There are still a few weeks until I start the new job. Chloe is with Sarah, and I intend to sleep in and do as little as I have to during this time. I am determined not to interfere with the natural movements of my atoms. I will not drag this mass of matter around if I don't have to, which is to say if the atoms themselves don't force me to. Any movement I make is strictly involuntary: my breathing, my heartbeat, the blinking of my eyes. There's a natural imperative that forces these actions, no desire on my part. And I let this state of affairs be. I am bound to be alive, but I don't have to live. I focus my will on the removal of will itself. Which is a neat paradox, of which I don't want to be too proud, lest I get my heartrate up. Which is against my current creed.
I have heard that pleasure is nothing but the absence of pain. I notice that I feel no pain, but I feel no pleasure. Instead, the void inside me seems so large and deep that I feel dizzy when I stare into it. Even sleep, which should be the absence of consciousness and the mere abandonment to my natural needs, is not peaceful anymore. My sadness torments me and searches for me even in my slumber. It forces me to exist.
I wake up to the sound of the intercom buzzing.
'Yes?' I mumble.
The screen is black. Another broken thing in a broken existence, I think.
I'm tempted to walk back to bed.
The buzzing continues. It's insistent. The person at the door has their finger planted onto the button.
'Who is it?' I ask eventually.
On the other side, I hear cackling, then the person at the door lifts their hand from the camera.
Three faces come into view.
'Surprise!'
I wince. I buzz the door open without saying a word.
In a minute, the apartment is invaded (there's no other word for it) by Cyn, Yvonne and Rachel. The three women dressed elegantly, as if they were going to a formal lunch. They're all overexcited.
'We heard you lost your job…'
'You need some company…'
'We're all taking a day off…'
Sure. Sure. I can't help but feeling a tingling of thankfulness.
They have come carrying all sorts of accoutrements. They put their bags down. They take turns at holding my face in their hands and declaring:
'Wakey wakey!'
'Don't be so sad. We're here now.'
'You need a shave.'
'Yes. Someone needs a wash too.'
'Come on.'
'Chop, chop!'
I smile a little as I walk into the bathroom and close the door. I take a piss, then I shave. In the other room, I hear chatting and laughing. The vicinity to happiness makes me feel something pleasant inside that the absence of pain could not approximate. I jump in the shower and begin to soap up and scrub. Suddenly, it feels like I'm washing off the sadness that has taken a hold of me. I'm ready to join some company.
The women are sitting in my rather drab living room, which suddenly looks full of colour and joy.
Cynthia wears a canary-yellow dress. She has her hair down, which makes a stark contrast with the dress. The golden Cartier with the leather strap on the wrist replicates the brown-yellow motif. The dress has some sort of overgrowth of fabric at the front that covers and hides her large breasts.
Yvonne is in pink. The shape of her Asian eyes is accentuated by a perfectly applied blue highliner on the top of her eyelid. The brown hair that turns to platinum towards the tips is braided behind her. She wears pearls, tightly coiled up around her neck in three close-knitted strands. The long earrings that terminate in a crown of rubies clawing at a large pearl remind you of some juicy fruit in the sun. Rubies and diamonds cover her neck and dangle from her wrist too.
Rachel is clad in aqua, which showcases her blonde hair and mirrors her blue eyes. The dress is simple and elegant, without any unnecessary frills. Her athletic body is in full display. On her wrist, a bulky Rolex.
The three have uncorked a bottle of Veuve and are talking overseas holidays. It's not even eight, and it's a little overwhelming. The scene is an odd sight. Ascott in the slums.
'And here he is!' Yvonne chirps eagerly.
'Here I am,' I say, almost embarrassed by all this fuss.
Cynthia offers me a glass of champagne. I smile and take a sip.
'Now. We have a busy day ahead,' Yvonne says.
'Do we?' I ask.
'We're here to make you forget. Wife. Job. Whatever.'
'Ex-wife,' I say. 'And, actually, I have found a job.'
She shakes her head and whispers:
'We don't care.'
Rachel jumps in:
'Pants off.'
Yvonne claps her hands:
'We have a few ideas.'
Of course they do.
'So, what do you want to do?' I ask.
'Rachel came up with the idea of a little competition to get things started. I hope you're up for it,' Cynthia explains.
