ONE NIGHT, IN BED WITH CAMILLE, by A. Penman

[apenman]

Dear Hostboard members,

Here’s a short, sweet and slightly different story that I hope you will enjoy. As always, your comments are appreciated.

A.P.

ONE NIGHT, IN BED WITH CAMILLE
by A.Penman

Camille stretched out on top of me, seemingly exhausted and, I hoped (my male ego notwithstanding) deeply satisfied. I could feel her nipples poking into me just below my ribcage.

I loved her tits…large but not too large…just right. Don’t ask me what size cup. And yes, I know that cup size is important. But with work and all, I just had not had time to put a team of experts and trained technicians together in order to conduct any meaningful research.

Not to boast or anything (not me), but we had been fucking, resting, fucking, resting again then fucking again for just over two hours. Indeed, we were both exhausted.

Now, as she stretched out on top of me, after her last orgasm, I rubbed her back and noted that her breathing was a little hard. I needed to be careful with Camille. I gently moved my hand down to her left sided ribs and felt for any use of her accessory muscles. There wasn’t any…good. But just in case, a quick glance over at the night stand revealed that her rescue inhaler was within arm’s reach. She sensed that I looked and that I was looking out for her, which prompted a snuggle and a sigh.

“Don’t worry. I took my maintenance inhaler this morning…I’m good.” She purred, then kissed my neck just to let me know that she loved the fact that I was concerned. I, of course, couldn’t resist the opportunity to be a dick.

“I know, and thank goodness for long acting beta-agonists and steroids. But, don’t forget C-girl, you happen to have one of the rarest forms of asthma.” And yes, the fact that I called her “C-girl” meant that our relationship had progressed to the silly nickname stage.

She pushed up to her elbows and looked at me, quizzically. Her spectacular breasts were now brushing across my chest and the slight change of position in her lower body gave my slowly softening cock a few more treasured seconds inside her juiced pussy. I really liked that part of our sex, and my girl knew how to maximize it. Camille was a doll. In so many ways, I was lucky to have her.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, sensing that there might be bullshit on the horizon.
“You know, that rare form of asthma that many women suffer with, the one that has doctors completely baffled.”
“What form is that?”
“The dreaded OEA…”
“OEA?”
“Orgasm Exacerbated Asthma!!!” I said, using three exclamation points for dramatic effect.
“You’re a dork, Dick.” She summarized, plopping back down to rest for a bit longer.
“Thank you very much.”
“Did I say dork, Dick? I meant to say you’re a dick, you dork!”

Every word that came out of her pretty mouth sent a shot of her warm breath across my neck, causing me to tingle in a nice way.

“Either way, I’m flattered, Miss Camille.”

She shook her head and then let out one of those frustrated, girly sighs.

Richard and Camille…the two names sounded nice together. Now hold on to your shorts, I’m not thinking marriage or anything like that. But this is a great woman. And if the topic ever did come up (which it hasn’t) I would seriously discuss it with her. I like the rapport that we have, both in and out of bed.

But this particular evening, for reasons I did not and still do not understand, Camille decided it was bomb dropping time. Here’s how it went, to the best of my recollection:

“Richard? Can I ask a rather intimate question?” Camille had that tone in her voice that told me she was building up to something.
“Yeah babe, what is it?”
“Well, I was wondering,” she hesitated, “do you ever fantasize about me getting it on with another woman?”

I reached over to the nightstand, retrieved her rescue inhaler, took a deep hit then exhaled.

“No, can’t say that I ever have.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Collins,” she said, punching me gently in the ribs, “but the Camille cock-o-meter indicates that you are lying.”

Damn! Just as it was about to vacate the premises, my nearly flaccid cock stiffened at the thought, giving me away. Traitor! If this was a poker game, that would have been my “tell.”


“So…” I paused with caution, “…do you want to have sex with another woman? Is that why this ‘intimate’ question came up?”

Her head was still nestled in the crook of my shoulder, her breasts were still gently heaving into my abs when she asked, “Well, you know my girlfriend Natalie, right?”

My eyes widened. Good thing she didn’t see. Natalie was gorgeous, just like my sweet Camille. I cleared my throat. “Sure, what about her?”
“Well, she and I have been kind of gently dropping those playful ‘what-if-we’ suggestions for a while now.”

