I try out dramatically reading poetry:
“Tomorrow” speech from Macbeth, by William Shakespeare.
I try out dramatically reading poetry:
“Tomorrow” speech from Macbeth, by William Shakespeare.
Outside my window,
Raging destruction, I just
Can’t care about it.
Galloping horse am
I, my blood streaming down my
Flanks, never stopping.
I, one night, and still it calls
To me, beckoning.
The part of me that says, “I wish I’d never been born,”
I’m teaching to say, “I wish my hair had never been shorn.”
That said, “I wish I was dead,” to say, “I wish I had dreads.”
That says, “I should just kill myself,” to say,
“I should just thrill myself. Thrill everybody.”
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 had been sharing that night. Francesca is a well-regarded video artist, currently being exhibited at the MOMA. She is using the videos of our sexual adventures for a future project, designed to be sent into space. I look forward to being a posthumous porn star, with future aliens jerking off to my pasty ginger ass.
“I had the worst dream. Hellfire, laughing devils, I was being torn to shreds. I think I am 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 a drain. You have had so many overnights, double shifts, you get manic sometimes. Honestly? I think Tom and Carly were into the sex. I would have 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. I was not the best version of Herman Sherman, MD. “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 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.
“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 was also really upset because I had to re-intubate someone 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.’”
I have 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. Francesca got me into sadomasochism to allow me to express that anger in a self-contained manner. In lucid moments, I know I’m a narcissist and suspect I’m a sociopath. That said, I am trying to make it all work. There must be a balance.”
“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. We use manipulation to build up people’s egos and then pull the rug out from under them. We take advantage of their selfishness, loneliness, jealousy. We can fight and win without 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, whispering “darling, my husband is preoccupied with his newfound guilt and 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. 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 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. There is something so beautiful about a woman loving another woman; I breathed and absorbed the vision. I could rub Dove’s crotch and watch the tremor of pleasure move through her. When it passed into Francesca, I felt her torque her pussy on my cock even harder.
I leaned down and suckled Dove’s small breasts, reddening and moistening them around their areolae. I gave Francesca a burst of power, fucking her harder and harder, and I pulled her tight to me, kissing her over Dove’s shoulder as the young woman was squeezed between us. When Dove was breathless from the pressure, and Francesca was breathless from the force. I slowed down and pulled out of her.
“You bastard,” Francesca smirked at me, knowing my next move. I picked up Dove by her pink flushed hips and entered her. She gasped and breathed deeply, her eyes wide. I fit a hand beneath her back and lifted her off Francesca, who luxuriously pulled herself up to a crouching position.
I laid Dove on the bed, and she obediently reached between Francesca’s thighs. Francesca situated herself, and Dove pulled her face into Francesca’s crotch. My wife grinned wickedly and licked her lips, and I pulled her in for a kiss as I began wildly fucking Dove.
Francesca and I made out passionately as she ground down into Dove’s lovely young face. Dove matched the strength of my thrusts, strength she’d developed in years with the women’s lacrosse team.
The triangle that we made with our mouths and hips was so harmonious and exquisite. I could not last long, but it was Francesca who came first, purring and then moaning, finally grasping me around the neck and screaming into my mouth as we kissed. I shot young Dove full of come.
Panting, I slid onto the bed beside the sweat and pussy-slick Dove. She kissed me softly as Francesca crawled down to the floor. She grasped Dove’s waist and roughly turned her hips. Dove responded by flipping over. Francesca delivered a few brisk spanks to her ass. “Get your mouth on my husband’s dick,” she ordered, my warrior woman.
Dove looked me in the eyes and took my wilted penis in her mouth, rousing my old soldier back for another adventure. I could see the crest of Francesca’s hairline behind Dove’s spread asscheeks, and I knew the slurping sounds I heard meant that my wife was sucking and swallowing my come from her intern’s pussy. Dove started to move her head and neck in rhythm to the slurps. I grasped her head and fucked her mouth and throat more forcefully. My cock was diamond hard.
