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Words

By: CuriTab



Girl, don't you know every time I see you smiling
Hurts so bad 'cause when I see you I start crying
Try everything to stop but there's no denying 
Falling in love with you girl is just like dying...

I'm sitting in my favorite bar, drinking a Bloody Mary, and nursing my wounds. Men! I sipped my drink and listened to the jukebox. Someone had put on "Words" by the Monkees. You, too, eh? At the stools, it's just me and the barman. I've decided to spare him--just drink and tip, drink and tip. 

The bell on the front door tinkled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall figure. I paid it no heed, continuing to listen to the music.

Ohhh, don't walk away 
How, How can I make you stay, don't turn away...

Out of all the stools open, why does he have to plunk down next to me? His jacket brushed my arm. Leather. Ummm...but I'm in no mood to...wait a minute. I looked at him out the corner of my eye. He had gorgeous dark hair that swept back from his forehead to the collar of his black T-shirt. His jeans, faded, yet fit well in all the right places. Nice ass. Very nice. He noticed my looking down, caught my eye and smiled. I suddenly felt very nervous. There's something in that smile, a hint of mystery. I'm beguiled.

No, I'm drunk. I'm not getting involved with another man until I'm at least over my hangover.

I nearly managed to get up and stumble away, but then he offered to buy me another. His voice: velvet, smooth, deep...I'm getting wet just listening. How could I say no? I didn't try.

...Girl don't you know we can work it out with talkin'
You won't turn around or slow down your walking
I've given you everything with kiss to seal it 
You had to get your kicks with tryin' to steal it...

I spent the next two hours talking to this beautiful stranger. He'd been going through the same thing. Ex-girlfriend was a bitch. She always nagged. Always demanded. Very selfish. Hated everything about him (How could she? I wondered). Criticized everything...including his technique (I wouldn't, I thought). I told him about my breakup, my bastard ex-boyfriend. Bastard. BASTARD. He heard me.

Once he'd paid his tab, he offered to pay mine. I graciously declined. He offered again. I attempted to decline. He insisted. Fine.

He walked, I stumbled, outside. I could feel the heat of his body against mine, smell his scent. God, my head isn't clear...I shook it. 

"You don't want to come back to my place?" Oh, shit. I hadn't even heard him. I looked into those hazel eyes and nodded. "Which? Yes or no?" That voice again. That smile. Again. My insides melted. 

"Yes," I whispered. He lifted my chin and kissed me, his tongue gently prodding past my lips. My arms wound around his neck, but just as it was getting deep, he stopped. I groaned. 

"Don't worry. I won't leave you unsatisfied."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes." He looked me up and down. "I wouldn't dream of it." He hailed a taxi. Inside the cab, he pulled me to him and kissed me again. His hands moved over my front. My sensitive nipples responded to his touch. I moaned into his mouth. Good. Very good. His hands moved to my thighs. I opened to welcome his fingers. He touched the crotch of my panties. "Wet are we, my little minx?" I shifted to allow him more access. His middle finger moved against my rising clit through the material. I wanted him to press harder, but he just rubbed, up and down, teasing me as his tongue ravaged my mouth. He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes. We were interrupted by the cabbie. 

"That'll be eight-seventy-five." My stranger paid, then led me upstairs to his apartment. Once the door was shut, we came together again (we would be doing quite a bit of that later on). His hands tangled in my hair, holding my head to him while his tongue deftly and unhurriedly explored my mouth. He definitely likes the French kiss.

Now, I'm standing here 
Strange, strange voices in my ears...

I only barely heard what he'd said as his kiss left me reeling. He took my hand and led me into his bedroom. I looked around. Tasteful. Nice. Clean. Bed looks soft. He removed my coat and asked me to sit. I plopped onto the bed. Nice and soft. He came back and sat next to me. Those eyes again. I pulled him to me before he could say anything else. He pulled away. I frowned.

"Eager, I like eager." I took his hands and raised them to my chest.

"Please?" I whispered. "I need you." He began to unbutton my blouse slowly. The swell of my cleavage gradually appeared. My nipples were erect and pointing through my somewhat flimsy bra. I wanted him to touch them. I so wanted him to touch me.

He smiled, then lowered his head. He placed a kiss on the tops of my breasts. Yes! Then he whispered in my ear, "I sense that you like for your men to talk." I nodded. He gently nipped my ear. I shuddered. "Good, but this is for you. I want you to tell me what you want. How you want me to make love to you." Did I really pick this guy up in a bar? He nipped my ear again. "Understand?" I nodded slowly, as if in a trance. He pushed me down on to the bedspread and settled next to me, propped on one elbow. His voice caressed my ear again. "What do you want me to do?" I swallowed. His left hand moved over my forehead, traced the line of my nose, over my lips--pausing to move back-and-forth across my lower lip--down to my throat. I closed my eyes.

"Do you want me to caress your tits?" The same hand moved to the tops of my bosom, gently tracing circles over it. I strained towards his hand. He withdrew it. I opened my eyes and looked into his. 

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Please caress my--" I swallowed hard. "Tits." I've never been able to use words like that--part of the reason my ex left me. His hand moved to my left breast, lazily tracing smaller and smaller circles until his index finger reached my peaking nipple. He gently pinched it between thumb and forefinger. I gasped. He repeated this motion on my other breast. 

I grabbed his hands and held them. "At the same time. Please." He sat up, then took me into his hands. I closed my eyes again as he pleasured my chest. My moans became louder and I could feel myself become wetter. I felt my breasts being lifted from the cups of my bra. My dusky nipples begged for his attention. I looked up at him. His eyes stared back, dark with need. He licked his lips. I pulled his head down. His lips captured my nipple, sucking gently while his tongue wound around, and around, and around...my head was moving from side to side as I cried out softly. He lifted his head.

"Do you like what I'm doing?"

"Yes," I panted. 

"Then tell me."

"I like what you're doing."

"I see you're going to have to learn." He sat up, then pulled me up with him. I felt a little nervous. "I like detail. When I ask you whether or not you like what I'm doing, I want you to tell me, and I want you to tell me how." His voice was still deep, quiet, and even. 

"Yes. I will." I lowered my head.

"You don't need to be ashamed. Just tell me. I'll make it worth your while. Very worth your while." He reached behind me and unclasped my bra. "There." His hands moved down my back and to the waistline of my skirt. I began to unbutton it, but he stopped me. "I'll get it. Stand up." I stood; his fingers moved very swiftly. Soon all I had on was my sopping panties. "Beautiful," he said, planting a kiss on each nipple. I suddenly felt bold.

"I want you out of your clothes, too."

"All in good time. I've got all night." His voice is so sexy! "But now, I want you to lie down." I did as he said. His mouth attacked me again: eyes, chin, throat, nipples, and blazed a trail down to the band of my panties. I spread my legs a little, encouraging him. He sat up. I closed my eyes and rolled them. "I saw that." He stood. "Just for that, I'm going to go extra slow." He pulled his T-shirt over his head. Nice, well-toned chest. Large, dark nipples...and he's as excited as I am. Of course, I can see that in the jeans. Slightly rounded tummy, not too fat yet not too thin. I felt the urge to kiss it. I beckoned with a pleading look on my face. He shook his head. "Haste makes waste." Whatever, Captain Cliche.  I wonder how he can afford to be so excruciating. He unbuttoned his fly, but left his jeans on. I could see his whities poking out. "I take it you like what you see."

"Yes, now get over here!" He walked back over to me, grinning. I pulled him down and attempted to devour him with my mouth. My hands roamed over his firm chest, tweaking his nipples (which made him gasp for a change, I'm proud to say); moving over his tummy, to his open fly. My hand caressed the bulge within, grazing it softly with my nails. He moaned. I broke off our kiss. "I want to suck you." He raised an eyebrow. I'm not sure whether I told him back at the bar, but I love oral sex. I can't get enough of it--giving and receiving. His look indicated that I hadn't. He'll just have to find out.

"What do we say?"

"Please." He stood up in front of me. I pushed his jeans further down and he stepped out of them. I pulled him towards me. I lowered his underwear. His penis appeared, erect, red, and throbbing. I licked my lips. I reached under and took his balls into my right hand. With a glance at him, I took him into my mouth. My left hand wound round his warm shaft, squeezing just a little. I ran my tongue around his head, cleaning away the precum that was dribbling out. He gasped loudly, bucking forward. Suddenly, he moved to sit, pulling me with him. He turned my body so that my mound was right over his face. His index finger moved over my clit. I moaned, sucking on his head. I moved him into my mouth, trying to take as much of him in as I could. I felt his tongue probing the entrance to my vagina. I grinned mentally, thinking of my juices on his face. I licked him up, down, and over his cock. He bucked his hips, fucking my mouth.

“So, you do like sucking cock, don’t you?” His breath was warm on my sensitive skin.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly.

“Say it.”

“I like sucking you.”

“No.” He quickly and deftly pressed two fingers into me. I was dripping at this point, so it was not difficult for him. I nearly came with the suddenness of the movement. He expanded the space between his fingers. I hunched back. He moved his fingers back. “Tell me what you like.” His thumb lazily wound around my clit, making my legs shudder. If he keeps doing that…but he stopped, awaiting my correction.

“I like sucking…” Oh, God. I can’t say this! But I want him to keep fingering me, so…”I like sucking your…I like sucking your cock.”  I whispered urgently.

“Very good. I want to taste your pussy.” I felt his lips surround my clit, and he sucked in. I threw my head back, then down to his cock. Wrapping my lips around his sensitized head, I sucked in as well. My body was hit with a shattering orgasm, my cries drowned by the meat in my mouth. With my other hand, I could feel his balls swelling, and he began his orgasm, spurting warm cum into my mouth. “God, woman! Yes, yes! So GOOD!” We collapsed to the bed. I raised up, straddling his face. He smiled up at me.  
“So you liked my sucking your cock.”

“I liked licking your pussy. But I’m not done with you yet, my vixen.” Hmmm, never had a man call me that before. “Just reach into that drawer.” He pointed toward the nightstand. I opened the drawer and saw an assortment of condoms. I looked back at him. “Safety first.” He winked. I nodded. Having selected an “ultra-thin second skin”…and made him hard again in the process, I moved to the head of the bed, legs spread.

 And all I can hear are those words...

“Come and get me,” I said in my most seductive voice. He moved towards me, cock protruding. His hands moved to my hips, my arms wound around his back. His cock moved up against my clitoris. I gasped, then looked up at him. “Fuck me.” He reached down and kissed me. I bucked my hips upward, pulling him inside me. His mouth went to my throat, nipping at my sensitive flesh as I wrapped my legs around him. “Yes…” He drew back, readying for the next assault. I pulled him to me again. “I want you to fuck me.” He understood. He chuckled, then entered me again. I flexed my PC muscles, trying to make him come; I needed it so bad. I wanted him to come.

He filled me, I could feel him—all of him, his blood vessels even. I thrust up to meet him, urging him on, faster…faster…deeper…he grunted with his effort, his face masked in concentration. “Come on,” I encouraged him. “Come on, baby, make me come. Make me come!” He silenced me with his mouth, tongue mimicking the motion of his penis. I was adrift on a sea of sensation. Oh, yes…baby…yes…yes! I came first, the walls of my vagina pulsing rhythmically. He cried out his orgasm, and with one final, hard thrust he was spent. We held on to each other, riding out our pleasure. 

Once our breathing had become normal enough to talk, I looked at him.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure…and yours.” He smiled and kissed me again. After that night, I would be doing a lot of talking.

Words



My dearest lord and master,

This girl entreats you to allow her to share her thoughts with you. 

This girl stood in the kitchen of our castle and begged to disturb you with questions, questions of how she may serve you better. You regarded this girl with sharp humor in your eyes. Your brow arched in laughter. You reached forth and grasped most firmly the nubbin that crowns this girls heaving breast and using it as the shortest of leashes forced this girl to turn and stand facing you. This girl squeaked and stammered as all words fled from her lips. 

You laughed and evilly demanded, "What, what... speak up, wench." This girl struggled to speak. Gathering her shattered thoughts, she once more began to speak and your strong knuckles gripped and lifted that tortured jewel and forced this girl to stand on her tip toes. As she gasped and moaned your lips closed hers with kisses most sweet and demanding. Desire careened through this girl. Her loins speaking louder than her lips. Your hands and mouth plundered this girls mind of thought. 

Finally your grip on this girls nipple relented and you allowed her to lower herself from her toes. She stood swaying, her breath coming in short gasps, her lips painted and wet with the sweet moisture of your mouth. 

Once more you laugh and demand, "You wanted to ask me something?" This girls eyes looked upon you with confusion. Say something? This girl had forgotten she had the power of speech. Your grip on this girls nubbin tightened and pulled forcing a soft shriek of panic from this girls lips. With the easiest of motions you spun this girl like a ballet dancer around to face away and your heavy hand punished this girls buttocks most cruelly. "Speak up, wench, you had something to say. Say it." This girl yelps and jumps, most careful to not fight the grasp that had her so perfectly trapped, trapped with lances of sweet pleasure and pain. She stammered and stuttered her questions as you continued to swat her quivering cheeks. 

When this girl has finally gasped out her questions she falls silent. Your laughter echoes in the kitchen, joining with the deep breathing and moans of this girl. Your fingers spin her once more to regard you, to face your laughing face. You casually swing your hand to and fro, forcing this girl to sway and turn in your grasp like a trembling puppet.

When this girl is reduced to a mere vessel filled with naught but the trembling jelly of desire you finally release your pinching pull on her. Your eyes darken. The intensity of your gaze forces this girl to her knees. She looks up at you. Her lips wide and wordless as you fill her mouth with your heat. The force of your need brings tears to this girls eyes. This girl eagerly drinks down the gift of your essence. 

You smile with triumph and lift this girl into your arms. Your warm chest soothing her aching nub, your sweet hands stroking her hair and back. This girl leans heavily against you, inhaling your scent, coffee, cigarettes, the soap of your shower. Your hand traces down and gently strokes and squeezes this girls buttocks. Once more a firm sharp slap, just one, makes this girl jump and yelp.

"You talk to much. Learn to listen to your body. It has all the answers."

You push this girl back and regard this girls flushed and needy face. You gently kiss a single soft kiss on her lips and leave out the door for your daily duty. Leaving this girl to contend with her shattered senses and throbbing loins. This girl knows she will do nothing to ease her torment. 

Her body calls your name, begs for more. She craves the throbbing empty ache you leave her with, this endless song of need. Every breath will echo with her body's secret language. 

This girl thanks her Lord and Master for giving her this gift in the morning. It was just minutes of your time but it made this girl giddy with lust and happiness throughout the day. 

This girl thanks her Lord and Master for allowing her to share her thoughts. 

* * * * *

Wench,

On your knees girl. Your face and eyes are infinitely more beautiful gazing up at me from below. Silence wench. I care not to listen to your words. Your eyes speak so much more eloquently. 

Your wet eyes, your quivering lips, your pert nipples, your dripping pussy... They speak to me. They taunt me. They demand my attention. Own us, use us. The confusion in your eyes as they clamor for my touch amuses me. The language of your body trumps the use of your mind. Forget your words, let your body speak. 

Wench your lips are not for words. They are a mere portal for the gasps of pain and lust. They exist to please me, to worship me from below. Your eyes gazing up into mine as I plunder your mouth with my cock, tears beading your lashes and tracing down your cheeks. Your tears say more to me than a thousand words. I am listening to your tears. Do not to disrupt my peace with endless prattle. 

Use your body for feeling not for thinking, not for talking. Listen to your body, it knows what it needs. It pleads to be bound to me with restraints of hemp and love. It asks to be owned, violated, stretched, mauled, bitten, spanked. Your flesh begs to quiver with the impact of my ownership. It screams for surrender. 

I live to hear these screams for surrender. Screams of surrender. You need this cleansing, erasing words from your busy brain. Purging thought, teaching what is central to our existence. Primal, primitive, hunger, need, lust, love... these are simple words to apply to the rhythm of our dance. Words that I can hear from your eyes, your tears, the sound of your heart beating, the breathy rhythm of your gasps.

Don't talk. I am too busy listening to you for the distraction of words. I do not need your words of thankfulness. The soft quiver of your lips as you smile, the beads of sweat on your body, the heaving of your breath, the sweet tremble of your limbs, these speak of your happiness, your completeness, your gratitude.

Wench when I return to our castle from my tasks of slaying dragons. I expect you to be on your knees. Let no words pass your lips. I intend to be preoccupied with the language of your body.

Your Lord and Master.



Words



"Can I talk to you for a second before I leave?" she said, over instant message.

"I'm not talking to you this way if we are the only two people in the office. How many times do I have to tell you that?" he asked sharply, out loud.

Ok. I'll take that as a 'no,' she thought.

"Never mind," she said, out loud. She closed her laptop. It seemed lately he was getting shorter with her or it could be she was getting too sensitive. Or maybe it was a combination of both. But any of those options meant this talk was for another time.

"Come on. What is it," he said.

"Just forget it. Have a good weekend," she said, laptop bag over her arm. She did not look in the direction of his office.

"Hey," he said. She stopped, hand on the door. He was standing the doorway of his office.

"I'm sorry if I sounded short before. I have a lot going on right now. Tell me what you wanted to talk to me about," he said.

Still, she stood quietly at the door, hand on the knob, until he said, "Please."

"Ok," she said, and turned around. 

He sat back behind his desk. She sat on the other side.

"Well this is sort of awkward, but I just wanted to talk to you about why I've been a bit difficult to deal with lately," she said.

"I haven't noticed," he said. But he had. Not difficult, but a little oversensitive. Actually, a lot oversensitive. 

"The thing is, I know we really aren't supposed to talk about this anymore," she said.

He sat quietly, looking at her.

"Basically, I think about you a lot. I won't go into the emotional aspect of it. But in particular, the..physical aspect," and she blushed red, "is sort of overwhelming me right now. Like I used to tell you, it comes in waves. Sometimes I'm fine with it. But lately I've been struggling with it. And it is very hard for me to say this to you face to face, which is why I wanted to instant message it," she said.

She looked all right though, he thought. Not ready to cry. Not overly emotional. Her voice was calm and almost relieved. 

"I ask you to touch me sometimes, which is demeaning. But I really, honestly have no choice. Physically, I am desperate. Starving. I need something. Anything. You don't realize what you do to me. Or maybe you do. I don't know. But most of the time my physical impulse when I am near you is to throw myself at you. Pour out the words to say how badly I want you. It is driving me fucking crazy," she said.

Still, he listened. She had no idea what he was thinking. Most of the time she did not. But she really had nothing to lose. Other than her job, of course. But she had to get it off her chest. She was still speaking very quietly. Calmly.

"I really have not experienced something like this. Maybe it is because if I have ever wanted someone, they usually wanted me back. I don't know. Maybe you hit some weird combination of buttons in me. I've thought and analyzed and I've given up. I don't care why. But anytime I am near you I want to touch you. I want you to touch me. It overpowers me. I can't even look you in the eye," she said.

"So in fighting that craving, really, sometimes my emotions get the best of me. I boil over. And that is how I have been feeling lately. I have no outlet. If I could some days say, you are making me extra crazy today, maybe it would help. But I can't. I certainly can't tell anyone else. You don't want to hear it. My hormones are bouncing off the walls and your rejection of me is so whole and complete that it is almost suffocating. Your rejection of me is so huge it is only matched by how badly I want you," she said. 

"What do you want from me," he said, finally interrupting her. He was as calm as she was. 

"Really, what do you want me to say or do here? You know the situation. There are so many factors that make this discussion alone inappropriate, let alone acting on any of it. You do not know what I feel or have felt, so please do not assume anything," he said.

"I don't know what I want. I don't want anything. I don't want you to feel something you don't or do anything. I just want to be able to be honest with you sometimes and not feel ashamed. Embarrassed. That is all," she said, for the first time her voice showing some emotion. 

"Do you think I would purposely choose to feel this way? I can't just get over or past feelings like you can. It isn't who I am. A few months ago I said I would not want this feeling to go away despite it being impossible because it felt good. And I'm sure that is partially because.." she said, drifting off.

"Because?" he asked.

"Well, since I'm going for blatant honesty here, because when I do things...," she paused for a second to let the meaning sink in. 

"When I do things alone thinking about you, it is the most unbelievable experience," she looked out the window for this part. 

"It is like nothing I've never felt with someone else, let alone by myself. I can't imagine what it would feel like to have you there. Right now, if you wanted to, you know, whatever, I would say no. I couldn't handle it. But it is so good. You can't imagine. So fucking good," she closed her eyes for a minute, thinking about it

"So obviously that is hard to want to give up, but, now," she said.

"I understand," he said, trying to be objective, but drifting off to her doing things by herself. In the dark. 

"Maybe if you would just kiss me. Just once. I know you said no before. If I had a million dollars, I would gladly hand it over if you would kiss me for two seconds. If I were the kind of person to throw myself on the ground and beg, I would do it. Whatever I have that you want, it is yours if you will just kiss me once. And after that kiss, I just want this to go away. But I need you to kiss me," she said.

"I can't do that," he said.

"You know I can't do that and I've already told you why," he said.

"I could stop there. I could," she said.

"Well maybe I couldn't. Did you ever think of that? And either way, it is not worth the risk," he said.

She covered her face with her hands.

"Please don't cry," he said. It was not a comforting statement. It was an objective request.

"I'm not crying, don't worry, I'll spare you that emotion. Like I spare you the rest of them," she said.

She picked up the pen on his desk. Held it out to him. 

"Can't you take this? Take this and use it like you do with my work every day. Take it and just cut these feelings out. Cut this out of me. Cross it out. Delete it. Tell me I don't need it. Make it go away," she said. Her voice was trembling. Or maybe she was.

"Fix me. Just fix me. Make me right. Make me better. You know how to fix things. Fuck. I sound like a lunatic," she said. She covered her face with her hands again.

He pulled a bottle out from under his desk. 

He opened it and handed it to her. 

"Drink this," he said.

"I don't drink that," she said.

"You need it. Just do it," he said.

"Is that a direct order?" she asked.

"You better fucking believe it," he said.

So she did. 

He did too. It was quiet for a minute.

"You'd really say no to me?" he said.

"Yes," she said.

"No you wouldn't," he said, smiling.

"I would. I couldn't handle it," she said. 

"Come on," he said.

"I couldn't. I know I couldn't," she said. But she laughed a little. 

She was still holding the pen. He took it from her.

"Well, you know better than this. This is the wrong color. If I'm going to do it right, we need a red pen," he said. He pushed some papers around until he found one.

He took the pen and went to the main door of the office and locked it. The sun was halfway down. It was getting late. 

He came back into his office.

"I like to work undisturbed," he said.

She had no reaction but was inwardly confused. What else is new, she thought. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking any questions about what was coming next, though. She knew by now she'd never get a straight answer.

"Can I have more of this?" she asked, gesturing to the bottle.

"Of course," he said.

He closed his office door too. There was a hook on the back of it and he was going through some things on it.

She finished her third drink. It was starting to hit her. Things started to make sense, as weird as it was. He was going to fix her.

He took her hand and led her to the door, and pulled out a tie he had found on the hook. She started to laugh.

"Is this editing session formal attire? I'm underdressed," she said. 

He wrapped the tie around her wrists. 

"Come on, now you're going to tie me up? Haven't you been listening? You already bind me. You don't have to do this. I won't move. I won't go anywhere," she said. 

He put his finger to her lips.

"I said I like to work undisturbed. Plus I need to see what I'm doing. This is the easiest way," he said.

He tied her wrists tightly together and pushed her back against the door, lifting her wrists over her head, and tying them to the hook.

Leaving her there, he went and sat down at his desk again, looking at her. He put his feet up on the desk, and sat back.

"You're kidding me, right? Untie me," she said.

He didn't answer.

"What are you doing?' she said.

"I'm thinking," he answered. "Where do you think the problem areas are that I need to focus on?" he said. He tapped the end of the red pen against his mouth. She looked at his mouth, and closed her eyes

She leaned her head against the door.

"Is it really enjoyable for you to torture me like this?" she asked. 

"I'm just trying to help. Like you asked," he said. 

He got up out of the chair and walked toward her. He put the end of the pen in his mouth and started to unbutton the front of her shirt. They were face to face. She looked into his eyes.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm just editing you. Don't get nervous. I'll be a perfect gentleman," he said. There was a slight hint of smile in his mouth as he spoke, still holding the pen in his teeth.

With her shirt now open, in front of him in her bra, she blushed and closed her eyes again.

"You're crazier than me," she said.

"Shhh," he said. He put his hand over her left breast. The feeling of his hand on her skin sent her heart racing. Her breathing was shallow. His hand on her skin, on her breast, was making her crazy hot. With him so close, she wouldn't be able to hide it like usual. 

"Don't!" she said.

"I'm trying to find your heart. If you keep talking I'll never find it. I need to concentrate. Especially with the obstacles you've got here," he said, gesturing to her chest.

"Obstacles. That's nice," she said, trying to be funny, but she was losing it.

"Ah, there it is," he said. And it was pounding. Pounding hard. He moved his hand over and under the strap, but with her hands tied over her head, he couldn't push it down.

"Oh well," he said, and reached behind her back to unhook it, pushing it up instead, exposing her fully to him. Her nipples were hard. Her breasts were big. 

She squeezed her eyes closed hard. 

"I need the space," he said. He took his pen from his mouth. He was playing it cool but he'd have to be dead to not feel a reaction from what he was looking at. 

"I think this is a good place to start. I have a feeling the heart is main problem. Too much going on there. Keep it simpler," he said.

He took the point of the red pen and touched her skin with it. Slowly she felt the pen move across her breast, the pressure, just above her left nipple, so slowly, and as he finished the pen mark near her shoulder, he made the loop to indicate a deletion. Her back was arched, and she could barely breathe.

"You're driving me crazy," she whispered. 

Her being tied up, half-naked, to his office door was having an effect on him too. But he wasn't going to tell her that. 

"That's better," he said.

She closed her eyes. It was much better. Feeling that pen across her skin. Feeling him mark her body. She wanted more of it. To feel like she was under him. Under his control. Power. 

Pen.

"Write on me. Write all over me," she whispered, looking at him now. 

He held the pen in his hand. He saw her chest rising and falling with her breathing. 

"Write all over me. Everywhere," she said again.

He reached over her head and untied her, still not talking. He pulled her to the floor instead, and she stretched out on her back. And he took the tie and blindfolded her with it. She bit her lower lip.

