Hedonistic Arithmetic Part III (M/F)

[Click here for Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/4gtuiw/hedonistic_arithmetic_part_i/)
[Click here for Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/4hglrs/hedonistic_arithmetic_part_ii_mf/)

**Hedonistic Arithmetic Part III: Redistribution and Summation.**

*****

Between sharing a shower with Trish (and bathing her in something additional) and putting my career in jeopardy with Eleanor (while giving her a helluva send-off) it’s safe to say that I was floating on a sea of dopamine and testosterone on a highly inflated ego. Twice in one day with two different women and certainly two different flavors, even as I went about the motions of work once more some part of me was processing this kind of fortuity. Sure I could *attempt* to do such a thing in one day deliberately, but having it fall in one’s lap…
A sonar ping from my phone indicating I’d received yet another text message hovered in the air. Given how the day was going and that said chime had brought good tidings before, perhaps this time I’d be the lucky recipient of a brand new motorcycle I’d been lusting after nearly as much as I do for women under normal circumstances.
The former lust wasn’t satiated by my text, the latter however…

> Hey stud, are you doing tonight?
Trish

Although I managed to stifle off the grunt in my throat before it left and made my office-mate wonder what the hell was going on if anyone had walked into the office at that moment figuring out what I was reading on my phone would have been nearly as easy as reading the message itself.
More often than not I have some sort of plans in place on Friday or early enough on Saturday which renders impromptu get-togethers initially a no-go and ordinarily I’d have to adjust the evening’s plans here or there for tantalizing prospects such as more time in one day with Trish.
However that particular Friday evening was one of those rarities…

> Having dinner at Chez de Lewd_Punny_Name. Ever been there?

The phone went on top of my desk and I tried to at least appear as though I was working. Another sonar ping,

> Never even heard of it! What kind of food do they serve?

The corners of my mouth turned up in a slight grin. Trish was playing along and hitting all the right buttons.

> It varies but tonight they’re serving…

I had to pause for a moment to recall what I could make in short order that would have a safe broad appeal.

> … Italian. Plus their dessert is so good your toes will curl.

Before I could consider re-wording that text to be slightly less overt my thumb tapped the send button. Perhaps on other days I might have been a bit more subtle but as previously mentioned the day’s events had supercharged my ego.
Fortunately Trish felt the rhythm and started dancing in step rather ably,

> Think we could get a table on short notice?

This time I couldn’t stop the soft chuckle from resonating in my throat which necessitated a vague excuse to my office mate as to it’s origin.
In the middle of tapping out a response including my address I could feel cotton slide against very sensitive skin as the memory of Trish’s enthusiasm from the morning and the series of texts thus far planted *notions* in my mind.

> Not a problem, I know the owner and the head chef. How does 6:30-6:45 sound?

This time the interval between texts was measurable in seconds rather than minutes and carried her infectious enthusiasm.

> Perfect! See you there.

With the grin still on my lips and a reciprocal temporary farewell sent I leaned back for a moment in my chair to contemplate this new permutation of fortune, the minutiae of what **had** to be done once I got home. I am after all the proprietor and head chef of Chez de Mr_Lewd_Punny_Name after all.

Ten minutes after hitting traffic I had suddenly realized that there was an error in my seemingly foolproof plans and was internally cursing myself accordingly.
*ShitshitshitFUCKshitshit, there is no way I’ll be able to make dinner and wash the smell of Eleanor off of me! Goddammit…*
In my enthusiasm to see Trish once again I had indeed neglected the fact that I was bending Eleanor over a desk and buried to the hilt inside of her a few hours prior. While most of my clothes had been out of the way the fact of the matter was I’d only given my nethers a slight wipe-down with bathroom toilet paper. In short I would smell like Eu de Eleanor the moment my pants came off and I had serious doubts that Trish would just hand-wave such a thing away even if she were shredding my clothes to get to the creamy center.
Compounding my predicament was the choice in transportation. Unlike the rapid transit system I was subject to the whim of every last suburbanite slob trying to get home in their own vehicles, and since I was in my own (practically sized I’d argue) SUV vs. on my motorcycle I couldn’t exploit gaps in traffic to dart up side streets and through alleys to bypass traffic. So although on paper I was 30 minutes away from home I faced the possibility of an hour long journey if the worst happened, something which conspired to tighten my grip on the steering wheel and the clench of my jaw.

