Decumeron Ch. 01: Wed March 18 2020

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Chapter One: Wednesday, March 18, 2020

We had come out to the country for an ordinary spring break. Two couples, four old friends from grad school, taking advantage of our university teaching schedules aligning to meet up in rural New England between Boston and New York. It was supposed to be a week of catching up, a little hiking, going to restaurants, cooking for each other, and each of us getting some work done. It had been a good week. I’d managed to finish revisions on one article and send it back into the journal and I submitted an abstract for a CFP for a special issue of another journal. Honestly, that was more scholarly productivity in a week than I’d had the previous several months. My wife Katherine had written a big chunk of a lit review. I wasn’t keeping up as much with what George and Sonya had accomplished, but they seemed pleased with themselves too.

We were a comfortable group around each other. We’d known each other long enough that we weren’t embarrassed to wander around in our pyjamas in the morning. We’d all met fifteen-ish years ago (yikes! How time flies!) in grad school. I paired off with Katherine quickly, drawn by her Black Irish features—her jet black hair, her sharp nose, her pale skin with freckles—and by her brilliance in seminar. But that hadn’t kept me from developing a small, secret, very unserious crush on Sonya. Physically, they were a study in contrasts: where Katherine was short and curvy, Sonya was tall and willowy; where Katherine had long, black hair, Katherine’s was short and blonde. George and I too, looked really different: he compact and athletic looking, and I lanky and a physique nobody would mistake for that of an athlete. When we’d double-dated in grad school, we were a good looking foursome, I was sure. Of course, time had moved on, and as we neared or hit 40, I don’t think any grad students now would have turned their heads for us. Although if the students who developed obvious crushes on me and on Katherine were any indication, at least we could still get attention from undergrads. I was certain the same was true for Sonya and George, too, and I could only imagine that Sonya’s course evaluations, like Katherine’s, were filled with inappropriate comments on her good looks. So despite our wrinkles, the incipient gray hair, and the few extra pounds we all carried (except Sonya, who remained her thin self), we had all aged pretty well. No doubt our luck—all landing permanent, full time jobs in academia when so many of our peers had been forced into contingency or out of the academy altogether—and our lack of children helped.

So, anyway, we’d had a good week. We got work done, we fell into our old patterns of banter and intellectual argument, we’d cooked good meals and had good wine. George especially had picked up cooking as a hobby since grad school, and he took advantage of the easily available local meats, eggs, and dairy to cook us early spring feasts. He and Katherine had gotten into arguments about the virtues of different productions of the same operas, and Sonya and I had revived our longstanding disagreement about conceptual art. Over it all, though, loomed the plague. We woke up each morning to scary news from Italy: growing numbers of Covid-19 cases, then growing numbers of deaths, then the whole country locked down and physicians being made to choose who lived and who died. It still seemed far away, but it felt ominous, like dark storm clouds on the horizon.

And then the storm hit our shores. Our universities all announced that classes were moving online for the rest of the term. Borders around the world slammed shut. Tenure clocks were extended. Whole cities shut down. We decided to stay put in the countryside. We had a big house with four bedrooms and more space downstairs, we had a big grocery store where we could make weekly runs for supplies, and—happily for us—the vacationers who had reserved the house we’d rented all cancelled, and so the owners were happy to let us stay longer. Best of all, the four of us could co-distance: we could limit our exposures to other people while staying together. Unlike the poor single people locked in their city apartments all alone, or the couples or families who now had to spend 24 hours a day cooped up together, we had variety. Each of us had three people to talk to in person, not just one. And it was a lot easier to avoid others in the countryside than in either New York or Boston. Hurrah for privilege.