He pulled off her jeans slowly. Then he took a pen in his hand again.

And he wrote on her. She felt it start at her belly. A line straight up to her neck, between her breasts. Not too hard, but hard enough that she knew he was leaving a mark. Out from her neck to circle one breast, circling smaller down to the center. 

Smaller circles, his pen rolling around her hard nipple, then moving to the other breast, and her back was making small arches, her reactions were not huge, but they were intense. 

She whispered his name. 

Her breathing was fast and she was sighing. Her hands scratched the carpeted floor. She bit her lip. 

His dick was getting harder, watching her, moving on the floor. He moved his pen up to her lips and traced them and her mouth opened, her tongue reaching for the pen, blindfolded, wanting more, tasting it. It was hot. 

He liked writing on her. Pressing his pen into her skin. Liked how his strokes made her react. Now he moved his pen lower, down her belly, tracing across the top of her panties with it, and she shivered. Lower still, he ran it down to her leg, to her inner thigh, drawing circles there. Her breathing got faster.

Faster. 

He moved his pen to the other thigh, and her fingers dug into the rug. The logical part of her brain was somewhere else. 

She wasn't thinking in sentences now. Just simple concepts. Which is what they both wanted. 

As he ran the point of his pen up her thigh, he talked to her.

"You know what your problem is? You use too many words," he said.

"I know," she whispered, as his pen traced the line of her panties again.

"Like before, when you came in here to talk. There was a much easier way to say all that," he said.

"Don't I always tell you it is all about taking you to the next level? How could you have said that better?" he asked, teasing her with his pen, running it over her panties now, tracing her pussy through her panties with his pen, pushing it a little bit harder, finding her clit with it and tracing it in small circles.

He wanted to see her eyes, but he liked her being blindfolded.

"I....I don't know," she whispered, gasping in between the words. 

He leaned over to whisper in her ear, and surprised her.

"Yes, you do. Think about it," he said, and she had a sharp intake of breath.

"I don't....tell me," she said. But she was starting to figure it out.

Still, he moved his pen, over and around the edge of her panties.

"What you really wanted to say when you came in here only needed one sentence. Not all that other bullshit," he said.

"Tell me," she said.

"I want you to tell me," he said. "Otherwise, you aren't learning anything. Tell me what you should have said."

"Ok," she whispered.

"I should have said....," and she said his name.

"I want you to fuck me." 

His dick was rock hard now, and he smiled.

"Excellent."

He pulled his pen from her. 

"I'm done editing you. You're finished," he said.

"Wait," she said. "One more thing."

"What's that?" he said.

"Can you....can you put your initials on me," she said.

He smiled. He pulled her up and, took the blindfold off. He led her to his desk and sat her on it facing his chair. She looked down at herself and saw he had not written on her at all, except for that first mark. He must have used a different pen that was out of ink. It didn't matter. His marks were still there. She still felt them. But this time, he picked up a blue pen. 

He sat in his chair pushed up between her legs, and her hands were flat against the desk behind her as she watched what he was doing. 

He pulled the top of her panties down, and took his pen and so, so slowly, he wrote his initials in ink on the sensitive skin of her hip.

Her back arched, feeling it. That ownership. That pen. Those two letters. 

"There. Now you are really finished. I'm done," he said. 

He pushed his chair back.

"You are?" she said. 

"Editing? Yes," he said. He stood up.

"Now, let's try that conversation again," he said. 

He stood between her legs. She was almost totally naked. He pushed his body against hers. Looked her in the eyes. 

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he said.

Usually she could not look into his eyes, but now, she couldn't break away from them.

"I can't," she said.

He put his hand on her thigh. And squeezed it.

"You can. I want to see how simply you can say it. No extra words. Just say it," he said, running his hand up and down her thigh now. 

Her eyes fluttered. It was too much.

"I.. I wanted to talk to you about something," she whispered. 

"Still too many words," he said, as he pulled her panties off.

"I ..." she started. He ran his hands up her sides, leaned in to kiss her and cut her off. His tongue found hers and she held onto the desk for survival, until she moved one hand into his hair, holding on.

He pulled away.

"That sentence already has too many words in it. The 'I' is understood. Just say it. Use only the words that matter," he said. 

His hand traveled from her thigh up between her legs. His fingers stroked her naked pussy, opening her, feeling how wet she was, teasing her. 

His mouth moved to her ear, holding her close to him, and her hands moved to the button of his pants and she opened it, searching to find him, and his dick was hard as she stroked it, his voice in her ear.

"What did you want to say?" he whispered, his mouth on her neck.

"Fuck me," she whispered.

"That's right. Perfect sentence," he said. 

She lay back and with her eyes closed, she felt a pen on his desk under her palm, and held it tightly. She rubbed the tip of the pen with her thumb, the point in her fingertip. She pushed her thumb into it hard until it drew blood. 

"Like I said," he said, as pushed her legs apart, and slowly slid inside her, as far as he could go. Her eyes fluttered with the rush of heat and it was so good. She felt light-headed and thought she might pass out for a minute. But she didn't want to miss one second of this. She bit her lip to focus and sighed with the feeling of him, starting to move, and thrust inside her. 

"It's all about taking you to the next level," he said.

And when he did, her clenched fist broke the pen and his ink filled her hand, staining it with words unwritten, and unneeded. 

The End



Words



Jeannie and I were in that getting-to-know-you phase, that middle period between self-conscious shyness and uninhibited intimacy. In the beginning she'd been vocally reserved, limiting herself to sighs and gasps that announced her pleasure at what I was doing, and finishing with a series of delightful demure squeaks when she climaxed. As we got more comfortable with each other, Jeannie would murmur partial sentences, like "Oh, so good" and "Keep doing that." 

I had discovered the recipe to her orgasm: a combination of slow strokes with my hips edged up high to almost brush my shaft against her clitoris, a steady rhythm, and soft kisses on her neck. "You feel so wet," I'd whisper to her, "So silky, so sexy," and Jeannie would moan a guttural response and squeeze me tighter with her arms. When I sensed she was ready to crest, my hips would lower and gradually accelerate, and I would stroke into her with deep thrusts that lingered pressure on her clitoris and grazed my cockhead against her quivering cervix.

The first few times she came like this, Jeannie managed only to utter a simple "Oh!" or "Yes!" before her climax, and I followed soon thereafter with my own pouring release. That's why it took me by surprise when her normally restrained "Oh!" got replaced by a decidedly more fervent "Oh, FUCK!" Her eyes closed tightly and her hips bucked up at mine, and an animal instinct took over in me and I stabbed even more forcefully into her. My ejaculations seemed to go on forever.

A kind of psychological ice had been broken. Afterwards, Jeannie had excused herself to visit the bathroom, and when she returned, she brought a washcloth soaked with warm water and proceeded to clean my deflated penis. Then as we lay together with intertwined limbs, my fingers dipped into her crease and played in the creamy slickness I found there. "I don't normally use that word," she told me.

"No naughty four-letter words for you?" I smiled at her.

"Not really. Too crude."

"Except sometimes?"

Jeannie smiled. "Sometimes it just slips out."

I had two fingers inside her, gently twisting. Jeannie's eyelids fluttered and closed, and she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"So I shouldn't expect to hear, 'Fuck my cunt'?"

Jeannie opened her eyes and glared at me. "Well, NO! I hate that word!"

"So what do you call this?" I wiggled my fingers.

"My 'jellyroll'," she said.

I thought about that for a moment. "That's a perfect description." I curled my fingers to see if her G-spot was coming back to life. No, not yet, though it did cause Jeannie's eyes to get that far-away look. "Especially right now. Sweet tasting on the outside. And with a creamy surprise hidden inside."

"Uh huh."

I brushed a thumb down her clit. She was still aroused.

"What do you call it?" Jeannie asked me. "I hope you don't use the 'c' word."

"Well," I thought for a second. "'Pussy' seems a little too common and cute. Maybe "love box?" Jeannie wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "How about 'puka'."

"What does that mean?"

"It's an Hawaiian word," I told her. "It means 'hole'. You know, like 'puka shell'."

Jeannie grinned. "'Puka' is much better than 'hole'. I like it." Her hand found my penis, then she shifted her body down and took it into her mouth. It was clear to both of us that my erection was finding new life. Jeannie's eyes found mine, and she briefly disengaged her mouth. "Maybe," she said, "Just maybe I'll let you fuck my puka." When her mouth returned to its task, I could feel Jeannie giggling.

Over time, Jeannie's language became less inhibited. When she was on top, she could grind her vulva against my pubic bone in a way that triggered her orgasms, without the kind of in-and-out thrusting that would trigger mine. That meant I could hold off my climax as Jeannie shuddered and clenched through multiples of hers. When she'd had enough, she would roll onto her back and pull me on top. "Fuck me," she'd breathe into my ear, "Fill me with your cum."

It was a demand I couldn't refuse. After three or four orgasms, Jeannie's vagina was smooth walls and liquid silk. Each of my inward strokes produced that clickety-clack sound of wetness and a moist "Oh fuck" in my ear, and on each retreat of my stiff flesh her inner muscles graced my shaft with a gentle squeeze. "Do you like to fuck me?" she'd whisper. "Tell me. Tell me what you want to do to me."

And I told her. I told her how much her body turned me on. I told her how I craved her inner heat and her slick embrace, how much I loved her breasts that danced to the rhythm of my hips and her nipples that seemed perpetually aroused. I told her how much I loved to get my cock deep inside and feel her get wetter and wetter.

And as she approached her orgasm, Jeannie's breaths were quick and shallow, and her gasps and moans became nonstop, which only made me slam into her harder. "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck," she called out, her eyes closed, "Fuck me fill me fuck me fill my cunt," and I did, emptying my balls with powerful spurts, driving my hips forward again and again, spurred on by Jeannie's loud, staccato grunts.

I held her tight, and she held me tighter, as we both struggled for oxygen. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Jeannie's embrace relaxed, and mine followed. I softened and slipped out, and only then did her eyes open. I smiled down at her. "I thought you said you didn't --"

"Oh hush."



Words



Don't really know where this one came from. Read so many BTB stories of people actively doing stuff to their spouses when they discover infidelity. I wondered if you could have the same effect without all that heavy duty planning. I dunno if this works or not. You be the judge. 

A definite short one for me. All in one part. Yes, the sequel to Live from the game is coming, as are more Ingrams Stories. Life got in the way, sorry about that. 

Edited by JonB1969. 

***** 

I got home a bit later that night than I expected. There was a meeting I had to be a part of. I didn't really want to be there. The two people I was mediating with were both, frankly, not that nice. Both were more interested in putting as much hurt on the other person as they could. They weren't interested in resolving the situation, they were interested in damage. I could understand why. The whole situation was a disaster from a business point of view, but still, it was my job to find a happy medium, so that both sides could walk away, feeling like they got what they want. 

That's almost impossible in situations where one or both sides were more interested in hurting the other side than resolve the situation, or, worse still, when it was the act of resolution itself that would actually be the hurting part. No one walks away from that situation feeling satisfied, I can tell you. 

There have been more than one occasion where I've had to admit defeat and just tell both parties that at this point, the lawyers are going to have to get involved, because it's ONLY the hurting of the other person that is going to give the situation resolution. 

At least in situations where both parties are trying to hurt each other out of blind rage and hurt, there is the chance that one or the other will come to their senses. And that's where I come in. 

I guess it's customary to introduce yourself. I'm Mike Absalom. I'm a mediator - and a good one, if I may say so myself - for a company who is hired as arbitrators by legal firms. Most of the time our work is woven into contracts - if the contract breaks down, rather than running to lawyers, the two parties (or three, or even four sometimes) come to us. We sit down, try and understand the situation, what everyone wants, and try and come to an agreement. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. 

What we do isn't legally binding - we hammer out an agreement in spirit, rather than. Oh, sometimes what we do gets put into contract form, but mostly it's a way to get people to come together and find a solution for their problems. Less about the letter of the law, and more about the spirit of it, sort of thing. 

So yeah, that's what I do. I have always done it in one form or another, and I have a particular way of working. I come from a large family - six kids; five boys and a girl. I was the second eldest and, it seemed, constantly mediating disagreements. 

Mom was a single Mom - our Dad died two days after Benji, the youngest, was born. He was killed by a drink driver, crossing a road, after buying flowers for my Mom. She never really got over it, but buried herself in providing for us. She did the best she could, but the reality is that even with two parents, providing a roof, clothes, food and attention in equal measure for all six would be hard, let alone one parent. She did her thing, selling real estate, and we were what our generation called Latch Key Kids. We came home, made a snack, watched TV, irritated each other and some how, I always ended up mediating. 

Mediation is an interesting career path. I didn't intend it to be a career choice - it just sort of happened. I originally worked for a plant on the shop floor, making metal widgets for all sorts of things - golf carts, ball point pens, you name it, if it had small metal bits in it, we made parts for it. 

Long story short, I was the voice of reason on a number of issues, and when it was necessary, sorted it out. I have no idea why I was picked; perhaps I was the most reasonable. 

So anyway, I was working at this metal shop place - a college thing while I was doing a course in Creative Writing - yeah, I've no idea what I was thinking, either - and there was a dispute between management and workers. Some of us were union - some were not. I wasn't, but somehow I wound up being the workers representative anyway. There was a union rep, and he showed up some of the time, but half the time that management wanted to talk to 'the workers', he was no where to be found. Part of me still believes they - the management - did it on purpose. 

Anyway, I ended up talking a lot and while I think management was loaded for bear, we managed to work something out. 

It happened again four months later - same kind of thing, some demand that we not have vacation in August because there was a big order coming in or something. Anyway, this time they brought in an arbitration company, who basically did the same thing I had done, only 'without bias', as management put it. 

It didn't really matter. The arbitration company ended up talking to me and the union rep anyway, and then just passed it on to the management. All they really did was act as a middleman. 

We got something sorted that avoided 'unpleasantness', as management put it, and everyone got something out of it. I know I did. I got a job offer from the arbitration company. 

And so I changed my college major to business studies, with a minor in psychology, and went to work for them instead. It was certainly easier on my hands, that's for sure. 

I graduated two years later, and have been a mediator ever since. And trust me, I've mediated some weird stuff. Movie companies and actor's agents, Car companies and their workers, lawyers who are partners, even a bunch of competitors in a surfing competition, and the company who organized it. I've even done more than a few marriages. I didn't try and be a marriage counselor; I figured those guys knew what they are doing - I just come in when all else has failed and we have to separate out the cd collection. 

I have a particular methodology, though. It's what works for me, rather than anyone else. People respond when they see vulnerability and when they see honesty. So, when I mediate, I try and show people my vulnerability, and my honesty. I sit there, talk with both sides independently, to try and get a feel for who the people are, what they think is important and how they feel about the situation, what they want from it, what they think of the opposing side - basically I try and get a feel for both combatants. 

I should point out that I've been chastised by the senior partners more than once for using that terminology, but it's how I start out viewing the clients, and it works for me. I just have to shut up about using the words! 

From there, I can usually figure out a way to get each side thinking in terms of what the other person thinks is important. It may not be to them - or it maybe, and that is the cause of the conflict. Either way, getting them in touch with the other persons needs is paramount. 

Orson Scott Card, a noted science fiction author, and general religious nut wrote a story once about a girl who could 'see' the connections between people - she saw them as lines of force, and they made a web between everyone. And she could see how to cut those lines with a few well-chosen words. 

As an aside, how is it that some people can be monstrously intelligent and write incredible stories that are tied together, with interesting people and great dialog, and then have this incredible blind spot in their lives where they believe in invisible people who live above the clouds? I just don't get it. 

When I read his story, I did note the similarities between what I do and what this fictional character does. I can't see what connects people, but with enough prodding, I can usually work it out, and it's my job to either untangle the existing connections, OR create new ones that cancel out the old ones. 

At least that's how I see it. It's all really just touchy feely stuff, and it's not something I seem to be able to pass on. 

And it's certainly not a skill I practice at home with the wife. Oh yeah, the wife. We've not even mentioned her yet. That's a bit crap for a story in the Loving Wives section, I know. But I needed you to have some background in what I do and how I do it, because it'll have import later. 

Do I have to do the self-description? Do I? Really? When I read a story, it's the last thing I care about, what the guy looks like. Ok, ok. I'm six foot, spot on. I'm 197 pounds - at least I was a week ago. I drink vodka, I like wine, I bike for exercise and yes, my hair is starting to thin and is definitely gray at the sides. Fuck old age. Is that enough? Do I have to go on about skin tone? Or being clean-shaven? Or any of that shit? Does anyone care? Really? Yes, I have a cock. No it's not huge and no it's not small. I do ok. Jeesus. 

So the wife. Yeah, I should talk about her. 

Love of my life. I know, everyone says that, right? But it's true. It's like one of those things you say about having kids - How Great Having Them Is - it's just words to people who've never had them. 

I find the whole thing about announcing you are having kids really interesting and not a little bit funny. You say ,"We are pregnant" - and even that makes me smile. "We?" I would have just stuck my dick in her and had a grand old time, and from that point onwards, it's 100% her. She would grow it, suffer the discomfort, have to give up drinking, end up peeing a lot and finally, suffer the indignity of the actual birth, not to mention the bodily issues that can happen after, both from stretch marks to post partum depression. And yet the guy gives out cigars. Yeah, you did a whole lot, asshole. 

Then there's what all the friends tell you. "Go get drunk, you won't be able to once the baby comes.", "Go to the movies, you won't be able to once the baby comes.", "Go eat out, you won't be able to once the baby comes.", "Go sleep, you won't be able to once the baby comes." And my personal favorite - "Go have sex, you won't be able to once the baby comes." And then they drop that one line at the end, "But it'll be the best thing ever!" 

Yeah, sounds like it. Sounds great. I mean, so many people say it, so they must mean it, but damn, you get all sorts of very explicit and specific reasons why it's going to suck, and then be told at the end, "But it's great - best thing ever" and I can't help but notice there are no specifics on that. 

But, given how I feel - felt - about Kristi, I can well believe it. That's her name, by the way. It was Kristi Fenton and is now Kristi Absolom, at least it will be for the next couple of months. 

Anyway, I felt that way about Kristi and she did about me. When it came to kids, I knew that my little party shtick about it was both true and also coming from a place of darkness. 

For us, the whole prospect of having kids was a non-starter. Kristi had discovered, on her first period, immense pain and 'women issues' as she put it. She'd been taken to hospital by her parents and found that her tubes were malformed. It had taken surgery, them being tied and the egg parts of the tubes removed, because if they weren't, it would be at best agony every month and at worst, life threatening. Apparently it had been described to her as 'cancer waiting to happen'. So out they came, and with it, any chance of Kristi bearing children. 

By the time we were together, she'd gotten past it, or as past it as a woman can really be. My understanding is that a woman doesn't count herself a woman if she can't fulfill one of the most basic of womanly functions. I don't know that I buy that, but in Kristi's case I knew it was a dark pool that neither of us really wanted to look into too deeply. 

I was ok with it. I loved children and had assumed they would be in my future somewhere, but when it became a choice between having Kristi in my life, or children, it was a no brainer decision. 

We talked about it a lot, and a few years back, Kristi even announced that we should get donor eggs, combine it with my sperm and do a surrogate pregnancy. We looked into it, and I was tested - turns out my swimmers are fine - and even started looking into surrogates and the procedure. But I was never totally sanguine about it, and something just felt off. Kristi was all gung ho, but when the time came to do it, I just couldn't. I don't know why, but something was off. It was when Kristi collapsed when I said no that I discovered what it was. 

Kristi had been carrying around some major groundless guilt about not being able to bear children, and the whole surrogacy thing was both an attempt to make me happy and also what she deemed her 'punishment' from god. I have no idea where any of this came from, but it was there and it took some therapy to piece together and start the repairs. But you do what you must. I knew something wasn't right and it appears my subconscious knew more than my conscious mind. Although, while it was right on then, in this case, it let me down pretty drastically. 

So, kids never happened. We never adopted - it just also didn't feel right, although I've no idea why - and we decided that if we had to be childless, to embrace it. We traveled, saw the world, ran with the bulls, had breakfast at the feet of the pyramids, played hide and seek in the ruins of Pompeii, dived in Pearl Harbor, spent weeks drunk off our asses 'wine tasting' in Napa Valley and Bungie jumped off the Sydney Harbor bridge. We lived life. 

Life long friends drifted away when they had kids - they had a different life from us, and we all knew it. There were lots of "we must get together" and to start with, we tried. But no one was ever available; no one could get sitters, and even when they could, they had to be home by eleven and couldn't even get nicely loaded, since they had to be sober to be in charge of their children when they got home. 

When they'd leave our downtown condo, in Bellevue, a well to do suburb of Seattle, we'd look at each other and giggle and say, "Glad we don't have kids!" It was all a bit pathetic and we were obviously covering our own voids, but we were also drunk and then we'd have slow lazy sex on the balcony. We were three stories up, so we weren't worried about being seen, so there were upsides. 

We were good. I had my work, which sometimes was intense, and she had hers. She was a curator of a technology museum in Seattle. It was funny - she was into all the little gadgets like Iphones, Ipads, fitbits and all the other things that are traditionally a Man Thing, and I liked classical music and sculpture and opera. We often joked we had bits of our brains switched around, like in that Star Trek Episode (Original Series, natch. I have Been Educated on that by my occasionally nerdy wife, have no fear). 

We've been married almost twelve years. We'd met at, of all things, a lawn hockey match. I'd only just moved to the Seattle area, from my college in Missouri, and before that, the suburb of Chicago where I'd been brought up. I didn't know many people and someone from work had invited me and I had honestly nothing better to do that Saturday. 

Two co-ed teams, going at each other. The level of violence was a thing to behold. As far as I could tell, it was a great excuse for women on both teams to bash the living shit out of the men on the field, and be applauded for it. Sometimes it was hard to tell who were the women and who where the men. The women were so butch and roided up. 

I'd just been watching one man get a hockey stick in the shins so hard his shin guard had split and there was blood everywhere, when I was aware that there was someone beside me, holding a glass of something and gazing at the scene in front of her. 

"You think he'll ever want to be on coed team again?" she asked, glancing up at me. 

"I know I wouldn't. Limping home is not a way to finish anything," I said, somewhat lamely. 

She smiled at me, looked back at the man being escorted off the field, supported by two teammates and said, "Oh, I can think of ways of getting to that situation might be fun. Not like that though. Nice to talk to you." And she nodded and wandered off. 

For me, it had been electric. Kristi was about 5 foot 7 inches, brown haired, but streaked with blonde, a somewhat round face, beautiful eyes, accentuated with dark makeup and long eyelashes (real too, I found out later), a proportional up turned nose, awesome cheekbones and a round pouting mouth, that if you concentrated on it, all you wanted to do was kiss it. She had incredibly blue eyes and blinked just a little too much. 

She was nicely proportioned - nothing too big, nothing too small - an actual ass that had shape but not huge or wobbly. Somewhat narrow hips, but all in all, just a delightful package. 

I watched her wander away and almost kicked myself for my lame responses, shaking my head ruefully. 

I got another opportunity later that day, when I was visiting the temporary bar set up off the field. They only sold cheap shitty wine and beer and premade cocktails, that tasted, well, premade. I was buying a glass of the least offensive wine - yes, I'm a snob. I know my wine tasting. Mom's sister, my aunt Nancy, had a part time job reviewing wine and I learned a lot from her about nose, bouquet and all the other rubbish that went with reviewing. I also learned that 95% of it was utter bullshit, done to impress other people who didn't have a clue. At the end of the day wine, like art, is about what works for you and what doesn't. There is nothing on earth that makes a wine worth $100, let alone $1000, apart from your willingness to pay for it. 

I'd bought the only thing that didn't make me wince and turned to go, but found this delightful creature who'd talked to me earlier standing behind me in line, fiddling with some little black box with what looked like a pen attached. She was concentrating on it so hard she didn't see me standing there, patiently waiting for her to notice and get out of my way. In the end, I cleared my throat. 

She glanced up in somewhat annoyance, realized the situation and said, "Oh, so sorry. Just got this and I can't stop playing with it." She held up the box, which had some kind of grey LCD screen on it. 

"It's a Visor. One of the new PDA's." she said, as though that explained everything. 

I just looked at her, and she said, "Never mind. Sorry, let me get out of your way." 

She sidestepped, I stepped around her, then just stopped. She got a drink, turned around and now I was in her way. She just looked at me, a hint of a smile playing around her lips. 

"We must stop meeting like this," she said, with mock intensity. 

I smiled back. "So, what's a Visor? Let's get out of line and go talk." 

And we did. For an hour. 

I learned a Visor was one of those new digital personal assistant things, that Palm had first produced. I learned she was a gadget junky. I learned she was a trained librarian and historian. I learned she had only come today because a friend was playing and she couldn't figure out how to turn him down without seriously hurting his feelings and I learned she was free next Friday and really wanted to see the latest Harry Potter movie, but hated going on her own. 

The hint was heavy and by god I took it. 

And that was the start. 

We were in bed together at the four-week mark, and married about ten months later. I could go on about the chaotic wedding - all my family showed up and it was like a Clampet reunion. Hers were there too, much more upper class than us, looking over their bifocals at us suspiciously, and then having a whooping good time when someone on my side noticed and dragged them into the fray. 




Words



I could go on about her family - one sister, a brother in the army doing god knows what god knows where to god knows who, and a father and mother, long since divorced and now friends. I'd only met her brother a few times, him being out of the country a lot, but he'd seemed like a decent enough guy. Concerned about his sister, but not one blind to who she was. We'd shared a beer or ten - those army guys can drink - and had some, well, I'd call 'interesting' conversations. I learned way more about her early boyfriends than I honestly wanted to know. 

I could go on about our years together. Growing together, having fun, exploring life and generally acting like teenagers whenever we thought we could get away with it. We were partners, in every sense of the word. 

We belonged to several groups together - I read poetry and she...well, she came along and tried. She painted and I...if I'm honest, I didn't even try. I could read and write but my skills ended there. I didn't even know which end of the paintbrush to use. I'd try and do abstracts and she'd come over and look and make comments like "I see you are still in your seven year old period." And then laugh hysterically. 

Oh she cracked herself up, my wife. 

We both had state of the art mountain bikes and made heavy use of them. The Seattle area is littered with bike trails and we made the most of them. It was our main exercise and we loved it. We even went on biking weekends to Portland and Vancouver. 

