Provocation

The burn is accelerating, but they aren't there yet.

In case you missed

Provocation 2

, I accidentally posted it as Erotic Coupling, not Group Sex

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Provocation - Three

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We finally stopped kissing and got the forks untangled. I really need to start paying a lot more attention when loading this new dishwasher...

For some 'unaccountable' reason, Gwen and I were both now starving and immediately made dinner, even if it was extraordinarily early for us. It was just hamburgers, but we found ourselves at the table, sponging at mostly empty plates with leftover fries to scrounge the juices left by the patties.

"So, how was work for you?" I finally asked. We had discussed my hectic day by this point, or at least the work component thereof.

"Bland, mostly. Did have one interesting phone call," Gwen said casually.

"Ha! I knew you'd call her," I laughed.

"She called me," Gwen said, sticking her tongue out at me. "She was kind of upset at first."

"What? Wait. Really?" I yelped. Ron hadn't said...

"She was afraid that she and Ron had gotten out of line and corrupted us!"

I laughed with her at that. "But she isn't mad at Ron?" I wanted to confirm.

"No! I got the explicit information that they spent as much of the weekend joined at the hips as we did," Gwen replied drily.

How much 'explicit information' did women exchange?

"I reassured her and explained the whole Provoking thing," Gwen said as we moved into the living room to sit on the couch.

"Oh?"

"We agreed that it sure worked for all of us. But we both suspect it would not for most people."

I nodded at that. "Yeah," I thought out loud. "I feel like I have more trust in you than a lot of guys manage."

"That's what we agreed," Gwen replied. "Between you and me, that's why I wasn't feeling so dicey after the dance club as I was after having Ron and Cathy over. Our single gang are all very single. Teasing any of them isn't going to piss anybody else off!"

"It is simpler there," I nodded. "I'm glad to hear all is good then."

She poked me. "Like you didn't call Ron the second your ass hit your chair at the office."

"Of course," I shrugged. "We had much the same conversation, in different terms." I looked at my woman. "You may expect that Ron will hit on you again when we go over there Friday."

Gwen pretended to gasp. Then she grabbed my hand. "Should I feel bad that I'm looking forward to that?"

I wasn't sure if she was asking if she should be apologizing to me for looking forward to it, or she herself should feel bad for looking forward to it.

I shrugged. "Well, I'm sure looking forward to hitting on Gwen!"

"I'll bet," she poked me again, a bit... provoked. "Her and her bazongas!"

"They are... different," I said slyly.

I was starting to get a sore rib from all the poking.

"Just remember," I said, holding her close to prevent any further stiff digits in my side, "your bazongas are, and forever will be, my favorite bazongas."

"Durn tootin'," Gwen said, snuggling in against me.

And with that, we turned on the TV to catch NCIS.

*

The week was uneventful, except that Gwen came home on Wednesday to tell me she had had lunch with Sammy, as they often did.

"Carl, I almost started flirting with him," Gwen said, not guiltily, but still somehow giving the impression that she'd dodged a bullet.

"He'd have liked that," I said slowly. "Why didn't you?"

"Duh, you weren't there. No way I'd want to waste a chance to provoke you!"

"I still think you'd have had fun," I teased.

"Yeah, I would have," Gwen said, almost defiantly. "But," she shrugged, "not as much fun as if you were there to get all horny watching."

"I'm getting horny now, thinking about it," I sort of joked. I stopped and humphed to myself as I realized something. "Honestly, with someone like Sammy, where I already know the undercurrent, I think I could probably be sufficiently provoked by a later retelling." Gwen eyed me dubiously. "I'd still rather have the chance to be provoked in person," I added, realizing that in the moment.

"Hmmm. And I'd much prefer to provoke you in person." Gwen said, giving me a stern but friendly eye. "But while no sane woman is going to encourage her man to go around flirting up a storm in her absence... I think a little ex-post-facto provocation would be okay from you, too. Maybe. Let's think a bit more on that one before we set any rules there on one side or the other."

*

Getting dressed on Friday evening was slower than usual. My hands kept getting in the way as Gwen tried to put on her clothes. Had I gotten frisky like this a month ago, she would have laughed and slapped my hands away with an appreciative smile, but I would have been expected to behave myself thereafter.

Friday, she kept wandering back within my reach...

