The next morning I awakened with Jim's erection in between my ass-cheeks. This is not unusual, we often sleep like this, his front to my back with his arms around me, and Jim, like most guys I have slept with, often wakes up with an erection. It seemed to me this must be a nice part of being a male, starting the day with the right thing in mind, although Jim says it can be frustrating too, among other things sometimes making it hard to pee straight away.
Anyway, I was pleased he was hard and I wanted to suck him this morning. For two reasons. One for him, one for me.
He'd missed out on the last of the previous night's activities. He wouldn't have fallen asleep if he hadn't have been satisfied, that part was okay, but he still missed out. I would tell him all about it later and was fairly sure, after all that had happened this weekend, that he wouldn't mind. I didn't feel guilty, as if I had a need to pay him back or anything, just wanted some symmetry. I wanted his last memory of this remarkable weekend to be a good one. And from me.
Also, I wanted my own symmetry. I had begun the weekend Friday night with Jim's penis discharging into me, I wanted it to end that way too. All the playing around, my endless delight with Rob's cock, all of that was possible because I had married an amazing guy, who was thoughtful and caring and willing to experiment, roll with the flow, all that. He had indulged my disruptive desires. He was a prince, with a princely penis, and I wanted this to be made explicitly clear to him.
And I wanted to be able to head down to breakfast at the lodge with the taste of his semen in my mouth, wanted to go home knowing that his erection had found pleasure with me a last time that morning, in the most loving, intimate way possible. He was my love, he was my man, I wanted no marriage unless it was with him.
He was not displeased to find himself surfacing from sleep that morning with my lips around his cock-head. Like many of these early morning sucks, it was quick and sweet. Already hard, I immensely enjoyed running my lips along his shaft, savoring his cock-head's sharp ridge-line, playing with his balls.
I looked up at him, his eyes closed, his sensory attention focused entirely on his early morning erection and my assailing mouth. Lips gliding, my nose reveling in his scent, wetness all along, this feeling of power over a man is intoxicating to me. Knowing his pleasure was at my call, his testicles frantically churning their morning fluids, all of his nerve endings at full-parade salute.
His hips pushed back into me, his penis striving for every inch of attention I could provide. Stiffening legs, his fingers playing with my nipples, rustling my hair. My teasing tongue trawling along his cock-head - I love this.
He was making little whimper noises when his hips began to buck and he sent his morning spurtings into my mouth. Two, three, four and more times his penis pulsed, each discharge slightly less than the one before. My pre-breakfast appetizer was safely installed.
I suckled longer than usual at his cock-head, drawing the last dribblings of sperm out of him. I was reluctant to abandon that noble penis, say my farewell, let it return to the tedium of its normal, everyday, non-aroused world. But we heard noises from the other room, Rob and Sharon were awakening. Despite all the familiarities developed this weekend, I didn't want them wandering in to our room while I still had Jim's cock in my mouth so we embraced a last time and with a quick kiss got out of bed.
Jim beat Rob to the bathroom, Rob's eyes taking in the state of Jim's damp, depleted penis, Rob's glance and a little smile letting Jim know that his cock's condition pretty well revealed what had just happened. Rob shot me his own quick look from the hallway, a slow knowing smile on his face. "You randy little vixen," his expression seemed to be saying.
Sharon surfaced, her hair all messed up, eyes glazed. Her long hefty breasts with the dark ends drifted to each side. She looked like she could have slept the whole day.
We packed up and had a last breakfast at the lodge. The rain had stopped, the air was fresh, clear. Our talk was the usual, there was no trace of all the stuff that had gone on over the weekend, maybe the teasing was a little more familiar. But it felt good. Our best friends, fellow travelers.
And I could flash back on the sight of Sharon getting ravished by both guys last night, their insistent cocks taking their pleasure with her, impaling her, fucking her tits, how noisy she had been, how much she had enjoyed herself, and ending by taking Jim's sperm into her mouth for the first time.
And that I had had Rob's penis in my own mouth last night - this whole weekend - a pile. Every day at least once. I lost track of all the times. And yet now my mind could always return to the feel of Jim's last ejaculation, those half-dozen spirited eruptions into my eager mouth that morning.
Good ride home, Rob dropped us off, we said our cheerful goodbyes, knowing we would be seeing them quite often the rest of the summer. We unloaded our stuff. Jim and I were talking in the kitchen, putting things away.
"Good enough weekend for you?" he asked.
"Amazing. Although I am sore. And I never thought I would ever admit it, but I am sexed out."
He gave me a wan look.
"My period just about to arrive too."
"I am not sure four people in their mid-thirties have had this many climaxes in four days," he said.
"Oh, I am sure that has happened, one way or another. We are not the only couple in the world to have had a sex-drenched weekend from time to time. Even middle-aged folks. Even with kids. Even from small towns."
"But I have to ask you," I said. Looking at Jim just then, an idea had surfaced.
"Going back to the first night, after we all had coupled in front each other, remind me how our conversation got to the 'two-on-one' business? I know I didn't raise it, and you didn't either."
He shot me an odd sideways look.
"Isn't that what you wanted though?" His eyebrows arched. "Sort of what started all of this, really?"
"You mean YOUR idea? The original 'two-on-one?'" I retorted. "You started it. You talked about wanting two girls. You can't have the story both ways. Don't go blaming it all on me."
"No, it depends on how you count the starting. For you it was 'four-on-one' by the way." Jim wasn't accusing, more tallying up. These sorts of discussions always seemed to devolve into bickering over technicalities.
"But who started the 'two-on-one' discussion Friday night?" I tried again. "We eased into it somehow, but I don't think Sharon began it, it was a little too close to home for her, to our little rendezvous in April."
"Well, that leaves Rob then," laughed Jim. "Although I am not sure I can reconstruct the conversation."
It was Rob, now that I thought of it. He had broached the "two-on-one."
I stopped. It troubled me now. We had slipped into the unequal-triangle arrangement, with the odd spouse out as voyeur, way too easily. Sure, Jim and I had talked the "two-on-one" ourselves. Sharon had been brought into it, stumbled really, into our own planned little web. And while Rob had done the multi-guy thing with me at the poker game, he wasn't aware of the original "two-on-one" fantasy. Or was he?
My stomach did an unpleasant twist, and I stopped in mid-step across the kitchen to turn and stare at Jim.
"Jim, how much do you talk with Rob?" I was uneasy all of a sudden. My voice quivered.