I don't mean to make it sound like some kind of hippy dippy nirvana, though. We fought. We had disagreements. By god the woman had a temper on her - when she was royally pissed she could make every room Siberia. She had a wicked sense of sarcasm that could really cut right to your core, and when she was really angry, she'd do it right in front of other people, where my only recourse was either to retreat and look wimpy or have a knock-down drag-out cat fight in front of our friends. 

I tried both approaches and neither really worked. Me retreating often made the problem go away faster, but made me look like a turd in front of our friends, and me fighting her preserved my pride but made our new fridge, the bed, last that much longer. She knew damn well what she was doing. 

It was weird, because to everyone else, she was an absolute delight. Even if she abhorred the people we were with - and she could be biting about some of the people we knew in our social circles - she was so polite and excruciatingly nice to them. It was only me she showed her vast displeasure with, when she felt the need arose. In some ways I felt hugely privileged - it was only me that she felt comfortable enough with for the mask to come off. That's a compliment. On the other hand, sometimes I seriously worried for her mental health. 

But what really pissed her off, more than anything, was me attempting to use my 'fucking Jedi mind tricks' on her. 

Apparently, when I get into Mediator Mode, as she puts it, I unconsciously adopt a particular stance and facial expression. She picked up very early on what that looked like and that was one thing that no matter what we were arguing about was guaranteed to put it up a level or two. It was at those points that the inevitable "Your family sucks too" kinds of taunts came out. There is no argument that can't be made worse by dragging family into it. 

Mind you, she also learned that bringing my mother into it was not a thing she should embark on. A weekend spent in a motel because I threw her out made that point. 

In the interests of fairness, though, I should also point out that it's not like she often didn't have anything to scream about. I was - no, am - no picnic to live with. I am moody, I can fly off the handle about something insignificant (never drive with me when I've had a bad day), I tend to look down on stupid people (and we are ALL stupid at some time or another), and I have been known to enjoy the strip club on occasion, even knowing what it represents in terms of women's exploitation. 

I was as capable as she was of provoking a bad situation, although I did prefer to deal with it behind closed doors. 

She knew when she'd overstepped the mark. She knew it very soon after, once her heat had died down and I often got lots of apologies and then the next week, I'd be hard pressed to even get up in the morning. 

I should talk a little about our sex life. It was nothing short of spectacular. Well, I thought it was, anyway. We were nothing short of perfectly coupled in the bedroom. Or the living room, or even the back of the car, one night in Victoria, up in Canada. 

We explored each other, were honest about fantasies (at least I was. Turns out she wasn't - not completely), we did some risqué things - going out to dinner with her wearing no underwear and a short mini dress, never knowing who she was flashing, stuff like that. We played a couple of games of me picking her up in a motel bar, till one night some guy hit on her and didn't want her to say no, and it took me explaining the facts of life to him while gripping his balls through his suit pants, and we never did that again. Again, I never did. With what I know now, who the fuck knows if she did. 

Sorry. Shouldn't swear. Sometimes, well, life gets the better of you, you know? Sometimes you are the windshield and sometimes you are the bug. 

For all that, we were happy. At least I thought so. I was. My work occasionally got consuming, and in some situations, I had to travel. I was work for hire for my company and to a certain extent I had to go where the work was. But it was never for long and I would be home again, and it didn't happen that often. 

Kristi occasionally traveled to see some tech company who wanted to donate old equipment to her museum for posterity and a couple of times I got to go too, although sitting around watching a bunch of beards droning on about how some hard drive the size of washing machine used to be worth three quarters of a million dollars, and now you could get earrings with more storage capacity than that, was not my idea of a good time. 

But hey, I got to play golf in Arizona, in the dead of winter, on Intel's dime, play nickel slots, and do nasty things to my wife on hotel property, so what the hell did I care? 

So, back to the evening I was talking about, which is what the story is really about anyway. 

I walked into our condo, with its nice view, and threw my jacked on the chair and yelled out, "I'm home. What's for dinner?" 

The lights were on, and I knew she was home - I had parked next to her little Mazda Miata Mx5 convertible in the under building parking lot. The entry of our condo was into the kitchen and I busied myself grabbing a beer (low calorie Diet beer, as she called it) and wandered into the living room. 

And there she was, sitting on the couch, knees together, looking up at me and biting her lip. It wasn't her that arrested my motion though - it was the guy sitting next to her. 

"Honey..." she said, weakly. 

I just stopped and stared, not believing what I was seeing. Her body language was contrite, upset, nervous, and stalwart, all in the same set of posture. You can't live with someone as closely as we had for that many years and not know what you are seeing. Well, apparently you can, as I was discovering. But right then and there I could read the entire situation as plain as day. 

The guy, well, he was young, had a smile on his face that was just this side of non-confrontational. Not a sneer, but definitely in the same family. A cousin perhaps. It was classic arrogance that was being masked with some semblance of 'sensitivity' on his part. Hell, for all I know, he might even believe it, but the body language was classic possession demonstration and the need to imprint that on the events that followed. I was being told without words that he was the Alpha male here, in terms of owning her. 

She was leaning forward, and he was leaning back, both arms spread out along the sides of the couch, one behind her. You could see she was leaning forward a bit so as it to not appear like he had his arm around her. But it also didn't take Einstein to see what she hadn't removed it, either. She was doing her best to not have the situation look too bad, missing the point that the more she tried, the worse it actually looked. Now she just looked guilty rather than contrite. 

Just looking at the two of them, I knew what the situation was, at least part of it. I knew what had been going on. I didn't know where they thought it was going - whether this was a confessional and a promise to not repeat, or a 'dear john' moment, or what it was, but I knew what had occurred prior. You can't not, when you see something like this. 

I just looked at them for a moment more, then flopped into the chair adjacent to the couch, at right angles to it. It put me right next to this guy, who looked at me with I'm sure he thought was concerned. I could see Kristi frown at me sitting down, and I could read the expressions crossing her face - their placement of sitting was really bad. If I got violent, she wouldn't be able to stop me. But it was too late now. 

There was obviously a script here they were playing to, and I had to hold back the anger that was forming in my stomach to understand what that script was. 

I popped the beer and sighed, and took a long drink. 

She bit her lip again, and I could see she was about to say something but didn't. I assumed it would have along the lines of, "Yes, a beer would be a good thing about now." 

I chuckled as a thought occurred to me. It's funny your reactions to sudden extreme stress like this. I'd seen it before and it had always puzzled me. People say the most asinine things, or make some remark, or bring up some point that has absolutely nothing to do with the current situation. In my line of work you see it a fair amount and I'd always quietly wondered at what was going through their minds at that exact moment. Presumably a complete denial of the reality of the situation, and here I was, feeling it myself. 

"What?" asked Kristi, a tiny bit of annoyance in her voice that she masked instantly. 

I took another drag of beer, then said, "I was just thinking. I know you so well. I can read your body language. I was just thinking that you couldn't possibly hide your body language like this in a situation like this, not when you know them so well. And then it occurred to me that you've done exactly that, haven't you? I had no clue." 

She grimaced slightly, then took a breath. 

"Well, yes. I guess so. But that's partly what this...intervention, I guess, is about." 

"Intervention?" I interjected, dripping sarcasm from the word. "Is that what you are calling this little event? Why not something nicer? Get together, perhaps? Come to Jesus even?" 

It came out before I could stop it. I shouldn't have though. I am usually better than that. 

"Mike..." she said, reproachfully, using that two-tone way people use to verbally stress a two-syllable word. 

"Oh by all means, dear wife," I said, stressing the word 'wife' in the same way. "Do go ahead. I wouldn't want to derail your script." 

I glanced at the guy sitting next to her, and noticed he had one of my beers open in front of him. The white-hot rage I was feeling - really starting to feel - got an inch whiter. 

"Mike, you just said it yourself. You had no clue. I think it's fair to say then that in reality, you not only didn't notice, but there was nothing to notice. Right? No tell tale signs, no dropping in affection or sex. Right?" 

She was right. I hadn't noticed. I wasn't really looking either, but implicit trust will do that to you. But still, I'm an observant guy. My job depends on it, and it's not like I take her for granted. Even eleven years in, I was still buying her flowers for no reason, having them sent to her work, taking her away for weekends, buying small trinkets - anything to keep showing her how much I cared. Which made this all the more sick, from my point of view. 

My mind was going at 320 miles an hour, asking questions I had no answers to. Had I not given her enough? What else could she have wanted? What drove her to this? WHY??? 

I struggle to get control of my emotions. I would never get answers if I went off, severely really tempted as I was. I was smart enough to know that at some point I was likely to, but I wanted answers first and this was a way to get some. I wouldn't get all of them, and she'd outright lie to me about some it - that was inevitable. I knew she still loved me, and she wouldn't want to hurt me any more than she had to, so I knew she'd lie about the things that she judged would. It was only human. 

But that was the thing. I knew she loved me. I was a 100% sure of it. Even with the evidence that that love had been shared around, I was still convinced of it. Maybe I was fooling myself, but I dunno - you just know some things in your life, and I knew she loved me. I guess I was just fooling myself about the 'to the exclusion of all else' part of the sentence that should have followed on. 

I just gestured with the beer, not trusting myself to speak yet. 

Kristi took that as an affirmation and continued, in the most measured voice she could. 

"So, logically then, if I never gave you less than you had always had from me, how are you impacted by this? I'm still the same person I always was. This..," she gestured at the man sitting next to her, "is just an...extra dimension. That's all. Nothing changes. I still and will always love you and be everything to you that I've always been. And I want the same back. Surely you can see that? You've lost nothing here." 

So that's how it was. She was actively hoping that I'd go for this. See it from her point of view. It was clever. She was attempting to do to me what I do professionally. Make me see it from her point of view. Walk in her shoes, metaphorically. 

There as silence for a second. Then she said, "It's not you, Honey. Not in any way. You are not lacking at all. Please understand that. You rock my world and always will. I just..." 

"You just what, Kristi?" I said, marveling at the fact that I hadn't turfed the coffee table over yet and maimed someone. "Just needed more than I could give? The flowers, the presents, the weekends away, the love," I sneered on the last word, "just not enough for you? Does he have a huge dick? Is that it?" 

"I..." Kristi's reserve began to crack and her voice and face trembled. I could see tears starting. 

The guy sitting next to her leaned forward with a worried expression on his face, glancing at me with animosity. 

"Kristi," he said, with a surprisingly deep voice, "Babe.. it's ok. Hold in there, like we said." 

His arm along the back of the couch came forward to cup her body. 

I did loose it a bit then. 

I leaned forward, and said, "Hey dickwad. I can call you Dick, can't I? We are almost blood brothers." And in doing so, I put my hand on the back of his, that was still on his lap. 

In one smooth motion, I grabbed his index finger and just pulled it up and back. He had no option but to go with it, or risk it being broken. With his arm around Kristi, he had nowhere to go and as I raised the finger and put more pressure on it, bending it at an angle, he contorted his body to relieve the pressure. He couldn't move more than that, being trapped with his arm behind Kristi. 

"Mike, please..." Kristi said, helplessly. I threw a very quick venomous look in her direction, then concentrated on this dick head in front of me. She didn't move, which was wise, although she looked like she wanted to. Even she wasn't that stupid. 

"Listen, asswipe. That's my wife there. Whatever you think you've been doing, she is still my wife." I put extra emphasis on that word, being the finger back even more. 

"That's my couch you are sitting on, in my apartment, drinking my beer. And frankly, shit for brains, I am not impressed with any desire you may have to be a white knight. You are here because the slut," Kristi moaned slightly at that word, "wants you here, but I don't want you here. So shut the fuck up and don't say a word, or more bad shit will happen. I've got your ass and I've used four fingers on one hand to do. Don't piss me off any more than you already have, or more bad shit will happen to you. Capice?" 

He nodded somewhat desperately, and let his finger go, and he sat back, removing his arm from Kristi, rubbing his wounded finger hard, looking at me through narrowed eyes. 

I kept his gaze. "Not a fucking word, asswipe. Remember that." 

I turned my gaze to Kristi, who paled a bit more, then recovered herself. "That was un-necessary Mike. James wouldn't have tried to hurt you. He's just here for me. To show support. To let you know he's no threat." 

"Really? How nice for him. He'd still better shut up, though. I won't hit you but by god I feel like hitting someone right now, and he's here." 

"Mike, please. Please understand. We didn't choose this. It just happened." 

"What happened, Kristi? Did you trip and fall on his dick?" I'd read that line in several stories and it just came out. 

She sighed. "No, nothing like that. We just worked together and... it happened. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I love two men. I love you. I always have and always will. But I love James, too. I can't explain it. It's not the same... there are parts that are, but, I love you both in a bit different ways. Please, please try and understand." 

I took another drink of beer while I considered my response. I put the beer down and then just said, "Bullshit." 

She bridled. "No it isn't. You know I love you. You can't doubt it. I've never shown you anything else but consideration and love, and you know it. Even when..." she faltered, then continued, "... other things were happening, I made doubly sure you never got less than the full of me. That will never change." 

She looked at me, intensely, as though willing me to challenge it. She was already stating things in a way that denoted that this was the way things would be, going forward. Classic leadership wording. You talk as though this was already the situation, and people then believed it was, and started finding ways to accommodate it in their reality. Not today Kristi, I thought. 

The thing is, with what I do, the whole vulnerability thing, bringing people together through common themes, playing on their sense of importance and fair play, while it can really work wonders in bringing people together, it can, in the right hands, do exactly the opposite. 

I don't do that - or at least I try not to. While I can see what binds people together, I can just as easily tear them apart. It's like a massage therapist. They know where the nerve clusters are and can, if they really want to, make as much pain as they soothe, with their hands on your body. I can do the same. I just really hate having that ability. When you are angry, you can really destroy someone. 

And I was angry right then. So very angry. She needed to both know my pain and she needed to know she caused it, and she needed to know the reality of her future, and I was going to fuck that future up. All with words. Right there and right then.  

Looking back, I'm part ashamed of myself for what I did, and part proud that I stood up and simply wouldn't just roll over and be steam rollered. What I did wasn't good. But on the other hand, what was the alternative? I wasn't going to give her what she wanted, because it wasn't what I wanted. At all. It was the opposite of what I wanted. There simply wasn't any middle ground here, at least not as I saw it. If we'd decided to open up our marriage together, then that's one thing. But we hadn't, and I never would have anyway. I was a one woman man. So what she wanted was, by the very definition, the opposite of what I wanted. What she wanted wasn't in me to give her, and by having this asshole sitting next to her, and the way she was behaving, she was signaling that this was all she would accept. 




Words



I wasn't going to give it to her, so by the rules of my profession, it was all over bar the splitting up of the cd collection. 

I tilted my head at her. I knew what she valued. I know how hard this was for her, how she'd have struggled with having to do this. I knew she'd have a hard time looking at herself in the mirror after this day. 

Time to pile on the hurt. 

"And what if I say no? What if I say I won't live like that, Kristi? That I don't share and neither should you? What about the vows we made? Don't those mean anything?" 

She had the decency to look away. 

"I understand your anger Mike. I would have the same. But I'm here to help you get through that. Look, this has been going on for some time. You've never known. Now you do, because I respect you and think you should know. I don't know what's going to happen here, but I know what I want to happen. I think you can live with this. I think you will. What we have is too great not to. You know that. You know we are both better together than apart. This.." she gestured to the dick head again, "...doesn't impact us. I don't know how to make you understand that. It's like a second job or something." 

She had no clue of my anger. She had all the classic symptoms of someone who had relegated the concept of understanding the response in the negative way it was going to be taken because there simply was no way to deal with it or accept that you were the cause of it. Most people did this - when they've done something wrong or unpleasant, they simply disregard the amount of reaction because otherwise it would really signal that what they'd done was seriously wrong. And no one wants to do that, because then they'd have to do something about it. 

I snorted and said, "You really believe that, don't you? How was this going to work Kristi? How were you going to salve my ego? How were you going to make this all better?" 

She blinked at that, and I give her credit, she rallied. "I don't know. You'd have to tell me. Whatever you wanted." 

"Ok. No problem. Tell this ass wipe you are done and you want him out of here now. And he can loose your number." I leaned forward and stared into her eyes. "That's what I want Kristi. Do that." 

She gazed at me for a second, then looked away. 

"So, not anything, then?" I inquired, icily. 

There was silence for a moment. I heard the grandfather clock on the wall that her mother had given us on our ten-year anniversary, chime, counting off the minutes. 

"Mike, why can't you understand? Nothing has to change. We are doing this here, now, because I won't run around behind your back. It's killing me. Keeping up the front. I have to be free - and you'd want me to be free right? -, and I have respect for you that you needed to know. To understand." 

"To accept...?" I finished for her. She nodded, a tear at the corner of her eye. 

"How long have we been married, Kristi?" I asked suddenly. 

"Eleven... Eleven years." She replied, uncertainly. 

"Right. And in all that time, have I ever given you the idea that this would be OK with me? That I'd be OK? That I'd overcome this kind of thing and accept it?" 

Again, she looked away. Score another one for Team Mike. She had insulted my intelligence and her knowledge of me. Willful ignoring of the reality. 

"No." she said, quietly. Then she looked back. "But you can. I know you can. We have a life based on unfiltered love for each other. If you loved me, if you really loved me, you'd let me have this." 

"Really? Unfiltered Love? And this is how you show it? By falling in love with someone else and fucking him? That's 'unfiltered love' is it? Christ, what's unfiltered hate in your world? Killing me first?" 

"That's not fair Mike. I didn't plan this. No one wants to hurt you." 

"Well good fucking luck with that. You have anyway." 

"I'm sorry." 

"So am I. Doesn't do much, does it?" I took another swig of beer. I couldn't taste a thing - it was just cold and wet at that moment. 

I considered my next gambit. I knew this would be hard for her to come to me with. That's why ass wipe was with her. She'd never get through it otherwise. But she had no idea of the depths of my hurt. Hell, even I didn't, right then. 

"Kristi, how do you imagine I am feeling right now?" I asked softly. 

She glanced at the guy sitting next to her, James. He nodded at her, encouraging her. 

"I think you must be hurt. Angry. Upset at me. For... doing this to us. To you. But you don't understand. It's not what you think it is - what you are afraid of. This is going to be OK. We can work this out. I still love you and I always will. I need you to understand that, if that's all you understand. I. Love. You. I will always love you, always be yours. And you'll be mine. We just need to get past this - adjust a bit. And we'll be together Forever. Lobsters, remember?" 

She was referring to an episode of the TV show "Friends" we'd watched. We'd both loved the idea of the old Lobster couple, and had even dressed up that year as lobsters for Halloween. 

"I don't think you have a clue. I really don't. You've ripped my heart out, you know that? Everything I thought we were based on is a lie..." 

The pain came out of me, fresh and steaming. 

"No, it isn't" Kristi interrupted me. "That's the point. It isn't. I'm still the same person. You are still the same person. This is still the same marriage. There's just another dimension to it. A new axis. You need to understand that. Nothing changes. You had to know, is all." 

"Why is that Kristi? Why did I have to know? Why couldn't you have just carried on sneaking around?" I was prepared to be diverged for a moment, since I did want to point something out to her. 

She looked a little taken aback at that. "You really would have preferred me to just keep on cheating?" 

"No, that's not what I said. I asked why did I have to know?" 

"Because it was killing me," she said, in slightly befuddled voice, not understanding where I was going. "I was sneaking around and trying so hard to be what I always was at home. And it wasn't fair to you." 

"Right, so you were sneaking around. Why is that? Why was it killing you?" 

"Well, because it was..." she trailed off, understanding what I was getting at. 

"Wrong?" I added. 

She just looked at me. 

"The reason you were sneaking around is that you knew it was wrong, and that I'd be incensed and upset and hurt and angry and all the rest of it if I found out. You knew it was a bad and destructive thing you were doing, so you snuck around instead. You hid your evil behavior because you knew it was wrong." 

There was more silence. Then she said, "We just needed to find a way to tell you that would...minimize the hurt." 

"How are you doing so far, do you think?" I asked back, pursing my lips at her in sarcasm. 

She didn't say anything. 

"But still, you have no idea of what I'm feeling right now. Everything you've said just words. Oh, I'm sure this is hard for you. So hard. Boo fucking hoo. Neither one of you are giving up a damn thing, are you? Just good old Mike. I'm the one who has to accept this, for you it's a done deal. You've lost nothing. All you've got is to have your cake and eat it. And dick drip here, well I don't know what he's losing. Nothing, I suspect. He gets you with no guilt and sneaking around. Whoop de doo." 

He looked at me and was about to say something and I glared at him, and glanced at his finger, and put my beer down, as though readying myself for something. He apparently reconsidered. 

"Mike, James wants me all the time, just like you do. I'm trying to do the best I can here. Cut me some slack. I told him, just like I'm telling you, he doesn't get to have me like you do. I have two men to take care of now, and I'm not short changing you in any way." 

"You are such a fucking idiot, Kristi. Listen to you. 'Not short changing me'? Fuck that. Of course you are. The mere fact that we are having this conversation means I'm 'short changed', as you so charmingly put it. I don't get you exclusively anymore, which, I point out, is not what I signed up for, when we exchanged marriage vows. And nor did you. The 'best you can do' is to dump this fucker's ass right now and frankly, throw yourself on my mercy. And that's that. I don't fucking share. Stop asking. You know better. 

"But you have no idea of my pain. I want you to imagine if I'd had an affair. That I was banging that cute little red head - the paralegal. Imagine that, Kristi. Imagine I've just come home and told you I've been banging her for months and I love her and want to carry on." 

I looked at her, and realized my words had gone in one ear and out the other. She was too wrapped up in her own situation to even contemplate what I was saying with any degree of reality. Then she opened her mouth and confirmed it. 

"Well, I wouldn't like it very much, but I'd find a way to come to terms with it." 

"Horseshit, you would. The only reason you say that is because of the situation you want me to accept. Let's be honest here. Oh, excuse me, I shouldn't have asked that, should I?" 

That ended that. Even she had to admit the honesty of that statement. 

"You've destroyed me, Kristi. You've destroyed us, don't you understand that? I don't give a shit what you keep saying about nothing changing. It has. And there is no getting around that. No matter what happens now, you will always have betrayed me. Always. Nothing can change that. I will never accept this, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave, since you evidently want to keep this going. And even if you didn't, how the hell would I ever trust you again? You've kept this from me - very effectively too - for I don't know how long. If you said 'fine, I'm done', then what? How would I know if you'd decided to start again, with either laughing boy here, or someone else? How can I trust you now, Kristi? But you aren't going to stop, are you? You want this. You've just told me you do." 

That one hit home - I could see she hadn't really looked at it from that perspective. That's the thing; people who make bargains with the devil never do. 

"You've made your choice and it isn't me, is it? Because if it was, this turd would be long gone by now. That's what I want, but you aren't going to give it to me. Do you have any idea how that feels Kristi? Do you? No, of course you don't. You've just taken everything I had to give, and then taken this jerk as well. And now you want to legalize that choice. Well it doesn't fucking work like that. We already made our choices. You don't get to make them again. 

"I have no fucking idea what my life is going forward, but I can tell you this. I won't trust another woman as long as I live. You'll have done that to me Kristi, so thanks for that. Just you. I don't know I'll ever get over what you've done and what you are trying to make accept. I think it's sick, but you are so blinded by getting it all for a small period of time, you honestly believe you can have it all, and I'm the one that needs to be convinced. Well fuck you honey. Life isn't like that. 

"The reality is that you'll never know how much you've hurt me today. Never. Not until someone does it to you, but that won't happen will it? Because you'll be too busy getting what you want." 

"Oh Mike... I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. Really, I don't. Please... please. Don't feel that way." Tears were dripping down her face. 

"How the fuck AM I supposed to feel, Kristi? Whatever you got from me, it wasn't enough, was it? What kind of feeling is that to lay on a man you are supposed to love to all exclusion? Tell me? How am I supposed to feel? I don't even know what I did wrong or what you were not getting, and there's no way you are going to be honest and tell me, is there? You sure haven't been honest so far, have you?" 

There was just silence. Kristi opened her arms and hesitantly leaned forward, as though to come hug me. I held up my hand. 

"No. Thanks. The last thing I want is any mercy love from you." I almost called her a bitch, but I needed to control myself. As it was, I wasn't even aware of the tears in my eyes until I wiped them away. 

It was weird, combating both extreme rage and extreme hurt at the same time. It was a strange combination. Like you wanted to throw someone off a cliff, but do it by holding onto them and jumping yourself. Your mind darts everywhere, seeing everything through to the logical conclusion. 

She needed to have some understanding of the devastation she had wrought here. Like most people who've done something terrible, she didn't want to face it, trying instead to minimize it and find ways to put words on it so it didn't sound so bad. She needed to do that because she knew deep down how bad it was, and how devastating it would be, and she didn't want to face those feelings of responsibility. Once you do that, you are duty bound to actually do something - once you fess up, you have to repair the damage, and there was just no way she had the tools or abilities to do that. Some things you cannot come back from. 

The more I could make her see that, the more she would have to deal with being responsible. And I knew her - she had a self-image that wouldn't take that. She'd suffer forever knowing she'd caused this and had no way to repair it. 

Kristi sniffled some more and the guy next to her stirred, as though to say something, and I looked at him and he decided against it. 

There was a pause, then I asked, "So, I get to fuck around too, do I? Is that part of the master plan?" 

Kristi looked up and frowned at me. I loved that frown. Her nose crinkled and there were creases between her eyes. 

She said, "Well, I'd hope you wouldn't. In an ideal world, you'd be content to just have all of me. It's always been enough in the past. But... I do understand that I'm not really one to judge or say no. So I wouldn't like it very much, but I'd have to accept it. With proviso's, of course." 

"Proviso's?" I spluttered. This woman was unreal. How the FUCK had I been married to her for eleven years and not seen this? What had I been smoking and drinking? Was love really that blind? Was I really that stupid? 

"Well, no falling in love." 

"Like you, you mean." Too easy. 

She frowned again. Another hit. C3, C4 and C5 next, please. Maybe I can get her battleship this time. 

"No, I mean, that's different. If you want to experience another woman, I wouldn't like it very much, but like I said, I can't really be too judgmental. I understand that. No, you'd have to be sure, like I am, that this is the relationship you are in. The main one. That you are mine and I am yours. Like we've always been." 

I had to laugh at that. 

"Except the last, what, three months? Six? While you've been boffing biffo the clown here?" 

She sighed. "It's not like that, Mike. I never stopped loving you. I just...expanded my horizons, is all." 

