The Question of a Third

I hadn't liked taking a vacation day to deal with a contractor, but I had finally succumbed to peer pressure. The green carpets fronting every other house in the neighborhood weren't noticeable in and of themselves, but when driving past our patch of regularly mowed weeds, the lack of investment was evident. To put things aright, a lawn sprinkler system was going to be needed, mostly because I was too busy, I kept telling myself, to move a hose and sprinkler around the yard from day to day.

But my vacation wouldn't be ruined, if, that is, the contractor showed up roughly on time. He was already half an hour late. I liked planning things, and plans called for tasks, and there were times for each task.

9:00 - Load the car for the camping trip. Done. 10:00 - Meet with the contractor. 11:30 - Meet Hayley at the Mall for lunch. 12:30 - Go to a convenience store, fill up the car with gas, and pack a cooler with ice. 12:40 - Leave to go camping for the weekend. 3:30 - Arrive in the Great Smokies. 4:30 - Pitch a tent. 5:30 (and thereafter) - Screw like bunnies.

A simple plan indeed. The phone rang inside. Surely it was the contractor, calling to tell me he was just around the corner.

"Hello." I managed to say it without any condemnation or venom. The worm.

"Hi Steven. It's a blast from your past!" My mind was fractured by damning the contractor while wondering who this was. A familiar voice, yes.

"Okay, I give. Who is this?"

"Ahhh, come on. You have to at least guess." A slight southern drawl.

"The voice of Christmas past come to torment me. Who is it?"

"Not even a guess?"

"Oh, fine. How about a hint?" I wasn't much in the mood for games, but I knew this person, and it certainly beat stepping on ants in the driveway waiting for the contractor.

"Brown Sugar."

"Good on a sweet potato. Also a Rolling Stones song. How about another one?"

"Banner Hall, Room 3.something or another."

Ah! I thought I knew who this was, but decided to play dumb. "College. I lived there."

"Run, rabbit run. I want to shoot you with my gun."

"Bateson!" Eric, a college roommate for a year, who always changed the words to that particular Pink Floyd lyric.

"Yeah, man. How's it going?"

"Good, I guess. All 12 years since I've heard from you. You pretty much dropped off the planet. How about you?"

"Good. I've been managing forest tracts for a paper company in Virginia for the last five years. I decided to take a road trip to Florida for a couple of weeks and thought I'd stop by!"

Stop by? "Where are you?"

"I-85 and Sugar Creek Parkway. You live near here?"

"Yeah, only several miles. But bad timing. We're leaving shortly to go camping. You ever heard of calling ahead?"

"Yeah. You know me, though. I just like to get into the car and drive. I didn't even know if you still lived here until I found a phone book."

"I'll have to introduce you to the internet. I gather you're still single?"

"Yeah, mostly not by choice, or, mine anyway. Where are you going?"

Paradise, I thought. Hayley and I had scouted a primitive camp site two years ago and had camped there once last year, which had been perfect. Perfect for.my mind digressed. "Eh, in the Smokies, just on the Tennessee side, in the National Park."

"Hey, if I'm not being too forward, I could go with you. I'd like to go there. I was going to camp at some beach in Florida, so I have a few supplies with me, although I was going to stay in motels too."

Three of us? It would be rather odd. And it would certainly change my expectations for the weekend. "Let me, ah, think about it. Why don't you come over for a bit? I'm waiting for a contractor and then I was going to leave. I may end up never leaving at this point."

Having given Eric directions, I called Hayley's cell phone. No answer. Either the mall was blocking the signal, or she had it muted. Great. I had to make an executive decision.

I had met Eric through Hayley, in college. She had several classes with him during her short duration as a Forestry major before concluding that, despite the romantic notion of working in the wilderness, there weren't many jobs out there that appealed and that paid respectably. I also knew that she would enjoy getting together with him to catch up on his life. We three had enjoyed good times, particularly in the summers when Eric and I were working and Hayley would visit for a weekend. I just didn't know if this was the right time. Maybe he could stop by the house on his way back.

Eric arrived shortly thereafter, and after a quick tour of the house and remarking on each other's graying hair, the blasted contractor arrived. He had a good understanding of the job needs, and all I wanted was a quote and his availability. I suffered through the sales pitch as he measured the yard, and sent him on his way to prepare a bid. Crap. I was going to be 15 minutes late meeting Hayley.

