Après Ski

by K T Morrison

  Eyes on the sexy photo of his wife on his phone’s screen, he asked her: “How about you? You get enough last night?”

  She let out a satisfied groan and hugged the pillow tighter. “Yes,” she said tentatively. Then looking in his eyes, a little more relaxed, she said, “I did.”

  Thumbs tapping on the screen, he said, “You liked it?”

  Face more serious, she said, “What do you want to hear?”

  Done with his phone, he laid it on his chest and looked at her warmly. “That you loved it. That it was hot, and you liked me watching. You liked waking up alone next to me. And you liked being covered in their filth. But I really just want the truth.”

  She chuckled sweetly, climbed up to cling herself to him, nuzzling her face in his shoulder. “You’ve been pretty truthful with me.”

  “I always have.”

  “Okay. I loved it, Cam. I loved all their hands on me, kissing me. I loved being a dirty object to them.”

  “You’re more than that.”

  “That’s why I like it,” she said slyly. “I loved getting fucked, I loved sucking them. I loved their cocks. I loved Ryan’s size.”

  “He really buried it in you.”

  She exhaled shakily, rolling her eyes, recalling the deep dirty pleasure he’d delivered to her. “That was incredible,” she whispered.

  He prompted her: “And you liked waking up with me, covered in other men’s semen.”

  “Oh, I love it, Cam. Don’t you?” she laughed, then climbed higher and squirmed her dirty naked body against his. “That what you want? Want to hear I’m a dirty slut?”

  “You’re no slut,” he said seriously.

  “You can call me one,” she said softly. “Sometimes.”

  “When the time’s right?”

  She nodded, still wriggling against him, looking in his eyes.

  “Look at this dirty slut,” he said now and tilted his phone so she could see it, eyes watching her face comprehend what she saw. The picture of her he’d just taken was posted to their company Instagram. Amberly looking sweet but tired, laying face down in bed with her head on a pillow, a Stroud jacket over her shoulders. Underneath it, he’d written: three days nonstop skiing, eight hour session yesterday, dancing all night in Telluride—Amberly’s gonna sleep in today, cozy in her Kestrel fleece. It probably already had 20 hearts.

  He watched her face still, saw her get mad, saw her face relax, saw her rationalize, rectify, squint to see if semen was visible. It was kind of, but no one would know. No one would know they were looking at a good girl gone bad; a wife who had been fucked by four men just before the picture was taken.

  “I’m so mad at you, Cam,” she whispered. “I want to rip your face off.” She climbed over top of him, lay her warm, dirty body on top of his and kissed him. His hands went up and down her hips and ribs, and she wiggled low, parted her legs until the tip of his penis poked into her hot, wet core.

  “You slut,” he whispered to her.

  A moan escaped her as she sunk her pelvis on him and his steel rod slid up inside her with wet ease. “Careful,” she warned him.

  Their fingers wove together, and she sat upright on him. He said, “You fuck me. Ride me.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed, looking in his eyes and stirring her hips.

  “Ryan came inside you,” he said.

  “That was such a mistake.”

  “It was hot,” he told her.

  “I never should’ve let him … do that.”

  “No.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  His own hips gyrated opposite hers, and being inside her like this, talking dirty, was endless, cottony heaven. “No. We didn’t know what we were doing. It happened so fast.”

  “I wanted it,” she confided, leaning lower, grinding harder.

  “You did?” he said with a slight gasp.

  “I know better,” she whined. “I feel like a dumb teenager.”

  “You get pregnant, they’re going to kick you out of high school, Amberly.”

  She laughed and moaned, squeezing him with her thighs and rocking. “What am I going to tell my mother?”

  “All the other mothers are going to talk behind her back about what a slut her daughter is.”

  “Oh fuck, Cam,” she blubbered in his ear, collapsing on his chest. “Come inside me, okay? Come inside me.”

  “Ah, I’m coming, Amberly, I’m coming,” he grunted, feeling his balls riding high.

  She whispered, “You’re not going to get anywhere near deep as my big dick lover, but do your best.”

  He yanked her back by her hair and erupted inside her explosively, watching her laughing face through hazy twinkling stars.