So things kept on. Spring break was over, and so we had to figure out how to teach our confused and scared students online, but otherwise we tried to continue as we’d been doing. We cooked together, we drank wine together, and with the Met opening its vaults, we watched opera together, so Sonya and I joined in with Betturkey George and Katherine’s conversations about it. Of course we were also tense and worried, as people started to fall sick in New York, as the hospitals filled up, as doctors and nurses ran out of masks, and as Donald Trump did his level best to hinder any decent or competent response. Sonya seemed particularly on edge-her parents lived in New York and were in their early eighties, and her brother was a physician-but George was good at calming her down. We started watching more junky, escapist television and less opera. We washed our hands a lot more and a lot more thoroughly. But from our rural retreat, our worry and anxiety were impotent. We checked in with our friends, especially those who worked in medicine. We angrily tweeted. At meals, we all expressed our disbelief at the state of the country. But there was nothing to do.

Wednesday night of that first Covid week—just as back home in New York things were getting really bad—something happened. The four of us had gone back to our respective rooms for bed. Katherine and I were lying in bed, reading our novels, when we heard something. Well, we heard several things. First the creaking of furniture. Then distinct moans. Sonya and George were fucking.

And it was hot. At first we snickered quietly, but to be honest, I was enjoying it. I imagined Sonya lying on her back, her hands holding the headboard, her long legs splayed out, her small tits heaving with her breath, as George fucked her. Just as I was forming this image, I felt Katherine reach her hand out, put it down my pyjama pants, and start stroking my cock. It had been getting hard just listening to our friends, but at her touch, it achieved full erection. I rolled over on my side to face her so she could have better access, and I reached under the loose tank top she had worn to bed and groped her breast, then lightly played with her nipple. We lay there, Katherine gently stroking and squeezing my dick, I running a finger in circles around her nipple, listening to our friends’ lovemaking. “What position do you think they’re in?” Katherine whispered.

“I was just thinking about them in missionary,” I said quietly. After all, we could hear them, so we had to be careful for them not to hear us. “Sonya splayed out on the bed, George pounding her.”

“I don’t think so. The bed’s stopped moving,” Katherine corrected me. She was right. There was clearly less movement in the other room, but we could still hear Sonya’s moans. “I think he must be going down on her. I bet George is between her legs, sucking on her clit, drinking her wetness.”

I moved down the bed and went to pull off the boy shorts Katherine wore as pyjamas. She met me half way, lifting up her ass to get them off and sitting up to pull off her tank top. She lay naked, in roughly the position we were imagining Sonya to be in in the next room. I dove in between her legs. “I’m sure Sonya has her hands in his hair, pulling it to hold him at her cunt,” she said, as she put her hands in my hair and directed me to her own glistening cunt. She was breathing heavily, caught up in imagining what our friends were doing and what we were about to do.

I blew lightly on her as a tease and lightly ran my finger along her lips, pulling them open. Putting my chin down, I slowly licked the bottom to the top, appreciating the taste and the smell of her sex. But I wanted to make this last, so I moved my head and lightly kissed where her left leg joined her pelvis, then licked up toward her navel. “Don’t tease me!” she said.

“Make me,” I taunted, and she took my head—my hair was still in her hand—and dragged me back to her cunt. I dove in, moving my tongue quickly around her lips, sucking them into my mouth, tasting them. But I still was mostly avoiding her clit, making her wait for it. She arched her back, pushing herself further into my face, trying to make me get closer to the center of her pleasure.

Meanwhile, from the other room, Sonya was clearly getting closer to coming. Her moans were louder, her breathing heavier, and we could hear more distinct words—mostly “oh god!” and “yes!” and “fuck”—as George got her closer and closer.

“I’m imagining she’s lying back, pushing her cunt into his mouth,” Katherine said as I took the first two fingers of my right hand and put them inside her. Only once they were in, curling up, stroking her G-spot, did I finally devote my mouth to her clit. I licked it, I pulled it into my mouth, I pressed down on it with my tongue. “I bet she has her hand on her tiny breasts, playing with her nipples while she fucks his mouth,” Katherine whispered, but with growing urgency.

Just then, we heard Sonya climax—a louder, Betturkey Giriş joyous series of “oh fuck oh fuck oh god I’m coming!” followed by her panting and both of them laughing. We heard what sounded like more moving on the bed, followed by a slight rocking sound. Were they back to fucking? It was hard to tell. After Sonya’s orgasm, they were being a bit quieter.