"I like my horizons where they are, thanks." I replied. 

She brightened at that, obviously seeing that as me saying I wasn't going to find another woman. "Great. Well, like I said, as far as you and me go, nothing changes. I love you as much as I ever did, nothing changes." 

That one statement really pissed me off, and it was then I knew this relationship was over. "As much as I ever did" - so basically the same amount that allowed her to jump into another man's bed. And since she'd done it once, she would do it again. 

"And what do I get, Kristi? A part time wife? Is that how this would work? Part of the time with me and part of the time with Captain Hook here?" I said, nodding at the guy, James, who was still rubbing his finger off and on. 

"It wouldn't be like that." She said, with a tremble very much in evidence, "We thought... we could alternate time. Two weeks with you, a few days with James. You are gone some of the time, anyway. You'd never miss the time. You getting the majority of it, like you do now. You were there first." 

I shook my head and laughed in the way you do when nothing is remotely funny. 

"You are a bag of crazy, you know that? How did I miss that all these years?" 

She even smiled back at me and said, "Love is blind." 

"Really." I said dryly, with one of those 'final word' tones. 

I considered again. I also marveled that I was even having this conversation. But then it was likely to be one of the last ones I'd ever have with her, so we needed to get everything in now. I was shocked at myself when I realized that was how I was feeling, but then, on reflection, resolute in that feeling. 

"And cock face here," I said, nodding at James, "was OK with this arrangement?" 

He glanced at her, then at me, and, that hint of a smile again he hesitated for a second, waiting for her affirmation and then nodded. 

I turned my attention back to Kristi. 

"So, 'it just happened', did it? Nothing was planned? You just 'fell in love'? No planning or intention?" I really wanted to give her rope at this point, and I was not disappointed. 

"Yes. You have to believe me. I didn't go looking for this. I was happy. I am happy. Just...even more so. Apart from this moment. Hurting you hurts me too." 

"When the piper has to be paid eh? Shame it's me paying that piper and not you, eh Kristi." 

"This isn't easy for me, either, Mike. I know how upset you must be. How angry. I know you are a better man than that, though. I know you can cope." 

"Oh, you know, do you? You know I can just get over this, do you?" 

She looked away, and this time didn't look back. 

"Would you like to know what I think, Kristi?" I said, softly. 

She flicked her eyes back at me, worry etched in them. Then she nodded, hesitantly. 

"OK, then. I think this is bullshit, from start to finish. I think all this protestations of 'it just happened' is horseshit, and right now, it's slopping over my shoes. You don't just 'fall in love' Kristi. You know that. It's an effort of will. You have to do all those small things along the way. Spending time together, seeking each other out, letting the other person know you are interested. In jokes that no one else gets. Little glances and touches. Personal and intimate things. That's how you fall in love. And you Do Not Do Them Unknowingly. You make a conscious choice to do them. At the least, it's a conscious choice to not prevent yourself doing them. You know that. I know that. Even fuck face here knows that." 

This was a direct attack on who Kristi believed she was. She did believe she was moral and ethical and made the right choices. I could tell that for her, as for so many people, the whole 'it just happened' statement was a cop out. It's made by people who don't want to face the reality of their own culpability in an act they know, deep down, is wrong. 

Whether they can stop themselves is another matter - it happens every day that people do something they know is wrong, and yet do it anyway, because they don't have the moral fortitude to just say no. It's especially difficult when it's a forbidden fruit. The mind will make up all sorts of reasons why they've done what they've done, to make it palatable for themselves, but in the end, most conscious people know right from wrong. They'll just do anything to avoid looking directly at it. 

In my mediation work, you never draw attention to these situations. Trying to force someone to evaluate their bad behavior and admit it is never a way to get a good result. One of two things always happens. Either they accept it and come to peace with it, trying to integrate it into their own self-view - and create ever more ridiculous reasons to explain away that behavior -, or they don't accept it and will argue fervently against it, to the point of backing themselves into a logical and emotive corner. And when that happens, they fight back, often in evil ways. That's when the spite and diversions come out, and again, no one wins. 




Words



There are times when you can get through to someone, but usually it takes someone they absolutely respect, the right words and at the right time, and it's all too easy to get wrong. And if they deeply are in denial - as I was witnessing here - well, you might as well fart in a hurricane. 

In Kristi's case, she was smart enough to know it was wrong. And she knew I wasn't wrong in what I said. She'd have real trouble facing that reality in her mind, once attention was drawn to it. I was doing the same thing I had tried to do earlier, where I pointed out how responsible she was for how I was feeling. With limited success, I thought. But that was OK. Making someone understand what they've done is often a long process that they have to come to themselves. Almost no one gets it on being shown the first time. They have to process it over time, on their own. 

"You may not have set out to do this, but you sure didn't stop it, did you? That's cheating Kristi. Every act in there is emotional cheating, even before the sordid little fuck fest I'm sure this turned into. And you know it." 

More light drawn on the subject. I knew she'd be thinking about this for days. 

Next step then. 

"So, your justification here is that I wasn't lacking anything then? That's it?" 

Just a stare back. She was starting to get an idea of what I was doing and she was frightened. Words can be a powerful thing when you know how to use them, and she knew I did. 

"I see. So, at no point did it occur to you that if you had all this love left over for numb thumb here, then by definition you weren't giving it to me? You've somehow established some local amount of love that I'm supposed to get, and any left over is free for you to bestow as you see fit, is that it?" 

She replied, "You can love children and still love your spouse. Did your mother love you any less because there were six children?" 

That was a surprise. She was fighting back. 

The thought crossed my mind that they'd coached each other. They'd tried to forestall some of my inevitable arguments. In some ways, you had to admire their planning. Shame. 

"Oh yes, that's true. And since you bring it up, yeah, I didn't get my full share. At all. And you know that. But we aren't talking about kids, are we, Kristi? We are talking about a marriage." I spat the last word and she flinched. Good. 

"I'm so glad you managed to put a number on how much I'm supposed to get. Please, you should write a paper on it. I'm sure there are lots of other couples out there who would like to know what that number is. Just enough so he doesn't notice any shortfall, is that it?" 

More stares, with a pale face around the eyes. She knew damn well I was going to destroy her now. 

I said, "What do you think your sister would say about this? Have you thought about that at all? Just idly curious." 

Kristi lifted her head and jutted out her jaw, a sure sign she was heading down the obstinate path. 

"I think they wouldn't approve, but if I got to explain it to them, to explain how I didn't want this to happen, that it just did, that I want to be happy, and this is my path to it, they'd understand. You know they want what is best for me." 

That was true. They did. Although I think Kristi didn't understand that they were under no illusions about what she would do to get there. 

I'd been personally 'talked to' by her brother on our wedding day about that. He'd advised me 'not to put up with her shit. She burns hot but she burns fast. Stand your ground and she'll come around.' He'd also explained that she carried some 'strange idea's but when you come across them, just laugh at them and eventually she'll get the message'. I don't think she'd get quite the reception she thought she would. 

"Yeah, I think that's wishful thinking on your part. I think the moment you explain you fucked around on me - and that's what you've done, lets not dress it up. You've been another man's whore slut and then come home to me and lied through your teeth about it, no two ways about it. There is nothing you can do or say that will change that. Then, I think they'll have something to say about it. Don't you? Think your brother will 'approve' or 'understand' there Kristi?" 

I made air quotes around "approve" and "understand". 

She cast her eyes down and then back up and said, softly, "They'll understand. I know they will." 

"Like you knew I'd find a way to accept this eh? Zero for two so far, babe. Not a great result." 

She sobbed once, and rubbed her eyes. 

I wasn't about to let up though. 

"You know, even after I ask you to leave, you'll take up with this turd." I glanced at James, who was looking at me with hate on his face now. Even he'd picked up on what I was doing. 

"Le...leave?" she interjected, weakly. 

"You do, after all, love him, right? You did say so. So when I say go, where are you going to go? Don't tell me this hasn't come up in your planning. I know it would have. You aren't stupid. You knew there was a chance I wouldn't go for this, and in the way it's been couched so far, giving it up wasn't an option, so out you'd go. Have you already moved some of your stuff to his place? I would look but I don't want to get up." 

Her voice came from very far away. "We... we thought... I thought, that you might need some time...to come to terms with the new..." she faltered, then tried a new track, ignoring the one she didn't want to answer. "I'm not going to give up. Even if you make me leave. You are mine and I am yours. I'll always be there. You know it." 

More and more interesting. She was doing her best to fight me on my ground. Try and play on my own emotional entanglements. She knew I would always find the best solution in my professional life, and she was sure she was offering me the best one here. 

"So, your plan was to live with a man who willingly and knowingly goes after another man's wife. A man who doesn't respect someone else's relationships in any way. A man of such stellar quality that he sits on my couch, drinking my beer, laying claim to someone else's wife. That man then? That's who you are tying your emotional life to? That's what your standards are these days? Wow!" 

That one hit home and I saw her steal a glance at James, who looked back at her, shaking his head and smiling in that 'don't listen to this guy' way. 

"Babe, I..." he got out before I leaned forward. 

As menacingly as I could, in as low voice as I could, I said, "Last warning, James. Or they'll be calling you one Jimmy One Ball. Got it?" 

"And he's tying himself to you, too," I continued. "An established cheater. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right? Well, you do deserve each other, that's for sure. And I'm sure it'll be great to start with. Lots of sex unhindered by guilt, at least on your part. I doubt there ever was, on his. But when it gets boring - and you know it will. It always does - what happens when he's late home from work? Or you are? What then? You both know what each other are capable of now. How will that work? Who will be suspicious of who I wonder?" 

She glanced again at James, who shook his head, making a weak smile and a 'this is garbage' face. 

But the damage was done. Kristi prided herself on her ability to read people. She prided herself on her own ethics. They'd already taken a battering tonight, and she was smart enough to know the truth of my statements. And worse still, they'd been said now. It was out there. It couldn't just be ignored. When this occurred, - and we all knew it would,- it would now be the first thing that would come to mind. In an emotionally charged situation like this, how could it not be the first thing? 

And in doing so, that relationship was doomed before it had even begun. That suspicion was now out there, foisted, and it wasn't going to go away. In a way, their whole relationship was built on that lie, something that was slowly dawning on her, now I was drawing attention to it. 

Kristi turned and looked at me, eyes wide. She knew what I had said, and I knew it had penetrated her. Only surface deep right now, but it would work its way down deeper over time. 

She'd gotten away with it with me because I'd trusted her. She knew he never would, not in the same way, and I'd just highlighted it. Good. Another flesh wound. I still wanted my pound of flesh. 

Time to deliver the coup de grace, then. 

I took another drag of beer, emptying the can this time. I even belched. It was nonchalantly done and came out just at the right moment. 

"You know what though? The one thing that has really hit home?" 

More tearful staring. For a situation where they were supposed to be explaining the new reality to me, she sure wasn't saying a lot. 

"You are quite an evil person deep down." 

That one also went to the quick. Whatever else Kristi thought she was, she deeply believed she was a good person. She had sayings about it - how some people were good people who just did a bad thing. How almost no one was basically evil. Most people had bad situations and only saw one way out, or they were forced into the situation. I'd never really taken much time to think about it before, but I had very recently come to the realization that Kristi was a bleeding heart liberal. She was one of the kind of people who never pushed responsibility on others. 

Now, I'm a liberal, too. I believe in socialized medicine, in caring for all parts of the social spectrum and all the rest of it. But I also believe in personal responsibility. You might have reasons for what you've done, and I might have empathy for those reasons, but in my book that does not absolve you of the responsibility for actually doing those things. You may not have had a girl friend, and women may have teased you, but that doesn't make you taking a gun into a bar and shooting cheerleaders OK. Nothing does. You did it, for whatever reasons, and those people are just as dead as they were five minutes ago. Me understanding your reasons doesn't suddenly make those people alive again. 

She deeply believed that she was a good person, who might do something bad, but that was OK because she'd feel terrible about it afterwards. 

The thing is, when someone you love deeply says things like this to you, when you desperately don't want to believe them, but deep down know there is validity to it, it goes right past your conscious defenses. You know it to be true, even if it's really not. I was one of the people she trusted most in the world and I was declaring her 'evil', and I obviously meant it. And given the light I'd shone on her carefully constructed self-delusion, she knew I had cause to believe it. Which meant she almost certainly would, too. That was the worst kind of self-doubt to feel - one that is supported by someone you value and trust. 

The fact that I had a vested interest in saying it would be ignored. It was something I was banking on. She'd believe it, and there's nothing more powerful that a belief you foster on yourself. 

Well OK, then. Time to make her really feel terrible. 

"The fact is, Kristi, every time you look yourself in the mirror, you are going to remember this day. What you've said, what you've done, the acts you've perpetrated. The hurt and personal destruction you've caused. All because 'you didn't mean to fall in love'. Well fuck that. I will not and do not buy it. It was all an effort of will on your part. Why, I can't begin to guess, and I don't think you know, either. But that is neither here nor there. You did it and this is the result. I'm going to ask you to leave in a second, and if you know what is good for you, you'll go. I've never hit a woman before, and god knows I love you, but if you stay here, I might not be able to control myself. I certainly won't where this dick shiner here is concerned. So take with you the knowledge that you are an evil person - that everything you've done here has been evil incarnate, and understand that everyone one of our friends, and your family will know it. You know I can explain it so they will understand, just like you have. Think on that. Think on the results of your little sordid fling. You've killed the one thing in your life you could depend on, and there is no one - NO ONE - you can blame but yourself. You are, without doubt, a truly evil human being - one of the worst kind, who does damage to others then seeks to minimize their own responsibility for those acts by denigrating the damage done. The kind of person that will, I hope, die alone and in pain. 

"If it were me, I'd seek professional help. Too late for this occasion, but I'd probably want to know why, so I don't do it again. So off you go, with your serial adulterer in arms, and have a great life, wondering where each other are all the time, and I'll just sit here and drink myself to death and wonder what the hell I didn't do. I hope the sex makes up for all you've lost. Off you go now." 

I just sat there and stared at her and she stared back. 

She was about to say something, stopped, then started to blurt out, "This is my house too..." 

I lost it. I stood up, as threateningly as I knew how and shouted, "Get the FUCK OUT, YOU FUCKING WHORE." And threw the empty beer can at the wall, where it tinkled. Not quite the effect I had been hoping for, but I was too angry to care. 

She wilted and James got to his feet, looking at my expression. He looked away, and gathered a visibly scared Kristi up in his arms, hustling her to the door. 

"Wait," I said, having one last thing to do. It literally occurred to me that second - a fitting tribute to the evening. 

I approached, and she cringed away from me. I grabbed her left hand and forced the little fist she made into a flat hand. I swiped both her engagement and wedding ring off her finger before she could stop me, then I stepped back, looking at the rings. Then I took mine off as well, and, bunching them up in one fist, said, "Wait right here." 

I walked to the toilet by the front door, right off the kitchen, and opened the door leaving it open. Looking back at her ashen face, I dropped all the rings into the toilet, and then, not looking at it, flushed it. 

"Seems appropriate. You flushed our marriage down the pan, so down go the rings too." 

I knew this would hurt. She loved those rings. She'd spent three months looking for the right rings, and had had them made from metal reclaimed from her fathers ring. I took no pleasure in the act, but it was symbolic, and right then, I honestly just wanted to hurt her. I don't feel good about that now, but I have to be honest in what I was feeling at the precise moment. 

She moaned at what I did, murmuring, "No, no, no, I didn't want this..." in a very small voice. 

"One more thing." I said, and in the middle of saying 'Thing", I punched James, right in the face. I put a lot into it, and his nose crunched under my fist. Blood went everywhere and he fell back on the floor. Kristi just looked at him, then back at me. 

I rubbed my fist and grimaced at her. 

"Now you can go. I'll have the locks changed tomorrow. Expect to be served." 

She was done. We were done. She knew it and I knew it. She'd not be able to look herself in the mirror again without seeing this scene. She'd not be able to look her friends in the face, and she'd spend forever regretting the events today, what led up to it, and what she'd done to our relationship and what she imagined herself to be. And right then, I had zero sympathy. I'd been abused, betrayed, cuckolded and by fuck I was angry and I was going to have my pound of flesh. 

It did cross my mind that she might even do something drastic, but at that precise moment, I'm ashamed to say that I just didn't care. Again, hardly the right feeling to have any time, but I was so devastated that at that moment, I could have cared less. Makes me look a dick, but like I said, I'm not the easiest to live with - because of moments like this. 

She knelt down next to him, fussing, and I literally picked him up by his hair. 

And with that I opened the condo door and without a word, pushed him out of it, blood dripping on the hardwood floor, Kristi following in shock, and once they were out the door, I retreated inside and slammed the door in their faces. 

I stood there for a moment, shaking, then turned and went back into the living room, grabbing the bottle of peach flavored vodka on the kitchen counter. 

I knew what I had said, but I had no intention of drinking myself to death - although I was going to require a healthy couple of slugs right now to calm myself. Life was for the victor and by god I wasn't going to be the victim, even though I really was. 

I'd just have to find a way forward. 

Tomorrow is another day.



Words A Woman Longs To Hear



I wrote this for my husband since we recently enjoyed a very similar experience together. Hope you enjoy it!

"Damn, it's hot," I whined as I arrived home from work only to find the house stifling from the heat outside. It was ninety-eight degrees, and I couldn't wait to get out of my pantyhose and heels.

I am a jeans and T-shirt kind of gal, and it was torture to dress up for work each day. Shedding my clothes quickly, I left my bra and panties on as I went to the air conditioner for some relief. The cool air felt so satisfying blowing on my warm flesh. 

Cooling of a bit, I went to the fridge and grabbed a cold beer. It was just what the doctor ordered on a day a sweltering as this. Besides, it was Friday, time to relax and start the weekend.

There was a new club in the city, and my boyfriend Dan and I were going to check it out later. He would be over to pick me up in an hour and a half, and I needed to get my groove on soon if I were going to be ready on time. Laying my clothes across the bed, I got in the shower.

The water, like tiny droplets of rain, cascaded down my body, immediately cooling me to the perfect temperature. I love taking a cool shower on a hot day; it's like an indulgent thrill. It's so relaxing and calming as if the day's pressures go down the drain along with the water.

As I dress for the evening, I am suspecting it will have the effect on Dan I am anticipating. That "WOW" factor. I want to see his eyes pop out, and his mouth hang open at the sight of me. There is nothing worse then getting dressed sexily for your man only to hear him say, "you look nice." 

When what I want to hear is, "Baby, maybe we should stay in, because you look amazingly gorgeous tonight." It was a low cut halter dress that showed my full breasts off nicely. I am proud of how shapely my body is, with curves in all the places a man wants curves on a woman's body.

Dan arrived looking handsome and tan. His dark hair had a slight curl due to the heat. One particular wave kept falling on his forehead boyishly. His green eyes stared at me as I opened the door. 

"Honey, you look so incredible, forget the dinner and dancing, I want dessert!" Now, that, is what I was hoping for, I thought to myself. He would have to wait; I wanted the tease to last a bit longer. We arrived at the club, and I don't know how Dan did it, but he had arranged for a table in the back. It was private and out of the way, and I thought, a very nice touch. We watched the other people on the dance floor already, as we ordered appetizers and drinks.

The music was changing to a funkier beat as the evening wore on, and I was ready to dance. Dan was his comfort zone, just sitting back watching, but I wanted to go shake my ass. Leaning over, I whispered in his ear, that I wasn't wearing any panties under my dress, and if he got up to dance with me, he could cop a feel.

Soon, we were bumping and grinding to the beat of the music, Dan sliding his expert hands up and down, and all over my ass and hips. Dancing makes me feel so sexy, and I love having Dan watch me as I gyrate my hips. I know it starts him thinking of what else I can do with my hips wiggling.

Thirsty, we retreated back to our table for refreshments. I took Dan's hand and slid it under the table to my thigh. He stroked my leg up and down, each time getting closer to my naked crotch. I gave him encouragement by opening my legs slightly.

Dan took the hint, and he began to run his fingers over my clit, moving ever so softly. I pushed my hips forward to greet his touch more eagerly. He responded by pushing a finger inside of me, then two. While fucking me with his fingers, he brought his mouth to mine and kissed me.

This seemed so taboo, letting him touch me in such a public place. There were people near our table, carrying on normal conversation, while here I was about to orgasm. It really only served to heighten the pleasure Dan was already giving me.

While my orgasm took over, Dan caressed my pussy, letting every last wave pass over me. "Baby, you look so beautiful when you cum," he said. Smiling, I replied, "let's see how you look when I fuck you...let's go." 

As he drove away, I couldn't keep my hands off him. I undid his pants, and had his cock out before we ever left the parking lot. He had only half an erection as I slid his tasty cock in my mouth. I love to give Dan head, his perfectly sized cock just seems as if were meant for my mouth.

I licked the tip of his cock slowly, swirling my tongue to catch the pre jism coming out. It wasn't salty or sweet, the flavor indescribable, but good. I teased his cock, rubbing it with my hand, while sucking and licking with my mouth.

"Pull over," I commanded. "I don't want you to go crashing, while your cock is in my mouth, wouldn't look good to the authorities."

Ever so obedient, Dan pulled the car into the first dark place he saw. He brought his pants down further, and I immediately continued the licking and sucking I had started. I licked the length of his shaft, circling my tongue at the base around his balls. Nibbling away at his balls, I could tell he was in heaven.

"Suck my cock some more," he demanded.

As I enveloped him once more, I stroked him, timing my hand stroke with my mouth. If he got too close to blowing his load, I'd ease off the head a little, and fondle his balls with my mouth instead.

Dan is always good at holding himself back until he's pleasured me and I couldn't wait anymore. Lifting the skirt of my dress, I put one leg over the seat, the other on the steering wheel, and leaned my body against the door, to give him good leverage to lick my wet pussy.

"Damn baby, you are so wet, I love it," he said when he tasted my juices. "You like sucking that big cock, don't you? It really turns you on."

"MmmHmm," was all I could reply, because Dan's face was buried in my pussy, swirling and licking, drawing more nectar from me than I ever thought possible, and I was about to cum again. 

I was so ready for Dan to drive his cock into me; I wanted to feel him inside of me so bad. Getting up from my position, I kneeled so that my body was half in the front seat, half in the back seat, so he could enter me from behind.

Each thrust carried him deeper into my pussy, my back arching to meet every thrust. It felt so good, I didn't want it to end, yet, I knew I was about to cum.

"Cum for me, baby," Dan cooed in my ear, egging me on. Damn, he knew how to drive me crazy. 

Switching positions to create more time from my eventual explosion, I pushed Dan to the drivers seat. Straddling his legs, I eased my soaked pussy on his dick, a little at a time. I wanted to gain control, making him crazy with lust, while my pussy fucked him.

Riding him, the heat in my body was taking over again, the edge I had allowed to subside was returning quickly. "Suck on my breasts," I muttered, while riding Dan hard.

He took my nipples in his mouth and sucked them hungrily. It made volts of electricity shoot through my heated frame, right to my enlarged clit. I didn't want to hold off any longer, I wanted to cum. Continuing to fuck Dan, I rubbed my clit, feeling the wetness he caused.

With my other hand, I reached down below my ass, to grab hold of Dan's balls. I gave them a squeeze and heard him moan. Squeezing them harder, rubbing my clit, and having Dan suck my breasts, was all that was needed to bring forth the impending orgasm for both of us.

My orgasm started just before Dan's. Shot after shot of cum flowed out of me and then with Dan's explosion, into me. I like it that way best; I like to feel his cock tighten up before the release of his cum shoots through me. 

Dan looks over at me with a smile that melts me every time and says, "Baby you looked so amazingly gorgeous tonight, I wanted all night to fuck you like this."

Aaahhh... I thought, words a woman longs to hear.



Words and Actions



TRUE LOVE 

Robert Edwards was a quiet, studious kid in college. Driven by hormones, yet terminally polite, he found himself caught between the normal need for sexual gratification and the desire not to appear pushy or demanding. In short, he was a virgin into his Junior year of University. He made due with the time honored practice of manual gratification and soldiered on as best as he could until he met Emily.

Emily Andrews was a sweet, oval faced girl with sandy hair, full lips, and clear blue eyes. Her breasts were magnificent, her hips a wonder, and the way she walked started Robert's dick thinking of wonderful things. When he met Emily in college, he knew she was the woman for him. He knew it from her beauty, her intelligence, and from the fact that she fucked him on the second date.

What she saw in the lanky fellow with glasses and the demeanor of a history professor wasn't clear. At least, Robert never figured it out, but there must have been something because they were married six months later and began a life of what truly was marital bliss.

Three children, four houses, two career changes and early retirement left them alone with the kids either out living on their own or in college and able to enjoy each other in a way they hadn't been able to in years. They both moved about the house less than clothed but more than naked. They often fucked in the kitchen and in the back yard. Life was good.

But, even when life was good, there were times between the good times when life was a bit boring. Emily didn't expect him to garden with her. In fact, she didn't want him to. It was her private time, she told him. And, when she was reading a book, she didn't want to be disturbed. That was all right. There had to be boundaries so they wouldn't grow tired of each other.

Robert read books and watched baseball on TV. He got his news from the Internet. And, soon, he got other things there as well. Oh, yes, he reacquainted himself fully with masturbation after only intermittent events over most of his married life. He loved sex, but, in lieu of that, he loved masturbation.

He found quickly that online movies weren't much good for jerking off. He'd sit at the computer table with his hand in his pants and watch the video, but when he heard his wife approaching, he had to kill the sound and switch to something benign as he released his dick. He wasn't really trying to hide his activity (their sex life hadn't suffered a bit, after all) but he didn't relish the thought of being caught, either. He felt rather embarrassed about playing with himself. A man his age . . .

Over the course of their varied and happy sex life, they had never discussed masturbation. He assumed she did it, and knew she assumed the same about him. A couple times, when she was having her period, she'd said, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm really not up to it tonight. Why don't you just go off in the bathroom and take care of yourself? Give me a couple more days."

He usually did as directed, and life went on, but he had often wanted to ask her to come and watch him. He never dared say that, however, because masturbation was a private thing and it was supposed to be embarrassing to be seen.

Now, in retirement, he found privacy to be the same issue it had been way back when his mother would knock at the bathroom door and inquire about his health. But then he found online fiction.

Online sex didn't need to be graphic. In fact, after finding a suitable site, he found that the written word was even more exciting than photographs or movies. And it had the benefit of looking benign at first glance. "What are you doing dear?" "Oh, nothing. Just reading the news."

