“I’m just not sure it even counts as cheating,” Clara said as I lowered the lid on her double’s hibernation bath.
“Forty-five orgasms,” I mumbled. “You’re going to overload her. What’s she up to now, a hundred and three?”
Clara rolled her eyes. “You didn’t check?”
“We had a rule,” I said.
“I know, but wasn’t that about me not sleeping with your double? Or you sleeping with mine?” she said. “How can I cheat on you with myself?”
“That was the rule!” I was incredulous.
“You said it yourself, I’m incredibly sexy. I resisted for awhile, but you kept pushing me.”
“That’s what a threesome is. Everyone’s involved.”
“Not when it was me and three of you,” she said. “Then it was all hands on me.”
“Well I certainly never heard you complain about that.”
“You couldn’t be content with two women fucking you senseless, you just had to see us kiss.”
Even in my rage, that memory—I had no regrets.
“You never played with one of your doubles?” Clara asked.
“Of course not.”
“You never played with one of their cocks a little bit? Never put one in your mouth?”
“You’re being crude again, Clara.”
To which she made a sound that can only be described as a guffaw.
“I think you’re sexually repressed,” she said.
To which I guffawed.
“I’ve been involved in the orgasms of at least twelve threesomes,” I said.
“Such a repressed thing to say.”
“Just this month!”
“But always on your terms. God forbid you touch a dick.”
“I could touch a dick.”
“God forbid you suck a dick.”
“I could suck a dick, it’d be easy to suck a dick.”
Clara laughed. “Well too bad it’s just Harry and his wives now.”
“Find me a dick,” I shouted. “Find me a dick and I’ll suck it while I fuck you and he can jizz all over my butt or wherever.”
And that’s how I wound up agreeing to a threesome with the fireman next door.
* * *
Clara set the whole thing up. A quiet night out, just the two of us, to reconnect over risotto and red wine before this new foray. Then this beefy idiot would meet us at our house around nine.
His pickup truck was already outside our home when we returned. He only lived down the block; I can only assume he drove as a power move. His unnecessarily large vehicle blocking our sidewalk versus my neatly parked sedan. But was his backseat wet with the urges of two libidinous women?
We heard moaning when we went inside. The deep, visceral cries of spontaneous abandon. Even with the sounds clearly coming from upstairs, my wife took a moment to search for her fireman in the kitchen, the living room, the downstairs bathroom.
We found him in the bedroom, of course, holding my wife’s double midair, ankles over his shoulders, fucking her in the ass.
I saw Clara’s jaw drop.
“How quickly can you turn on the transistor?” she asked.
The fireman noticed us standing in the doorway before I could answer. Without stopping, he looked at Clara, the woman he thought he was fucking. He furrowed his brow, began to ask a question, but then came instantly from the sheer shock of his situation. And a few days after that Clara and I decided we should probably move.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/107mqoc/a_wife_for_all_seasons_part_8_final_scifi_mff_all