  IN THE SHOWER, she waved a wand shooting scorching hot jets of water over her dirtiest parts. Four men had their way with her and she was okay with that. How did it come to this? She never imagined she could be this kind of girl. Turned out she was. Even now in the light of day, the events of last night stoked an intense little fire in her tummy. They’d come in her mouth, her anus, and one well-hung handsome stranger even let it go up inside her. That was a mistake. A mistake for sure. But it was so incredibly hot. Maybe she should go back on the pill—then again, they were looking to get pregnant. That might be postponed until they sorted out this new and startling development in their love lives. Fortunately, the timing was actually pretty good. It was a pretty good time in her cycle to have a stranger ejaculate inside her—it was hard to believe this was a thought out of her own mind; what would her sister think of sweet, conscientious Amberly now? Becca would die if she knew what happened. The potential shame though only heightened her excitement, and she felt her cheeks take heat even under the onslaught of her cleansing hot water shower.

  When she came out of the bathroom in her fuzzy robe with a white towel wrapping her hair and piled on her head, she heard Cam talking to someone in the suite. Their bags were open on the bed and he’d been packing. She crept to the door, a small worry about what her dirty-minded husband had planned now. The door to the suite closed, and she saw her husband surveying the platters atop a room service cart.

  “Want some breakfast?” he asked, catching her spying on him, smiling and holding the lid of a serving dish, steam rising. The smell of bacon hit her.

  “I do,” she said.

  “All keto,” he said. “Bacon, eggs, salmon, avocado, coffee with butter. Waffles and maple syrup for me. Unless my sexy little fuck machine wants some carbs in her gas tank …?”

  “I might have a bite of yours,” she said, padding over to him. She stood at his side and held his hand. “You’re packing up our things.”

  “I don’t want to be in this room anymore. I want to go home.”

  An uncomfortable worry squirmed through her. “You don’t have … regrets, do you?”

  “No, Amberly,” he said, looking to her. “I just want to be home. I want to see Vinnie. I want to curl up on our couch. Run our trails.”

  “You don’t want to run into those guys.”

  “No,” he admitted. “I’m fine. No regrets. I just really want to go home.”

  “Did you already check out?”

  He nodded.

  “I want to go home, too,” she said. “Let’s eat, baby. Then we’ll go home.”

  IT WAS in the busy lobby of the hotel, Cam standing right next to her, when she got the text from Ryan. Under the massive iron chandelier that hung high overhead in the glossy log and glass A-frame, they stood waiting for the taxi that would take them to the airport where Cam had booked them an emergency flight home to Seattle. Couldn’t get first class, but business was just fine for two ex-ski bums aching to be home with their dog. A ding from her purse had her retrieving her phone and waking it without even looking while people went past them with skis.

  Ryan: turn around, sexy

  At first she wondered who Ryan was, then it occurred to her—she only knew one. How did he have her number?

  Phone pressed to her chest,
hiding from it like he could watch her through its screen, she stayed where she stood and moved her head on a swivel. The lobby was mid-morning busy with people coming out of the restaurant after breakfast, people checking out and in, and skiers looking to head out to the lift. She could see into the restaurant, and out the windows to the bright, snowy day beyond—that would have been great for skiing if she and Cam didn’t need to get the heck out of town before they found a reminder of the glorious sin they committed. Now that sin had found her through her very own phone.

  “Cam,” she whispered and nudged him with an elbow. As he looked to her, she tilted her phone so he could read it, tugging down on the bill of her Stroud baseball cap, hiding her face and peering around like a spy.

  “What?” he asked her, standing straight again and giving her a puzzled look.

  “How does he have my number?”

  “I gave it to him.”

  “You gave it to him?”

  “Yeah,” he said, not seeing the concern.

  “When?”

  “This morning. Before they all left. All the guys.”

  “You gave all those guys my number?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you want to stay in touch?”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Business. Sasha invited us to Manhattan. For Stroud.”

  “But Cam … Ryan’s not … He’s a lawyer.”

  “You don’t need to stay in touch with him for business.”

  She couldn’t help a smirk. “For what then?”

  “Whatever you need,” he said and bumped her shoulder with his own.