40 minutes and a severe mental self-kicking later I barreled into my garage before sprinting up to my apartment. After hurling my messenger bag on to the couch my next destination was the kitchen. Digging through the vegetable drawers I produced a red bell pepper, zucchini squash, portabello mushrooms and a red onion which were summarily chopped into chunks before being spread on a parchment paper covered baking sheet. After a light dousing of oil before seasoning with salt, pepper, crushed garlic and grated rosemary the vegetables went into the oven at a higher than normal temperature to roast at a higher rate.
Next came two pans; a cast-iron skillet and a non-stick sauté pan and both were coated with a thin sheen of olive oil and gas burners were lit under them accordingly. Since the cast-iron skillet heated quickly it received its contents first; slices of polenta that sizzled and hissed in the oil as they were flipped back and forth. Once both sides were adequately darkened I covered the pan with a sheet of aluminum foil and placed it in the oven below the still-roasting vegetables.
The other pan played host to the evening’s main course; pesto Genovese chicken which I’d had defrosting in the fridge since yesterday. As the last hisses and sputters of poultry hitting oil were muffled by a lid my phone chimed once more. Another message from Trish,

> Running late! Will be there a little after 7, sorry!”

Although I sent an appropriate playfully mocking text in return;

> Of course. I’ll tell the cook you’ll be fashionably late.

I actually breathed a sigh of relief. Now instead of 5-10 minutes to pull everything else together I had about 20. Therefore after cutting the heat to the oven and the range I practically sprinted into the bedroom in order to hurl every last item of clothing into the hamper. With that swiftly accomplished the next bit of business was hopping into the shower and thoroughly cleaning every area that I suspected could have been subject to Eleanor’s ambrosia. Midway through cleaning I hit upon another potential problem which I could solve; Trish had seemed rather enthusiastic about being sprayed by me that morning and perhaps it was best to prepare for that enthusiasm again.
To do so I had to step out of the shower for a moment and retrieve a small blue squeeze bottle, the contents of which would not only repel water but also soothe the skin among other benefits.
After squeezing some of its contents into my hand my eyes closed as my fingers curled around my own shaft. The next part was easy; I just imagined both Trish and Eleanor devoted to my pleasure, both on their knees in front of me with Eleanor’s lips wrapped around my balls while Trish’s tongue fluttered against the tip. Back and forth went two mouths and four hands across my body, finding every last sensitive spot and pushing me until…
My eyes snapped open and I turned out of the stream of hot water and deliberately centered my mind on the most boring subjects I could think of; that had worked almost **too** well.
After the throbbing and pressure had sufficiently subsided and I’d dried off completely I had one last hurdle; what to wear for Trish’s arrival, should I be just out of work or relaxed in my own home.

When Trish buzzed to be let up I’d decided on the latter; dark weathered jeans with a button fly, a maroon t-shirt with a shallow v-neck and a comfortable black zip-up hoodie which was of course fully open. I’d also managed to complete most of the cooking save for the chicken as well as set up a bit of musical and lighting ambiance for Chez de Mr_Lewd_Punny_Name.
Trish however looked like she’d just come from the auction house and was her usual stunning self. A black polka-dot wrap dress flattered her curves tastefully while a shawl draped over her shoulders kept the fall air’s chill at bay. Completing her ensemble was a pair of, what else, vintage-looking red pumps and a matching red belt, both of which complemented the dress and her copper hair in violet.
Before she could cause any accidents by simply standing at the entrance to my apartment building I scooped her up in my arms and carried her inside with a soft kiss on her lips. Trish squealed and wrapped her arms around my neck in return even as I kicked the door shut before stating.
“So do we still have a table or will we be thrown out into the cold all hungry?”
Laughing at Trish’s dramatic adherence to our little fiction I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and relayed that yes indeed we would still have a table.