Rachel beams:
'Competitions are my things.'
'Yeah,' Yvonne replies, 'we'll see if you can actually win one.'
'It's on,' Rachel winks at her.
'So, what's the idea?' I ask again.
Cynthia, always the leader of the pack, explains:
'We were brainstorming idea, and we wanted to give you the best experience. Which naturally lead to everyone saying they were the best. The best mouth, the best pussy…
'The best ass!' Yvonne butts in (pun very much intended).
'The best everything…' Cyn continues.
'So, I said we should prove it,' Rachel says.
'And you can be the judge,' says Cynthia with a twinkle in her eye.
We lower the curtains quickly, and they make me take off my pants. The three ladies line up before me. They're all smiling inviting it.
Rachel takes out her phone and explains:
'It's thirty seconds each.'
'Me first,' Yvonne says.
'Fine. Then me,' Rachel says.
Cynthia laughs:
'I don't mind being last.'
They kneel before me. All dressed, pearls and all.
'Ready ladies?' Rachel asks, setting the timer on her phone.
There's a general noise of excited assent.
'Everyone ready?' she asks, looking up at me.
I smile back at her:
'I see I have no choice.'
'It's a big sacrifice, I know,' jokes Rachel.
I stare at the three faces and nod.
'Set… Go!'
Yvonne is on my dick. She doesn't waste time. She cups my balls in one hand and gives the shaft a few, long licks. Then, she spits on my glans and puts it in her mouth. Yvonne moves lower and lower, letting my dick slide deeper into her mouth and throat.
'Oooh!' the other two cheer.
The thirty seconds are up too soon.
Rachel begins to pull Yvonne from her braid.
'Hey!' Yvonne cries faking indignation.
Rachel takes her place:
'My turn.'
The blonde beings to suck. She can't take more than the first few inches. Now and then, she giggles at the situation.
'Come on, bitch!' Yvonne says and puts a hand behind her head to push her further in.
Rachel pushes her away jokingly.
Rachel sucks, more gently than Yvonne. In a way, it's almost more pleasant than the eager hoovering I started with.
Then, Cynthia takes over. She also likes to deepthroat, but she also has a passion and a warmth that escape Rachel's technique.
Thirty seconds.
Cynthia moves back from my dick. Long lines of drool extend from my dick to her mouth. She always likes good lubrication, which makes the experience messy, frictionless, and very pleasant.
Yvonne and Rachel are amazed.
'Fuck!'
'You whore!'
Yvonne is back on my dick. This time, she ups the antes by sticking a finger up my ass.
'Cheat! Cheat!' Rachel cries out.
I'm now enjoying myself thoroughly. The cloud that fogged my brain has lifted.
Rachel whispers something to Cynthia before her turn, then she takes over from Yvonne.
As Rachel begins to suck, Cyn crawls behind me and sticks her tongue between my butt cheeks and beings to circle around my anus.
'Oh, shit!' I let out.
Yvonne pretends to be annoyed:
'Two against one! Not fair.'
Then, she studies the situation.
'It's a penalty! I think it's a penalty!'
Then she slaps Rachel's ass.
Rachel, surprised opens her mouth further, and my dick goes in another inch. She pulls back and begins to cough.
'Bitch!' she laughs between fits of coughs.
'Come here, poor baby,' Yvonne says, and puts her tongue into Rachels mouth.
'Well, thank you…' Rachel says, all red in the face, but smiling a little.
'My turn,' Rachel says. 'You girls are losing focus.'
She puts my dick into her mouth. She now goes slow, using her tongue a lot. She's caring and kind. I feel such warmth coming from her lips and spreading from my groin.
'Oh, God!' I say.
Yvonne and Rachel have formed a new alliance. They go together.
'Two for one minute!' Yvonne cries out.
Cynthia rolls her eyes:
'Fuck the rules, I guess.'
The two women work on my dick in concert. One licks, the other sucks. They both lick. They put my testicles in their mouths. They fight for the tip, tongues out. Rachel begins to masturbate me, while kissing Yvonne passionately.
Yvonne moans as Rachel slides her tongue down her throat. I watch Yvonne run her hands along Rachel's back.
