultaneous game, and plainly we all enjoyed it. It continued off and on for the rest of the week. Sam got off much more lightly than I did, but they didn't ignore her.

When we were in bed, Sam wanted me to just give her a quickie and let her go to sleep. I declined. I pointed out the number of times she had expected me to perform during the day, including telling Ellen oral sex with me would be fine without checking with me. She said that I had cooperated enthusiastically in all of those, and I admitted the charge but denied that it was germane. At any rate, I kissed her and stroked and fondled and licked and kissed until she had come three times, before I went in. She didn't come after that, and she barely kissed me good night before she was asleep, after I came out. The next morning, though, she made favorable references to the whole process.

We woke to the alarm again Tuesday morning. I was pleased. I was still needing to get to the bathroom pretty quickly, but I was doing much better at making it through the night. Sam got up for the bathroom when I came back, but when she returned she told me I'd had plenty the day before and especially at bedtime. I told her that she was the one who'd had plenty at bedtime, and she agreed, but we just got dressed in running clothes and went out to run anyway.

I started by running with her, but she told me to run on ahead. She told me to go a lot farther than I had been, until I got to a road crossing the one I was on, and to turn left. She described a particular landmark, a lane more or less, and told me to wait for her there.

I ran on past the lane, in fact, looping back in a while, and Sam came into view about the time I got back to where she had told me to wait. We followed the lane, running at her speed at first, then walking. We walked along a little stream, with scrub bushes and trees, and came at last to a little clearing with a very weathered and pretty decrepit picnic table in it.

We were pretty well cooled off by this time, and she told me to sit down on the table's bench. I did so, somewhat gingerly for fear of splinters. I said as much.

She laughingly agreed, but she sat in my lap anyway. She said, "I knew this place from years ago, I used to walk this way sometimes. Up that way—" pointing uphill from the stream "—there is, or was, an old, kind of falling-down house. We should either walk or drive by it and look at it. Sometimes people kind of camped in it, I think. Anyway, this is on that property. I was thinking you could lay me down on this table, and I'd try to keep quiet, but between the likelihood of splinters and the likelihood that the table would fall down under that much shaking, we'd better not try it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't this bad, six years or so ago.

"But I really was looking forward to surprising you with it, and here I am, all wet and no place to screw you."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that. Remember yesterday morning? Plenty of trees here."

She made a face. "That was wonderful yesterday, but that's not quite what I was in the mood for."

"Well, if it's a table you want, you're kind of out of luck. I absolutely refuse to take you to MacDonald's or someplace, or even on a table back at the house. At school was one thing, here is something else. I'm already heading toward a reputation as a two-timing slime ball, but I don't want to create a scandal, even with just your aunt and uncle. I like and admire them too much, and they've already yielded to you—or us—more than they probably should have.

"You know, you mentioned being all wet, but I could easily enough make you really all wet." I eyed the stream.

"Phil! Don't you dare! I'll capitulate! Just bend me over against a tree and let's get on with it." She didn't actually sound reluctant.

"By now I was thinking of something else." She looked a little alarmed. "It's been a while now since anybody laid you down on the grass, on the hard ground, and screwed you, and you know I never did do that."

"That was your own fault, remember? I said you should! And this ground is pretty stony and uneven, not just hard."

"The last time we discussed it, you insisted that it was your fault. Remember?" She laughed and nodded slightly. "But you're right, the circumstances are against it. So OK. Now you owe me one extra, before you go."

"Let's get back home, and we'll see."

She led me along the stream. It was small and shallow enough that I would have had to work to get her very wet in it. We came to a path, rather overgrown, which crossed it, and we stepped across.

"I used to have to jump, or I'd get my feet wet. I guess I've grown some. Or there's less water."

"Or both."

We started up the path. She stopped suddenly and kissed me thoroughly. "Phil, I love you. I'm sorry, I just realized. I know half the time you were teasing, just now, but I was pointing out all the problems like they mattered. 'With you, anything.' Do you really want sex with me now, on rocks or splinters or bent over just like yesterday? We can go back if you do. Any of those! I should have asked back there."

"Um. To be honest, no. When we get back, I may demand something complicated and selfish or something, though. You may be all wet, but you've got me pretty uncomfortable."