We managed to arrive only a few socially acceptable minutes late, but I had to speed a little on the drive over to pull that off.

Cathy, when she finally opened the door to us, announced, "Thank God you two are late tonight, like normal people! I'm still not quite ready in the kitchen, but if you had arrived on time, it would have been embarrassing!"

"Can't have anyone being embarrassed," I said, stepping through the door and extending my hand to Ron, who stood behind Cathy.

"Drink, anybody?" he asked the room, letting go of my hand after a firm shake.

"Please," Gwen said brightly, before either Cathy or I could say the same.

"I'll take a Stinger, Ron," Cathy said, starting to dash for the kitchen. "Hold it for me while I get things... put back together in there!"

Gwen and I flanked Ron as he moved to his little bar in the corner of the living room.

"Make it easy on yourself," Gwen said to Ron. "Stingers all around."

I had heard of Stingers, and had recipes for them in several books, but I'd never had one.

As Ron uncorked his brandy, Gwen went on in an almost sing-song voice. "So, something got messed up in the kitchen? Did you get in Cathy's way, Ron?" she asked sweetly.

He tilted his head in her direction. "Possibly," he said slyly.

"Well, I hope she at least enjoyed the interruption..." she teased, clasping her hands behind her back to thrust her chest forward a touch.

"I think she may have."

"I'll bet she usually does," Gwen bore on, actually closing toward Ron just a half step.

"I aim to please," he practically leered back.

They both shot a glance at me, standing about two feet from Ron on the other side.

I rolled my eyes. "Quit distracting Ron," I scolded Gwen. "At least until after he's finished making my drink."

Ron stiffened fractionally at my proviso, and Gwen gave me a provoked look like I had been the one flirting.

Interesting reaction. I filed it away for future consideration.

Whatever mess Ron's impertinence had made in the kitchen, it had already been mostly cleaned up before we had arrived, or it had not been that big in the first place, because Cathy was already coming back out of the kitchen by the time Ron started handing out chilled coupes of minty goodness.

"Wow!" I said brightly. "You handled that quickly, Cathy." I smiled as brightly at her.

She looked back at me for half a beat, then visibly drew a deeper breath than needed before she smiled and replied, "I think you will find that I am quite skilled with my hands."

Oh, really? Game on.

"I look forward to experiencing the results of your skills," I said back swiftly. I may have oiled up my voice a little.

I felt my arm being taken possessively by Gwen. "Weak effort, babe," she whispered in my ear.

"I know," I sighed quietly. "She caught me by surprise. I'll do better..."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"I'm aiming for both."

"On target," she murmured back happily.

The dinner was good. Too good. It was so good, it held all our attention and totally derailed the curiosity that had kicked off within moments of our arrival.

Still... something was sizzling in me the whole meal.

Honestly, given how the current vibe had kicked off the week before, I realized the only real disappointment about this feast was that there was no finger food...

The four of us always dressed fairly casually when we got together, but for this, the last of the fancy dinners, we had, seemingly independently, upped our game a little. I had my best trousers on, and my grey linen shirt with the brightly embroidered cuffs. Ron was similarly attired.

The girls had gone somewhat further. Before, they had been been dressing for tennis or, um, aprés golf, you know? Tonight, they both wore bright skirts, pleasingly closer to tennis length than golf. That left a lot of appealing leg to see on both ladies. Gwen had on a black satin bustier-looking top. Even disregarding the spaghetti straps on her shoulders, I knew from watching her dress (closely) that there was no bra underneath. Cathy wore a far looser, flowing, silver blouse. That might have been disappointing compared to Gwen's form-fitting number, but the thing was low-cut. Deeply-cut.

I told you that I am aesthetically a fan of large boobs. I have studied the genre, if you will. I could tell from looking, staring really, into Cathy's neckline that she had a bra on. There had to be, to make those lovelies ride like they were. But, given the depth of that neckline, I couldn't quite figure out what kind or configuration of support garment she wore.

I might not be going to see what that bra looked like first hand, but I was kind of determined suddenly, as Cathy leaned forward extravagantly to rise from her chair, to figure it out.

Gwen and I were sternly ordered to keep our seats now that we had all finished, while Ron and Cathy cleared the table and went to retrieve dessert.

We looked at each other as the old-fashioned swinging door to the kitchen fell closed.

