The Friday Setup Ch. 03

"I can't fucking believe it!" Tracy stammered.

"Nice, huh?" Michelle asked sharing a knowledge of something I could only guess at with envy.

"Unbelievable," she managed, as she began to float down from the clouds.

"Well done Tracy!" my wife offered in congratulations.

"Thank you!" she said with slutty, but heartfelt, gratitude.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" she rattled on, considering her newfound self.

It was nearly six o'clock and we were completely spent. Drinks on Friday had had turned into a two day mini-orgy that nobody wanted to end.

Michelle leaned over and cupped Tracy's head in her hands before giving her a quick kiss.

"So do you have another day in you?" Michelle asked.

"I sure do, but I am done for now!"

"Aren't we all???!!!" Michelle exclaimed. Lets go see what we can do about dinner...

***

I was the first one awake on Sunday, and decided to treat the girls to a nice breakfast. I made the coffee first since I'm worthless before my second cup. We're usually pretty well stocked up, so I had some options for a meal. I started by making a small pitcher of OJ from a dozen Florida oranges. You just can't beat a sip of that to start your day. Then I got the bacon going while I set to work on some blueberry pancakes.

As I was going about my work, I started thinking about Tracy and wondered if I had seriously misjudged the girl. Given the string of guys that she had seemingly demolished over the years, hopping from one to the next with little or no notice, it seemed fair to consider her to be somewhat of a sexual predator. But something about the way she was in bed just didn't jibe with that assessment.

One the surface, she was more than a little slutty, but I was starting to wonder if that was a symptom, rather than a motivation.

She had certainly had her share of cock. If you took every erect penis that she'd ever played with and lined them all up, end-to-end, they probably wouldn't have been the length of a football field, but they were certainly the width of a basketball court.

Through the many years I had known her, I had always assumed that the cock parade was what she wanted. How could it not be? After all, she was seriously gorgeous. She had the whole blonde California beauty thing down pat coupled with the allure of a bombshell from another time. Don't the pretty ones always get what they want? Besides she was no dummy either, and her forceful personality made sure that nobody was going to walk all over her. She could have the pick of the litter, but had never found a real keeper in spite of that basketball court worth of auditions. Something didn't add up.

The brassy man-eater that history suggested she was had disappeared sometime during margaritas on Friday. Maybe the true Tracy wasn't what she seemed to be. Michelle and I had been enjoying the weekend with someone altogether different: submissive when you came right down to it, even if she wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted. She seemed to revel in being led on a journey of sexual exploration. How could none of her lovers ever seen that and cherished the gift it could have been? The girl we were playing with seemed to be far more interested in quality rather than quantity. Maybe the endless line of cock represented a frustrating search for the one, elusive guy right for her.

That's when it hit me. Her extraordinary beauty had been her curse. While any guy would have been attracted to her, in the way of the world, it was always the type-A, arrogant, GQ jocks that shoved their way to the front of the feeding trough.

Maybe her inner-sub had always led her to say 'Yes', hoping that one of them would be the one to satisfy her true needs. There really was a sweet kitten in there, a nasty, perverted kitten to be sure, but one that needed to be cuddled and stroked nevertheless.

What she had gotten instead was an endless series of hunks that had been most interested in banging hot chicks, and as many of them as possible. The problem was: every one of them that had muscled his way to the front of the line had been blocking the guy that might have really lit her fire.

The confident but laid back guy, who could have matched her brains, never got close because the wrong guy was already there. If such a man observed what she was attracted to, he probably figured that he wasn't her type. The thing was, he wasn't really witnessing what she was attracted to; he was seeing what was attracted to her. Damn, she really was cursed. How ironic that so many women would want to have what she has: the classic case of be careful what you wish for.

It wasn't lost on me that what I had with Michelle was almost the polar opposite of what Tracy's life represented. Michelle's looks were even more stunning than Tracy's. The difference was, Michelle would just as soon go with minimal make-up rather than strive to blow the world away every time she walked out the door.