Erotic fiction was his new retirement friend. And, while they had sex two or three times a week, he masturbated nearly every day. Not bad for a 54 year old man. Not bad at all.

PRIVATE TIME 

The doorbell rang.

Robert hurried to answer, knowing that it would be their down the block neighbor, Sally. She and Emily were going out to update their wardrobes that afternoon.

Sally was a voluptuous, bleached blonde of about 38 who was blessed with curves on her curves, a round, baby doll face and green eyes with a seemingly permanent carnal look in them. Her married name actually was Sally Simpson. When her husband was killed in an on the job accident, the insurance and the settlement with the company paid for her house and guaranteed that she needn't worry about college for her children. So she stayed on as a secretary for a construction firm for her daily needs and otherwise enjoyed a pleasant life with her two teen-age children.

#

The only problem with Sally's life was that she wasn't getting laid often enough. That was a bit of information that Emily had passed on to Robert in mid coitus one night a couple months back.

"Sally's not getting enough sex," she said, her body rocking in time with his movement inside her. Her breasts were sliding on her chest in the erratic little circles that Robert loved to watch while slamming his seven inch cock into her receptive body. "She needs to get laid."

"It's easy to get laid," he said between gasping breaths. "But if she wants to get married, that's a different thing.

"Just laid," Emily said. "Turn me over, big boy. Slam that big thing home from behind."

After flipping his wife over and entering her hot, wet tunnel again, Robert said. "Tell her just to go down to one of the better bars. Plenty of guys would fuck her."

Emily moaned, rubbing her clit in time with his urgent thrusts. "She hates condoms," she panted in an increasingly high pitched voice. "Wants someone she knows is clean and fixed."

Robert slammed his cock deep in his wife's cunt and held it there. "Good luck with that one," he said. He swatted her ass once, and she moaned in pleasure, then he began pounding himself into her again.

Emily's orgasm hit hard and fast, exploding through her body until all she could to was lie on her stomach and quiver. Robert remained over her, his cock ready over her butt while he waited to see if it was her mouth or her ass that she would offer to him tonight. After the orgasm she'd just had, her pussy was sated. She rolled and sat, grinning up at him, and then took his cock into her mouth, stroking him slowly and running her tongue around the bulbous head of his cock in her mouth.

He was nearly there, and about to warn her of the impending blast, when she pulled back, still stroking, and said, "Would you fuck Sally if she asked you?"

"Huh?" he said, taken off guard by the question. His body knew the answer, however, and his dick twitched from the condition that Emily called "normal hard" up to "extra hard" just at the sound of those words.

"That's a trick question, right?" he asked.

"No." Emily stopped moving her hand on his penis, looking up at him thoughtfully. "I just want to see what a man thinks about her. I mean, she doesn't turn me on at all. Does she have a chance of getting laid out there in the big, bad world?"

"Of course she'll get laid," he said, feeling his cock beginning to soften and wishing she'd get back to the matter at hand. "Tell her to just go to a bar alone and she'll walk out with a dick in her hand every time."

"But, would you fuck her?" Emily asked again.

"I'm not walking into that one," he replied.

"Okay, I'll put it like this. If you answer me honestly I'll let you cum in my mouth, and I'll swallow it. If you don't, you'll have to settle for a hand job."

"Yeah, I'd fuck her," he said. "I'd love to slam against that bubble butt of hers and let her smother me with those huge tits. Is that what you want to hear?"

Emily grinned up at him. "A little more than I wanted to hear, but, yeah, thanks."

Just telling her that had gotten him hard again, and the movement of her hands and mouth when she returned to sucking him took him over the top quickly. Moments later he was holding her head in both hands and standing with his own head back while a thin whine emerged from his opened mouth. He shot spurt of spurt of hot cum into his wife's perfect mouth. It was so much that she had to take him out and pump some of his goo onto her face in order to accommodate it.

When he had finished, she smiled up at him, a line of cum running down her cheek from below her right eye, and opened her mouth to let him see load on her tongue. Then she swallowed, and one of the few sexual fantasies he had left was fulfilled.

"Gee," she said. "That wasn't so bad. I actually kinda liked it."

They both fell on the bed laughing, and their discussion of Sally's sex life was finished.

But, ever since that night, Robert couldn't see Sally without thinking of her and her search for a disease free man who'd had a vasectomy. And he couldn't help imagining her naked and lying with her legs apart on his bed. He couldn't help but hear her saying, "Fuck me, Bob."

#

"Hi, Bob," Sally said when he opened the door. As usual, she paused and gave him the same once-over she gave all men, smiling as though he might get lucky. "Emily ready?"

"Just a second," he replied as he ushered her in. As usual, he walked behind her and enjoyed the bounce of her butt when she walked.

A moment later, Emily came downstairs and kissed his cheek, saying, "I'll probably be late. Six or so, I suppose."

"I'll find something to occupy my time," he said, and wondered why Sally seemed to be concealing a laugh when he did. "Shop carefully," he said, swatting her butt as she turned to go. "Have fun."

"You have fun, too," she said, turning her head to smile at him as she walked out the door. "Enjoy your privacy."

He could hear Sally laughing with her small, little girl laugh as they walked out to her car.

Oh, he would enjoy his privacy, and his plans were such that he didn't even wonder what she meant when she told him to enjoy it. He didn't care at all why Sally was giggling.

Robert returned to his book and finished the chapter he was reading in his book and then put it aside. He stretched comfortably and then stood and walked over to the computer table and switched the machine on. As he waited for it to boot, he unbuttoned his shirt and laid it aside on the arm of the couch. He sat and removed his stockings and then stood again to drop his slacks to the floor.

Six o'clock or so? It was only noon now, so he didn't have to hurry one bit.

He removed his underwear and dropped it beside the computer chair, and then he went to the bathroom and took his damp towel down from where he'd hung it over the shower curtain rod. He carried the towel to the bedroom and got a bottle of Astroglide out of the drawer where it lay beside the fake cock he loved to watch Emily use on herself and the handcuffs that neither of them had ever quite warmed to. He carried the lubricant and towel to the kitchen and got a can of Coke from the fridge. Finally, totally equipped, he carried everything out to the living room and sat at the computer.

He logged on and opened one of his favorite author's story listings. He was on chapter three of a series and went directly to it and began reading where he had left off.

As she regarded herself in the mirror over her dresser Laura felt movement against her back. Faint at first, it felt like someone gently sliding a hand up from her hip to her shoulder. And then two hands were rubbing her shoulders.

Hands were sliding over her thighs to accompany those on her shoulders. A kiss on the small of her back and tongue licking up her spine followed by a shiver inducing kiss on the back of her neck. The feelings grew more substantial now, fingers manipulating and caressing her. Lips on her cheeks, her nipples and back. A multitude of hands moving down to her groin, seeming to melt into one hand and then separate into many again until it felt as though every inch of her body was being massaged and caressed.

Laura was dimly conscious of collapsing to her knees on the floor as moisture spread against her new thong. Her breasts were pressed together, lips suckling at her nipples as she curled down against her knees, head on the floor and felt her legs spreading and fingers probing gently within her labia. Rolling to her back, stretching her legs in response to the feelings of pressures unseen, she let the sensations roll over her.

She reveled in the feelings of a cock sliding into her pussy, another entering her from behind and yet another rubbing her cheek and teasing at her lips. She gave in to the orgasms that rushed through her body too fast to count. She just let the feelings roll over her until it was a blur, a seamless experience without beginning or end.

It was a fantasy about telepathy. A fantasy that allowed his mind to drift through the possibilities as he read with his cock rising and falling, and his hand occasionally stroking it in response to particular good passages. He had time, after all.

"Laura, I..." Sue Davis stood shocked into silence as she looked at her friend. After a moment staring at the naked and disheveled woman before her, she said, "We were worried. What are you...?"

Laura smiled and grabbed Sue by her blouse, pulling her into the apartment. "Boy, am I glad you're here," she said.

Laura kissed Sue, pushing her back against the door and reaching down to grasp the woman's butt and pull her tightly to her. "Fuck me," she whispered in Sue's ear. "I want to fuck you."

"Laura?"

"Shut up and fuck me!" Laura insisted, laughing as she pulled Sue into the room and began tearing at her clothing.

A look between desire and fear flooded Sue's face as she tried to keep Laura from tearing her blouse. She didn't seem to know what to do at first, but desire won out, and she pulled her own blouse open. Buttons flew everywhere.

Laura pushed her back over the arm of the couch and pulled her skirt down and away. She removed Sue's pantyhose and underwear in one overpowering tug. She pulled Sue's left leg up over her shoulder and dropped her face onto her friend's shaved mound.

She wanted to see what she was tasting, what she was feeling. She wanted to fuck rather than submit to being fucked. She wanted to pleasure this woman as completely as she'd been pleasured all night. And she wanted Sue to pleasure her in return.

Laura wanted everything, and she wanted it right now.

Oh, yes, that was nice. He knew he wouldn't stop with this story when he finished it. His favorite stories were the ones where wives screwed their husband's friends or co-workers, usually while the husband watched. He loved to read those stories and imagine Emily doing that. He loved to imagine himself watching.

It took time to find a story that really got him hard. It had to at least be a little bit plausible, after all. But, when he found it, he settled down to stroking himself in earnest as he let the words on screen flow through his mind and down to his rigid cock.

He loved the feeling of his cock in his hand—hard yet yielding—and loved running his thumb over the purple glans to coat it with pre-cum while his other hand juggled his own balls. Self love was a fine way to while away an hour or two.

And that was what he had just done, not really getting down to business until he'd read through five stories and started a new series. He hadn't been worried about the time, and so he paid no attention and was only just involved in hardcore, full-lube masturbation when his wife walked in at 2:25.

"Well," she said. "That's a pretty sight."

Robert snapped up in the chair and spun to look at the woman approaching him across the room. He tried to stammer out an explanation, but his mouth was suddenly dry and inadequate to the task. All he could do was stare at his wife in embarrassment as his cock wilted in his hand.

"Oh," Emily said then, worry etching her features. "I didn't mean to make you stop. I just, well, I didn't know what you were doing until I well into the room. Sorry."

She stood for a moment with her hands clasped before her looking truly sorry for disturbing the behavior for which he expected that she'd make him feel sorry.

"What?" he said, turning to kill the browser.

"Leave it," she told him, quickly. "Wait just a moment. Don't move."

She hurried out to the dining room and returned with one of the straight back chairs, which placed beside the desk facing Robert and then sat on it.

"There," she said, laughing at the confusion that still marked her husband's face. Then she uttered a truly magical phrase. "May I watch?" she said. "Please?"

"I, well, I, sure," he said. His heart was still hammering from being surprised like that, but he was recovering now. "It'll take awhile to get it up now."

"Sorry," she said. "I could help, but then it wouldn't be masturbation, would it?"

"No." He laughed then. "It wouldn't."

"Since you're probably wondering about it, I'll tell you now. No, I wasn't leading you on about returning a six so I could surprise you like this. One of Sally's kids had some kind of emergency, and she had to get back early. I assumed that you going to whack off while I was gone. I just figured you'd be done by now."

"You did? Really? How did you know?"

"We use the same computer, silly," she said, watching his cock shrink and grow according the topic of conversation. "I was glad when you stopped looking at the free porn sites and got into literature. That's how I like to do it, you know. All those bodice rippers I read over the years were only to get me wet and ready. Whether I was ready for your cock or my own hand was determined by circumstance. I love that web site now. I've become a regular reader when you're not around, you know."

"Really?" He was hard again, but the oil had grown tacky and he paused to apply a bit more before resuming his stroking motion. "This is so strange."

"Why? Don't you think I get horny?"

"No, I just think it's strange that you knew and didn't say anything about it."

"God, honey, why would I want to ruin your fun? It's not like you were letting me down, you know."

"Well, I guess."

"Okay, pump it for me mister. Do it just the way you like to do it and try to pretend I'm not here. Get to work now."

Robert returned his concentration to the computer screen and read about a woman seducing her husband's co-worker and his wife and then surprising her husband with a nice little orgy for his birthday. It was a pleasant story, with just enough detail. Glancing at Emily, he thought he should pick up the pace if possible, so he went to one of his truly favorite stories and began to read about the young wife who made a foolish sports bet with her husband and had to pay it off the most embarrassing, and eventually fulfilling, way possible.

He wasn't sure why he liked it, but it was always his go-to story when he wanted a quick squirt. It didn't let him down today. Of course, two hours of heightened arousal didn't hurt either.

"Oh, oh, oh yeah," he said quietly, stroking himself and sliding down lower on the chair. "Oh, this is it," he told her. He wasn't looking at her then. His eyes were on the head of his cock as his hand moved up and down the oiled shaft, covering the glans on the upstroke the way his foreskin would have done if he weren't circumcised. His breath came in short gasps and then in ragged moan as ropes of jism began to shoot out of his cock and onto his stomach and chest.

When he was done, he held himself like that a moment, letting his penis shrink within his cum spewed hand while regaining his breath. He rose just enough to take the bath towel from the table and hold it atop the mess he'd made of himself. Then he stood and looked at Emily.

"Well," he said. "That's it. The demonstration is over."

"Nice," she said, watching as he walked toward the bathroom. She stepped in to look at the screen a moment and then followed him. "Loving Wives?" she asked, standing in the bathroom doorway as he started the shower.




Words and Actions



"What?"

"Are those your favorite stories? The Loving Wife stories?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he admitted.

"Find anything you'd like me to do?" She stepped into the bathroom and looked at her self in the mirror a moment, hefting her breasts within her blouse and examining the minute lines in her face.

"No, don't be silly," he scoffed, stepping in under the spray but leaving the curtain open just enough so that they could see each other. "They're just stories. Not instruction manuals."

"Sure, but what if?"

"I'm not telling," he said. "I think our sex is pretty damn good right now."

"Good," she said, relief coloring her voice. "Do you want to know what my favorite section of stories is?"

"Sure," he said, applying body wash to the cum on his belly and gumming up his pubic hair. "What is it?"

"Incest and taboo," she said, watching him closely for a reaction.

"Really?" He seemed impressed rather than shocked, and she could swear his dick began to stiffen just then. "That's, well, that's. . ." He shrugged and then grinned. "I rather like them, too. Especially the mother and son ones. I just don't like them as much as the wife stories."

"It's strange," she said. "I have no desire whatsoever to have sex with my children, but stories on exactly that topic make me hot as hell." On that note, she left him to his shower. He washed himself while growing hard thinking of his wife reading those stories and rubbing herself. The thoughts made him smile.

"Remember when you used to tell those short little stories?" she asked him in bed later that night.

They were lying spent after giving each other a mighty fucking, and neither had the strength to get up to blow out the candle. They just lay there with his arm around her shoulder and her hand on his flaccid dick.

When he didn't reply right away, she asked, "Are you going to jerk off tomorrow, too?"

"What did you say about stories?" he said, hoping to take the conversation away from the subject.

"Oh, well, I was just thinking that you should try writing stories for that web site," she said, lazily. "Let yourself go wild."

"Those were little stories for the kids," he said. "I couldn't write . . ."

"Sure you could," she cut him off. "Might be a whole new line of work for you."

"Yeah, well, maybe."

Her breathing slowed a moment, becoming long drawn out breaths that indicated that she was asleep. Robert removed his arm from beneath her head as carefully as possible and then snuffed out the candle on the bedside table. As he was returning to bed, Emily rolled toward him.

"Would you do that honey?" she asked. "Write something that'll make your little wife cream her pants?"

"I can try," he whispered

"Write my favorite kind. You know. A nice family story."

PUBLIC EXPRESSION 

Robert pondered Emily's request for nearly a week. His time was spent on the usual pursuits. He read and watched baseball on TV and masturbated. The only difference was that Emily watched him jerk off now.

"I'm going up to get some rest now," he called out one afternoon. "Going up to the bedroom."

He entered their room and closed the door about three quarters shut. Then he stripped quickly and lay on his back in the middle of the bed, his cock waving in the air above his groin. He began stroking himself slowly, delicately, and letting his body enjoy itself while Emily crouched at the crack of the door and watched him, rubbing her pussy urgently.

Emily came before he did, a low groan escaping her lips, and he smiled at the sound as he picked up the pace and sent cum burbling up out of his penis and over his hand like an oil well.

The next afternoon, he sat backwards on the toilet just as he had as a teen-ager and demonstrated how he used to do it. Of course, he didn't have a magazine to inspire him. His inspiration was his wife sitting on top of the vanity beside him with her skirt hiked up and her underwear pulled down. One foot rested on the toilet tank before him so that she was open wide. She rubbed herself and helped him relive his youth with his very own live centerfold.

And, she watched him at the computer, of course. She was there to read over his shoulder and watch the hole in his glans open and close like a little mouth with the movement of his hand. She directed him to her favorite stories and watched his cock seeming to get harder as he read about families sharing much more than a last name.

Finally, Robert decided to give it a shot. After a day of false starts, he finally hit his target late in the evening and found that the words were rushing out of him so fast that his fingers couldn't keep up. Yes, this was alright, he thought. People might like this stuff.

His story began simply, as most stories do, and with very little hint at what was to come. He couldn't hint at it because he had no idea what would come next. He just wrote what seemed good at the time. If it made his dick hard, it must be good.

The Porters lived in a quiet suburban cul-de-sac that was a perfect copy of countless other similar neighborhoods. Seven, one and two-story houses lined the loop of asphalt that circled an island of decorative rocks. Seven houses painted in pleasant, subdued shades housing seven subdued suburban families living subdued lives of no great fanfare or excitement.

The Porters—Robert, 43, Emily, 42, Danny, 19, and Elaine, 18. They were normal, ordinary Americans living the quiet, well ordered live of a middle class American Family. They were normal; their street was normal; and everyone they knew was normal.

Maybe.

They were a beautiful family living a beautiful life in a beautiful, two story colonial house in a neighborhood similarly blessed. But sometimes perfection isn't enough, and it isn't apparent until something happens to bring the point home.

Three days later, he finished the first installment of what was apparently going to be a long series.

Emily touched his dick, and it began filling to full size again. "So how's about a little fuck, big boy?"

Emily leaned against the edge of the Trent picnic table, her bottom seeming to glow with its own pale light in the light of the moon. Robert stood a moment, watching now as Charles swatted Patty's butt, the two of them laughing, Patty's breasts swaying with each playful blow. His cock grew even harder as he watched, and he dropped his pants and stepped fully out of them to approach his wife.

Robert swatted her butt, and a little yelp of pleasure popped out of her mouth. "Oh, tough guy, huh?" she said, arching her back a bit.

"You're a bad little girl, aren't you?" He swatted her again and then grasped both cheeks of his wife's bottom. "Are you going to open up and let me get at that bad little girl pussy?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "But what are you planning to do to me? Are you going to drill my wet cunt with that huge cock?"

"Oh, you are a dirty girl," he said then, swatting her bottom once more. "Yes, I'm going to slam my rod into your tight little pussy. I'm going to fuck your cunt till you can't stand the pleasure any more." He pushed her feet apart and bent his knees a bit, aiming his cock at her juicy opening. "Now, open wide"

Emily cried out as he jammed his cock home in one thrust. Then she gripped the table and pressed back against him, choking back her normal cries of joy as orgasm after orgasm washed over her.

The ever tightening pulse of her pussy, milked a mighty load from Robert's dick and he collapsed down on her back on the table.

"Holy shit, that was good," Emily sighed against the wood. "Very good."

"We're not done yet, young lady. Naughty girls don't get off that easy."

"They don't?"

"Oh, no. I think I've learned a few things tonight," he whispered hotly in her ear. "And, after I've got you tied up tight, you're going to have some fun with Big Wally."

Emily smiled. Yes, they were going to have some fun. The one thing she'd been worried about was Robert's reaction to this and how she was going to tell him. A week ago she'd been a sexually normal suburban mom. In five days she'd turned into some kind of bisexual voyeur. She wondered what her marriage was going to turn into now, but what ever happened she knew they'd be having a good time. A very good time, indeed.

#

"Let me read it," Emily pleaded.

"Wait till it's online like everyone else," he said. "Besides, I'm busy on part two. I can't free up the computer." He was, indeed, typing as they spoke. Emily noticed that his cock was tenting his trousers, testimony to the fact that he liked what he was creating. She hoped she would like it as much as he did.

As though reading her thoughts, he dropped his left hand down to grip himself through his pants and moaned. "I do have to stop a minute, though," he said. He slipped his hand down inside his pants, stroking himself slowly. "Gotta let some pressure off."

"Why? Is the story that good?"

"I don't know, but it makes me hard as hell. I just write until I have to jerk off and then write again. It's become a routine."

"Don't stop writing," Emily said, reaching for the button of his trousers. "I'll take care of the pressure while you keep going. It'll give me a chance to practice swallowing."

She got his pants and shorts down and crawled under the table to kneel between his legs. "Keep typing," she said before her mouth was filled with cock and she worked to keep up her end of the bargain.

"Oh, God, yeah. You're a great assistant, honey."

He wondered if this blow job was going to end up in the story. He'd already named the two primary characters after the two of them. Should he share real life sex, too?

Her mouth moved up and down on his rigid penis, and he could feel the glans touching the back of her throat. That was a whole new sensation.

"Honey, are you practicing deep. . .?" he began.

"Bananas," she said quickly, stroking him. "If I'm going to do something, I might well be good at it. At least as good as you are at licking my pussy. Keep typing."

He continued typing, marveling at how surprising people were no matter how long you knew them—or were married to them. The woman who sucked cock only as foreplay had taken up doing it to completion. And now she was teaching herself how to deep throat.

She had him in her mouth all the way to his belly now. He didn't suppose her mouth was actually seven inches deep. God, that felt good.

He was typing just to make the sound now, letting the words flow by themselves. He couldn't even see the screen as his focus was on his cock and the warm confines of his wife's mouth.

"Oh, Jesus," he moaned, leaning back. Cum erupted from his cock in bursts that almost choked Emily with sheer volume. His cock had been in at maximum depth when he started cumming, and it filled her throat before she could pull back to take the rest in her mouth. She pumped and sucked and smiled up at him, a dribble of cum escaping one corner of her mouth. Finally, he was finished, and she pulled back, swallowing.

"How was that?" she asked.

"Heavenly."

"Just call if you need help again," she said. "I'm always close by." Crawling out from under the table she added, "Get to work, Mister. Stop slacking off."

And so he continued writing.

The movement of their bodies was fascinating to John Carter. He watched Terry sliding her large belly and pendulous breasts down over Daryl's rigid cock and moving until the hard member slipped into her mouth as though it was designed to be there. And, even as he watched his wife, Jenny Peterson was moving on him in a reverse pattern. His cock emerged from her sucking lips and trailed down over her chin and neck as she moved up on him, pausing to press her breasts in against his cock and then continuing upward to bring her lips to his as his cock was magically engulfed in her hot, musky womanhood. And then she moved herself on him, sliding her hips backward and forward rather than up and down as she alternated between kissing him and giving him her breasts to devour.

Then Terry was on her back and Daryl had lifted her hips up to meet his lips, sucking, nibbling, licking her to a lusty orgasm as she grasped behind her, trying to find the dick that was somewhere down there, behind her if she could just see where it was. But no, she was blind to anything but the orgasm. Just the sensation, all sensation, overwhelming and intense.

Jenny rode John's cock and leaned over to suckle at Terry's flowing teat as her husband screwed the pregnant woman carefully but expertly and then lowered his mouth to Terry's other breast to taste her bounty. John watched with a sense of wonder at the strange thrill and beauty of the world. His cock was poised on the edge of an explosive release as he watched his wife lie senseless in the throes of what seemed to be a never ending orgasm. His cock was being clenched by the moving heaven of the woman above him even as she drank from his wife's breast, milk running down Terry's side to the comforter that had been spread out on the floor. It was all too much to realize that another man was deep in Terry's pussy now, a man who was also drinking his fill. It so strange. So wonderful.

It was wonderful because of the fact was that he was content to make Terry happy in any way he could, and he knew that their love was strong enough to survive. Their love was so strong, in fact, that he could allow himself to take pleasure here, too. He had been afraid that he would be the one to be overwhelmed and stray from his marriage. He had been afraid of his own weakness. But there was no weakness when they experienced it together. There was only the intense pleasure that soon overcame him and milked a spurting reaction from his rigid dick.

"Oh, Holy God!" he cried out as Jenny moved on him, tightening, moving, sending him into an overdrive of orgasm. When she'd drained him, he felt as though he might pass out. All he could do was lie there when Jenny moved over to straddle Terry's head and lower her cum filled cunt onto her lips.

As Terry licked her pussy, Jenny took her husband's dick in hand and sucked him until he blew a load that Jenny used to coat Terry's firm, round belly. She smoothed the cum in like lotion, a glistening sheen of ejaculate, and then she stopped, tightening her thighs, gasping and finally collapsing to the side in joyous orgasm.

God, this stuff made him horny!

"Emily!" he called out. "Can you come here?"

#

"It's online!" Robert called up to his wife the next morning. "Part One is online."

Emily hurried down the stairs in her robe with her hair damp from her shower and rushed over to sit at the computer to read.

"Don't you want some coffee first?" Robert asked.

"Shush now," she commanded. She hated to be disturbed while reading.

Robert stepped back and watched from the dining room door as his wife devoured what he'd written, opening her robe as she did, letting her fingers travel down to her moist treasure as she began to breathe heavily.

When she was nearly done reading she had to stop a moment, and Robert watched as her body hunched forward against her hands and she made little huffing moans that he loved to hear when he was with her in bed. She shivered and then froze a moment, finally dropping back in the chair with a sigh.

"It's sweet that you used our names, Honey," she said. "But the kids aren't in there."

"Do you want me to use their names?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, I just thought that . . ."

"Quiet now. I'm almost done," she said, waving one hand toward him dismissively.

He guessed that his story was a hit.

#

The twins, Robert and Sarah, regarded their mother in awe now that they'd seen the eighteen year-old old video of Elaine and her family copulating in Grandpa and Grandma's living room. They were awed by her sexual prowess, and that of their grandparents. Their uncle Danny was a marvel, too. God, they looked good fucking each other. Almost as good as Sarah and Robert looked fucking each other.

"I guess we aren't really freaks," Robert said to her, slipping his hand down over his sister's nude body and slipping two fingers into her wet cunt. "It runs in the family."