It turned out that Eric would be returning up the coast of North Carolina to visit with his sister briefly on his return trip, so I decided. I had better not make the decision. I put another camping chair in the van, as well as a small backpack, just in case, and added several more beers to the cooler.

Eric followed me to the mall to meet Hayley. She was waiting, somewhat patiently, it appeared, at the entrance to Ruby Tuesday's. "Hi, honey. Sorry I'm late, but the contractor didn't show until 11:00. I tried to call, but I couldn't reach you."

"I left it at home to charge. Sorry."

I saw a large shopping bag with no name on it. It was strange that any store in the mall would sell something without advertising their name on the bag. "Aha. I gather you and Denise had a good time shopping?"

"Yeah. We did. She just left, actually. But I think you'll appreciate her input to what I bought."

Whooee. Maybe that meant that she, for once, actually walked inside Victoria's Secret rather than "admiring it from afar." Back to the business at hand.

"I've got a surprise for you."

She slipped a hand on my butt and gave a squeeze, "And I've got some surprises for you."

"Let's do mine first. We'd like a table for 3." Hayley looked at me questioningly as the waitress gathered the menus to lead us to the table. "Behind you."

She turned, to meet Eric's wry grin. She only took a moment to recognize him, and gave him a huge hug. "It's so good to see you! This is such a surprise!"

When we were seated, we caught up briefly on careers, bragged on our kids, and listened to a short recounting of Eric's girlfriend woes. Hayley finally got around to asking him what brought him through town, and the discussion quickly arrived at "the question." Would Eric go camping with us?

This wasn't just any question. This question encompassed a history of which Eric was quite unaware. This was more akin to that single point in time in a movie when the protagonist is forced to make a decision, in short order, that could have far ranging consequences. A complication was that it should be a joint decision, but we couldn't even speak of it in its proper context.

And this was the context: We didn't know if we were like every couple, or like just a very few. But from whatever source, be it imagination, an erotic story in "Penthouse," a movie, TV show, a book, or an attraction of a married person to someone else, the idea of a threesome had been a frequent fantasy discussed in our love-making. And in terms of our sex life, the discussion had always sounded so.real. During foreplay, Hayley's juices would pour in far greater quantity than I could manually stimulate. If she wasn't really in the mood for sex but was doing it only as a gift to me, a few words about a cock in each hand, or lips at each nipple were sure to engage her passion, and a very vocal one at that. The thought of watching while my wife fucked another man.there was no plateau that was higher in our sexual passions. The question was, could we envision, in reality, having another man join us in bed. And the answer had been a very pleasurable "Yeessssssssss!"

Until just after the climax. Then came the other questions. Could we really do it? Yes. We agreed. Only a "yes" gave legitimacy to the sexual excitement that we experienced. But then the other questions arose, of possible jealousy, public exposure, disease, remaining satisfied with one partner, a break in our relationship and commitment to each other. We could seriously do it, but we could never seriously do it. It was a paradox, and we were thankful for what it was, a great fantasy. But the answer was necessarily a "no," and we had never made any attempts to make it happen.

Having been married over 15 years, there had been a number of times when, as we imagined her impaled on someone else's cock, whose cock that would be. It was part of our wordplay as we built the fantasy. A name. It would have to be someone that we both liked. Someone that she found attractive. It couldn't be a stranger; there was too much risk involved. It couldn't be someone that she could fall in love with. The person had to have other flaws about him that, regardless of sex, wouldn't appeal to Hayley as a "better relationship" than what we had, yet he still had to be a friend. It would also have to be someone that didn't run around in the same group of friends, preferably from out of town. And so, each time the "who" question came up after its first posing, the question became, have you thought of anyone better suited than Eric? And the answer had always been "no."

So, would Hayley want Eric to join us camping? A "yes" would not mean anything would happen; it was controllable. But something could happen, and that was a very big decision. I didn't want to cast the deciding lot. Seeing that Hayley was giving me a questioning look, and fully aware that my suddenly stiff cock was muting all the previously mentioned problematic questions, I gave an affirmative look that suggested, "it's okay with me, but it's really up to you." So much for male household leadership, but this had to be a joint decision, and I was willing to entertain the possibility if she was.