I could sense there was much more to this. I decided to be patient.

“Aaaaaannnnnd?”

She pushed up again, in order to look me in the eyes. I guess that she felt full eye contact was necessary for what she was about to lay on me. My manhood was now almost fully erect and sloshing around deliciously inside of her. Her pussy seemed to clamp down on it.

“Last week we were at her house,” she paused, “and we had consumed a little too much wine. Just to be safe, I decided to wait for a bit longer before I drove home. There was some sexy music playing and we just kind of snuggled on the couch. We looked at each other, and…just out of nowhere, we started kissing and…”
“Wait, let me guess.” I interrupted. “At first the kiss was soft and gentle…even tentative. But soon it became passionate…almost incendiary. Mouths clamped down hard on each other and chewed hungrily, and then tongues slithered out and became entwined in a saliva-coated wrestle.”
“Stop it! I’m trying to be serious!” she implored.
“Sorry, I got carried away. Then what happened?”
“Well, heavy breathing notwithstanding, we sort of came to our senses and stopped. Neither of us said anything, we just kind of fidgeted nervously. Then, I got up to leave. She stood up too. I told her I’d see myself out, but she insisted on walking with me. Then, when we got to the door we hugged, really hard. There could be no mistake that our intent was to crush our big tits arduously into each other.”
“A woman to woman challenge?” I asked as my voice rasped.
“Well, I’m not sure…perhaps…an intimate challenge.”
I thought about the scenario for a second. “Actually, to me it sounds more like a mutual agreement was reached.”
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“Two busty women, purposely mashing their boobs together…at the very least, a bare-breasted tit tussle seems inevitable.”
“Oh, that’s nuts!”
“Is it? Come on C. It sounds to me like it’s only a matter of time before your beautiful naked tits are rolling around with Natalie’s gorgeous knockers.”
“You’re out of your mind, Richard!” She decried.
“Excuse me, miss Camille…but YOU are the one who initiated this discussion. YOU are the one who said that the two of you have been dropping suggestive hints…YOU are the one who…”
“OK, I get your point.” She acquiesced. This was followed by a couple of long minutes of nervous silence. Then…

“So, what do you think?” She asked, knowing she was too far into it to hit the breaks.

I rolled my eyes, not really wanting to be put on the spot like this. Like I said, Camille is just gorgeous and, like I mentioned, I felt very lucky to have her.

However, at the risk of sounding like a male chauvinist, in situations like this one, my dear Camille did possess that one absolutely maddening quality that some women seem to possess. Allow me to illustrate…

Last week, while getting dressed for an informal dinner with friends.

“Honey, can I get your opinion?” she asked.
“Sure…about what?”
“This blouse…I’m thinking about wearing it tonight.”

And so the inescapable trap was set…the one I step into every goddamn time.

“And, what?”
“Well, I want your opinion of it.”

My opinion? “Oh no, please, no!” my mind cried out.
“Yes, give me your honest opinion.”

Open mouth, insert foot.

“I don’t like it.” I said, being completely honest.
“You don’t like it!” she gasped. “What’s wrong with this blouse?” Feelings were about to be hurt…but I had set my course, despite the unfavorable winds.
“That pattern…it’s too busy…can’t say much for the color either.”

I seriously didn’t like the blouse. She had worn it a couple of times before and I damn near experienced vertigo.

And of course, now the hurt-laced tears began to well up in her eyes. And the silence would be deafening, and the touchy-feely would be withheld, not to mention the sex…all because I was asked for my “honest opinion” and I gave it.

And so, back to the present tense and in that dangerous spot once again, I determined right at that instant, not to fuck this delicate situation up. In other words, I proceeded to immediately fuck things up.

I sighed deeply, because I knew that with a deep sigh came great wisdom. At least that’s what is believed by lots of folks.