It turned out the path led to a back corner of her aunt's and uncle's property. We walked through it and in the back door, then fetched our clothes and went down to the bathroom. We shaved and showered. Sam said, quietly, "Are we at least going to have a quickie now?"

"I hope not too quick. Not as complicated as I said, but maybe as selfish." I fondled her with just water, and her natural liquids, as lubricants. Well, I kissed her breasts at length, too, and saliva works for that, until it's washed away. She really was aroused already herself. I picked her up and held her against the wall, then told her, "You may need to use your hands to guide me in." She did so, then got her arms around my neck again. She came, twice in close succession, then once more, and I managed to last through them all—but it was obvious I wouldn't last much longer. I let her down, and said, "Quick, use your mouth now." She looked at me in surprise, then knelt on the mat and got going. A minute or two later, she took me all the way in, down into her throat, and that was about the end of it for me.

She stood up, rinsed her face, and hugged and kissed me, with a radiant smile. It brought back the memory of another occasion, and I thought she knew I was thinking of that. "You don't usually want me to do that, but you were inside where you belong, first, and you were very good to me. I don't think 'selfish' comes into it at all. And demanding didn't, either. I'm just as glad Bella wasn't here, though."

I told her, "Well, she's the one who first told me to take her, quickly, against the shower wall," and she smiled at me just as radiantly again. We got out and dried off, used the toilet, and got dressed. I took our running clothes upstairs while Sam went into the kitchen to help Aunt Sally. From the noises in the kitchen, they had come downstairs while we were in the shower.

Breakfast was another real treat, for me. It was some sort of coffee cake, with a brown sugar topping of some sort, full of blueberries. I think I've mentioned my passion for blueberries a couple of times. Sam told Aunt Sally, "If I'd known you were going to fix this, I'd have told you to make two. One for Phil, one for the rest of us." Aunt Sally smiled at the two of us. I thought she thought Sam was exaggerating. Or maybe it was just our activity in the shower, which must have been audible in the kitchen, some of it. Aunt Sally seemed to have developed a soft spot in her heart for our romantic activities. I kind of thought that it turned her on, reminding her of her early married years, and that she was enjoying the results of this. Maybe I was wrong. At any rate, there was no coffeecake left by the time everyone was done with breakfast.

Sam and I both had studying we wanted to do in preparation for courses to come, but I asked Uncle John and Aunt Sally whether there wasn't something I could really help with, something involving heavy lifting or something like that. I'd wanted to keep Aunt Sally from carrying laundry baskets—not all that heavy really, but somewhat, and unwieldy to boot—up and down stairs. I'd done so once, but messed up the day before. Not that I could have kept my appointment and helped her that way very much, honestly. And I'd helped Uncle John some.

He took me out, and under his direction I did a lot of pruning, carrying the branches to where they'd be burned, and other things like that. I dug up some saplings which were growing where they shouldn't be. In a couple of cases, I got the main root. In most, they were ramified and dug in so deeply that I couldn't do anything but break or cut, leaving sections of the root in the ground to cause trouble again later. Still, we did a good morning's work.

We went in and cleaned up for lunch, and after we ate I joined Sam in studying. She had spent about half the time I was out helping Aunt Sally with some things, not all that heavy, but much easier with two.

As usual, we told each other about interesting or confusing bits we encountered. After a while she began studying for an art course, and I paid a bit less attention to what she said.

Finally, though, she said, "I'm going to have to really push my advisor, to see whether I can't get out of this course. It's a mixture of history and theory on one side, and, as far as I can make out, the other side is practice in creating art based on those. I really need the practice, with serious critique, but I think I could just about teach the theory and history part. I may have trouble convincing anyone, though."

"What kind of exams does it have? You probably can't tell that well from what they say. I'm thinking that it must have exams on the history and theory, kind of normal exams with written answers, and then in place of exams, projects you get graded on. If that's right, maybe you can get them to let you take the exams from past years, to show you're proficient.

"The practical part sounds like a natural for independent study, with someone to discuss your ideas with and to critique your work. But if they can do that, you may need to really beat on them to make them realize that having the book-learning stuff down doesn't mean you've done the hands-on work."