Since the chicken wasn’t quite done I whipped up aperitifs for Trish and myself and gave her a brief tour of my apartment while we waited. Although she joked about my ability to order pieces from the same series manufactured by a flat-pack furniture company one item did get a genuine gasp followed by gushing followed by her signature brand of insistence that I make full use of it later.
In short order dinner was ready, the table set and wine poured. The conversation flowed freely and meandered from topic to topic while being interspersed with both subtle suggestions and corny deliberate insinuations. Naturally the topic of Trish’s body art rose to the fore, specifically my curiosity as to any symbolism or personal meaning they might have held. Her responses;
“It means ‘I’m 19 and drunk on spring break and I thought it was cute’.”
Certainly the story of quite a few tattoos I’d imagine.
“Because I thought it would look cute on me. Doesn’t it look cute on me?”
After making Trish’s eyes wide with mock indignation I did indeed confirm that said tattoo did look cute on her.
“I wanted one that I have to cover when working. It’s kind of like a less risky version of public sex; people might notice by accident or on purpose.”
Trish punctuated this bit of subtlety with a caress of her foot against my calf. Visions of clearing the table in one massive swoop and plunging headlong into her filled my minds’ eye for a moment, but Trish simply took another bite and remarked about how everything on the plate went together so well.

Despite my insistence that Trish was a guest in my home she persisted in helping me clean up after dinner. On the one hand this is hallmark behavior of the best houseguests the world over, on the other Trish had ulterior motivations that became evident once the last pan was soaking;
“Play something for me.” She cooed in my ear before planting a soft kiss on my neck. I *could* have played my usual smart-ass game of rolling my eyes and considering disobedience, but between the conversation earlier including the flirtatious banter and the earnest twinkle in her eyes I found myself slipping my hand into hers and saying “Anything in particular?” before leading her towards the piano. With that earnest gleam still in her eye Trish simply shook her head before giving me the proverbial reigns; “Just play.”
Since the bench in front of my piano not only has a leather cushion but is big enough to accommodate two pulling Trish next to me was academic, although her body heat proved to be a bit of a distraction when trying to figure out exactly what I could play from memory that would be sufficiently seductive.
After nixing several songs by Ben Folds Five, Alicia Keyes, and yes even Billy Joel I settled on Dave Brubeck’s greatest hit in its odd time signature. Because of the latter complication as well as having to play from memory most of my focus was devoted to the strokes and movements of my fingers, however on occasion I caught a glimpse of Trish’s glittering grey-blue eyes gazing intently either at my hands or my face.
By the time I’d gotten to the part where more dedicated and focused musicans might interject a few improvised scales a hand caressed onto my thigh and Trish whispered in a manner which could only be described as come-hither “Whatever happens, don’t stop playing.”