But then I got distracted. I started to wonder why a sigh would increase wisdom? Could it be the momentary increase in one’s blood oxygen level? I mean, think about it. You’re taking in a really deep breath, and for a few seconds, the oxygen pressure in the lungs, all the way down to the air sacks (the alveoli) is greater than that of the surrounding blood flow in the capillaries. This of course, makes oxygen diffusion across the alveolar-capillary membrane much easier (pressure follows the path of least resistance) thereby giving one a nice boost of O2 to the brain. Makes perfect sense. Am I right?

Anyway, under this manifest wisdom I told my sweet Camille what I thought of her situation…in a roundabout kind of way.

“Hmm…” I thought it over. “Well, Camille, in this case I don’t think my opinion really matters. Or should I say, my opinion won’t influence any outcome.”
“What do you mean by that?” Her voice took on a slight tinge of anger.
“It means that if this is something that you really want to do, then you’re probably going to do it…whether or not I approve.”
“Richard, that’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is!” she said, a touch of hurt in her voice. “You’re suggesting that your opinion doesn’t matter to me!”
“Does it?”
“Well, of course it does!” she was now a pubic hair away from pissed off. I, jackass that I am, decided to continue pushing sensitive buttons.

“Alright Camille, here’s my opinion.”
“Let’s have it.” She said, stiffly.

I had an ulterior motive, because a thought had started to fester in my mind. It was time for me to throw the curveball.

“I don’t like the idea of you and Natalie fucking.”

Shocked by my response, Camille sat straight up and straddled me. My cock sank deeper into her. But she wasn’t about to give me that satisfaction. She lifted her cute ass up and my cock was suddenly meandering around like a confused senior citizen.

“Why don’t you like the idea of Natalie and me fucking? I thought that every straight guy had fantasies of his girlfriend having sex with another woman…another hot woman.”

The method behind this was simple. I had a feeling she was holding out. Now it was my turn to pretend to be angry.

“Don’t use that fucking old trope on me, Camille! Do I look like every straight guy to you? Do I act like every straight guy to you?”

Now she was frustrated. She then used every possible body language gesticulation to express her exasperation…the head shake, the shoulder shrug, and the deep sigh, all to assure me of the fact that I was seriously trying her patience. I mean, after all, she did just offer me a potentially real glimpse into “every man’s fantasy.” I should have been grateful, right?

Wait for it…it’s coming…

“I just don’t understand you, Richard…I mean it’s not like I’m cheating on you…it’s a woman!”

And so, by way of the improper use of a contraction, came an inadvertent admission.

I sat up, wrapped my muscular arms around her waist, lifted her up and body-slammed her onto her back in the bed and came down on top of her, nose to nose.

“Ughhh!” she gasped.
“My dear, sweet Camille,” I spoke softly and directly, “that tight embrace at the door?…”
“What about it?” She spoke in that way that always told me she was getting sexually aroused.
“It didn’t exactly end there, did it?”

My sweet, totally busted Camille then reached down, grabbed my cock and slowly moved the head into her moist slit. She removed her hand, then smiled at me, leaving the decision of when and how forcefully I wanted to thrust into her entirely up to me.

I’m a slow thruster. Hard can wait until the fucking has reached a maddening pace. But initially, I want each nerve ending in my cock to absorb every possible sensation of the cunt that is welcoming it into it’s juiced accommodations.

When I was fully inside of her, Camille felt safe enough to whisper a revelation, “No, Richard, it didn’t stop with the tight hug at the door. We ripped off our clothes, went to her bedroom and fucked like two lust crazed female savages.”

I kissed her, softly at first, then increasingly hard. When the kiss broke off I looked at her with intenseness.

“What?” She asked, feeling my cock inside her, moving with me.

“So, are you going to give me all the sweaty, body to body details or what?”

Only slightly surprised, Camille then asked, “I thought you didn’t approve of…”

I cut her short. “Don’t be silly, Camille. Every straight guy has fantasies about his girl getting it on with another woman! I thought you knew that.”

This got me a second, much harder punch in the ribs. But it was worth it.

THE END

[Ragnar0k]

Oh A.P.,

Short, sweet, slightly different and... darn perfect! A very sensual tale indeed and I loved it!