Besides, I was focused on Katherine and with my head between her legs, I wasn’t able to hear as much. I sped up with my fingers and got more intense with my mouth. Licking her clit like an ice cream cone, I fucked her with my fingers hard, like I knew she liked it. With my free left hand, I reached up and took her nipple between my fingers. I could feel her tensing up and her breath grow shallower. But I wanted to make this last. I eased up a bit with the fingers in her cunt, and I slowed down with my tongue.

From the other room, George and Sonya got louder. We could hear the bed squeaking and soon we heard what sounded like George grunting and sighing. I lifted my head from Katherine’s crotch briefly and whispered, “What do you think they’re doing now?” before going back to my task.

“I bet George is on his back and Sonya is riding him,” she said quietly. “Just imagine her sitting tall over him, grinding her clit into his pelvis.” She paused, clearly picturing our friends fucking in just that position. “I think he’s reaching up with one hand to play with her perfect, round, little breasts. Maybe with his other hand he’s reaching down to where they’re joined together so he can rub her clit with his thumb.” I picked up the pace with my own tongue and fingers, leaving Katherine too distracted to continue her narration.

When Katherine stopped talking, though, Sonya picked up. “Oh god yes!” she said to George. “Fuck me. Fill me up!”

Then for the first time, George spoke. “You like this?” he said. His tone was a surprise—more a taunt or a demand than a question. But more, what he said next shocked us. “Imagine how much you’d like it if you were being filled up by Peter instead. If you were riding Peter while Katherine and I stood and watched.”

“Yes!” she said. “I want you to watch us, as Peter fucks me. You want to stand there and watch? Maybe take her big tits into your hand? She should play with your cock while you watch Peter fuck me. I want to be on top like this, but facing the other way, so that Katherine can take her pretty mouth and go down on us where he and I are fucking.”

“And what would I be doing as you fuck Peter and Katherine goes down on both of you?”

“Come over and stand over us. Put your cock in my mouth so I’m filled up with cock. Fuck my mouth while Peter fucks my wet, hungry cunt.”

Holy fuck. They were fantasizing about fucking us, together, while they fucked. While they fucked and we listened to them fuck and while we fucked while listening to them fuck while they fantasized about fucking us. What the fuck was going on?

“Holy fuck,” Katherine said to me. But she was clearly into it. Her face was flushed, her left hand was on the breast I wasn’t fondling myself, and she reached down her right hand and pulled my head closer into her crotch.

I looked up and raised my eyebrows. “Right?” I said. But I kept going. I continued with my fingers and my mouth, faster and harder. I lifted my head and told Katherine, “Come for me, baby!” I pinched her nipple, hard, as I attacked her clit with my mouth. And come she did: her cunt tensed up around my fingers, she let loose with a flood of wetness, and whatever pretense we had of being quiet was lost. Katherine let out a loud noise halfway between a moan and a grunt. I kept on fingering her and licking her clit until she started pushing my head away from her. “Too much, too much!” she said. “Too sensitive.”

I sat back, satisfied with my work, licking my fingers clean to taste more of her. But as I did, I realized our friends in the other room had gone silent. Had George come while Katherine was coming, or had they just stopped in embarrassment? I decided that Sonya and George had heard us, and when they did, realized that we could hear them, too.

I rolled over on my back as Katherine panted postorgasmically. I was hard as a rock. I started gently playing with myself, taking my cock between my thumb and finger and lightly moving them up and down my shaft. As I did, I could hear George and Sonya murmuring, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. As I was straining to hear them, Katherine got up from the bed and came to my side. She put her hand out, took mine, pulled me into a sitting position at the edge of the bed, and knelt between my knees. She reached up to my waistband and pulled my pajama pants and my underwear off.