Then, they come back to my dick. Yvonne swallows it and gets back into a rhythm, but the timer buzzes.
Cynthia takes over once again. She's caring, deep, passionate, warm. It's just perfect. It's slobbery, uninhibited.
The timer buzzes, but I have my hand on Cyn's head, pushing her back and forth.
Yvonne is screaming:
'My turn! My turn!'
But it's too late. I swear as I come into Cynthia's mouth.
She looks up to me. Her mascara is all smudged, and two thick streaks of black make-up run from her eyes down her cheeks. Cynthia moves back. She keeps her thick lips open. Her mouth is a cup for my semen.
Cynthia turns to Rachel and takes the blonde's face in her hands, then she drools out my semen into her open mouth. Then, she instructs the woman:
'Now, now… Sharing is caring.'
Rachel turns to Yvonne and kisses her, pouring some of my semen into her mouth.
The three women continue kissing, mixing drool and sperm. I see the tongues venture into each other's mouths.
Rachel squeezes Cynthia's tits under the dress. Cynthia is now feeling Rachel's ass, now caressing Yvonne.
'How's that for a start?' Rachel asks. 'Still sad?'
I shake my head. No, I'm pretty good.
They stand up. Rachel drinks a sip of wine. Cynthia surveys her dress, whose front is completely soaked in drool. Yvonne takes out a little mirror from her back and smiles at how messy she has made herself.
The three women disappear in the bathroom to clean themselves up a little. I hear the sound of laughter; I swear I hear the sound of someone being slapped; there's the sound of running water and of a blow-dryer. When they walk out, they look perfect again. Even Cynthia's dress is dry.
'Who would like some breakfast?' Yvonne asks.
'Ehrm…' I hesitate.
'We know you have nothing in that fridge of yours,' Rachel says. 'Don't worry. We've brought supplies.'
Eggs, flour, milk, fruit, bottles of juice, and various items emerge from the bags. Soon, the house smells of melted butter and vanilla. I know these women have their own lives, and that they're here for a girls' day out, but, for a minute, the apartment smells of… home.
I decide to indulge in the fantasy. I sit at the head of the table.
The ladies have brought fresh white lilies, which cheer up the place considerably.
On my plate, rests a pancake, a buttery smell rises from its soft, golden surface, decorated with toasted hazelnuts and edible flowers. Next to it, a mound of whipped cream and a small white jar of maple syrup.
On the table, there's also toasted bread, poached eggs, hollandaise sauce, sautéed vegetables, a fruit salad, and blinis with caviar.
Yvonne is quizzing Cyn on the correct way to do something, the right options for weekend activities with the kids, the healthiest snacks, the best gym in the area: Yvonne acknowledges that Cynthia is superior to her and is keen to learn from her, hoping, one day, to either usurp the throne, or, at least, be able to impart the same indisputable truths to other, less enlightened women in the area.
All the while, Rachel is telling me about the new round of investment and how she will expand her operation into North America. She has grand visions of offices and warehouses, of marketers, of influencers, of call centres in the Philippines. She confesses that she's already digging under her house to create a whole new, subterranean level for a gym, a sauna, and a media room. If things go truly well, she's exploring the possibility of an underground pool too.
'It's worth doing. Don't you think?'
I listen to all this, grateful for the diversion. Things (these three married women that just fellated me and I, having breakfast and having a chinwag) feel surprisingly normal, vaguely intimate and affectionate.
After breakfast, the conversation continues on the sofa. I am happy to listen to their involved conversations. These women have complex lives: they balance careers, the logistics of young families, and the drive self-actualisation. They talk about their husbands, comparing notes on who's more successful and who's more involved in the kids' activities. It's implied I'm not supposed to take offense.
I wonder if the women suspect or worry that their husbands are having similar conversations before their mistresses. Maybe they have some sort of an understanding? Maybe these perfect, modern husbands don't have sexcapades: that's so 1950's. Modern women, on the other hand… That's another story.
I would like to ask if they suspect any infidelity on their husbands' part, but I worry that any personal question that intrudes into that territory that Cyn and her friends may be purposefully keeping well-hidden might break the happy spell we are under.
Then, the atmosphere abruptly changes. Nothing provokes it, but it seems understood that these three women are here for a reason. There are activities scheduled, and they don't want to miss out.