My wife's lack of concern with amplifying her beauty just made her even hotter to me. Michelle's comfort in her own skin always reminded of a story I read nearly 20 years ago. A woman who had dared to walk out the door without being fully primped was buying makeup at Macy's in Manhattan. The sales clerk who was helping her said, "You know, you could be really pretty if you took the time to do something with yourself." The sales associate had been trying to give an encouraging complement. I can only imagine how she felt when the customer handed over the Amex card that bore the name Cindy Crawford. That was Michelle. I had the Ivory Snow girl, except one with all of the inhibitions of a sex star.

The fact that Michelle is that way is the only thing that ever let a guy like me have a shot. If she was always turned out to the max, I would never had made my way through the crowd. It's not that I'm unfortunate looking or anything. If I could spin the wheel and start over with a different combination of DNA, I'd pass. It's just that, physically, I'd have to say that I'm damn lucky to be with Michelle.

Unfortunately, what you look like on the outside can get in the way of what you need on the inside. Our houseguest was unwittingly driving that point home. Michelle and I had stumbled through the world and found our soul mates. No matter how many guys Tracy banged, none of them had turned out to be Prince Charming. Probably because Prince Charming didn't think he had a chance with her. What a loss for both of them.

In spite of everything I had assumed Tracy to be, here she was, apparently having the most satisfying and illuminating time of her sexual life with us. Tracy was finally enjoying being with someone, or someones, who were all about exploring and satisfying her needs as opposed to simply trying to get themselves off with trophy pussy.

She seemed to really want what Michelle and I had. Maybe this weekend would be the breakthrough she needed to switch her parameters to something that might actually work for her. She deserved it. Who doesn't?

In spite of all my psycho-babble, we all seemed hell bent on cramming 9½ Weeks into three days. I wondered what today would bring?

***

You don't usually have to worry about when people will wake up when bacon is cooking. The "good morning" smell caused the girls to materialize on cue just as I was finishing.

There is something nice about waking up and realizing that you don't have to do a damn thing except make it to the kitchen to get your day started, and the ladies appreciated it. Michelle and I had one of those weekends on tap where there was absolutely zero that we had to accomplish. Tracy seemed to be on the same kind of schedule. We had never actually spoken about this turning into a three-day tryst, but it was turning out that way.

Tracy couldn't stop going on about what a great time she was having and thanking us for everything that had happened. We had to remind her that we were having just as much fun as she was, and that she was opening up just as many new avenues for us as we were for her. It's just that most of the new things that Michelle and I were enjoying weren't as physically obvious as, say, squirting pussy juice halfway across the room for the first time!

***

When breakfast was over, we migrated upstairs for a shower. One of the great things about our house is the shower. With multiple heads and body sprays everywhere, there was easily room for three. We luxuriated as the hot water worked its magic on our well-used bodies. We took turns teaming up to lather the lucky third and enjoyed every minute of our sudsy fun. Having four hands washing every inch of you is not over-rated: the only thing better than doing it is having it done to you.

Too soon, the heat was getting to us in more ways than one, so we stumbled out and toweled off. We made our way to bed and just sprawled on the cool sheets to let the relaxation soak in as our bodies adjusted back to normal temperature.

"So what shall we do today?" I wondered aloud to see who might have an agenda that they cared to offer.

"Anything you want," my bride sighed.

I knew that she didn't quite mean anything, so I let it hang. I had no earthly idea what the rules were at this point, but I knew that there were still rules. I had absolutely nothing to bitch about, so I decided that I was just going to go with the flow.

Not surprisingly, Tracy had no problem piping up with what she might be interested in. "Michelle, nobody has ever fucked me like you did on Friday. And the way you did Scott yesterday...well, I've never had anything close to that either."

This could be something worthwhile, I thought.

As much as I would have loved to sample Tracy myself, I was glad she was keeping within the boundary that Michelle had set.

She said to Michelle, "Would you do me like you did him?"

She seemed almost embarrassed to ask.

Michelle doesn't actually have a deep need of her own to strap one on, but she gets immense satisfaction from what she can do for me with it. She had also clearly enjoyed her first foray into fucking a girl as well.

"I think that can be arranged," she answered, clearly intrigued by the offer of Tracy's delectable ass.