"Sure does," Sarah agreed. She was stroking his cock back to life as she lay on her back letting the cum on her chest dry in the warm sun entering her window. "But what do we do about it?"

"Do? Don't you know what to do?" Robert's cock stiffened in her hand, showing great interest in the subject.

"No, I don't you idiot." She rolled to her stomach and slipped down on the bed to take her brother's cock into her mouth, marveling at the heat generated by the purple glans that crowned the thick shaft. "What do you think we should do?" 

"Go fuck Mom, of course," he replied.

And that was exactly what they did.

THE END.

DUE REWARD 

Robert wasn't sure it was really finished, but he felt that it should be after twenty two installments. Outside of a Martian invasion, there wasn't much more to cover. No, he'd taken the neighborhood as far as he wanted to go. And, as requested, he had finally gotten all of their children' names into the story.

"That was so damn hot," Emily said when she finished the last installment. "I think we should fuck now."

"Good idea," Robert said, immediately moving to take her into his arms.

"Hold on, Mister," Emily said, stopping him with an extended hand. "I want to take a bath first. Okay?"

"Sure." He climbed the stairs with her, wondering why she had her purse in hand but not really caring. Probably for make-up or something. "Don't be too long," he said as she continued through their bedroom to the master bath.

Robert turned down the bed and then drew the blinds to soften the afternoon sunlight flooding in. Then he removed his clothing and stood looking at himself in the mirror a moment. Not bad, he guessed, but it might be good to increase the crunches when he went to the gym. He couldn't let himself go when Emily was keeping herself in such good shape.

Stroking his cock lightly, he sat up on the bed and waited. The shower wasn't running yet. Was that Emily talking on the phone that he heard? No. Couldn't be.

The shower started up, and he settled back on the bed, his penis at the ready and his mind filled with the image of his wife's naked body below his.

The doorbell rang. Shit.

Robert hurried into his robe wondering if ignoring the bell would make them go away. He rushed down the stairs with his dick lowering between his legs and looked through the peep hole at the intruder. Sally Simpson. He didn't expect that she would go away.

She was just pushing the bell again when he grudgingly opened the door.

"Hi, Sally, what's up?"

"Is Emily here?" she said, looking nervous and wired.

"It's not really a good time," he began, but she pushed past him into the house.

She looked at him then, a smile brightening her face. "Wow, man, I'm sorry. Afternoon delight, huh? Sorry. I'll just keep her a minute. Really."

"I'll get her." Robert turned and hurried up the stairs, where he found Emily lying naked on the bed and looking dry as a bone. "Grab your robe," he said. "Sally is here."

"Sally?" Emily smiled coyly. Then she shouted out, "Sally! Come on up!"

"What?" Robert said, staring at his wife in shock. "What are you doing?" He hurried toward the bathroom.

"Come quick!" Emily called again. "Were losing him!"

"Don't go away, Robert," Sally's voice said from behind him. "I came to play."

Robert turned at looked at his wife's friend.

Sally Simpson was standing totally nude in his bedroom door. Her breasts hung full and wonderful above the slight pouch of her stomach. Below that lay a totally shaved pudendum that was already glistening with moisture. She walked into the room, her breasts swaying, and his cock rose up to press through the opening of his robe.




Words and Actions



"Jesus," he said, for that was about all he could say.

"You wrote such a hot story for me that I thought you might like a sampling of your favorite stories."

"Your story was really good," Sally said. "I read them with a vibrator handy." She came up to him and took the lapels of his robe in her hands, tugging. "Don't be shy," she said.

She pulled the robe free and let it fall, and then she grasped his hard cock and rose up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. "Hi, neighbor," she said.

"You still like the Loving Wife stories, don't you dear?" his loving wife asked.

"Yes, you bet. How did you get her over here?"

"I called from the bathroom. Sorry about the little lie, but I really wanted to surprise you."

"You sure did that." Sally was rubbing her hands over his chest and kissing at his nipple, and it was all he could do to keep from grabbing her and throwing her down on the bed.

Emily gave him a peck on the cheek, and walked toward the door. "You guys start to get acquainted," she said. "I'm going to get some wine."

"But aren't you going to . . ."

"Of course, silly. But I'm going to watch the two of you first." She leaned against the doorframe, one arm up over her head like a centerfold model. "Then, if you get me real hot, I might do something really naughty."

"What's that?"

"Well, I was thinking that now that I've developed a taste for cum, I might want to try something else. What do you call it? A cream pie?"

She left him standing with his mouth hanging open.

"You must be in porn heaven right now," Sally said, stroking him.

"That's an understatement," he said. Then he looked down at her, grinning carnally. "So let's follow our instructions," he said as he gathered one breast in his hand and leaned down to attack her lips with his. "Let's get acquainted."

When Emily returned with wine and glasses, she found her husband and her best friend tangled up together on the bed. Sally lay atop Robert energetically moving her ass on the rigid length of his cock while he twisted around her side to maul one breast and cover her mouth with his. They looked like neither of them had gotten laid in years!

Robert finally rolled Sally to her side and slipped his cock down along the crack of her ass until it popped out between her legs to point twitching at where Emily sat watching. They both looked so inviting as they lay there that Emily had to lean forward quickly and suck the head of Robert's cock quickly. The slippery feeling of his pre-cum and Sally's eager cunt was nearly overwhelming, but she restrained herself and sat again.

"Are we . . . this isn't the only time, is it, dear?" Robert asked her as he nuzzled the back of Sally's neck and reached around to slip two fingers inside her glistening twat. That move prompted Sally to reach down and grasp his rod in her hand.   

"No, honey," Emily said. "I think there'll be many times to come."

"Oh, great," he exclaimed. Then he reached down to grasp his own hard penis and rub it against Sally's slit as they lay on their sides facing Emily. He humped himself forward and popped the head of his dick into her body, and Sally sighed past slackened lips and let her eyes slide shut.

Another shift of body position and another thrust took Robert all the way inside her as his wife watched the miracle of her friend's body welcoming his with a clenching that was visible from the outside.

Emily was too horny to wait, now. She knelt on the floor beside the bed and used both hands to pull back the hood of Sally's clit and leaned forward to lick it quickly with the tip of her tongue.

Sally screamed out with pleasure, and she grabbed a handful of Emily's hair and pulled her closer. "Suck it!" she cried out. Robert couldn't see what was happening, but the knowledge of it was enough to force a fantastic spurt of cum up into Sally's pussy. "Jesus," Sally said, loudly. "Yeah, fill me, Bobby! Fill me while your wife sucks my clit!"

He seemed to find another massive spurt as she spoke, and he slammed himself into her with maximum force to empty his balls completely. His wife stroked his scrotum when he slowed his frantic movement. She stroked him and sucked Sally's clit and answered her own need with her fingers.

"Get your cock out of that bitch," Emily said then. "I want my pie."

Robert pulled his shrinking cock out of the blonde's shaved cunt and lay watching his wife climb atop the bed and lower her face to the musky opening that he'd just filled with his cum.

Sally arched back, grasping the pillow beneath her head as though for support, and breathed in short, ragged puffs of air as she lifted her feet to drop them on to Emily's back and kick her repeatedly with her heels as her orgasm overtook her.

When she lay gasping, Emily looked up from her crotch, her face glistening with liquid, and smiled at Robert. "You gonna just sit there with that hard dick an make me do all the work? Or, are you gonna fuck me, too?"

Robert crawled to her side quickly, taking her into his arms and grasping her buttocks tightly as he kissed her, tasting all three of them in his kiss. He pulled Emily over on top of him, and entered her with a hard thrust seemingly designed to tear through her body. He slammed himself up into her, admiring the bounce and sway of her breasts and the rapt expression on her face.

Sally came down from her climax and knelt beside them to kiss Emily's cheek and then down to capture one bouncing breast and suckle at the nipple. She threw one leg over Robert's head and lowered her sweet pussy to his mouth as she exchanged passionate kisses with his wife.

"Oh, Damn," he mumbled, his face lost in her flesh. "I'm gonna cum again!"

"Emily leapt off of him then, pulling Sally with her as she said, "Do it babe! Do it on both of us!"

Both women rolled off the bed and to their knees beside it. Laughing, Robert knelt at the edge, stroking himself above their upturned faces. Soon, he released another large blast of cum, striking both women like white rain that spattered and drooled down over their cheeks and foreheads. Sated, Robert fell back while Emily and Sally began licking the cum from each other's body and exchanging long kisses.

#

"You know this was a major fantasy, don't you?" Robert asked later as they lay side by side on the rumpled bed. "You've really made my day. Hell, my decade!"

"Just yours?" Emily said, resting her head against his chest and looking across at the blonde head resting on his other arm. "Did you really think it was only your fantasy?"

"Emily, you never cease to surprise me," he laughed, kissing the top of her head.

"Probably make a good story," Sally said, tiredly. "Except you should get the kids into it somehow. You know, just to keep Emily interested."

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe I'll try it out and see what comes up."

"You do that," Emily said. "Meanwhile, let's fuck some more."

All of them had more than one fantasy come to life that night, and many nights after.



Words Can Hurt



Just what was I thinking when I thought anyone would want to read what I wrote. Every review I have gotten here was about how bad my writing is. Well maybe if one or two members who decided to publish their comments as anonymous would have the stones to actually tell me with their real screen names I might respect them a little more. Emily finished typing that rant and quickly pressed the send icon on her screen. After reading an anonymous comment that ripped her latest piece to shreds, Emily was seriously outraged. How dare people say that her work stunk when they did not even have the guts to give her a chance to review their work... 

*

Emily paced back and forth trying to calm herself down. She needed to stop letting the comments of a few people make her that upset. Her family had told her that if she kept letting people get to her like that she would end up with either ulcers or a nervous breakdown. Yet every time she got a review like the one she had just read you could practically see the steam coming out of Emily's ears. Maybe if she got away from the computer a while and just got out she might feel better. 

Emily shut down the laptop and slammed it shut. She grabbed her coat and her keys and headed out the door. Starting up her car, she pulled out of her driveway and headed to a local coffee shop. She knew they had live music every Friday and Saturday maybe a little music would calm her mood. After finding a parking space she went inside. 

"The usual, Emily," the guy behind the counter asked.

"Yeah thanks Frank," Emily said. She slid the money across the counter at him and then took her ice mocha. 

"Strange seeing you here tonight. This is not your usual night. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Just thought I would stop by and enjoy the music," Emily said. She took a long sip of the ice cold beverage.

"How is the writing going?"

" I'm actually thinking of quitting," Emily said.

"Why? You are a really good writer. Why would you even consider giving it up?"

"I am glad that you think I am talented but let's just say that some people do not hold my writing in such high esteem."

" Well my opinion is that those people are stupid then. They would not know a good piece of writing if it came along and bit them right in the ass."

This caused Emily to snicker. "Thanks Frank. I needed a laugh tonight. I know I shouldn't let these people get to me but yet every time I say they won't they do."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah sure Frank. You can ask me whatever you want."

"Do you enjoy writing what you write?"

"Yes of course I do."

"That is what counts. What everyone else thinks should not matter as long as it brings you enjoyment."

"Thanks Frank. You really are a friend. You know exactly what to say to get me back on track." She sat and listened to the saxophone play for a little while. Then she said, "I think I 'm going to head home and try to get some writing done. First, can I get another one of these to go?"

"Sure." Frank handed her another iced mocha. When Emily went to hand him the money this time though he said, "Keep your money. This one is on the house."

" Thanks a lot. I'll see you on Wednesday," she said. Emily headed out the door and back to her car. Maybe I need to apologize to everyone because I was a bit harsh this morning she thought as she drove home.

When she got to her house, she immediately booted up her computer and began composing an apology letter:

To everyone in this writing community,

I would like to apologize for my post from early this morning. I know that my angry outburst was uncalled for. I need to watch what I say because words can truly hurt when said in haste. I hope that you can forgive me. This community has been some of my strongest supporters since day one and I truly hope that a few angry words will not come between what we have built over the last year.

Hopefully still your friend,

Emily 

Emily sighed as she copied the letter into a forum. This was all she could do. She could not force them to forgive her and everyone had the right to be mad at her after all she had definitely not thought before typing this morning. She would just have to wait and see what would happen. Emily signed off praying she had not just alienated the entire writing community.



Words Fail Me



Older women aren't necessarily wiser or more experienced, or any of those things you read about in magazine articles. The truth is a clueless idiot is the same at any age. Ah, but when that woman IS wiser and experienced, when a beautiful brain has had a little more time to perfect its character, look out. I learned the secret of what really makes an older woman beautiful.

When I was 29, I landed an interview at a major corporate headquarters in a Chicago skyscraper nearly as broad as it was tall. The position, data analyst, was a bit of a step back for me, but the market was scarce, and the job promised quick advancement opportunities.

I showed up a quarter-hour early, only to hear how my interviewer had gotten stuck in a meeting and would himself be 20 to 30 minutes late. So much for professionalism. 

Almost immediately, she entered and checked in with the receptionist and sat down across from me. It was a surprisingly small lobby for such a big office. Her interviewer having gotten pulled into the same emergency meeting as my own, we were therefore survivors of the same ordeal. I took it upon myself to find out if we were competing for the same job. 

We weren't. She was in tech and web. That was a relief, because looking at her, you'd think I'd custom-ordered her from her parents. Her hair was neither auburn nor chestnut, but some dark crimson in between. Her face was heart-shaped, with blue Irish eyes. Most of all, she had that soft, rounded figure of a real woman, past the fables of the 20s and 30s. Now that we could see the direction the road took to the sea, we were assured of scenic mountains and valleys along the way. She was, in short, as beautiful as she would ever be, and she would indeed be beautiful.

"I'm Elizabeth." She took my hand in hers and I was surprised by how warm her touch was. 

"Charmed. I'm Dan," I replied, trying to stop myself from ogling her, but my eyes layered the pleasantry with a tour of her body that was anything but polite. 

"Dan, could you..." She stopped. Chewed the end of her pencil thoughtfully. Then she returned my look to me.

And that was all it really took. We talked for another 15 minutes, but I couldn't tell you a word of it. I had an idea, but it was a dangerous one. Now it was my turn to look thoughtful, which she caught. Wordlessly, I told her to watch me because I was about to do something. 

"Excuse me," I asked the receptionist. "Where is the men's room?"

She pointed back toward the entrance and the common lobby shared by the businesses leasing the floor. "Just round the corner." 

I thanked her and sustained eye contact with Elizabeth on my way. Before three seconds were up, she had gone from questioning what I was up to, to gauging my sincerity, to an urgent agreement. As I pushed open the door, I heard her ask, "Is the ladies' down that way as well?"

"It's unisex," came the reply. So much the better. That would mean locks. 

In such moments, the unbelievable becomes the inevitable, and it seems that it was always the way this was, that things have proceeded to their lone possible conclusion. No sooner had the door swung shut then our lips fell to each other with their own gravity. The heat of our bodies was stultifying. I would have gasped, but she had my breath. It was a fair trade.

Her fingers ran through my hair and gripped my head with a mad passion. Almost before I knew it, I had her bra off. My fervent hands melted down her breasts. She pushed her body into my caress. I had clutched her to me, and her thigh sealed the contract behind my back. 

With a resolute gentleness, she pulled my face from hers, guiding my lips to an expectant nipple. I tried to stand my ground, teeth nipping her neck for purchase, but my own lust conspired against me. It was useless to try. My tongue dipped and swirled over the tender swell of her breast, exulting in the palpable taste of her arousal. Skin has its own language. 

She dipped her hand into my trousers, eliciting a groan I didn't know I had down there. Desire contains its own agonies, and their compulsions are great. Her dancing eyes unleashed their resplendence. It had to be. I kissed my way down to her navel, then up her side as my hands liberated her belt . She hopped off the counter, hiked up her skirt, and made the buckle a moot point. A wink that could have leveled a city told me to take whatever I wanted.

What I wanted was her dancing an orgasm around my tongue. I didn't fall to my knees so much as crash-land, in my heated need to taste her. A pair of girl-next-door cotton panties made it as far as one ankle before they were forgotten. I rained a hot hail of kisses up her thighs, each one pulling an escalating sigh out of her. By the time I reached hallowed ground, the sighs had turned to gasps, and the gasps were massing at the border of moans. I paused to savor the heat and scent of true passion, and began our kiss.

That first salty taste told me everything I needed to know. Elizabeth's convulsions crested, the longing became so much there was nothing to do but give up and let it wash over her. As her body relaxed against the sink again, my tongue took the long way. I kissed her secret lips deeply, and they opened themselves to me. An ecstatic moan hummed through my mouth at the unbridled joy we had created. There is something incredible about sharing such your truest and most vulnerable self with an utter stranger. It defies all logic, and so intensifies itself. 

They say every woman is a goddess, but that's only half the story. We're human beings, and we can, if we choose, and to great effect, rut like animals. Yet even therein lies a sublime elation that transmutes an everyday person into something divine. When you go down on a woman, you worship at her temple. The offering may change, but the communion stays the same. 

My mouth circled around her clitoris, finally daring to approach its engorged beauty. Briefly, I curled my tongue around it, commending it reverently into my pursed lips. Lightly did I suck on her engorged pearl, and lightly did I squeeze it before leaving it with that brief taste of things to come. I massaged her vagina with my wavering tongue, and then extended it, rigid, as my head bobbed lightly, in and out, in and out. Elizabeth groaned, and clutched my head deeper between her thighs. I slid a finger lightly into her, and my tongue returned irrepressibly to her expectant clit. 

It was the right thing to do. She hunched over, hissing into my ear, "Oh, God, Dan, that is so ffff—URGH!" A groan abbreviated her confidences. Frankly, I couldn't find half a damn to give if anyone else heard. We were perfecting the art of sex; let them listen and learn how it's done. 

Caution was dead on the side of the road. She grabbed my free hand and entangled it with hers, kissing my fingertips, my wrist, anything to kiss just a little bit of me as the first joyful mystery exploded inside her. Her voice cracked as it spiraled into a high whistle, and her shuddering body clung to me like a life raft. Climbing up to meet her for a true kiss, I found myself wrapped in a treasured embrace, smelling the sweet perfume of sweat and woman on her breasts. God, is there anything so beautiful as a woman enjoying an orgasm? 

Elizabeth wasn't done. In an instant, she had our positions reversed. I tried to steal one last kiss from her as she did away with my pants, and she gave me a dangerous look for trying to delay her mission. With an audible gulp, she had me down to the hilt. She paused there, and her eyes changed to proud. She held me deeply, just to let me know that she could. Her tongue worked miracles along my bottom length. The heat and salivia were too much, just too much to take. And then she went to work. 

She did things to my cock that weren't so much sexual as seismic. Before her hand even touched me, she was pulling explosions of sensation off of me that left fossil evidence. And the best part was that she knew it. Nothing is so respectable as watching an expert take pride in her work. "No one can do to you what I do, baby," say her eyes. "You are going to remember me as a champion cocksucker." In that moment, I couldn't think of anyone else I'd vote for President over her.

No one had discovered us yet, but we were well over the balance on our luck, and I hadn't even had her yet. Fate only throws you so many illicit trysts. Not like I wanted to, but I fended off an orgam with the kind of determination that normally repels small, invading European nations. Elizabeth was working my shaft like she thought she might strike oil, and it took nearly a full minute before she'd listen to my pleas to stop. 

"I don't care," she murmured, popping my cock out of her mouth in between strikes. "I'm going to," pop, "have your come," pop, "and that's final."

"You do that," I seethed in delight, "And we don't have time to fuck." I held her face to make sure her eyes locked with mine, but the light in them went right past my point and brought me down to the floor with her. I tried to mutter something about how absolutely I had resolved to fuck her, but it got lost amid the rabid exchange of perfect lusty kisses. We kissed so deep I think we traded souls.

She crawled backwards along the floor, straightening out so my body could envelope hers. The last vestiges of our clothing disappeared somewhere. I couldn't get over her soft curves, the way a woman truly looks. She was maiden, mother, matriarch. And here is the secret to an older woman's beauty: she contains multitudes. 

At that moment, though, she only wanted to contain me. I found myself looking down at her, and a strange peace entered between us. The world stopped spinning and held its breath as she told me without words that it was time. She was right. 

I entered her, feeling that warm, slick sweetness that nothing on earth can match. It is an unfair tactic of nature that a vagina should be so wired to set a man's every nerve aflame. Now it was my turn to hold my breath. We kissed again.

And then we started moving. 

Quickly, we found our pace. As my body slid into hers, her hips would quickly hop, which in turn caused me to lift my hips and pull back. This itself made her roll her pelvis forward, angling every last bit of pressure from my extraction.

From urgent union to explosive greeting, reluctant withdrawal, and a goodbye to make it all worth it, we met each other a thousand times there on the floor. 

"You screw like you invented it," I managed to pant. 

"Just the field-tester, " she laughed in my ear with hot, short breath, and I appreciated that so much I doubled the speed of my thrusts. She grunted approvingly. Now her fingers seemed like the coolest part of her as they kneaded my back. What the hell. Everyone has to have something to do. 

That reminded me that her breasts weren't pulling their weight, so maybe I'd have to do it for them. I pulled her to her feet, and turned her to face the sink. She got the idea, spread her legs for me, and I bent to have her from behind. With the mirror on the cabinet, I could look into her eyes, which boasted "You're fucking me. You're fucking me from behind in a public bathroom, and I love getting fucked. I love the way you fucking fuck me, you glorious fucker." The unspoken words are the most powerful. For my part, I was thrilled to have every womanly part of her on or around me. I sucked on her neck, planted kisses along her shoulders, and left the briefest hot breaths along her spine, but it was always to the mirror I returned, those eyes never breaking from mine, always awaiting my return. 

Oh, those breasts. What that woman could do with flesh. They spilled out of my hands, bounced and clapped in syncopation with our collisions, and exploded into goosebumps as my fingers brushed them again, seeking their heat. Like her, they were vivacious, graceful and comfortable. I wanted to do everything to her. I'd have done anything for her. My lust made her a goddess, and hers made me a man touched by divinity. 

That goddamn did it. I needed to kiss her again. We tore hungry kisses from each other's lips as I lifted her up. She locked her ankles at the bottom of my spine, and I shook her from my hips to hers. One hand supported her weight with no qualms about squeezing her vibrant ass. The other ran across her back to her shoulder. Her squeals took on a laughing peal. She threw her head back and cackled with ecstatic triumph.

I took advantage of the moment to plunge my mouth on her nipples again. This time, I wasn't gentle. 

"You owe me your come," she reminded me with a benevolent tone more befitting a reminder from teacher that papers are due. "And I want it—OH!" she gasped to her own surprise.

That did it. This was too much. My body might endure, but my brain started coming half a minute ago. I let loose everything I'd been holding back, and our indulgent, luxurious pace became a frenzy of fucking. With her arms around my neck and our foreheads touching, we looked more like mourners consoling one another, but for our smiles. Together, we had created something incredible, and it was coming to fruition. 

We locked lips for the final time as I jackhammered into her. I threw one leg up on the sink to get even deeper into her, letting her body drop down my rising length as hard as we dared. Elizabeth raked my back and left dental records on my shoulder as she came, and the coming was a rising thing, an overlapping orchestra, orgasms within orgasms, orgasms bridging other orgasms. Her passion was mine, and I sank in deep, giving her all of me while now quaking my hips against hers, bone to bone, hoping to trigger still one more explosion within her. Our roars spoke the same wordless thought. 

"I think I fell in love with you five minutes ago," she sighed in lieu of a laugh as she collapsed onto my soaked chest. I cupped her breast with gentle possessiveness. 

"What took you so long?"



Words for Distant Lover



It's late, and I'm alone. The heat has persuaded me to abandon my clothes and my reason. And so here I sit, glistening, seeking with finger tips what my eyes want to see, speaking what my lips would say to you.

You should be here, sipping wine, breathing the heat. Together we would peruse all manners of depravity, feasting our eyes, licking our lips. Would you lick my lips if I placed them close?—my soft, gentle lips, glossy from the application of my tongue. Would you suck the wetness from my lower lip and savor the lust in my gaze?

You should be here. Excuse me while I pause.

:::pause:::

I'm back. I had to ravage myself. The cum is dripping down my chest, while a few choice drops made their way into my hungry mouth. I would prefer your cum running over my taste buds. Come to me, and let me drink. No coyness would taint our infidelity. I can see it now…late as it is, dark, hot, humid. Us, sprawled on the bed, nurturing each other's every perversion. Speak to me now of perversion. I need impurity to distract me. Tell me how much you want my cock inside you, everywhere. 

:::reaches down to squeeze the hard, throbbing organ:::

My god, how I need to release again this desperate lust. Shall I cover myself with warm oil and allow the mess to grow in my chair?

Yes, I agree.

:::leaves to find the baby oil:::

And so begins my slippery indulgence. My chest now shiny, succulent, heaving. An oily hand finds its way to my cock which is now twitching violently. You should be here, riding me in this chair, our sex bathed in digital light as we gaze upon flesh and frolic. We'll suspend our sobriety and lose ourselves in anxious conversation. Kissing, sucking, fucking. Come fuck me. I'm here, hard, and ready.

Will you spread your legs wide and let me devour you? Close your eyes as I plant my tongue deep inside your pussy. Lean back and enjoy the sensation, the exquisite feeling, as my tongue and lips ravage your every private inch, inside and out. Did you know that I can cum just from eating a girl out? Want to see? 

My cock is in my fist, but it should be in your mouth. Your pussy. Between your fingers and tits. My keyboard now bears the remnants of my slippery performance…the keys are slick and wet, as is my body and the chair which seats me. I force my fist down over the head of my cock, the ripples making my legs twitch in their occasional suspension. You should be here, under my desk, worshiping me with your oral talents. I can feel your tongue swirling around me right now. Want to taste?

What delicious perversities we could explore. Such pleasures we could uproot from this numb and fertile affiliation. Come mine my mind for raw material. The very rawest.

You would love the taste of my cum. It is sweet and pleasant, like a delicate cream. I am savoring it still. Would you kiss me and share it? Would it thrill you to pass it back and forth sloppily as we fuck?—seeping from the corners of our joined lips. Want to find out? You know where to find me. As for now, I am going to make love to myself. Slowly, passionately, and then finally roughly, in your stead. Perhaps you'd like to join me, or simply watch, or listen. The choice is yours. So is this body. Don't let it go to waste.