Although I’d raised an eyebrow and fully intended to turn my head and query as to what exactly Trish meant my head had turned *maybe* a decimeter before I felt her warm lips plant several kisses on my neck which traced the path of my beating jugular. Between that and her hand on my thigh I’d been forced to slow my playing slightly but I’d still kept my place and had wound up to start inserting a couple of scales and even a diminished chord or two into my playing.
That plan ended when Trish’s teeth gently tugged at my earlobe and her fingers slipped just that little modicum higher and inward on my thigh. Instantly I went out of E-flat minor as the jolt of pleasure shot directly down my spine and fueled the growing bulge in my pants, moaning in a low broken tone autonomically.
I managed to recover the basic melodies even as Trish’s lips pressed behind my ear and her heretofore free hand slid across my torso and gently raked her nails back, but internally I knew that was about all I could do. Even through all this sublime attention my mind raced for a new and less complex thing to play. Somehow I managed to settle on something from the score of the third installment of a space opera video game that was entirely composed on a piano (and a favorite series of Trish’s and mine) and desperately started playing. If Trish stopped she only did so to switch the position of her hands because soon enough I felt her fingertips slide underneath my t-shirt in my lower of back while her other hand was *achingly* close to the site of greater and greater discomfort in the front of my jeans. What’s more since she knew the particular piece by heart she breathily sang the tones in my ear between bouts of licking kissing and nibbling at it along with my neck which in turn not only stalled my playing but also elicited more grunts and moans along with unbidden movements from my hips so that she’d *touch* it. I can’t be sure at what *precise* point she interjected but at some point the maddeningly blissful attentions of her mouth stopped so that she could whisper “Dessert?” The moment I turned my head and met her gaze there was no mistaking the look of utter desire in her eyes for anything else and therefore utterly impossible not to cup her face with both of my hands and kiss her deeply.

Our lips and tongues never parted as we rose from the bench nor when I slightly bent and wrapped my arms around Trish in order to carry her to my bedroom, her legs wrapped tightly around my hips (kicking her heels of in the process) and her arms around my neck. Only when the threshold of the door was well passed did we finally come up for air and I let her down. Now that Trish had a chance to undress me she did so with zeal, first yanking my sweater off of my shoulders before slipping her fingertips underneath the hem of the t-shirt and pulling it over my head.
With what could have been a hungry growl of her own Trish’s zeroed in on one of my nipples and bit gently while her hands toyed with the fabric of my jeans’ waistband at the hips. I’d barely had a moment to slip my hands over her shoulders before her onslaught and let out a much sharper moan than earlier, causing her to look up and grin wickedly at me.
“I needed to do this all day Mr_Lewd_Punny_Name. The shower and those talented hands were on my mind the entire time…”
The grin on my face said all I needed to before I kissed her deeply once more while dropping my hands to her waist. First the buckle of the violet belt was undone and pulled free before a hand slipped to her side and tugged at the chords holding her dress closed. The knot came free easily under the persuasion of my fingers and left the dress free to be slowly parted by my hands. However…
“Oh my… whoa.”
The black satin shallow cup bra that put Trish’s already pert breasts on display was part of an ensemble which included a matching thong as well as black hold-up stockings. Evidently Trish had done more than just thought about our shower all day, she’d *planned*, and to cap it off she giggled warmly at my reaction.
“That’s *exactly* what I wanted to hear.”
Another hungry growl preceded me essentially grabbing her by the waist and throwing her on the bed. After landing with a bounce and excited laugh Trish met me at the edge of the bed in order to grab the waist of my jeans above the fly and prize apart the buttons as fast as she could and receive her own surprise; all that was standing between my topaz-hard penis and her was the denim and buttons. With an almost surprised look Trish wrapped her fingers around the shaft before looking up at me with another wicked little grin and burying her mouth against my neck with a bite.

For a moment I let my hands simply drift to Trish’s tush and squeeze each cheek time with her gentle tugs of my penis, but in short order I’d grabbed the backs of her thighs to sweep her on her back. With a slight kick I dislodged myself from the denim at my ankles before lowering myself on top of her, level with her navel. I made sure to kiss and nibble every last little petal while Trish’s heels pressed into my hips and her hands ran through and bunched my hair, sighing with anticipation the entire time. Once I’d made sure every last petal was paid attention I started nibbling and licking lower towards the material of her satin thong from which the unmistakable tang of wetness emanated. After a couple of teasing probes beneath the elastic I slipped two fingers underneath the material at her hips and sat up far enough to facilitate the sodden material’s removal. Now I could take in the view of Trish’s womanhood; the small triangular tuft of copper hair above her engorged clit, the swelling of her inner folds just peeking out, the…
“You never told me about *that* tattoo.”
Trish smiled at me and put a heel on my shoulder in order to display the little pink heart in the middle of her inner thighs.
“That one’s for you to enjoy.”
With a snicker and a shake of my head I slid Trish’s leg up my shoulder so I could indeed warmly kiss the little pink tattoo before turning my attentions to the nerves and skin crying out to be savored.
The first few broad licks I placed on her folds caused Trish to swivel her hips and moan softly, and between such encouraging feedback and the salty tang of her flavor I swiftly started into much more focused techniques. Tracing her folds with the tip of my tongue, fluttering the tip against her clit, sucking her lips into mine and tugging at them just so were all delectable pleasures unto themselves and compounded by Trish’s moaning and fingers pulling my hair. When my mouth wasn’t occupied with her clit one of my thumbs was which left the other free to snake behind Trish’s back and unhook her bra before slipping upwards to squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples.