  “Cam …” she said, frowning but smiling, struggling to comprehend his meaning—though she knew what he was saying. Struggling to rectify it then. “Are you serious?”

  “Or not. It’s up to you. You can do no wrong.” Then thinking for a second, clarifying: “If I’m there, you can do no wrong.”

  “That’s wild, Cam,” she said, smiling, narrowing her eyes and studying him for cracks. “You sure about that?”

  He shrugged and nodded.

  Now she turned right around, eyeballing the crowd for one handsome face in particular. He wasn’t that hard to find. Tall, tanned, wavy blonde hair; his hot looks made him stand out from the crowd in the busy lounge, sitting by the thirty-foot tall river rock fireplace in an oxblood leather lounge chair. He was enjoying a coffee and talking with another young good-looking guy she didn’t recognize. He raised his coffee cup to her, and she nodded, tried not to burst out in the giggles, held a cool smile for him for the appropriate number of beats and turned back to face outside with Cam. Her phone dinged again.

  Ryan: I’m in Seattle the 12th next month we should get some drinks, go dancing

  She studied his words. Texted,

  Amberly: can’t wait. Give me a call

  She showed her husband the unsent text, looking at him hopefully. He pressed send for her then leaned in kissed the top of her ear.

  IN THE CAB on their way to the airport, he watched the side of his beautiful wife’s face. Last night had been incredible. He’d seen her in ways he never imagined, ways no man ever gets to see his wife. They’d seemed to come through it just fine, and for that he was thankful.

  It had existed in his mind like a canker for eight months. He wanted her to have messed around in California. He did, but he didn’t. Found out last night that she didn’t ... but wanted to. It was the best outcome.

  Then they blew the top off his secret fantasy and he watched her do the dirtiest things with multiple men. In the aftermath, the night’s activities had left him charged up, more in love with her—and most surprisingly and yet most importantly, closer to her than ever.

  She was on her phone again, the two of them in the cab’s backseat, driving the 145 to Telluride Regional, Amberly’s beautiful face turned down, her ball cap pulled low, long brown hair touching her shoulders. She was smiling, reading, tapping on the keypad, smiling again.

  “What’s got you so happy?” he asked her.

  “Oh, sending out some feelers,” she said slyly.

  “Feelers?”

  “You like to watch?” she said, raising an eyebrow for him.

  His stomach condensed. This had been his thing; for eight months this had been his dark fantasy and the idea that it was out in the open, fulfilled, and maybe, just possibly, shared by his lovely Amberly was at once wild and frightening. “I do,” he said. “Why?”

  She wagged her phone to him, showing him the screen where she’d been texting with someone. “You want me to watch me take some photos of Cassidy?”

  All last night he’d felt on top of this fantasy, like he held the reins and while the horses had his carriage bouncing and rocking, he controlled where it was going. Now he wasn’t sure. But he knew he liked it. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we’ll go out in nature, take some new product. Maybe you’d like to be behind the camera.”

  “I’d like that a lot,” he said, seeing her eyes narrow on him, studying how much he enjoyed her badness.

  “I’ve made some changes since the last time I saw him.”

  “You have,” he agreed. “Lots. You should be in front of the camera now.”

  “I should,” she agreed. “Sometimes.”

  “You want him to see the new you?”

  “I want him to see every bit of the new me.”

  “And touch it?”

  “We’ll see where it goes,” she said, teasingly, reminding him she could be in charge when she wanted.

  “What if I say no?”

  “I doubt you will,” she said, eyebrows high, regarding her phone. “He’s available next weekend, and I already booked him a flight. He’s going to stay with us. He’s pretty stoked.”

  He let out a slow exhale of disbelief and preparation. “I’m pretty stoked too,” he admitted, getting some pictures in his head already.

  “Yeah, I’m stoked as well,” she said.

  Now he nudged her thigh with his hand to get her attention. “How many boy toys do you need?”

  “How many do you want me to have?”

  He smiled. “I’ll let you know when it’s too many.”

  She looked in his eyes and she smiled warmly, his sweet Amberly back again. She said, “I’ll listen.”

  He kissed her cheek.

  Then she winked, said, “But I’m probably always keeping Ryan.”

  AFTERWORD

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