Chapter 7
Sara was very attentive after I revealed discomfort that she and Eric had sex outside of our usual joint sessions. She was making good on her pledge to give me "special alone time" too.
Despite her professions of love, however, I found her love-making lukewarm, as we fucked missionary style. It seemed she was just placating me or trying to soothe my hurt feelings rather than being an active participant. She did not wrap her legs around me and drum my butt with heels, dig into my back with fingernails, whimper or moan to show pleasure. There was no fantasy role play. She just lay there, her cunt already saturated with Eric's cum deposited during their earlier tryst, making squelching sounds as my dick went in and out.
When I had arrived home, in the middle of Sara's tryst with Eric, the passion with him was evident. Couldn't she muster any of it for her husband? I felt humiliated at her sexual apathy toward me, then got angry. I wound up fucking her hard, trying to incite passion with each thrust of my dick, screw her out of her lethargy.
All that did was make me come before getting her off. I felt bad about that, apologized and promised to make it up to her if we did it again in a short while.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "It wasn't necessary. I got off earlier with Eric."
That was not too consoling, but it got me thinking. I realized it was not my first orgasmic foul-up. I had also failed to get Sara off during our recent threesome with Eric and the foursome with Joy. Eric rose to the occasion and took care of her orgasm both times we had all been together, also getting Joy off during the foursome. This super-stud had become my backup. I tried to remember if I had left Sara "high and dry" during the times we had sex alone. Was that why she had gravitated to him so enthusiastically?
I tried talking to her about all this, but she waved me off. "I love you, but this paranoia is getting old," she said. "No more, please."
Joy called the next day. "An old friend is flying in. He suggested we meet for the weekend at a little cabin in the mountains where we used to go. So I won't be joining you guys as planned. Can we get together Monday? If I can walk," she added, with a laugh.
"Enjoy yourself," I told her, chuckling but secretly uneasy that another valued female companion was also "straying." I had assumed Eric, Sara, Joy and myself were in an exclusive polyamorous relationship, just screwing each other. Of course, that assumption was irrational. Joy had a reputation for fucking around, so her new liaison should come as no surprise. I sighed, hoping she would not bring back any bugs to share with the rest of us.
Joy was able to walk Monday, and in her usual high spirits. She probably related some of the experience to Sara, as they huddled on the parlor couch after dinner. Giggles and laughter floated into the dining area and kitchen, where Eric and I were rinsing dishes for the washer. By the time we joined them, Sara and Joy were more than ready for another foursome. Joy grabbed Eric's hand and pulled him toward the stairs. Sara and I followed to our king-size bed.
We helped each other out of clothing, and as in the previous four-way, took positions next to each other, Joy and Eric on the right. Joy lay down, spread her legs invitingly and asked Eric to fuck her the same way as before. He picked up her legs, resting her calves on his shoulders, and inserted his dick into her moist fold. As before, Sara wanted to be on top, so I lay down next to Joy and Sara hopped on top of me, cowgirl style.
As during the previous exercise, Sara closely watched our friends' activity, and I had to coax her into riding me. It was a bit unsettling to see my wife gape at Eric's dick plunging in and out of Joy, rather than at me as she rose and fell on my dick. I suddenly thought of myself as Sara's dildo.
Following a series of moans and whimpers, and exhortations to "fuck me, fuck me," Joy came with a virtual scream. Sara reached over and squeezed her hand, then practically rose off me to throw her arms around Eric and join her mouth to his with a lot of tongue action, their chins on Joy's leg, which rested on his shoulder. As with the first time I witnessed this, I found it incredibly erotic and would have emulated it with Joy, but her eyes were closed, facial expression indicating she was on an erotic plane of her own.
It was at this point in our previous joint session that I came -- too soon to satisfy Sara -- but I did not have to worry about losing it this time. Sara had stopped riding me as her mouth fused to Eric's. My dick was still half-enveloped by her warm, wet pussy, but there was no stimulation from movement.
Then the supreme irony: Sara broke her kiss with Eric, saying, "Don't stop. Fuck me," as she looked him in the eyes, lust all over her face. He looked confused for a moment, then glanced at me with what may have been a trace of guilt.
"Why don't you finish what you started first," he said, looking back at Sara. "You're already in control of your own destiny."
It was her turn to look puzzled for a moment. Then she burst out laughing.
"I forgot," she said, looking down at me. "Sorry, darling." She resumed rising and falling on me, picking up her pace more rapidly than before. A faraway look came upon her face, eyes glazed, mouth in an oval, breathing heavily. Her tits jumped around, keeping time with her movement. Not long ago, I would have been happy and extremely turned-on watching her, figuring all this lust was for me, a sign that I was doing well by her. Now, the lust seemed completely impersonal, and me irrelevant, just her dildo.
Actually, it was even worse than that. She was in something more than just role play imagination, where you pump yourself up by play-acting, but know who your partner really is. She was actually fantasizing, No, hallucinating. In her head she was fucking Eric, not me. I did not exist for her. What a downer it was to know I was not only a dildo but also a proxy for my best friend Eric, now her favorite lover. I was just a tool. This realization sucked all the lust out of me.
Even though the stimulation from movement had resumed, and at an accelerated pace, her vaginal muscles tight around my dick, there was still no danger of me losing it. I had gone into this fuck session determined to improve my track record by holding out long enough for her to get off, but will power was no longer needed. Dismay was making me almost impotent.
Sara screamed and slowed her desperate gallop to a canter, then to a halt, as she clenched my dick, which I now thought of as actually a surrogate for Eric's dick. She stayed in place on her mount, sweating profusely, almost gasping for breath. Her wet hair was disheveled, saturated strands of it in her face. Eyes were still closed, almost as if she was in a trance. This would have been a beautiful, rewarding sight just a few weeks ago, when I had been the object of her passion and could claim responsibility for getting her off and into this state of post-sexual nirvana. Now, it was totally sad.
Eric and Joy were also looking at Sara. Did they share my perceptions? Were they anywhere near as shocked? They could certainly not be as depressed.