I looked down at my beautiful wife, her breasts hanging own, her pubic hair glistening from my saliva and her cum, as she knelt before my cock. This was a rare treat. Don’t get me wrong: Katherine was an excellent fellatrix, but kneeling wasn’t normally her thing. Part of that was that I usually preferred to lie down when she blew me, but mostly, she wasn’t much into submission. My lazy preference for lying down notwithstanding, though, I loved looking down at her while she blew me from the ground, her freckled face and green eyes looking up at me. That was exactly what she was doing now, kneeling subserviently, her long hair tucked behind her ears, rubbing my leaking precum around my cock with her hands, looking up at me as if asking permission to start with her mouth.

She stuck her tongue out and, never breaking eye contact, slowly licked the bottom of my cock from the base where it met my scrotum to the tip. She swirled her tongue around the head. “Mmm, I love your precum,” she whispered. Then she wrapped her hand around the base of my cock, opened wide and took me into her mouth. I sighed in pleasure and leaned back on my elbows.

Just then, it became clear that George and Sonya had gotten over their early embarrassment, if indeed that’s what it was. In any case, they were apparently continuing. The noises were back to what they had been at the start: a rhythmic knocking of the bed and the headboard, and Sonya’s rhythmic, high pitched noises. I imagined that George was pounding her. I sat up to look at Katherine as she blew me. “You like hearing our friends fuck?” I asked her. The question was rhetorical, but it elicited the “mm-hmm” I hoped for, and I enjoyed the feel of Katherine’s humming on my dick.

Things were clearly warming up again in the other room, too. Sonya interrupted her rhythmic moaning to encourage George. “Oh god yes, fuck me!” she exhorted. “Fill me up with your hard cock!” We heard a slap, and Katherine raised her eyebrows at me, even without stopping her blowjob. Had George just spanked her? My mind briefly wandered from my own wife kneeling before me with my dick in her mouth to imagine our friends. “I bet he has her on all fours and is fucking her from behind,” I said. I pictured them on the bed, Sonya leaning down on her elbows with her ass up, her small tits hanging down, swinging slightly as George slammed his cock into her cunt.

We heard another slap of what must have been her ass. “Tell me what you’re thinking about,” George demanded. I usually thought of him as rather mild mannered, maybe even a pushover, especially when it came to his marriage. I was surprised to hear him sound so dominant.

Sonya, getting well fucked, could barely get her words out, but it was clear what fantasy she had in mind. “I want you to fuck me like you are now,” she said, “but I want my face to be in Katherine’s crotch.”

“Yes!” George encouraged her.

“I want to go down on her, taste her pussy while you fuck me. So every thrust pushes me into her cunt.”

“Lick her pussy, you slut,” he ordered. “Use your tongue to pleasure her.”

Katherine’s eyes got wide, and she blushed as she took a starring role in our friends’ fantasy. But she was still looking up at me devotedly, and she intensified her blowjob. She focused her tongue and her lips on my cock’s head, and with her hand she pumped the shaft. Looking down at her, I could see her breasts sway slightly as she moved her head and hands.

Sonya stopped talking, and we could hear her moan and pant as George picked up the pace. “You ready to come?” he asked her, more an order than a question. “Come for me, slut.”

“Yes, baby. Fuck me. Make me come on your cock!”

We could hear their bed knocking, Sonya moaning, and George moaning. Katherine was listening, and she tried to match the intensity of what was happening on the other side of the wall. They got louder and louder as they reached their climax, and Katherine took her free hand and pressed between my scrotum and my ass, so I could feel it in my prostate.

Then it happened: all three of us seemed to come at the same time. I heard George grunt and sigh as he unloaded (I assumed) into Sonya. I heard Sonya cry out as she had her second orgasm of the night. And just then Katherine’s mouth and hand brought me over the edge. She looked up at me and held eye contact as my cock swelled and pulsed and I filled her mouth with my cum. She greedily swallowed it, continuing to suck and stroke my cock to milk me.

I lay back on the bed, spent. My wife stood up, picked up my legs, and put them back into the bed. She went to both bedside tables and turned off the reading lights, then came back to her side of the bed and got in under the covers. Still naked, she snuggled up next to me. I could feel her breasts against my body, and she took my softening cock in her hand. “Well, I feel like that just opened up a bunch of new possibilities for our quarantine.”

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