Francesca stood and playfully smacked my hands away from Dove’s head, taking a handful of her thick hair to control the young woman’s cocksucking. With her other hand, she reached back and grabbed Dove’s crotch again. “Yeah, bitch, take it,” my wife grunted. Dove came hard, clenching and twisting her whole body. My cock loved every spasm of it.
When Dove was finished, Francesca rolled her off me, leaving me aching, twitching, needing release. Francesca stood over Dove’s nude form and crooked her finger, motioning for me. She slapped her ass and spread her asscheeks. I quickly was off the bed and behind Francesca, mounting and fucking her from behind with ferocious intensity.
Dove squeezed and kissed Francesca’s generous tits, basking in the attention she was getting. I grabbed Francesca by the wrists and pulled back as hard as I could, driving her face into Dove’s chest. She sucked on Dove’s tits and drove her ass back into me. Soon, I came again, releasing Francesca’s arms and spooning her on the bed as she clutched Dove. We were all tired, enjoying the glow of our closeness. I reached down, covered us with a blanket, and we fell asleep.
The next day, I was in my office, reviewing charts electronically ahead of morning rounds. I had a few minutes to spare, and called Tom. He was home on an admin day.
“Herman!” Tom cheerfully answered. “Great to hear from you! How’s life?”
“Tom, it’s great to hear your voice. Listen, I really don’t feel right about the other night. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t deserve it. I know you’re phobic about germs, too. A few days before the dinner, I had a negative COVID test and a negative STD test. I had a vasectomy three years ago. I don’t blame you for being angry, but I had to talk to you.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Herman, could I ask you to give me a call back in a few minutes on the video conference? I’d like to bring Carly into the conversation.”
I sighed and told him I would. I bit my lip and died inside as I waited to call back. I tried to check more clinical data, but the numbers and words didn’t mean anything to me. I logged into my conference app and called him exactly five minutes later.
Tom answered, seated at his dinner table, with a big shit eating grin on his face. Carly rested her chin on his shoulder. “Herman, like I said, I’m glad you called! I got to tell you, I’m new man! Carly and I are like teenagers again, always making out and touching each other. We had talked about swinging a few times, but we didn’t know where to start.”
“And the germphobia! I feel so much less anxious about it now. I can handwash once without repeating it. I went to the grocery store without getting a panic attack yesterday. This is the greatest gift you could have given me! My therapist says she wishes all her clients could get their wives banged in front of them!”
They seemed happy. My head was spinning. “You guys are sweet. But I don’t deserve it. How can I make it up to you?”
“Well, we have to do it again! I’ll stick to seltzer this time, you old dog,” he chuckled. “Carly, show him your love note.” Carly blushed and stood up. Tom repositioned the camera and moved back from the table.
The young wife addressed me. “Hi there, Herman. You look terrific.” She squeezed her breasts together under her long t-shirt, thrusting them into my view. Then she stepped back and bent at the waist. She slowly skimmed her fingers along her legs as she moved upward, raising her t-shirt over skimpy maroon panties, revealing a message scrawled in lipstick on her taut abdomen. I leaned forward to read the words ‘HERMAN’S COCK HERE’ with an arrow pointing down to her pussy.
My heart was racing. I was rock hard, of course. I croaked out, “Carly, you’re incredible. Listen, if you don’t hold me accountable, I’m not going to learn my lesson. You can’t reward my bad behavior.”
Carly sat back on Tom’s lap and they kissed over her shoulder, his hand under her shirt, squeezing her tit. She tilted her head toward the camera and said, “Herman, if you want to be punished, I can do that for you.”
I coughed. Goddamn. “You two are wonderful. I have to go.” I ended the call and stood up from my desk, willing my erection to lie back down. How was I supposed to be a better person now?
Read previous chapter at: https://www.literotica.com/s/a-dish-best-served-cold-5
If I write not these
Words, they creep under my skin.
I shudder and squirm.