"But not with one like you screwed him with!" Tracy clarified. "I need something a little more manageable."

"Oh I know," Michelle acknowledged. "The thought of anything that big back there is more than I want!"

"You know," Michelle said thoughtfully, as something was clearly dawning on her, "we could kill two birds with one stone here."

"How's that?" Tracy asked.

"Well, it's just that Scott's always pestering me to do a DP. Dildos really aren't my thing, so we've never done it. Have you ever had two guys at once like that?"

My first reaction was "Oh boy!" but that quickly turned into "What the fuck", and I became uneasy as I struggled to accept that Michelle could really be OK with it. My male brain was unable to keep up with the events unfolding as the girls continued onward with a momentum of their own.

"Actually yeah, but we were all wasted and it really wasn't any good," Tracy answered.

"I could see how it would be hard for it to work. That's too bad though. Scott's cock is perfect for ass fucking."

"I'm sure I'd love it with you guys though!" Tracy piped up, making sure that her comment wasn't mistaken for a rejection.

By now, my head was spinning and I had fallen at least two-steps behind.

"Whoa Babe, are you sure about this?"

"Silly boy," my wife chided. "You haven't been paying attention."

The stupid look on my face must have given me away, because my wife had to lay it out for me, plain and simple

"I said her pussy was all mine." She had a point there, and she had indirectly referred to letting Tracy fuck me at some point before we had gushed the girl.

"Yeah, but..."

Michelle cut me off, "Look, don't ask me why, but somehow, my pussy is the only one I want you to have. But you have a problem with Tracy's ass I'm sure..."

"Hold on now, I didn't say that!" I retorted trying to get back in the game before there was a shift in fortune. "It's just that...are you sure?"

"Absolutely. What's the matter Honey, are you scared?" she light-heartedly taunted, almost daring me to pass it up.

"Not a chance," I said, sensing that this was another good time for me to shut up and take what was being offered before she changed her mind.

"Tracy?" Michelle asked.

"Oh yeah," she said. "I want it. I think I need it."

"Then you shall have it!" Michelle announced.

"I'm going to go hang out downstairs for a bit," she announced. "Scott, help Tracy prepare."

There she goes again, my hot little switch taking charge!

Tracy and I laid there dumfounded as Michelle went downstairs. Michelle was really killing three birds with one stone because she knows that I would love to have the chance to fill her sweet ass with the warm cleansing water while she struggles to hold it. However, the thought of that kind of play does nothing for Michelle, my wife preferring to go it alone when it's her turn to get ready.

"So Tracy," I said, broaching the matter at hand, "have you ever had an enema before?"

"I can't say that I have," Tracy replied with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

"Don't worry. You're gonna love it!" I assured her.

"Come on." I extended my hand to help her off the bed.

I stopped on the way to the bathroom to put on some shorts and a t-shirt. I figured that me being fully clothed might add to the submission that Tracy was about to enjoy. There aren't many things more submissive than getting on your knees, spreading your cheeks, and letting someone dump a gallon of hot water up your ass.

I turned on the tub and twisted the knob to an indicated 112-Fahrenheit and let the temperature stabilize. I explained the basics to Tracy while I retrieved the enema setup.

"Once, we get you situated, I'll help you through it while it fills you up. When it's time for you to go, I think I'll join Michelle if you don't mind. I don't feel a need to be here when the shit hits the fan so to speak."

"Fine by me!" Tracy said with a hint of relief.

When the temperature was perfect, I filled the bag and hung it from the cabinet above the toilet. I moved the bath mat so that it would cushion Tracy's knees as she knelt on the floor.

"Ready?" I asked.

Tracy assumed the position, confirming my evaluation of who she really was and what she really needed.

Ordinarily, I would have just lubed the nozzle and slipped it in. That would be more than sufficient for comfort. However, it seemed to me that Tracy might enjoy a little extra violation, so instead I lubed my finger and took the time to massage her ring.

She wiggled back at me, clearly enjoying the sensation. I pushed in, just to the first knuckle, and worked her just a bit to help her relax. I could tell she wanted more, but now was not the time for that. Now was the time to get her ready for that. Reluctantly, I withdrew my finger and greased the slender black plastic enema tip.