Like the protagonist in whatever book, I could see the immensity of the question pass through Hayley's face within the couple of moments it took for her to lean her head slightly and run a hand through hair, pulling it back over her shoulder. Eric wouldn't have understood the context, but I knew what she was thinking, and she replied with a light, but enthusiastic, "Sure. That would be fun."

We decided that Eric should follow us in his Rodeo. We could fit his stuff in our van, but we didn't want to leave his car at the mall or drive back to the house to leave it there. Plus, he would be happy to head out to points undecided from the mountains just as well as from any other place. During the ride to the gas station, we had a couple of minutes to reassure each other that this was okay. If anything, it gave a premise that would fuel our sex the next time we imagined a threesome. As I filled the van with gas, Eric asked if Hayley could ride with him so they could catch up on things, which was fine.

When we were about an hour from the camp, Hayley rejoined me in the van, telling me what they had talked about. They had covered a lot of the same stuff as we did at the restaurant, but with more detail. I ventured a jest, "Did he make a move on you?"

"Ha Ha. No. But he did have the courtesy to say how nice my new top looks, which is more than you've done!"

I looked and was immediately convicted. I really hadn't noticed. It was a V-neck sleeveless shirt, tight in all the right places, including across Hayley's 40D chest. The shirt must have included some support structure, because on closer observation, she wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were slightly higher than their natural position. She had obviously purchased it with me in mind, knowing that I'm particularly fond of her breasts. I made a mental note to thank Denise for her input at a later time. "What else did you buy?"

"You'll just have to wait to later," She added in a teasing voice. "He also went into a short history of his girlfriends. They apparently met someone slightly better than him and leave him to marry the other guy within a couple of months. He said it sort of started with me, which surprised me. We never dated, but he said he had decided he wanted to just as you and I started going out, but he never got the chance afterwards. Don't look at me like that. I said he didn't come on to me. It was just a part of his sad saga. He's been without a steady girlfriend for two years, and he hasn't had a date in months. He works in a small town, too."

Hayley stopped speaking, and the sound of the road noise was the backdrop to what I'm sure were duplicate thoughts running through our heads.

"So, what do we do, Steven?"

The discussion that followed was actually painful. I had to give more attention to the road as we were entering the mountains, and I couldn't do a thing about the stiff shaft in my pants other than give it an idle rub as we discussed "the question." And we discussed it the same way we had done in bed, only this time, there was no touching. For me, anyway. Hayley had pulled down her shorts and panties (hardly, it was a black g-string. She had apparently prepared her wardrobe specifically for a sexy weekend with just me), and brought herself to orgasm, which was no small distraction as I was driving.

Then the post-climax (for her) nuisance questions returned. "What if, what if, what if."

After Hayley "put herself back together," the process of which left several wet napkins on the floor of the van, we just agreed to just let it play out. If we both wanted it, it might happen if Eric was willing. If either of us didn't, then it wouldn't.

We paid the park fee, then drove to parking area at the far end of most of the main loop road, well beyond the frequented park facilities and recreational areas. We unloaded our van, packed lightly for the hike to our secret spot, approximately a mile down a faint path, then a half mile off of that, where we there was an excellent chance of privacy.

Then we did it again, to carry the cooler, table and chairs. Had it been just the two of us, we would have made it in one trip. The "campsite" was a clearing adjacent to a stream on a high bank. The stream had attracted us on the map during our first scouting visit, hoping for a private place to skinny-dip, one of those often considered fantasies that had proved to be difficult to carry out. Well, we had carried it out. The water was very cold, but there was a pool of water several feet deep, with large boulders on one side which were perfect to sit or lay on.

The clearing was rather modest, and the quaintness of our previous visit was replaced by a more suburban feel as Eric's tent had to be positioned such that his door flap opened facing toward the side of our tent, within several feet. His tent was considerably larger than our tent, which had chosen for it's lightweight and easy portability. Just the proximity of Eric's tent made the prospects of Hayley and I screwing like bunnies pretty dim, as the sound would carry easily.

After everyone was situated, the afternoon carried on, recalling our lives in recent years as well as the times we had shared together in college. We could have drank more beer, but we wanted to save the other half for Saturday.

