Lynn lies back in Stacie's arms, almost like The Handmaid's Tale, only Lynn is my wife and it is Lynn I am fucking with long slow steady strokes as Stacie, who is not a handmaid but my taller (than Lynn) girlfriend, rubs Lynn's clit with her right hand and Lynn's nipples with her left. Lynn is giddy beyond sanity, her eyes closed, her mouth open, moaning, squealing, whimpering, this whatever it is that she has concocted, insisted on, forced us into, clearly exceeding all her expectations. For this is Lynn's mind-fuck and it is all about her pleasure, about being the no-longer-ignored center of attention, about us apologizing for what she believes was our betrayal and our disrespect. But she is as usual receiving, not participating - her eyes are closed and she simply fundamentally cannot understand that my relationship with Stacie was not about her, is not about her, will never be about her. It is about participation, about my chemistry with Stacie, who over Lynn's shoulder is sticking out her tongue obscenely (which she has done many times before, though never in so intimate a situation), who over Lynn's naked shuddering darkening shoulder, her mouth inches from Lynn's ear pretending to whisper to her just to emphasize the contrast between connect and disconnect, licks her lips in anticipation and mouths "eat me you fucking bastard," and "I love you" as Lynn comes screaming as I come, hard and bucking uncontrollably, shouting "I love you," back at Stacie though Lynn, of course, assumes it is meant for her, kisses me, rolls off, and falls into instant sleep, ignoring Stacie, who muffles her own screams with my pillow while I, the fucking bastard, eat her.