I could have continued eagerly on like this for as long as I could switch techniques to keep Trish on the edge, but once again she had other ideas. A thigh pressed into the side of my head essentially forced me to roll to my back before a flurry of legs and folds and skin disoriented me temporarily. After a second I realized that now Trish was not only straddling me and reversed but also just tantalizingly beyond my tongue’s reach. Reaching up I’d grabbed the roundness of her ass and pulled gently, but although her hips lowered towards my mouth a sensation of warm wet suppleness traced down the length of my penis before one of my balls was sucked into even more wet warmth and tugged just enough to tense every muscle in my pelvis and thighs. Momentarily I was forced to press my head and moan raggedly at the return of Trish’s mouth to my manhood while simply squeezing her cheeks and wetly kissing at her little heart as she attended my other globe with her mouth, and when it felt like she was drawing her tongue along my length again the best I could manage was sucking her clit into my mouth and tugging with pursed lips.
Every last part of my body that was in contact with Trish crackled and fizzed with pleasure, and the ones that were close enough ached for more. I could feel every last drop of wetness as it slid down my tongue and permeated my beard, my hands couldn’t find a purchase on her thighs ass back or breasts because I have but two, my hips shifted in any direction her hands or mouth silently demanded and her body heat washed over my torso. Simultaneously I felt every sucking wet bob and stroke from Trish’s mouth and hand, her other hand’s roaming and raking from my thigh all the way up my side and down again, the soft enveloping press of her breasts that occasionally gave way to her nipples brushing my skin, and of course every last vibration from moans sent careening through my member up through my body. It was almost as if we’d made our own language of grunts pants and moans in that moment and we were intent on discovering new phrases.

Trish however had *plans* and suddenly crawled backwards while over me. I’d learned my lesson from the morning and didn’t make any protestations, simply enjoyed the view and flicked one of her nipples with my tongue as it passed before her lips caromed into mine and we kissed roughly for a moment.
“Condoms?” She asked while gazing slightly glassily into my eyes after coming up for air, her hands roaming up and down my stomach and * achingly* close to my penis. One way or another she made it impossible not to crave her and I grunted “Nightstand” while pointing to the nearest one. With a smile and fleeting kiss Trish crawled back up my body, allowing for not only my tongue flicking her heretofore ignored nipple from the other crawl but for her to give my member a final long languid lick before cheekily biting my inner thigh.
I’d barely sat up before Trish spun around and tore open the condom wrapper with enough zeal to tousle her hair even more than it was already. Rather than take it out however she pushed at my chest with her free hand,
“Oh no, you lay back, watch me take your cock.”
Small wonder I didn’t explode then and there but I complied willingly, resting on my forearms as Trish retrieved the condom and eagerly rolled it down the length of my penis. Then came the swing of a leg and a re-positioning of her hips before she grabbed the base of my penis to position it *just so*. Trish slowly enveloped the length of my penis, letting out a hoarse moan all the way to the hilt that commingled with my own. Instantly my hands slid over her hips and squeezed her ass as Trish’s hips started to swivel back and forth, pressing me against her walls inside and bidding more grunts from me.
“Fuck you fill me so good Mr_Lewd_Punny_Name.” She said among other praises as the angle of her hips changed slightly between swivels. I had my own of course,
“You’re such a fucking goddess.” Not original but I was incapable of much wit at that point. The best praise however was the moment Trish suddenly shuddered and leaned forward even further; she’d used the slight curve of my penis to stroke her gspot.
Now instead of swiveling her hips Trish started to bounce up and down, continuously moaning which mingled with muted squishing noise of two people entangled with abandon.