:::long lick up the screen:::

Until then lover—

WL



Words I Shall Never Forget



Standing in front of her I was very nervous with so many thoughts running through my mind. I was so unsure of how to take this to the next level with her. Both of our outward perceptions and words must have seemed so silly had there been any on lookers. Then finally the room fell silent as she turned to me with that grin.

Just that quickly her body melted into mine and we shared another long anticipated passionate kiss which had again rocked my very foundation. Pulling away from me she turned and closed both doors insuring our privacy from the prying eyes of the recorders roaming through out her home. Floating across the room and back into my arms she raised her arms and draped them over my towering shoulders. My hands set on her perfectly small waist almost being able to around her body as a belt would hold up lose fitting pants. We again locked our mouths with a notion crossing both our minds that we may never leave this embrace and parish with lightly lit smiles in our graves together. I have never known a kiss or a touch to be nearly this intense.

My will not being my own at this point I lifted her white tank top above her head tossing it to the bed. Beneath her shirt was a stunning satin black bra that pulled my heavy hands to it as if they wear a magnet reacting as an unheard of force. Lightly I tugged at her fully erect nipples, toying with them as she moaned into my mouth. I was certainly the aggressor at this point and I knew she would do my bidding from hence forth.

We danced in a semi cosmic circle turning her so that she was facing away from the empty bed. Knowing I could not wait any longer than I have already been forced to wait I pushed to the bed as my weight seemed to meet her body as her body fell to the mattress. Our lips met for a brief moment. Everything became a bit rushed out of the lust we shared for one another.

I stood up nearly tearing off my shirt in frenzy. She smiled approvingly at the shape of my chest I quickly returned to her wonderfully soft lips so that I may devour more of this affection from her. Pulling away from her it was now time to admire just what I had before me. She was truly sculpted perfection, a work of art that should be admired for ages.

Feeling that our time was running I tore he pants off noting she had no unmentionables to fool with I leaned back into her kissing her neck and quickly working my way down. The entire time I was thinking I simple must taste her even if it is briefly due to our time constraints. My tongue excitedly lashed out and penetrated her she smooth lips. She squirmed just a bit at first so I wrapped my arm tightly around her left thigh. This gave me the control I needed to hold her in place while my tongue licked circles around the well hidden clitoris. Trying to hold it in she almost burst out in a scream as she became drenched in juices. I inserted a finger just to tease her for a bit before feeling my cock penetrate her eager opening. And with a small movement of my index finger she nearly jumped out of my grasp.

I knew it had been a long time for her but I had no idea that such a small movement of a finger delicately inserted could in turn cause such a reaction. Yet this pleased me immensely knowing that if a mere finger could do such a thing what reaction could my thick rock hard member coax from her.

With that thought fresh in my mind I plunged every inch into her depths. Yes, she had just the reaction I had hoped for. She had gasped with excitement and with my third or fourth thrust into her she burst into another orgasm. With every stroke I was trying to get as deep as I could. Feeling our bodies collide like nothing short of a a train wreck made me want to orgasm with every thrust. I hurried my pace to what could only be described by the look on her face as relentless punishment.

Finally as the sweat poured from my body and glistened on hers I let out such a groan that would have scared of Goliath. I felt my cock throb within her pushing every inch in as I unloaded into her. She squeezed her muscles around my cock making sure I was completely empty as I pulled out of her. My thought at that moment was.....

"I have never known a woman in such a need of pleasure."

As I walked towards my car, she smiled and said "Thanks for the fuck."

Words I shall never forget....



Words Made Flesh: Bound



(Author's note: This story can best be described as 'eclectic'. Although this is a lesbian story, there are many types of sexual situations. You will find everything from romance to bondage here. Also, the plot deals with serious issues such as self-mutilation and an abused childhood.)

- - - - - - - - - -

The room was deprived of sunlight, but the little brunette girl hardly noticed. She was too busy focusing on her current dilemma; which color the sky in her picture should be. She wished to capture the moment, but she didn't know what time of day it was outside. There was a window not far from where she was sitting, but it was so filthy that it served as little more than a glass barrier to the world outside. Although the door was not locked, the girl knew that she wasn't allowed to open it; even just to look out. She knew better than to question the rules.

As the girl picked up a nice, bright blue pencil, she felt the slight rumble of the ground as the truck pulled up outside. She flinched at the unceremonious slam of the truck door, letting her know that he was home. The time it took for him to walk from the truck to the door seemed like an eternity. She could hear the screams of the stars falling from the sky. The door opened and a blinding, blood-red light poured into the room. The force of it knocked her back and her head hit the floor. Though she tried to move her arms, her efforts were useless. She knew that the best thing that she could do was lie there and take it; not make trouble.

"Baby...daddy's here."

A towering shadow enveloped the little girl's tiny figure on the floor. The reflection of the bleeding sky disappeared as he shut the door behind him. A single tear fell from her eye because she knew that this was what she wanted, despite what her feelings inside told her. It's what he said, and she believed it.

"Estelle! Estelle, wake up!" Amelia's voice became faintly recognizable as the shadow quickly shrank into the imaginary horizon. Estelle's body jolted involuntarily and her blue eyes snapped open with fear. Her long brunette hair, normally perfectly wavy, was tangled and clinging to her face.

"He's here...ohgodohgodheshere..." she whispered frantically.

"It's alright, he's gone now. It was just a dream," Amelia tried to reassure her.

The sound of Amelia's voice seemed to bring Estelle back to her senses. She looked around skittishly for a moment before realizing that Amelia was next to her. Once she caught sight of Amelia's consoling emerald eyes and familiar shoulder-length red hair, she realized it had all been just a dream. Still shaken, but aware that she was now safe, Estelle slumped over into her lover's arms and cried. Amelia just cradled her girlfriend's head and tried her best to soothe her with quiet words of comfort. It wasn't long before Estelle fell back to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sophia took a noisy sip from the can of soda and waited patiently for the chime of the instant message to sound. Her jet-black hair swayed as she nodded her head in time with the pulse of the techno music. Sophia's right hand tapped the black skirt on her knee to emphasize the rhythm. She stared at the faint reflection of her youthful, pale face on the monitor and wondered; if it was true that mirrors do not lie, could the same be said for any reflective surface? Her vivid, brown eyes were barely even noticeable in the reflection. After a bit, she heard the familiar ring overlap the beat coming from the speakers.

Yoni136: So then she took me to this all-girl dungeon on Aspen street. I'd never heard of it before, and apparently you can only get in by invitation-only.

Sophia sat up and began fluttering her fingers on the keyboard to type a response.

Masoch-grrl: that sounds fun!

Yoni136: It was...interesting. Leather's never really been my thing. Of course, I didn't mind seeing other women wearing it. There was this really hot couple...one had her wrists and ankles tied to a giant "X", while the other was flogging her. But Cindy tried to convince me to go up there with her. Yeah right! Although she did do one good thing for me -- she introduced me to tantric sex.

Sophia stared at the screen, puzzled. 

Masoch-grrl: Isn't that for the heteros?

Yoni136: I used to think that, too. But something as harmonious as sacred sex can't be confined to a single sexual preference. It literally changed my life, as corny as that sounds. 

Masoch-grrl: Wow, how did it do that?

Yoni136: In short, it taught me to treat my body as a temple. See, I wasn't always so new-agey. In fact, I pretty much hated myself when I was younger. You might say that I did things to myself that were stupid.

Masoch-grrl: What kinds of things? If it's alright me asking.

Yoni136: Yeah, it's cool. I'm not afraid to talk about it any more. I used to get so angry and frustrated with everything that I would take a razorblade and cut my arms up.

Sophia's fingers paused as she considered what to say next. She realized that this was a bold confession for someone to make to a girl that she barely knew. More importantly, it opened a door to a kind of friendship that wasn't often available on this level.

Masoch-grrl: I know what that's like -- I've done it, too; back in high school. Everyone thought I was suicidal cos they would see the cuts on my arms. Everyone except my friends, and that's only cos some of them were doing it, too.

Yoni136: Really? Well, at least you had friends. Hell, people didn't even CARE if I killed myself.

Masoch-grrl: Wow. I'm sorry to hear that.

Yoni136: Meh, it's all in the past now. Ancient history. Funny us meeting up like this, though; both having been cutters. Still, there are more of us out there than you think. 

Masoch-grrl: Yeah. Well I don't do it anymore, but honestly sometimes the urges come back.

Yoni136: Maybe you should try Tantra...

Masoch-grrl: Well, I wouldn't really know where to start...how to go about finding information...

Yoni136: It's called the internet, silly. Your profile says that you're an aspiring author, so you should be used to doing research on specific subjects, right?

Masoch-grrl: Right.

Yoni136: K then., Gotta go to work now. It was nice chatting with you. Bye!

Sophia gave those last words time to sink in as she stared at the computer screen, not bothering to sign off. She paid special attention to the message about being an author. In the past, she had found that one of the best ways to research a subject was to write about her findings. Perhaps this Yoni chick was onto something...

The distinct sound of knuckles tapping on the wood frame of her door caused Sophia to turn around and see a familiar figure standing in her bedroom doorway. Raquel offered a warm smile, but waited for Sophia to speak first.

"Hey," Sophia said on cue, "What's up?"

"I'm just heading to the store," Raquel responded. "Gotta pick up a few boring but necessary items. Would you like me to get you up anything? Soda? A replacement stash of that chocolate that you went through in one night last week?"

"No, I don't think I'll be needing chocolate like that anytime soon," Sophia said cheerily. After taking time to think about it, however, she said, "On second though, better get an emergency supply, just in case."

Raquel laughed and changed the subject. "By the way, Trevor called again." She paused for a moment to gauge the look on Sophia's face. "Aren't you going to talk to him?"

"Why should I? After what he did?" The memory of Trevor's affair with Kaylin entered into Sophia's mind. Her conscious bitterly reminded her of how they had tried to exact revenge on her for her involvement with Amelia and Estelle.

"Well...you were no saint yourself." Raquel reminded her. She couldn't blame Trevor for wanting revenge after Sophia cheated on him with two women. After Sophia's expression became defensive, Raquel added, "I'm not judging, I'm just saying. Shouldn't you at least seek some closure between you two?"

"I'm fine. I don't need closure."

Raquel sighed with resignation. "Alright, suit yourself. I'll be back in awhile. If he calls again...I guess..."

"I'll let the answer machine get it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first thing that came to Amelia's attention as she opened the door was the sound of monsters being slaughtered by machine guns. As she expected, there sat Estelle on the couch with a controller in her hand, pressing frantically on its buttons while staring intently at the television screen.

"Hey babe," Amelia greeted.

"Shit! You made me die!" Estelle yelled without turning around.

"Geez, sorry!"

"Not you love; this pathetic teammate of mine who couldn't see a plasma grenade if it was stuck to his face! Oh that's right - it was!"

Amelia walked behind her frustrated fragger and kissed her briefly on the head before walking into the other room to take off her jacket. She heard a few more colorful expletives from the living room and smiled to herself. She wasn't really smiling at the cursing. Rather, she was trying to keep herself in good spirits in order to stay strong for the conversation she knew she had to have with Estelle soon. Amelia took a deep breath, gave herself one solid look in the mirror to make sure she had the desired appearance (strong, yet comforting), and headed back out of the room.

"Baby," Amelia said softly as she sat down on the couch next to Estelle, noticing that she was wearing her 'fu-Q' t-shirt. "We need to talk."

Estelle shot her a glance but kept her focus on the screen. "About what?"

"...you had another nightmare last night."

"I know."

"Well, don't you want to talk about it? You were pretty scared."

"What for? It won't do any good. It didn't help the last time we talked about it. Or the time before that." Estelle changed her voice so that she was singing, "Or the time before that, or the time --"

"Estelle!" Amelia snapped impatiently.

"Sorry." Estelle spoke as she pressed a button to exit the game. "It's just...I don't want to talk about it, okay? Please?"

Amelia observed the sincerity in her lover's face. Not wishing to cause her any further distress, she agreed, "Okay. We don't have to talk about it," then added, "although maybe if you didn't play such violent video games --"

"Bullshit! Don't look for other reasons. Nothing could possibly make the nightmares worse than the...him."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Amelia said quickly, regretting those last words. She rested her hand on Estelle's leg as a gesture of sincerity, "I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter, cos I found a new toy!" Estelle exclaimed as she suddenly sprung up from the couch excitedly. She disappeared into the bedroom faster than Amelia could question her, then returned shortly with an unmarked black bag.

She set it on Amelia's lap and cheerily said "Go on, open it!"

Amelia was taken aback by the abrupt change in topics and hesitated. She peered inside the bag as though something might leap out from it and attack her. Estelle waited patiently with an unwavering gleam in her eyes. She reached her hand into the bag and pulled out...

"Another pair of handcuffs?"

Estelle squeaked with pure joy and bounced up and down. Amelia looked up at her and asked, "Employee discount?" to which Estelle nodded her head furiously. Amelia eyed the merchandise with indecision. "They're pink," she said, trying to sound as objective as possible.

"And fuzzy!" the words shot out of Estelle's mouth like a bullet.

"Yes...and also pink."

Estelle frowned at these repeated words. "You don't like them?"

Amelia realized that she was being selfish and said "No I love them!"

"Hmph! You can't fool me, miss mistress. Well it doesn't matter what you think cos I'm the one who's going to be wearing them."

"Oh yeah?" Amelia responded playfully, "Well what about me? How am I supposed to stay hard staring at pink, fuzzy things around your wrists...or ankles, as the case may be."

"Well you'll just have to give the strap-on Viagra, won't you?"

Both girls laughed until they heard the doorbell ring. Amelia tossed the handcuffs, still encased in the hard plastic packaging, over to Estelle before getting up to open the door. Before she could turn all the way around, however, Estelle threw them back. They continued this game of 'hot potato' until Amelia reached the door. Unfortunately, she was the one who got stuck with it, so she held it behind her back as she opened the door.

"Oh hi Sophia, come on in!" Amelia exclaimed with relief that she no longer bothered to hide the package. She gave her dark-haired girlfriend a kiss and a hug as she walked into the house, then caught Estelle off guard by tossing the sealed handcuffs back to her.

"Sophie! Yay!" Estelle shouted as she went to put the handcuffs back in the bag, but then shrugged and chucked them back on the couch. "Orgy! Orgy! Orgy!" she began to chant while pumping her arms in the air.

Sophia blushed and looked down sheepishly while saying, "Hi Estelle."

Estelle greeted her girlfriend with a rather warm and prolonged embrace, then kissed her neck for good measure. As she pulled back, still holding onto Sophia, she looked into her eyes with utter happiness. Then her eyes turned dark as she complained, "Where have you been all day? I missed you!"

"I missed you, too. But, I do have to attend school if I want them to give me that one tiny piece of paper that anywhere I want to work wants me to have."

Estelle spoke impatiently, "Yeah yeah fascinating. Move in with us!"

Sophia's eyes widened as she could only say "Wuuh?"

"Estelle!" Amelia shot her a look of surprise and disapproval. She quickly moved herself next to Estelle so that they were both facing Sophia before continuing, "we've been talking it over and...we'd really love for you to move in with us."

"That's exactly what I just said," Estelle retorted.

"Yeah well I was going to lead up to it, but you didn't give me the chance."

"You wanted it to be a surprise!"

"I meant that --"

"OK," Sophia said, stopping both girls with their mouths open from arguing. They both looked at her as if they weren't sure that they had heard her correctly, so she repeated it, "OK. I'd love to."

Estelle and Amelia smiled and both wrapped their arms around their new roommate, making sounds of joy. Estelle turned to Amelia and said in her best teenager voice, "Can she sleep in MY room?" which caused incessant giggling from everyone.

"Listen, I can't stay long. I just stopped by to let you know that I need to head out of town for a day. I've decided to write a book, and I'm meeting someone who can help me."

Estelle looked up at Sophia with puppy-dog eyes and asked in a disappointed voice, "No orgy?"

"When I get back, I promise. In the meantime, here's something to hold you over." She said before she leaned into her girlfriend and pressed her lips against hers softly, tracing the entrance of her mouth with her tongue.

"Oh...ok..." Estelle whispered in a daze, intoxicated with Sophia's kiss.

Amelia reached up and caressed Sophia's face with her fingers. "Hurry back then," she said.

They exchanged goodbye kisses at the door, then Sophia left. As soon as the front door was closed, Estelle stared at Amelia and pointed to the bedroom.

"You. Handcuffs. Bedroom. Now."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No matter how hard Sophia tried, there was simply no way known to the laws of physics that the heavy coat could be shoved into her backpack. She pulled out a couple of other articles of clothing and attempted to roll them up tighter, with little success. The sound of the phone ringing made her pause and listen for the answer machine to pick up. She walked into the living room as the message played through and patiently waited for the person on the other end to begin speaking.

"Hey, it's Trevor. Sophia, are you there?"

Sophia felt a surge of anxiety well up inside her and tried her best to stay calm. She stared at the phone, silently debating whether she should pick it up.

"Listen, Sophie...I just wanted to talk to you...give me a call back when you get this message, okay?"

She continued to stare at the phone as the message ended. Conflicting emotions were making her heart race and she grabbed the phone. Her fingers began to dial his number automatically, but then stopped. The will to speak completely vanished. The steady tone of the phone off its hook entranced her as she thought of all the things she might say to him. 

She would say, "I can't believe you slept with that whore!" referring to Kaylin of course, the woman with whom he had cheated on Sophia.

But then she imagined him retorting with, "I can't believe YOU slept with that whore!" reminding her that she, too, had slept with Kaylin. Sophia's face fell as she remembered how Kaylin had secretly recorded their lovemaking so that she could show it to Estelle in an attempt to break them up. Part of her could not blame Kaylin for being so hateful; after all, Estelle was her ex-girlfriend. As far as Kaylin was concerned, Amelia had stolen Estelle away from her.

Regardless, Sophia knew that she would say, "Well at least I wasn't with you when I did it!"

Of course, Trevor would respond with, "Yeah, but you were with those other girls, weren't you?" causing Sophia to remember how she had kissed Amelia and Estelle while Trevor was still her boyfriend.

Guilt washed over her like dirty water. It was then that she realized that it wasn't a lack of words to say, it was a lack of incentive to say them. With this revelation, she set the phone back down on its base and walked backed into the bedroom to finish packing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Estelle grinned triumphantly as she lied on her back in the center of the bed. Her legs were pulled back towards her head and spread wide apart. Each ankle was fastened securely to the headboard; the left with the black velvet Velcro handcuffs and the right with pink fuzzy ones.

She felt the lubricated tip of Amelia's red strap-on touch the opening of her sex. It traced her lips up and down teasingly before parting them. Amelia adjusted the end of the strap-on that was inside her, causing her to retreat and ebb the end. This tantalizing flux made Estelle to whimper in anticipation. Amelia was very conscious about going slow at first. Estelle pushed her hips up to encourage her lover to increase her speed.

"You don't have to be so gentle with me, I won't break." Estelle said as she reached up to touch her lover's face.

Amelia hesitated, for she knew the fragile nature of this topic could easily ruin the mood. "Baby, I'm just making you want it more."

The look on Estelle's face told her that she wasn't buying it. She knew that, in order to avoid a conflict, she would have to take things up a notch. Resolving to conceal any worry that she may have, she thrust her hips forward to plunge the dildo into her girlfriend as far as it would go.

"Ohhhh fuck!" Estelle rewarded her girlfriend with a gasp and a yelp that, would she have been anyone else, would have confirmed her fears that she had been hurt. However, having been Estelle's mistress for some time now, she knew that this was the sound of intense pleasure.

"See now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Estelle sighed happily.

Amelia had had enough chattiness. "Hey! Is that how you address me?"

Estelle opened her eyes and looked at her lover's face. "No mistress," she said with surrender as she withdrew her hand from Amelia's cheek.

"That's better. Less talking, more fucking."

Estelle smiled at this and happily let her lover pound into her with enough force to shake her with each thrust. She decided to place her hands on her ankles and become completely submissive. Though it might have been unintentional, she caught Amelia showing a quick flash of a satisfied smile. She returned the gesture before closing her eyes and giving in to the deliciously agonizing mix of pleasure and pain. The bed shook violently with every fierce lunge. The knocking of the headboard against the wall just fueled Amelia's resolve to push even harder.




Words Made Flesh: Bound



Despite the raging lust that overtook Estelle's body, her mind took a different approach to enjoying the moment. She found that there were so many beautiful things about shared times like these that she had difficulty taking it all in. The way Amelia squeezed her eyes together when she pushed her body to the limit...the unexpected wetness from the beads of sweat that dripped from her lover's hair onto her breasts...the way Amelia's own breasts, which were larger than Estelle's, swayed before her temptingly...the way Amelia's hips began to make slightly more circular motions when she was close to orgasm. Most importantly, Estelle cherished the way they silently communicated with each other by reading facial expressions and body language. Without ever speaking a word, both women understood when to slow down, when to speed up, when to move a certain way or touch a certain area in order to please the other.

The slight change of Amelia's rhythm told Estelle that it would not be long for either of them now, for she, too, was very close to reaching the pinnacle of pleasure. Estelle held her hips up off of the bed, eagerly submitting to every thrust that Amelia gave to her. She stared at her red-haired mistress's face as it contorted, her eyes rolling back into her head and her mouth dropping open absently. Although Amelia was pumping as fast as she could, Estelle could see that her breath was frozen still inside of her as her body claimed its orgasm. The sight of her lover coming was all it took to send her over the edge and swimming in her own ocean of ecstasy.

Afterwards, when both women were too exhausted to go on, Amelia uncuffed Estelle and collapsed beside her. She didn't even have the strength to take off the strap-on at first. The two of them simply lied there, panting and trying to catch their breath. Finally Amelia gathered the strength necessary to clean them both up, as Estelle was already drifting off to sleep.

Later, when everything else was taken care of, Amelia crawled back into bed with her sleeping lover, who was already beginning to show signs of having another nightmare. Her arms twitched and she mumbled in a panicked voice. Amelia considered waking her up again. She reached over to shake her bedmate just as Estelle's arm whipped up from the mattress and smacked her in the face.

"Shit!" Amelia yelped as she grabbed her nose. The noise woke Estelle up and she looked around for the source. "I'm right here." Amelia said, clearly annoyed.

Estelle began to apologize for waking her girlfriend up, but then realized that she had been injured. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!"

"It's alright, I'll be right back." Amelia disappeared into the bathroom and emerged a moment later holding a tissue to her nostrils.

"I'm so, so sorry." Estelle began.

"Don't be; it wasn't your fault." Amelia responded, quickly adding, "You didn't do it on purpose" before her girlfriend could argue with her.

"I still feel bad. I don't know why this keeps happening..."

"Maybe because you won't talk about it? And are you getting sick? You sound congested." Amelia asked as she held her palm to Estelle's forehead.

"I'm probably just hot from the nightmare," Estelle said with irritation. She looked down and sighed heavily, but then quickly shot up her head and exclaimed "Oh God! Sophia!"

"She's not here, Estelle."

"No, but she will be. I can't be like this around her. I don't want her to see me like this." Estelle pleaded frantically.

Amelia looked at her and said, "So what are you saying? That you don't want her to move in?" She peered into Estelle's eyes and watched them grow with sadness before averting her gaze. Amelia knew the answer.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The vibrators are right over herrchoo!" Estelle said as she sneezed, narrowly missing the lesbian couple in front of her. The two women tried weakly to conceal their disgust as the drowsy Brunette snerked loudly and headed back to the cash register. Her blurry vision caused her to bump into a tall, spinning rack. She mumbled to her self crabbily as she picked up the fallen tubes of anal lube. She then marched over to the area behind the counter, completely oblivious to the staring patrons.

"OK, that's it," the woman working the cash register announced as Estelle approached her. "You're going home. I mean it Estelle. You don't need to be getting others sick."

"But what about you?" Estelle asked.

"I'll be fine. I've been working here for a long time; I can hold my own. You go home and get some rest. And don't wear that shirt again."

Estelle looked down at her black t-shirt that read 'Fu-Q 2', then looked back at her manager. "What's wrong with my shirt? It's an adult store, isn't it?"

"Our customers may all be over eighteen, yes, but it's still a business. We still have to appear professional."

"Alright," Estelle sighed in defeat, "Just let me just work until lunch, k? It's only another twenty minutes."

"Alright. I guess I'd better use the restroom while I still have a chance then; be right back."

"Lol."

"What?"

"Nevermind; just go." Estelle shooed her off as she snickered to herself. She turned around in time to see two guys walking toward the counter. One of them was a tall, muscular man with dark hair and a mustache. The shorter one beside him had wavy blonde hair and a meager posture. As the two of them approached the register, her mood became serious.

"Excuse me miss, do you happen to know which of these is better?" The dark-haired one said as he held up two gay porn DVDs. The blonde one stood behind him looking at the ground.

"I can't help you with that," Estelle answered politely, "I'm not really familiar with what boys like."

"Actually we're MEN, thank you." The dark-haired one retorted.

Estelle tried with all of her might not to roll her eyes, and simply said "Oh, my mistake." This earned a challenging glare from the man.

"Dion, don't," the blonde one said sheepishly. This made Dion give the blonde one a reprimanding look, but he said nothing further. Instead, he set the two DVDs on the counter and said "We'll take them both. Although I don't know when we'll find time to watch them," he added while giving another disapproving look to his boyfriend.

"That will be $63.71," Estelle stated matter-of-factly.

"Between work, school and spending every free moment practicing, you'd never know that we were in a relationship," Dion continued as if he didn't hear Estelle. The blonde one pulled out his wallet and handed Estelle a few bills.

Estelle looked at the blonde boy sympathetically. She didn't know why she should even care, but she couldn't help but feel that the blonde one was probably being mistreated by his boyfriend. Dion was obviously a control freak and seemed to look at blondie as more of a possession than a human being. She wasn't sure why she did it - maybe she was just weak from being sick -- but she did it. She voluntarily engaged in a conversation with a boy.

"Practicing what?" Estelle heard herself ask before realizing what she had done.

"He plays drums" Dion answered for his boyfriend.

"Excuse me, I was talking to him," Estelle retorted.

"No, excuse me. Is that any way to treat a customer?" Dion complained in an overdramatic voice "Might I speak to the manager?"

"The manager is unavailable right now, sir."

"Now listen to me, you fucking dyke -"

"Stop it!" blondie pleaded. The sound of his voice did indeed make the two stop and stare at him.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Estelle asked with a voice that was heavy with concern.

"Angelo," the blonde boy spoke softly without looking up.

"Well, Angelo...pleased to meet you. Could you do me a favor?"