Cheers buddy,

Rags

[catfightlover40]

Dear Doc,

As a follower of psychological realism, I'll play the hypothetical that some version of things here had happened. As such, be assured, that while the attention is turned away from a widened pupil, a change in breathing still does give it away, so let's say if that had happened, then yeah, she knew right away. In fact, the long term girlfriend I had the best relationship with actually did tell me, that once a woman can relax with their partners, knowing how the inner child in us loves the kink, they come up with elaborate fantasies to make the sex more enjoyable for both parties (coincidentally, the dreaded foreplay so needed by many women rarely come up in erotic stories by men, of which I'm guilty too).

That being said, Camille, the character, isn't faultless either. For starters, the "just a woman" proposition is the same defense as "it's just the tip", "don't worry I'll put out in time", made worse by the fact that it objectifies a member of a sexual minority.

Speaking of which, if straightness is to be viewed as vanilla sex being at its center, then, of course, straight people too have a lot of hues. To say, I'm attracted to catfights is an understatement, but even in that state, it's correct enough to claim, no, I don't have such a fantasy. Them joining up for a m?nage ? trois or them wrestling before the act, sure... this tells me that the character compartmentalizes every day conflicts which frees up time and effort to make generalized statements.

I liked that you used correct anatomy and self-deprecating humor. Keep up the good work

[apenman]

Oh A.P.,

Short, sweet, slightly different and... darn perfect! A very sensual tale indeed and I loved it!

Cheers buddy,

Rags

Rags,

I responded to your note on DA too, so I won't drone on here. I'll just say thanks, my British friend.

A.P.

[JB57]

Dear AP,

Really interesting, erotic story, though certainly far outside the ordinary, for this board. It works in a strange way that I can't quite put my finger on. I guess it's the "less is more" idea - by alluding to the erotic confrontation off-page, it helps feed the readers' imaginations.

Thanks for your work.

JB

[dwcole]

A perfect foreplay story for guys who want their woman

women to enjoy what you like. You might be surprised to

find that some women might be into this type of fantasy or

some thing like it. Maybe way back in the back of their minds.

And o' ya, some wine or a mixed drink or two might help too. lol

Thank you A. Penman

[apenman]

Dear AP,

Really interesting, erotic story, though certainly far outside the ordinary, for this board. It works in a strange way that I can't quite put my finger on. I guess it's the "less is more" idea - by alluding to the erotic confrontation off-page, it helps feed the readers' imaginations.

Thanks for your work.

JB

Thanks JB,

I've been wanting to write something different for a while now. BTW, this is the story that prompted me to post the question. This is the one that sort of took off in a slightly different direction. I believe it turned out alright (he said as he reached around and patted himself on the back.)

A.P.

[Johannesdk]

Dear apenman

thank you for an exciting and not really so different kind of story.

I've actually once experienced something similar long time ago. My wife was riding me and my stiff cock was sliding in out of her, when we, as we had agreed upon, started to talk to and fro about her wrestling nude with a common friend (being bi-sexual, it was a friend she secretly was attracted to). After a few verbal exchanges, I became further aroused, and to my surprise my cock grew even larger, which she of could feel, because she moaned loudly: "my god, it's become so big!" That turned us both further on and we forgot the verbal exchanges and just fucked away as sweaty wild animals.

This wonderful experience came back to me when I read your story, thanks for that!
Johannes

[apenman]

Dear apenman

thank you for an exciting and not really so different kind of story.

I've actually once experienced something similar long time ago. My wife was riding me and my stiff cock was sliding in out of her, when we, as we had agreed upon, started to talk to and fro about her wrestling nude with a common friend (being bi-sexual, it was a friend she secretly was attracted to). After a few verbal exchanges, I became further aroused, and to my surprise my cock grew even larger, which she of could feel, because she moaned loudly: "my god, it's become so big!" That turned us both further on and we forgot the verbal exchanges and just fucked away as sweaty wild animals.

This wonderful experience came back to me when I read your story, thanks for that!
Johannes

Dear Johannes,

I'm pleased that I was able to bring back such pleasant memories for you. Did you ever get to watch your wife nude wrestle the other woman?

Regards,

A.P.

[Johannesdk]

Hi A.P

unfortunately she a few years later kind of withdraw from her bi-sexuality (I never really understood why), so she never had a nude fight with a woman.

Thanks for a good story
Johannes