"Does it upset you that I've really been looking forward to this?" Gwen asked quietly. "More than I expected to?"

"It might..." I said slowly. "If I hadn't also been eager for tonight."

We both smiled. "What are we doing?" Gwen said, shaking her head.

"Damned if I know," I chuckled. "I guess we will find out."

There was a clattering of dishes from the kitchen in the amenable silence between us.

"But," I added, knowing they would be back soon, "while I will admit to being quite focused on finding out how you and especially... yes, especially Gwen are going to tease me tonight, in the long run, I am way more committed to enjoying the results of that teasing between two of us later."

"Mmmm," Gwen said, smiling evilly. "I think that, even if nothing else provocative happens tonight beyond what already has, you can at least expect a wakeup blowjob tomorrow morning!"

Great. Gwen was gonna give me a hard-on before I could even try to flirt with Cathy again...

The kitchen door squeaked a bit as Ron pushed it open with a flourish. "Voila!" he pronounced proudly, watching as Cathy came through with a tray.

On the tray was a neat pyramid, consisting of a variety of chocolate truffles. I did a double-take as I perceived that they were hand-made, home-made chocolate truffles!

"Oh, you bitch," Gwen gasped beside me delightedly. "No fair, waiting for the very last night to drop the mike on me!"

Cathy just smiled and went over to the table to stand directly across from me. She bent over, again extravagantly, to set down the tray. But she froze, quirked her lips, and stood back up straight. "We need to buy better dining room chairs, Ron," she said, still holding the tray.

"Huh? Wait, why?" he asked, alarmed. Dining room chairs are expensive.

"Ours aren't as comfortable as theirs," Cathy shrugged. "Let's all enjoy dessert in the living room instead."

"That is a wonderful idea," Gwen enthused sweetly, bouncing to her feet and moving to grab Cathy's arm.

Ron and I looked at each other, raised questioning but not unhappy eyebrows, and enjoyed the view as we followed the ladies.

The main seating area in Ron and Cathy's living room is filled with a really long couch and a matching cozy loveseat. It is an awkward configuration for two couples, so they usually dragged in an extra chair or two, but neither lady gave us any instructions to that end, and since at least I was paying more attention to our two women than to where they were going, we brought along no extra seating.

When we got to the center of the room, Gwen turned, hesitated, then smiled. She pointed at the couch and set the platter of truffles down on the coffee table, at the left of the couch, where it and the love seat came together. "Ron, take that end of the couch and let our guests sit nearest to the dessert," she said, pointing at the right side.

Ron looked amused and took his seat there. Cathy again maneuvered herself so she was bending over while facing me to put down the platter, then curled herself up on the love seat, pointing us at the couch between Ron and where she sat.

"Boy-girl, boy-girl, right?" Gwen asked, looking teasingly at our etiquette-obsessed buddies.

But she happily sat herself in the middle of the couch, and I followed to sit at the end next to Cathy's perch. I noticed without comment that Gwen had seated herself a lot closer to Ron's end of the couch than to mine.

We resumed an earlier conversation from dinner and chatted happily for a good while, maybe ten minutes.

"Hey!" Cathy said, clapping her hands. "No one is eating my sweets," she declared, then flushed briefly at her wording. "Let's all have one so I can hear your opinions, Carl and Gwen!"

We all reached for the platter and each took a delicious-looking confection. Ron had to actually get up and lean way over to reach one.

We all bit in and Cathy reveled in the spontaneous moans at how good they were. Rich, not too sweet, and almost savory. Mine looked like a tiny asteroid, its surface covered in crumbled nuts. Gwen's had thin lines of something red drizzled across its smooth, round surface.

"You are evil, Cathy," I groaned carefully as I swallowed the last bit of my truffle.

"You sound pretty happy for someone calling my wife evil, dude," Ron observed.

I flared my eyebrows at him. "I fucking love these things," I growled at him. I turned and looked at Cathy. "But these are criminally small. If they were full-size, I'd be happy to eat just one... okay, two. But these are just two bites each. My dumbass brain is telling me that they are so small, I can have a whole bunch."

Cathy just preened from the love seat next to me.

Gwen rescued this dead-end set of complaints about the best dessert I'd had in ages with a story about some silliness at her work. We all had a good time trashing some woman she described as producing a truly Karen-like episode in Purchasing.