I’d kept one hand on her ass but by the angle of Trish’s lean meant I could bring the other around to squeeze her breasts roughly and tweak the nipple just so, something that produced sharper squeals in the moaning. Occasionally her hips would swivel which elicited a sharper grunt in between my own moans along with urging my hips to press up that bit harder beyond the slight grinding and pressing they were already doing. The pleasure built with inorexible and almost fiendish pressure, taking what vestiges of focus we might have had and tossing them out the window. Trish’s nails dug into my shoulders and raked my chest, I dug my own nails into her ass in between open-hand spanks and pinched her nipples even harder.
Suddenly Trish’s back arched and multiple strident moans tumbled from her lips as her hair flipped backwards. I growled along with her wordless aria as I felt her contract violently against my cock over and over again which provoked my own hips bucking up into her several times.
Once the major tremors had subsided Trish started to go limp in my arms but was prevented from collapsing by my hands tightly gripping her hips. I was so close and Trish had gotten me there, ergo I wasn’t about to simply roll her over. Instead I suspended her at just the right angle before powerfully slamming my hips upwards over and over with thick hollow pops and my grunting and moaning a litany in its own right. Trish’s moaning became warbled and breathy as I drove upward relentlessly, her body semi limp with only her hands clinging to my forearms. Then the sudden burst of warmth from within my hips shot forward before my entire body felt like it was convulsing in sheer orgasmic pleasure, so much so that my back must have automatically arched in its own right to stay connected with Trish.

After semi-blacking out I gently guided Trish down so she could recover on my semi-slickened torso. For a moment we simply panted and feebly caressed each other, punctuated by the occasional kiss wherever skin presented itself.
Finally Trish looked up at me and rested her chin on my shoulder, the haze of pleasure still dancing in her eyes.
“Okay… so we’re getting tested ASAP. I’m on the pill…”
I raised an incredulous eyebrow. Granted I was thinking almost identical thoughts, but…
“That’s pretty brazen for you to assume.”
Trish raised up on her forearms against my chest and looked me in the eye with that knowing smile, a more intimate version of the one she’d hooked me with initially.
“Well *I* certainly want more of you, but are you saying you don’t want to fuck me silly? Especially since after we get tested you get to touch me *all over*…”
What else could I do but grin while winding my hand in her hair and kiss her sweetly? The woman made all the sense in the world, and we sealed the deal with another romp before passing out that evening.

Two weeks later I told Trish about the full extent of the day’s activities. She didn’t get angry or accusatory; Instead I recall her looking rather thoughtful before saying something along the lines of “Proof I made the right choice.”, before kissing my neck. And insisting that I stay late one evening at work so I could fuck her on my desk.

*****

As they say, that’s all folks! I hope you enjoyed the saga of a day forever enshrined in the halls of my memories and gilded accordingly. Now since this is the end of the story there remains one matter to attend to; voting as to which one this subreddit would like to read. As it has worked previously there will be three choices available; in the comments list the choices in order from greatest to least interest. After the voting period ends the votes will be tallied and sorted via the instant runoff method and a winner will be announced.

* A. Mr_Lewd_Punny_Name Becomes an object of worship.
* B. Not so typical dance club hookup story.
* C. Best career day ever.

The vote will remain open until May 19, 2016

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/4j8dmx/hedonistic_arithmetic_part_iii_mf