"Ready?"

"Yes," she obediently replied.

There is something overpowering about having an Amazon on her knees as you prepare to fill her ass to the brim. To amplify the psychological effect, I straddled her while standing. My feet were at her sides with my back to her head. I bent over and spread her cheeks apart as far as I could, lewdly exposing her sweet asshole.

I paused to consider the fact that my cock would soon be in there while my wife plundered her pussy. I wondered how hard she would cum.

Tracy wiggled her bottom, slightly frustrated at my delay. I gave her a playful spank for her insolence.

"Hold still wench," I commanded.

"Yes Master."

Good. She was catching on.

Reverting to a more civil tone, "It will feel warm at first, and after a few seconds you should feel some pressure. Just hold on through that. When the water breaks through and starts flowing all the way into you, it will become easier to take. Towards the end you'll feel the pressure again. Then just take as much as you can and tell me when to stop it. OK?"

"OK."

"Here we go." I flipped the clamp open and the flow meter started spinning.

Tracy didn't react much at first while she focused on the new sensation. It didn't take long, not even a minute, before she started to fidget ever so slightly and I noticed that the flow meter had started to slow. This, I knew, was the hard part.

I took mercy on the novice and closed the clamp.

"I've turned it off for a second for you to adjust. Once the feeling subsides, I'll start it again and it should be much easier until the end. I could see Tracy struggling to control her breathing as she tried to will herself to relax. Somehow I could tell when the water worked its way into her deeper passage easing her initial discomfort. The hard part was over with now. She was ready for more, but I was feeling mischievous.

"Ordinarily, this is where I'd have you suck my cock."

That was bullshit. "Ordinarily" didn't apply since I had never been in this position before. Still, it seemed like the thing to say at the time.

Tracy's groan let me know that the idea appealed to her.

"Perhaps another time," I teased. "Michelle didn't say we could do that," I added, reminding her of who was calling the shots, even from downstairs.

"Ready for more?"

"Yes, please."

I released the clamp again and the flow meter started flying.

"I might as well tell you now while I have the chance: when I leave, you will have no trouble emptying yourself. After awhile, you might think you're done, but these things can be a little sneaky. Give yourself a few minutes to settle and maybe even walk around a bit, or go lie on the bed. Soon you'll feel like going again. After that, you're done. Then call me back up and I'll help you with a final. Does that sound good?"

"Uh huh," came her strained reply. For some reason, she wasn't much of a conversationalist at the moment.

I reached down and rubbed her awesome ass cheeks. I judged the bag to be two-thirds empty. Things would get interesting soon.

The flow slowed somewhat as the contents in the bag got smaller and the pressure in her bowels increased.

"I'm starting to feel really full," Tracy commented.

"I'm sure you are! You're doing great. There's less of a fifth of it left. Can you take it?"

"I'll try."

"Good girl. You'll be glad you did."

Time slowed and the bag had shrunk to almost nothing.

"Oh God!" Tracy whimpered.

"Less than two cups to go. Do you want me to stop it?"

"No," she squeaked.

The minx had pride. She was also breathing like she was in a childbirth class.

Finally, I heard the telltale gurgle as the bag emptied itself down the tube and the meter stopped, its paddles now surrounded by air.

"Atta girl Tracy! I'm outta here. Call me when you need me."

I could have stuck around to chat but I didn't want to be too much of a bastard. Besides I might not like what I saw.

***

"So, how is she?" Michelle asked.

"A little full of herself."

"I'd say so," she laughed. "I hope you got that out of your system. There's no way I'd ever let you do that to me."

"Yeah, she comes in handy like that doesn't she?"

"You know, she's not really what I expected now that we're really getting to know her," Michelle observed.

"I know what you mean. I was thinking about that this morning." I went on to explain my whole thinking on the subject of the Cum Guzzling Slut.

"My God, I think your right!"

"I know what that means, right?"

"What do you mean?" Michelle asked.

"It means that she's not really a heartless plaything. There's actually a little girl inside the Amazon supermodel. We can't just treat her like some common whore."