The table is cleared quickly.
'So, what's next?' Rachel asks.
Yvonne perks up, then, with some trepidation, turns towards Cynthia:
'Did you bring it?'
Cyn nods:
'Ladies – and gentleman – I present you my collection.'
She produces a metal briefcase. The latches open with a loud click.
We're all huddled around it, staring at various sexual toys, cradled in pre-cut foam.
'Custom-made,' Cynthia explains.
There are vibrators, colourful dildos of varying sizes, butt plugs.
'Do you use these with Tim?' Rachel asks.
'Mister perfect? Mister missionary every time?' Cynthia laughs. 'They're for my private consumption. But… In preparation for today, I've bought a new item. We'll see who's keen.'
She digs out from another bag a belt with a metal attachment.
Yvonne shrieks with pleasure:
'Strap-on time!'
'No thanks,' Rachel says. 'I'd like to try one of these.'
She picks a long pink dildo with its head at an angle, which, when activated, makes the head rotate.
'Let's get comfortable, first,' Cynthia suggests and begins to undress.
'Ooh! I want to see them,' Yvonne says.
Cynthia hides her breasts with a comical expression of shock on her face.
'Come on! We know they're big, those melons,' cries Rachel.
Cynthia removes her dress.
'You want to see them?' she asks holding her big jugs, still wrapped in a lacey bra.
'Ti-ties, ti-ties, ti-ties!' the other two chant.
Cynthia removes her bra, and the other two shrieks.
'Can I touch them?'
'They're massive.'
Cynthia winks at me, while the other two play with her breasts, giggling with excitement.
'So, what do you think, mister?' she asks.
I smile and nod:
'They're great.'
Cynthia lowers her panties, revealing her bush.
The other two now follow her lead and undress quickly.
Yvonne has a nice small, curvy body. Her skin is darker than the other two. Her breasts are nice and round, light and firm for her age. Her pussy is covered by a jet-black, well-kept fuzz.
Rachel is the only one with a fully shaven body. It's milky white. The chest is nearly flat. The only roundness to her figure comes from her athletic thighs, which are powerful and shapely.
'I want to get my face in there,' Yvonne says, pointing at Cynthia's pussy. 'Can I?'
Cynthia sits on the sofa and spread her legs.
Yvonne walks on all fours towards her goal, then begins to lick.
'Come on, you two. Join us,' Cynthia says.
Rachel and I sit for a minute behind Yvonne's ass.
'You first?' I ask.
'With pleasure,' she answers, and she begins to lick Yvonne's pussy.
Yvonne, her face stuck in Cynthia's bush, mumbles something which is inaudible.
I slap her ass as my answer.
The room is filled by the quiet moaning of Cynthia and Yvonne. Rachel is now also touching herself.
'What about… him?' Cynthia asks.
Yvonne turns her head.
'I know what he needs.'
Then, she moves closer to me and signals me to lie down on my back.
I comply, and she climbs on top of me.
Meanwhile, Rachel is on the sofa and is pushing the pink toy into her vagina. She flicks the switch and gasps:
'Oh, shit!'
Cynthia hands her a small vibrator:
'Try this as well. You can thank me later.'
'One… Minute… Oh, fuck! This is intense.'
Yvonne begins to slide up and down on my dick, slow and sensual. She caresses her breasts as she does so.
Cynthia is now wearing the belt and is connecting it to a green dildo. She moves next to Yvonne and asks:
'Are you ready?'
Yvonne nods, and Cynthia begins to rub some lube around Yvonne's anus. Then, she puts a couple of fingers in.
'Have you done this before?' Cynthia asks.
'Only with veggies,' Yvonne replies.
'Fair enough.'
Then, Cyn puts her dildo into Yvonne's ass.
'Fuck, you bitches!' Yvonne cries out, now with both holes filled.
She is riding on top of me, while Cynthia is ramming her from behind.
I watch Cynthia's large tits bounce heavily as she shoves the dildo in and out. Then, she moves forwards, gets a hold of Yvonne's tits and gives a big push.
'Ahh! You're breaking my ass, you whore!' Yvonne hisses.
'Like this?' Cynthia asks, giving another push.