But we all were getting hungry for more truffle goodness. Ron broke down and struggled up from their lushly soft couch to reach for another truffle.

But Gwen jumped on the opportunity. "Want one, Ron?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said, almost missing what was being asked before sinking back into his seat.

Gwen plucked up two truffles, one covered in sprinkles, the other in cocoa powder. She held them both up before Ron. He pointed at the pink sprinkles. "Good choice," my woman purred, popping the cocoa-powdered one between her dark red, sensuously pursed lips. Ron winced happily as he watched her chew the rich confection.

Then she scooted another few inches over to sit right next to him and offered the truffle to his lips. Ron's eyes lit briefly before he tried to play it as if shit hadn't started happening again. I similarly tried to pretend this was not interesting, but I leaned toward them despite myself. I felt Cathy similarly bending forward on the love seat in my peripheral vision.

Ron opened his mouth slowly, but Gwen grinned impatiently and shoved the small chocolate into his mouth. He leaned back, and she followed, almost resting herself on him. She giggled as he finally bit down and ate half the truffle. He had chewed barely twice when he made an ooohing sound and straightened. Gwen retreated as he moved, but she was still at least slightly pressed against him.

"Honestly, Cath," Ron said with his mouth still half-full of sticky chocolate. "This is the best batch of these you've ever done!"

We all laughed lightly at the enthusiastic break from the gathering tension.

"I found a new Mexican chocolate to add to the blend," Cathy just said smugly.

"Well, it works," Gwen said enthusiastically.

We all paused for just a beat.

Ron made a show of swallowing. "I'd like the rest of my yummy, please," he said casually to my lady.

"Of course," she said, leaning back toward him and lifting the already-bitten truffle back toward him. But this time, Ron hung in there, and Gwen ended up pushing quite obviously against him, her right breast pressed visibly on his chest, and her face within inches of his. He opened his mouth wide this time, and Gwen slid the rest of the truffle deep into his lips, following it in with her index finger. He closed his lips around that finger, and she left it there.

You did not need your teeth to enjoy the firm but soft and creamy chocolate of these truffles, and I saw Ron masticating his treat with just his cheeks and tongue, allowing him to keep Gwen's finger in his mouth as he did.

My woman finally pulled her finger free, and there were streaks of the truffle's soft center on it.

"Whoops," Gwen said, and stared right back at Ron while she tantalizingly licked her finger free of any traces of the chocolate.

Ron looked like he gulped, but maybe he was just swallowing the last of the truffle.

I shot Gwen a look that told her I'd fuck her right now, if we weren't doing a thing. But that I was going to fuck her later. And then some.

I briefly flicked my eyes archly over Ron, who still had my girl resting lightly against him, and turned back to Cathy, who was smiling challengingly at her husband.

"Can I get you another?" I asked her blandly. I was feeling anything other than bland, but unsure how to top Gwen. Until I could figure that out, I was just angling to have Cathy suck on my finger for a bit. The more than nascent hard-on I was dealing with told me that it would be an awesome start.

"Sure. Let me have one of the ones dusted in the cocoa powder, too," she said with a slow smile.

I stretched to pluck one of the light brown balls and turned to Cathy. Instead of leaning toward me, she was lounging back in the little loveseat. I started to stretch toward her, but then popped up. "I don't want to reach," I said offhand and moved to squeeze myself in next to Cathy.

As I said, the little loveseat was really no bigger than one of those cuddle chairs you see that hold two people only if they are extremely good friends. I certainly thought of Cathy as a friend... I squeezed in beside her, our hips pressing firmly together. It was even more intimate than it might have been since Cathy made no effort to make room for me.

I turned toward her with the truffle in my hand. Naturally, to make things comfortable with me twisted like that, I had to swing my arm up and around behind her. That I draped that arm close around her shoulders instead of along the top of the loveseat was simply accidental. Simply.

Cathy opened her mouth and twisted back toward me, but not so much as to dislodge my arm. Again, in keeping with the amorous, but deniable little ritual we were all developing to feed each other, she opened her mouth sexily. I fed the truffle in gently, and she bit it in half. She moaned just a little at the flavor of her own masterwork.

Could I help it if my brain interpreted those low sounds of pleasure as evoking images of something else in her mouth?

No. I could not. Cathy could paint a picture without words...