If people treated Superman like he had a disease they’d catch by being saved by him, would he keep doing it? Or would they be frightened, running from the man as strong as a bull and fast as a locomotive, while he tried to grasp their hands to pull them up? Would he pick his battles? I have this idea that Supes is the kind of guy who moves on instinct. He doesn’t think that much about what he does. He’s just Clark without his glasses on, putting his foot in his mouth, like a star athlete who’s soft spoken and kind. He doesn’t really know what he means to other people. He hears everything we whisper to each other. He tries to respect our privacy, but he doesn’t always. What’s the harm? If he moves so fast you can’t see him peek over your shoulder to read your text? He only wants to be sure you’re safe. And to be in on the joke. Superman likes to laugh. He has a great sense of humor. Is he happy? No. He’s busy. There’s work to be done. Even moving faster than light, he can only be in so many places at a time, even if he sends robots to fill in the gaps. He goes to the Fortress of Solitude and watches the old crystal tapes his Dad Jor-el sent him all those years ago. He seems so regal, so magnificent, and human at the same time, vulnerable. He talks to the hologram sometimes. He’s even yelled at him. He wants answers, and there will be none forthcoming from old, dead Jor-el.
“Why am I like this, Dad? Why is always only me out there? They’re all scared of me. They don’t trust me. I hear them calling me ‘alien, freak, infected.’ I have to watch the world burn to ash and I can only sweep up the pieces. They’re all dying and I’m not. Luthor says I don’t really care, that it’s just part of my programming, how my genetic code was designed to replace humanity, and that there are millions of Kryptonian matrices waiting to be deployed to rocket to the earth, once I’ve subdued it. It’s not true, is it, Dad? You would never do that. You’re not a parasite, a selfish murdering bully like Luthor. “
“It’s the greatest irony, Dad, I’m supposed to be invulnerable, but everything hurts me. Every look, every word, every misunderstanding, every passive aggressive gesture, I see it and treasure it in my heart. What good is it being the strongest man in the world if everybody hates you? If it were all a dream, if there was another pretender masquerading as savior, and I could be just a guy, an ordinary guy, what would that feel like? “
“Lois … sold me out, Dad. She gave my secret identity to Luthor for the chief job at the Daily Planet. I feel like an idiot. Everyone’s in danger now.”
“Is there someone like me, out there, alive today, who understands how this hurts? To want to help, to interact, to relate, not to hurt, but to mend. Luthor’s made everyone believe the epidemic is a Kryptonian superbug. It’s not.”
“They wanted to make me king. Give the keys to me, let me rule the world. I said, “no, not for me, thanks, I’m not an administrator.” I laughed, but they turned on me then, I know they did. When I wouldn’t tell them what to do. When they realized I wasn’t anything special, just a humble citizen doing his best to help people. I just thought if I did good in the world, Dad, it would lead to something. I would go somewhere, and the clouds would open, and a plan would unfold. I would know who I was and what I was supposed to do. But that’s not what happened.”
“I had a dream that everyone I had tried to please for so long had forgotten me. They didn’t recognize me, even after I told them my name and where we knew each other from. The one guy who was friendly to me, he was just using me to get him pipe tobacco, and when his car got stolen, I felt a little guilty, but I thought it was what he deserved.”
“You’ll always remember them, but they won’t remember you. You’re still frozen with them in the past.
What am I supposed to do? Hide? Leave those creeps in charge?”
And Jor-el’s hologram solemnly intones: “Everybody doesn’t have to love you, Kal. Most of them will despise you. You think people like those who are better than them?”
“Your real educators, those who formed you, reveal to you what is the true primary meaning and fundamental substance of your being … Your true self does not lie deeply concealed within you but immeasurably high above you, or at least above what you usually take for your ego.” Nietzsche
What I love is the
Neat, obedient, well made.
Tuned, durable, marked
By craftsmanship. Intricate,
Smelling of old wood
And discipline. Love
I also the raw, untamed,
Unshorn, tacky, and
And simple, open and free.
Wild, naked, real.
I am Apollo
And I am Dionysus,
Sharing a lifetime.