A Dish Best Served Cold, Chapter 2

I woke in agony; my guts clenching with terror. Panting, I felt the sheets, twisted and sweaty.  Was my conscience awakening, after all this time? 

I felt for Francesca in the dark. “Babe, can you wake up for a minute?” I found her shoulder and squeezed it gently. She murmured as I switched on the light.

“What is it, Hermie?” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was spooning the soundly sleeping Dove, her gorgeous twenty year old intern, who we’d been sharing that night. Francesca is a conceptual artist, and her videos of our sexual exploits are part of an exhibit she’s been developing for years. 

“I had the worst dream. Hellfire, laughing devils, I was being torn to shreds. I think I’m feeling guilty. I never feel guilty. Was I wrong, fucking Carly like that?”

“Herman, you are a beautiful man who has had a terrible year. 2020 has been such a drain. You’ve had so many overnights, double shifts, you might get kind of manic sometimes. Honestly? I think they were into it. I would’ve said something if I didn’t think so. You need to rest.” 

She had a point. Tom and I are pulmonary/critical care physicians at a major metropolitan hospital center. COVID has been so exhausting, physically, mentally, emotionally. We had lost colleagues, friends, neighbors, and worked ourselves raw. “It’s usually fun and games, what we do. This feels different.” 

“Wasn’t it something about the masks?” Dove offered, still half asleep. Dove was the daughter of one of my ICU nurses, a proud single mother, and a promising art major on scholarship to the best university in our region. Francesca had been the one to bring her into our lovemaking, first fucking her in the laundry room. She was still getting course credit for her time here.  

“It started with the mask disagreement. Lots of people have been eating during the conferences, and he went off on me in front of everyone. I get it; the masks are essential for stopping the virus. But I was twelve feet away from everyone, and those meeting go on forever. I had just had to re-intubate someone, too, who I had promised to get out of the hospital.” 

Francesca stroked my hair. “You use sex as a weapon. We get that. Everyone has a kink. Like you always say, ‘if we’re all getting fucked, we might as well enjoy it, right?’”

I’d found medicine so frustrating as a profession. Knowing the exact right answer still meant little compared to the weight of human depravity and limited resources. I kept getting these ‘rage boners.’ The sadomasochism that Francesca and I performed allowed me to express that anger in a self contained manner. In these lucid moments, I know I’m a narcissist and suspect I’m a sociopath. That said, I’m trying to make it all work. There has to be a balance, otherwise, I’m just a monster.

“Sometimes I think I want a war. I want an enemy to fight. Medicine is unsatisfying because you’re fighting someone who’s a victim, and there’s nothing to hit. It’s nobody’s fault, and I’m the one to picking up the pieces. When we use manipulation to build up peoples egos and then pull the floor out from under them, and we take advantage of their selfishness, loneliness, jealousy, we can fight and win without actually shedding a drop of blood.”

Dove yawned. “Herman, that video was totally hot. Francesca made me come three times while we were watching it. When you grabbed her by the neck and pulled her off your dick …” Dove bit her lip and moaned. I noticed the covers were rustling softly around Dove’s waist. I looked into Francesca’s eyes and grinned, then leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

“You two, I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m not revenge fucking anymore. I want to reconnect with the intimacy and the sense of fun that I used to have. I spend way too much effort on mind games and manipulation.

“Babe, you really think they weren’t into it?” Francesca asked. Dove was quietly gasping now, likely finger fucked by Francesca under the covers.  “You could always just call and apologize. She nuzzled Dove’s ear, and bit it, gently. “Darling, my husband is so preoccupied with his newfound guilt that he’s ignoring your sweet little pussy. Let’s help him find it, shall we?” She reached down and pulled the blanket away from the nude Dove in a single motion. Francesca had three fingers inside her, fucking her briskly. She slowed down, shifted her arms, reached between Dove’s thighs, and firmly spread her legs apart.  

My mouth dropped open, watering, and I had my boxers off to free my erect cock in an instant. I crawled over to them. “Dove, dear, your pussy is so tempting. But I’m afraid the woman of the house gets first dick.” The two women giggled, and I put one hand down to test Francesca’s snatch. It was warm, wet, and open. I fit my cock into Francesca; after all these years, our privates know each other better than anyone. I grasped Dove by the waist, bringing her open pussy onto my lower abdomen and pubis, so that I was rubbing her clit and pussy as I fucked her boss.

Francesca was necking with Dove, and I stroked the young woman’s chest lightly as she undulated.

Read Chapter 1: https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/12/22/a-dish-best-served-cold/

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