Angelo looked up at her without speaking.

"Since I'm about to exercise my right as displayed by that sign on the wall over there and kick your boyfriend out, could you not bring him in the next time you return? You will return, won't you?"

Angelo was unable to repress a smile as he nodded.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Back so soon?" Raquel inquired when she saw a very tired Sophia lying on their couch and reading a book.

"Yeah, it was a pretty quick interview. Turns out she pretty much already told me anything that would have been useful over the internet," answered Sophia, turning a page

Raquel considered asking whether Trevor had called or not, but thought better of it. She sat down on the chair next to the couch to continue her discussion with Sophia. "So, what is this new book going to be about?" she asked innocently.

"Well, it's about sexuality," Sophia stated bluntly and waited for a sign of disapproval from her roommate. When none came, she continued, "Amelia and Estelle have created an online community that tries to combine sex with philosophy, and I'd like to write about that theme from a different perspective."

"So what's going on with you girls anyway?" Raquel was unable to beat around the bush any longer.

"Actually I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Sophia said as she gathered up her courage to tell Raquel the news, "They've asked me to move in with them."

"Oh...well that's...that's nice," Raquel tried unsuccessfully to conceal her disappointment.

"What's wrong?" Sophia asked.

"I just..."

"Do you think that I'm going to hell?"

"What? No, of course not. That's not it. Although it wouldn't kill you to go to church with me once in awhile," Raquel smirked as she searched for the right words to express how she was feeling. "It's just that...I guess I never expected you to move on. I mean, I knew that it would happen eventually, I just...thought it would be one of those things that always stayed in the distant future, you know?"

Sophia sat up, moved by what she was hearing. "Raquel, that's so sweet. I love living with you, I do."

"Oh hush, you don't have to justify yourself. It would be selfish of me to expect you to stay here the rest of your life." Raquel smiled as she got up from the chair. "Just know that you're always welcome to come back if you need a place to stay."

Sophia watched as her roommate walked over to her, leaving her view as she went behind the couch. Then she felt Raquel's warm arms wrap gently around her neck. Sophia reached her arms up awkwardly to hug back. A feeling of sorrow overcame her as she realized that she was leaving the familiar comfort of what had been her home for the past few years. Raquel had been more like a sister than a roommate, and Sophia would miss her dearly.

"Thank you," Sophia spoke softly.

"For what?" Raquel asked into Sophia's neck.

"For being the best roommate a girl could ever ask for. For treating me like a member of your family. For...everything."

These words prompted Raquel's arms to tighten with gratitude. Sophia felt the hot stream of a tear against her neck. She returned the gesture by squeezing Raquel's arms and leaning her head against them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hello," Sophia spoke cautiously as she entered Amelia and Estelle's house, wanting to avoid startling anyone. She noticed that all of the lights were off and therefore assumed that nobody was home. With a careless shrug, she headed over to the refrigerator for a bottle of this week's health drink of choice. 

Suddenly Sophia heard the sound of something moving around in the bedroom. Upon further investigation, she found Estelle in her bed. The restless brunette appeared very agitated, as if she were having a nightmare. The bed sheets had fallen almost completely onto the floor, held up only by Estelle's tangled legs. Her arms would twitch slightly and bounce on the mattress, an act that was accentuated by a slight whimper.

Sophia looked down at her distressed lover with sympathy. Wanting to comfort her, Sophia grabbed the blankets and spread them back out over the bed and Estelle. Sophia then crawled into bed beside her. She was surprised to feel how warm her little angel was, and came to the conclusion that she must be home sick. Concerned, Sophia curled up next to her sick little partner, resting her head on her shoulders. To her surprise, Estelle seemed to calm down. She stopped twitching and making noises.

Pleased that her presence could comfort her angel even in her dreams, she gently stroked Estelle's hair and said "Don't worry love, I'm here now." The two of them lied still, entangled on the bed, until Sophia joined her lover in sleep.

As Sophia drifted off to dreamland, an apparition of Estelle's face as large as a building appeared before her. As the dark-haired woman floated towards the face, a gentle wind caressed her pale skin. She looked down to find herself nude, but she did not feel a chill from the breeze. As she reached her vision of Estelle, she peered into the dark opening as felt compelled to enter. Her nipples brushed up against the fleshy walls as she climbed over its lips and into its mouth. Sophia lied down on the cushiony tongue and stretched her arms and legs out. She cooed as the member, which was larger than her entire body, began to roll around and massage her body. Her hips pushed back encouragingly as she made love to the tongue. Her breasts, which had been made firm by their encounter only moments ago, felt as though they were being fondled by a giant sponge.

Suddenly, Sophia fell through the sticky bed of flesh and found herself plummeting down an endless pit. Estelle was falling in front her, just out of reach. Time seemed to slow down, for they were both oozing through the air as though if it were made of molasses. Sophia stretched her arm out to touch Estelle, but was unable to extend far enough. A hand grabbed Sophia's shoulder and kept her from reaching her falling lover. She was standing on the ground now and realized that she was in a desert at night. She turned around to see that it was Kaylin who had grabbed her. Sophia seethed at seeing her enemy. Despite her animosity, Sophia's eyes could not help but follow Kaylin's long strands of blonde hair down her naked body, until they stopped at her gorgeous breasts. 

Kaylin smiled wickedly and pressed her mouth against Sophia's, who was unable to struggle because she was tied to a wooden X. Sophia's arms and legs were completely bound, so she could only watch helplessly as her enemy knelt down before her. Kaylin playfully nipped at Sophia's small breasts before finally lowering her head to her sex. The evil woman's tongue slid its way through the fleshy folds of Sophia's flower and plunged into the entrance, making her whimper involuntarily. Despite her immediate objections, Sophia found that being violated by someone she hated was incredibly arousing. She felt a steady stream of her nectar dripping down her leg. As she gave herself up to this pleasure, her moans echoed throughout the dry land. 

She looked down and saw Amelia and Estelle behind Kaylin, grinding on each other. Amelia was on top of Estelle and was pinning her arms down. The both of them looked up at Sophia and opened their mouths as though they were speaking, but Sophia could still only hear her echoing moans. Frustrated, the girls both shook their heads and turned their attention to Kaylin's ass, which was directly before them. Without hesitance, they both reached their tongues to it and began licking her vulva simultaneously. 

The sensation coming from Kaylin's tongue increased tenfold as the other two girls lapped at Kaylin's sex. It was as if Sophia had become a conductor to the electricity of pleasure itself. Her cries of unwilling delight became louder. Lightning struck, and for a moment everything was pitch black. When Sophia could see again, she realized that Amelia and Estelle were no longer on top of each other. It was as if they had moved over a few inches, yet their mouths were still hard at work on Kaylin. 

Furthermore, there were now four new girls; two of them had their heads between Estelle's legs, while the others had their lips on Amelia's sex. Estelle's girls were licking very animatedly, twisting their heads around to brush their tongues at different angles as though they were painting on a canvas of flesh. By contrast, the women who were attached to Amelia's sex were lapping away hungrily, moaning and growling as if they were addicted to the taste of her juices. Sophia clenched her teeth, for she was now feeling the amplified surge of ecstasy traveling through these girls. The pleasure was so intense that it was almost too much to bear.

Lightning flashed again, bringing darkness with it. Sophia's eyes widened as she saw what lay before her. There were so many beautiful, nude women pleasing each other that she couldn't even begin to count them. It was an ocean of flesh, with every kind of female imaginable. Every single woman had her head in someone else's lap. Together they made a tree, with each branch returning to Sophia. It was as if the entire ground were alive and squirming in carnal indulgence.

Sophia panicked as she realized how powerful the sensation would be coming from that many people. She twisted and turned, but could not break free of her invisible prison. Kaylin simply laughed as she eagerly lapped at Sophia's dripping sex. Her tongue ran over Sophia's clitoris again and again, each time at a faster pace. Sophia screamed, but couldn't help that she never wanted it to stop.

All of a sudden, Kaylin stopped and stood up. She stared at Sophia with foreboding green eyes. The forcefulness of Kaylin's gaze made Sophia stop struggling and stare back attentively.

"It's coming," Kaylin breathed quietly to Sophia, although the whisper echoed just as much as Sophia's screams did.

"What's coming?" Sophia asked timidly.

"The darkness that's inside you," Kaylin reached up to caress Sophia's face as she said this. She leaned forward, so that her lips were pressed against Sophia's ear. "Please," she breathed, "let it consume you."

The quiet sounds of two people talking awoke Sophia and she began to slowly open her eyes. As the blurry image of Amelia's face came into focus, Sophia's eyes suddenly shot wide open.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to happen!" She pleaded frantically, not wanting to be the source of another fight.

"Shh, it's alright. It's ok, really." Amelia reassured her as she rested her hand on Sophia's cheek, "I'm way past that kind of jealousy now."

"Oh," Sophia breathed a sigh of relief.

"We were just talking about..." Amelia began, but paused when she saw the alarmed look on Estelle's face. "Estelle, sweetheart...you need to tell her. It's not fair to mislead her."

Sophia looked over at Estelle with uneasiness and asked, "What's wrong, Estelle?"

Estelle gazed at her dark-haired lover's beautiful face and sighed with a heavy resolve. "When you came in earlier, did I seem like I was having a nightmare?"

"Yes," Sophia answered, "I was a little worried cos you felt like you had a fever."

"I didn't...hit you or anything, did I?" Estelle asked hesitantly.

"No. Why, cos you were twitching? Actually, you calmed down when I got into bed with you." Sophia announced with a hint of pride in her voice.

"I did?" Estelle asked, astonished. She looked over at Amelia hopefully, who looked just as surprised as her. "Wow, I can't believe that you had that effect on me. To be perfectly honest...I was afraid to let you move in with us. See, I've been having these nightmares, and sometimes they can get pretty violent."

"Oh. What are the nightmares about?" Sophia asked, now sitting up and listening intently.

"...just...things from the past." Estelle looked away as she said this, obviously not wanting to discuss it.

"Estelle," Amelia interjected, "if this is going to work then we need to trust each other."

Estelle looked up at her lover with troubled eyes. She knew that Amelia was right, but it didn't make saying it out loud any easier. She swallowed hard and let her eyes unfocus as she began to speak. "When I was a little girl, my parents got a divorce. My dad moved far away and I never saw him again. Pretty soon my mom started seeing someone new. This new man moved into our home and tried to replace my dad. I was only six years old, so it's not like I understood what was going on. I just knew that he liked us. He especially liked me. He liked me so much, he...did things to me." A tear began to slide down Estelle's cheek as she said this, but she quickly wiped it away.




Words Made Flesh: Bound



Sophia's heart broke and she reached over to comfort her lover, but she pulled away. "It's alright to cry," Sophia began.

"No, it's not. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would never shed another tear over him," Estelle spat bitterly, "If I cry then it means that I'm letting him hurt me again...and I will NEVER let him hurt me again."

Sophia nodded solemnly. "Thank you Angel, for trusting me enough to tell me. I know it took a lot of courage." Estelle looked over at Sophia's sympathetic expression and pulled her closer. They embraced in silence for a long moment before Amelia joined in and wrapped her arms around both of them.

"So anyway," Estelle spoke nonchalantly, "what's for dinner?"

Amelia smiled at her and said, "breasts."

"Yay!" exclaimed Estelle.

"Chicken breasts."

"Aww."

After Amelia left the room, Estelle turned to Sophia and suggested, "Why don't you go give her a hand? She could probably use your help fondling all those breasts."

"Sure" Sophia said as she groggily looked for her pants on the floor. Then she realized that she still had them on. After taking a moment to roll her eyes at herself, she followed Amelia into the kitchen.

She turned the corner to find Amelia hiding her face in her hands, crying. Alarmed, she began to ask what was wrong. Sophia caught herself in time to realize that Estelle's nightmares probably created a great amount of stress for Amelia. Sophia didn't ask because she knew that Amelia's pride would never allow her to admit it. It occurred to her that it must take a great deal of strength to smile when you feel like crying. Without saying a word, she went over to Amelia and placed her arms around her.

"Oh, Sophie...I can't believe you took away the nightmares," Amelia mumbled into Sophia's neck, "No matter how hard I try, I've never been able to do it." 

It was difficult for Sophia to see her idol in such a fragile state. She was at a loss for words, beginning to fully grasp the seriousness of the matter. How long had these nightmares been happening, she wondered? Sophia felt humbled at the notion that her mere presence had been so comforting to her tormented dreamer.

Amelia lifted her head and looked into Sophia's eyes before pleading, "please don't ever leave. Please, promise that you'll stay with us."

Sophia felt the urgency behind Amelia's words and could only answer, "Ok. I promise."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Fuck!" Sophia cried as the knife pierced her finger. She glared at the knife before setting it down and running her bleeding finger under cold water. After rinsing it off, she pulled it out to see that the bleeding had stopped. However, the lingering pain still provoked her to nurse the finger. She wondered if the juices from the potato she was cutting made it sting more.

"Let me see," Amelia said with a concerned voice as she stopped chopping up the chicken. She took Sophia's finger and turned it over to find the cut. A thin red mark gave evidence to the mishap, but it was no longer bleeding. Amelia brought the finger up to her mouth and suckled it for a moment before kissing it. "There. All better?" 

Sophia smiled sheepishly in return, but did not say anything.

"You know, for as much as we've been through together, you're still awfully shy." Amelia observed.

"Yeah, well..." Sophia's voice trailed off as she considered this notion, "we haven't really been together for very long, have we? I mean, I haven't even finished moving my stuff in."

Amelia pondered this answer. "I suppose that it may take a little while to get used to such a drastic change in lifestyle. How long was it before you went down on Trevor?"

A gasp escaped Sophia's mouth, once again betraying her naivety. "How do you even know I did that kind of thing?" she asked as if she were being judged for a crime. After a moment of silence, however, she added, "Two months."

Amelia could not repress a snicker, "My, but you do like to string them along, don't you?"

"Hey! So not fair!!" Sophia exclaimed as she threw a potato peel at Amelia's forehead. Amelia flinched, but was unable to avoid the wet smack of the starchy vegetable between her eyes.

"Oh, you bitch!" Amelia shook off the peel before lunging at her attacker. Sophia realized too late that she was trapped in the kitchen, and flung her hands about in front of her in a weak attempt to stop Amelia's onslaught. This was not a problem for Amelia, for she simply grabbed the flailing hands and held them at the helpless girl's sides. The red-haired captor took a moment to watch with satisfaction as Sophia struggled to get free. When she observed her dark-haired lover begin to tire, she quickly leaned in to kiss her hard. 

This made Sophia freeze briefly, only to begin squirming again for an entirely different reason. As frustrated as she was at not being able to put her arms around her lover's neck, she was even more aroused at being held down. She could only let Amelia's tongue pry its way between her lips and explore her mouth. Her legs were beginning to quiver and so she leaned back against the counter for support. To her astonishment, Amelia suddenly pulled back and let go of her arms.

Amelia must have noticed her girlfriend's hurt expression, for she explained, "That was just an appetizer. The main course comes later."

"But..." Sophia began to speak with disappointment, "I want you now...not later."

"My dear, dear sweet Sophia," Amelia responded as she smiled sympathetically, "do you have any idea what Estelle would do to us both if we did anything without her? You enjoy life, yes? You do not wish it to end, no?"

Sophia thought about how disheartened her angel had been when she couldn't stick around for a threesome. Those heartbroken puppy-dog eyes could be turned into Sophia's conscience, for the memory of them instantly made her forget about the longing between her legs.

."She's been extremely patient, and now look; she's sick in bed." Amelia lamented.

"Hey," Sophia said seriously as she looked into Amelia's glistening emerald eyes, "it's not your fault. It's not your fault."

Amelia looked away and sighed heavily, "I know...but I just feel so helpless watching her toss and turn at night. God, I wish she would just forget."

"Forget what," inquired a sleepy voice from the living room. Both girls turned to see Estelle wrapped in a blanket, walking slowly towards them.

"What are you doing out of bed, young lady?" Amelia immediately scolded her.

"I feel better. I do"

"No, you don't. You just want to be part of what's going on out here. Now go to bed; you're not missing anything." Amelia insisted.

"Will you relax? I just want some tea to help me sleep." Estelle retorted as she continued to make her way into the kitchen.

Amelia sighed with frustration and began searching through the cupboards for a box of tea. Estelle took this opportunity to sneak over to Sophia and lean against her. "Hey babe, want to see what I got under these covers?" she flirted, while grinning mischievously. 

Despite her angel's messy appearance, Sophia was quite charmed. It seemed that Estelle had the power to turn her dark-haired girlfriend into a spellbound, wanton lover under any circumstances. Sophia leaned forward to press her lips against Estelle's when she felt the abrupt presence of Amelia's hand instead.

"No kisses!"

"Aww!" Estelle whined.

"You want to get your girlfriend sick the first night she moves in?" Amelia asked firmly.

Estelle dropped her head down and pouted without a verbal response.

"Ok then," Amelia continued, "I've got your favorite sleepy time tea right here. Get back in bed and I shall bring it to you." Estelle turned to do as she was told, but was stopped by Amelia, "and one more thing. I love you," she spoke softly as she put an arm around the squishy blanket. Estelle smiled, then continued on her way.

"And as for you..." Amelia shot a disapproving look to Sophia before turning her attention back to the chicken breasts.

"Hey...she's hot!" Sophia said as she shrugged her shoulders. "So anyway, do you know anything about lesbian tantric sex?"

Amelia looked up from the cutting board to reply, "Yes. Estelle and I practice it quite often, actually."

"Really? Well bloody hell; am I the only person who hasn't heard of it?"

"Heard of what?" Estelle asked as she popped her head around the wall.

"Lesbian tantric sex," Sophia repeated.

"Oh sure! Amelia and I practice it all the time!" she said cheerily.

"So I heard," Sophia said under her breath.

"I'm just after the couch pillow," Estelle explained to Amelia, who had her hands on her hips to accentuate her stern expression. With that, Estelle quickly disappeared.

Satisfied that Estelle wasn't returning, Amelia continued the conversation as though it was never interrupted, "what made you ask about that?"

"Oh...someone just brought it up online. I'm doing research for my first book. I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to make it about those things you said...you know, about porn and stuff." Sophia cringed at how poor her language was when explaining the concept to her idol. She supposed it was because Amelia's opinion was so important to her.

"Oh, you mean about how classic erotic literature used to have a political and philosophical agenda?"

"Um...yeah."

"Oh Sophie! I think that's great! I've done lots of studying on sex over the years, you know. Maybe I could help you?"

Sophia became visibly sheepish before asking the next question, "Maybe sometime...you could teach me...about tantra?" She couldn't keep her eyes from avoiding Amelia's as she said this.

"Of course, sweetheart! I'd be honored to become your tantric teacher. Estelle can be my assistant. We'll do it just as soon as she gets better, k?"

Sophia could only nod appreciatively.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Although Sophia was used to having the computer in her bedroom, it certainly felt strange to be on it with someone sleeping only a few feet away. She imagined that it would take a little bit to get used to the lack of privacy. Still, there was no sense in having two of them in the living room, and it was nice to not have to travel to another room in order to check her email in the morning.

Amelia had already gone to work, and Estelle took the day off to recuperate. Since Sophia had another couple of hours before she had to be at school, she decided to check out the Words Made Flesh forum. Recently, her tidbits of literature had developed a few interested followers. Plus, she already had a reputation for asking aggressively detailed questions in her interviews with some of the members. Sophia did not see herself in the same light; she was simply curious, and saw no point in being vague about what she wanted to know.

"Of all the vagina's you've licked, which taste did you find the most pleasant?" she would ask objectively. She had gotten quite used to the stuttering or the pause at the bluntness of her questions. While some of them were quite offended and never spoke to her again, some of them answered very truthfully.

"I was with this one bisexual woman, and she and I had an open relationship. One night she had sex with this guy and then came home to me, and I gave her oral sex. The mix of his and her juices gave her pussy a unique taste that I'd never experienced, before or since. I wish she could have gotten the guy's number, because I would love to taste that again!"

Of course, the questions weren't all explicit; some of them focused on broader subjects. "Would you ever consider bringing a homeless person into your bed? Under what circumstances might you do this?" Predictably, most of the answers that she received were of the firm "no fucking way" persuasion. However, there was one answer that she found worthy of quoting.

"Normally I would never think of doing such a thing, but there was this one girl who looked to be in her late teens. She would sit near the door to my apartment complex and I would pass her every day. What really got me was how, even though she had nothing, it wouldn't stop her from smiling at those who bothered to make eye contact. For awhile, I gave her a little money every time I passed by, always being rewarded with that hopeful, innocent smile. She was just so unlike any other homeless person I had ever seen. Well, one night I just invited her up to my place to join me for dinner. I wanted to give her a warm meal and a place to sleep. I honestly intended for her to sleep on the couch. We started talking, and, as they say, one thing led to another. When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. I never saw her again. I still think about her sometimes."

As was normal these days, Sophia found half a dozen private messages waiting in her inbox when she signed on. Most of them were continuations of correspondences. There was one that was from someone whom she'd never heard of.

"Your insatiable spirit," read the title of the message. Curious, Sophia read on.

"First of all, let me introduce myself. I'm Alessa, a 31/F who is considered by many to be Dominant. I say that so you will understand more about who I am, but you should understand that I am not fond of labels. I have a strong personality and I know what I want.

I have been keeping tabs on your posts for some time now, Sophia. Of the hundreds of other members on WMF, you stand out. I find the passion of your curiosity to reach heights well beyond the other members. Quite frankly, such a strong drive behind a search for knowledge is a very rare thing to find these days.

Sophia, I would like to offer my experiences to your cause. I realize that this may be a bit forward, but I feel that I have much to share with you. A request for an interview is something that I imagine you get all the time. So, to increase my chances of standing out, I'd like to show you a sample video of what I do. I have more, if you decide that you're interested.

Looking forward to your reply,

Alessa"

Sophia had to read the message over a couple of times in order to discern how she felt about it. On the one hand, it was indeed quite forward and even arrogant. On the other, the confidence behind this person's words caused Sophia to believe that she knew what she was talking about. She decided to download and watch the video.

The animated moaning made Sophia flinch, as she forgot to turn down the volume from before. She quickly turned down the volume and turned to see if the noise had awoken Estelle. Her sleeping beauty stirred slightly, but remained a visitor of dreamland.

Satisfied, Sophia settled in to watch the video. She was instantly transfixed at what played out before her eyes, for she had never seen anything quite like it. The lighting was dark, but she could make out a young, naked brunette with a slender body in the middle of the screen. The woman was tied to some kind of mesh fence that appeared to be made out of wood. Both of her arms and legs were attached to the fence awkwardly with a thick rope, making her look like a rag doll. Her mouth was covered with black tape, but Sophia could still hear her cries. At first she thought that they were cries of anguish, as it certainly looked as though she was being tortured. However, upon closer attention, Sophia realized that there was another woman below the first one. She was pushing a long vibrator up inside of the woman who was tied up. This woman was a little larger than the first, and had jet black hair, just like Sophia's. Those were not the cries of a non-consenting victim; they were the sounds of a woman at the peak of her submissive fantasy.

Before long, Sophia found herself incredibly turned on by the video. She subconsciously reached up to squeeze a nipple through her shirt as the brunette twisted and turned as much as the ropes would allow her to. The dark-haired woman drove her tongue into the other's sex, appearing to compete for space inside her vagina. Sophia began to rub the palm of her hand on her crotch to ease the burning of her desire. However, instead of smoldering it, she felt like she was feeding the flames.

Timidly, Sophia glanced over at the bed behind her to make sure that Estelle was still asleep. She then slipped her hand underneath her pajama bottoms and began circling her clit with two fingers. Her eyes never left the monitor, for the video was the single source of her arousal. She projected herself onto the brunette woman and imagined what it must be like to be suspended by ropes. Sophia's fingers became the woman's tongue as she stuck them inside of her to gather more juices for her swelling bud.

The video started over automatically, giving Sophia the chance to further burn her favorite images of the scene into her mind. It wasn't long before she began to cum, biting her lip so that she wouldn't make any sound that might wake Estelle up. Although she longed to close her eyes and dip her head back, the desire to watch this woman getting pleasured was stronger, and Sophia looked into the eyes of the submissive brunette as she came.

"Damn, now that was hot! Do it again!" She heard in a voice that was clearly not Estelle's. Suddenly Kaylin's head rose from behind the monitor, smiling approvingly at Sophia. "Now you know what you like." Sophia looked back at the screen, trying to ignore the dark side of her conscience. When she looked up again, Kaylin was gone. She exited out of the video and slumped forward, staring mindlessly at the inactive screen.

"Is everything alright, baby?" Estelle's sleepy voice could barely be heard across the room. Sophia turned around to see her girlfriend lifting her head to look at her. "You're staring at nothing. Are you ok?" Estelle asked again.

"Yeah," Sophia nodded absently, "I just...have to get ready for school."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired is all," Sophia said indifferently. She didn't bother to notice Estelle looking at her with concern as she quickly got up and walked out of the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Amelia had decided to come home for lunch to check up on Estelle. To her surprise, she immediately noticed the sound of music coming from the bedroom when she walked through the front door. Her first instinct was to scold Estelle for not resting, but she knew that this was coming from her own sense of over-protectiveness. Amelia then made a conscious decision to let Estelle be the one to decide whether she was feeling better. She opened the bedroom door to find her girlfriend sitting up in bed playing one of her portable video game devices.

"Hey babe! What are you doing here?" the pajama-clad brunette said through a grin when she looked up.

"I just wanted to drop by while I'm on break to check up on you."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you. I woke up feeling better a couple of hours ago. Got a good night's sleep last night," Estelle winked at her lover as she said this.

"I'll bet you did," Amelia replied, "have any special dreams?" The red-head frowned at herself as soon as she said this. She had meant it in a sexy manner, of course, but it may have come off as rude in light of Estelle's recent string of nightmares.

"You know, I can't remember a single dream," Estelle remembered fondly, "all I remember is being snuggled on either side by you and Sophia, both your arms around me like the world's coziest blanket." She looked up at the ceiling and sighed happily. "I love having her here with us. She did seem a little out of it this morning though. I hope I'm not making her get sick," Estelle wondered aloud.

"I think she's just having a little trouble adjusting is all," Amelia assured her lover as she sat on the bed. She was unable to resist holding her palm up to Estelle's forehead. It was only slightly warmer than normal, which pleased her greatly. "What's your temperature?" She asked hopefully.