'Mmmh! God, how I like it!' Yvonne says.
Rachel watches us, moaning, moving the pink toy in and out of her shaven pussy and holding a small vibrator to her clit.
I have to change position, or I will come right now.
Yvonne is now lying prone on the floor, one hand between her thighs, furiously masturbating, swearing and cursing, while Cynthia is fucking her ass.
'Come here,' I tell Rachel.
Rachel comes behind Cynthia, she spreads her generous cheeks and begins to lick her pussy and her ass.
'Give it a nice slap,' I tell her.
Rachel complies, and both Cynthia and Yvonne give a little yelp.
'Come on, fuck me like a whore,' Yvonne asks.
I can tell she's about to come.
Cyn moves back and forth, and now the room is filled by a long moan.
'Time out, time out,' Yvonne pants.
'One down,' I say, watching Yvonne lie down on the sofa, an exhausted look on her face.
I lie again on the floor.
'Come on, ladies. There's room for everybody. You just need to decide who takes the dick and who takes the face.'
Rachel decides to sit on my face. She obviously likes being licked.
Cynthia gives a look at her bag of toys. She's in two minds, then:
'Oh, fine. You only live once!'
I watch her bend her knees and squat for a moment, then she inserts a butt plug up her ass. Now ready, she comes to join us, and she sits on my dick.
The two women, Rachel and Cynthia, ride me. One on my face, the other on my cock.
I put my hands on Cynthia's sides and guide her movements. At the same time, I lick Rachel's clit avidly, focusing on nothing else. I wonder if they are kissing or touching, but I'm nearly blind to the whole scene.
I can hear the two women moaning and crying out a little louder, when I touch a sensitive spot.
Rachel stands up and tells me we're changing position.
'I need some dick too,' she says.
Cynthia gives my dick a suck, while Rachel lies on the floor.
'Ready,' she says.
I slide between her thighs, and Cynthia sits on her face.
Rachel has just the time to say:
'Fuck, Cyn, you're so we-e-oh… shit!'
That I'm inside her.
I lift her feet to rest on my shoulders, which gives me a chance to penetrate her more deeply.
She moans from under Cynthia's ass.
I stare at Cynthia, who's focusing on her impending orgasm. I move towards her breasts and suck the nipples.
Cynthia closes her eyes. I watch her face contract and go red for a moment:
'Ahhhmmmmhhh!' she cries.
She catches her breath and rolls to the side, lying next to Rachel, whom I'm still fucking.
'Don't come inside me,' Rachel begs.
I take my dick out and walk around her. I sit on her face and plant my ass on her mouth. She sticks her tongue in, while I masturbate.
I watch her rub her middle finger and her index sideways against her pale crotch until she arches her back.
I feel her tongue rolling inside my anus, and I can't resist any longer. Another stroke and I ejaculate on my chest.
I fall lying on the floor.
Yvonne leaves the couch and lazily comes next to me.
'Someone has to do it, right?' she says and laps up all the semen from my body, while massaging my throbbing cock.
The four of us lie on the floor for a few minutes, exhausted.
When lunch is served and the oysters come out, Yvonne ponders:
'I've always wanted to know if oysters do taste like pussy as they say. I have had oysters before, but until today…'
The other two watch her, waiting for the verdict.
Yvonne slurps up the mollusc and nods:
'Pussy. Definitely, pussy flavour.'
We all chuckle.
We eat fish and baked vegetables. More wine is served. Then some Belgian chocolates along with coffee and some sweet liquor.
After lunch, we sit on the couch. We don't feel chatty anymore. We're content, but the mood has shifted once more.
Soon, Yvonne starts checking the time. She's conscious of having to pick up the kids from a playdate.
'Mine have soccer, so I have to leave soon,' Cynthia says.
'We have a dinner to go to, so…' Rachel adds.
Finally, they tell me that they hope I've had a good time, that they could get my mind off things, that it was good to see me, that things are not always as bad as they seem. Eventually, they're off.
The smell of the lilies impregnates the air. It's heavy like the smell of rotting fruit. The illusion of familiarity has left with the trio and has dragged away with it any illusion of connection. The play is over, the audience has clapped and has now gone home. And the actor has no part left to play.
I am a bunch of atoms again.