As night fell, we faced a problem. The Park prohibited fires outside of the designated camping areas, and the fluorescent light we brought was attracting unknown species of flying bugs. We had to move indoors, and only Eric's tent would fit us, as our dome shaped tent was suitable only for two.

Even in Eric's tent, which had significantly more headroom, the space was crowded. We brought the fluorescent light in as well, which had been a timely buy when we read an article about a family dying from carbon monoxide exposure from a propane light inside a tent.

Eric began moving his backpack out of the tent to clear more room. As he shuffled his bag, a paperback fell from it, which he didn't notice. Hayley picked it up. "Penthouse Letters - V". It appeared to be a collection of sex stories that had been published in Penthouse magazines, categorized by types - Exhibitionism, Serendipity, Domination, Threesomes. Aha. Threesomes.

Eric was commenting from outside. "I've got some cards in here somewhere. We can play something while we talk."

He reentered the tent, and Hayley held up the book so that he could see it. "Why bother playing? I'll bet there's a story in here about strip poker." Neither Eric nor I laughed. In any other setting, it would have been funny as hell. But the close confines of the tent, the presence of a "bed" as such, the familiarity between us and the show of cleavage from Hayley, made the thought of it very much within reach. Strip poker just didn't happen in real life, just like threesomes. It was the stuff of stories.

Eric was a bit embarrassed about his book, and continued to be so for several minutes as Hayley read the titles to the stories on the pages that were clearly Eric's favorites - the pages were dog-eared. "My Wife - the Sex Slave I Always Wanted," "Horny Housewife Lures 3 Black Studs," "Girlfriend Tastes Cum for the First Time, and Can't Get Enough." "Sorority Girl is the Lone Female at Frat Party, But Not Alone." And there were others, tons. We laughed and joked about them, until Hayley came to "Two Couples Reunite for Strip Poker."

"See, I told you there would be one. I guess we're just one short." Before Eric or I could make any comment, Hayley launched into reading the story. After she read the scene set up, she looked up. Eric and I both looked a bit stunned. I didn't know what Eric was thinking, but I was thinking of sex, and that Hayley must want to go through with it if she was being this forward.

"Hey guys, I'm not playing strip poker because I wouldn't want to embarrass you," she winked, "but that doesn't mean we can't read the story."

Eric said, "Well, go ahead. I'll never read it the same way again!"

I heard my wife say words such as "cock," "cunt," "pussy," "tits," "fuck me hard" and on and on. It wasn't that I hadn't heard her say these before, it was that she was saying them in front of another man, in a very bawdy context. At some point, the story became just a backdrop to what I was seeing. Eric and I were mostly stretched out and propped up on our elbows. A quick glance confirmed we both had flagpoles in our shorts. Hayley was sitting between our legs, with her legs folded under her and the book held to one side to capture the light.

I became aware that, although certainly the temperature of the mountain air had cooled, her nipples were fully erect, their shape and size easily discerned through her shirt. Her cleavage, neck, and face were also flushed. I risked another glance to see if Eric had noticed. His concentration was lower. I looked, too.

Although Hayley's shirt was tantalizingly tight, she was wearing hiking shorts. The hem was short, and the size of the leg pattern was large to facilitate walking and climbing. As she sat there, with her legs spread and folded back, the light shone up her shorts. Her g-string was clearly visible, as was the fact that her pubic area was shaven to within its confines. The light seemed to play tricks, suggesting at times that she was very wet. I became aware that she finished the story.

No one said anything. She had quickly picked up that we had been spying on her. Several uncomfortable moments passed, and I offered, "I don't think I can take any more stories. Let's call it a night."

I could feel the relief in each of us, but I also felt a little disappointed. It could have happened. A suggestion, and a fantasy would have been realized.

Hayley left the camp a ways to go to relive her bladder, and I did the same in a different direction. We met back at our tent, and made facial expressions indicating we were horny, relieved, oh so close to living a fantasy, and frustrated that we couldn't speak about these things. Hayley held a finger to her mouth indicating for me to remain quiet, and retrieved a bag from her pack. Frederick's! She hadn't gone to Victoria's Secret then, but Frederick's of Hollywood! That meant that she had purchased "tramp" clothing rather than the classy, which is fine with me. I have an appetite for both. She held up a bra with nipple cut-outs.