by Ben Boswell
“Well, it has certainly spiced up our sex life,” she said with a grin.
“Did it need spicing?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. I think you have to admit that whatever has changed between us is mostly you, right?”
“Is it?”
“I think so. Seeing you so charged up definitely works for me too. You haven’t looked at me that way in years.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”
She shook her head. “No, no, I don’t mean it that way. I mean, its just we’ve been together for a long time now. We have kids. You don’t have that same hunger for me, or least didn’t until recently. I mean, I wouldn’t expect you to. And it’s not just you. I mean, I haven’t seen myself that way either. I’ve been in mommy mode for a while. Wearing flannel PJs to bed, rather than this,” she said waving her hand over her nude body.
“So this is a good thing?” I asked a little uncertain.
“I don’t know. Why were you asking about being in touch with Chucky?”
“It... I don’t know.”
She regarded me skeptically.
“I really don’t.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve thought about asking, though, is it?”
I didn’t answer. She could see my response in my eyes.
“So, how did you imagine the conversation going?” she prompted.
“I guess...I guess, when I’ve thought about it, I imagined you, like first blushing, like you’d been caught in something. And then slowly I pull it out of you. How you and Chucky, I dunno, maybe exchange Facebook messages sometimes, or maybe some flirty texts.”
“And that’s all? Just the occasional electronic communication?”
I nodded.
She stared at me doubtfully.
“Okay,” she continued slowly, “and how do you react? Do you get angry? Do you punish me? Does this turn into a spanking thing?” She grinned at me.
“No, nothing like that. It never...I’ve never played it out that far. You just admit it...and then I get jealous...”
“And aroused?”
I nodded.
“So if I admitted to you that I did sometimes still talk to Chucky, it would turn you on?”
“Do you?” I replied, jumping out of my metaphorical socks.
“Maybe,” she replied. “Facebook does make it so easy to keep in touch with people, doesn’t it?”
“Terri, are you just saying this to...?”
“Chucky was very disappointed when I stopped seeing him. He always reminds me that I can always come by for a visit.”
“So you do talk to him?”
She smiled slightly. “I mean, it’s all in good fun. Aren’t there any old girlfriends in your friends list? You don’t keep up with Melanie at all?”
“No,” I replied hoarsely.
She clucked sadly. “Oh, that’s too bad. It really is an ego boost. He loved those pictures you posted of us in Florida last year. We thought the kids looked so cute with that sand castle, but Chucky only seemed to notice that bikini I was wearing. You know, the white one?”
I swallowed hard. She’d looked so hot. It really was too skimpy. She’d worn a wrap most of the time, but I’d gotten this one unguarded picture of her laughing at the kids trying to defend their castle from the tide. I’d posted it on Facebook, with a caption about the kids, but I was showing her off as well.
“He said he’d like me to model it for him. And take it off for him.”
“Did he?”
She reached down and stroked my hard cock. She raised an eyebrow, and threw her leg over me. Without another word, she guided my prick to her pussy and firmly impaled herself on me.
“Uh huh,” she replied with a wicked grin.
She rode me enthusiastically. I crunched upward and kissed her breasts, and she adjusted herself so that as she rose and fell, her hard nipple trailed over my lips. I flicked my tongue against her nipple as she moaned softly.
I put my hands on her hips and urged her on, faster, harder. She threw her head back and climaxed with a lusty growl, and I immediately exploded into her still-pulsing pussy.
Sixty seconds, at most, from start to finish, but we were both slick with sweat and gasping.
As I caught my breath, my head cleared.
“So, you don’t really keep in touch with Chucky, do you?”
She looked up at me. “No....” She paused, smiled, her body hot against mine, hard and soft in all the right places. “No...but I could.”
--------
“Chucky Doyle. Commercial architect. I’m pretty sure a Google search would give me all I need,” Terri said.
We’d showered, gotten into PJs, and were now back in bed together when I’d asked her how she’d get in touch with him.
“Would you? I mean, have you thought of it?”
She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not? I mean, I don’t want you to. Not really. But what would be the big deal?”
“I told you, Chucky and I were never really, you know, friends. We didn’t really keep in touch when we were seeing each other. If I pinged him now, he’d think I just wanted to hook up again.”
“So? I mean, I don’t want you to hook up with him, but what’s wrong with a little flirting?”
“Bill, this is fun and all, but I’m not going to lead another guy on. That’s just not fair bringing another person into this if it is just a game between us.”
“What if it wasn’t a game? I mean, I don’t want you to, but what would you want?”
“I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean... listen to yourself, Bill. I don’t think I ever heard so much minimizing and distancing from you in ten years.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “You want me to commit to hypotheticals, but you can’t even come out and say what you’re feeling.”
“I know. It’s...it’s hard.”
She shook her head. “Men are strange creatures. I know everyone says women are complicated, but you boys are so used to suppressing your emotions that you don’t know how to deal with anything out of the ordinary.”
I laughed. “Right, because women always respond calmly and analytically to emotional turmoil.”
“Well, I think I’m the calm one here.”
“Oh please, Terri. Stop putting this all on me. Yeah, I have something going on I can’t quite figure, but it’s not all me. You’re enjoying this too much, and it’s not just that you like seeing me turned on.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you know you’re getting a kick out of, I dunno, waving it in front of me.”
“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”
“And you’re the one who keep answering in rich and explicit details.”
She opened her mouth as if to reply. But then she hesitated. She looked at me pensively. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
She laughed and I joined her. “We’re quite the kinky matched set, aren’t we? I seem to like showing off, and you seem to like hearing about it.”
“Emotional exhibitionist and voyeur,” I suggested.
“Or sadist and masochist,” she retorted.
“Okay, so...”
She put her hand up. “No, let’s stop there. It’s late.” She pointed at the clock showing 2:39am. “The kids will be up soon, and anyway, we should probably sleep on it before we say anything more.”
I nodded. She was right. We were dancing too close to emotional fires for comfort. I cuddled her close, and we both pretended to sleep, though it was pretty obvious we were both awake for a long time, trying to process the past few weeks, and working out the implications for the future.
--------
Was I a voyeur? Worse, a masochist? That didn’t feel right. I didn’t like the pain, and I’d never spied on Terri, or anyone else. Sure, I liked looking at pretty girls. And like everyone else, I enjoy porn on occasion. But that’s far cry from being a voyeur.
&n
bsp; But there was a weird grain of truth to it. The white bikini, what was that all about? Why had I uploaded that picture, and why had I encouraged her to wear it even though I knew it was too much—or too little, whatever. And there was that night at O’Toole’s.
Watching the Bears game. Terri in her Brian Urlacher jersey and painted on jeans. I’d gone to bathroom and inside were three young guys talking about the blond #54, describing what they wanted to do her in lurid detail. I remember thinking I probably should say something, defend her honor. Instead, I just tried to focus on pissing despite a growing erection. Sure it was a turn on. I mean, they were saying how hot my woman was. Just pride, right? Or had it turned me on to think about them taking her, using her like a dirty, submissive whore?
The idea of Terri cheating on me, having sex with another man, was devastating. It left a painful pit in my stomach to just think about it. And yet, I was somehow turned on by the notion that other men wanted to fuck her. And worse, I had to admit that when I thought of her and Chucky being in touch, the balance of pain and excitement was hard to disentangle.
If she spoke to him, would I be angry or aroused? And what if they did more than speak? I realized I was rubbing my crotch. I was hard again. At least that part of me knew the answer, or part of it.
I Googled “Chucky Doyle.” She was right. He was easy to find. Handsome bastard. Work phone and email both easily accessible. Had she already known that when she said it? Of course she had, I thought. I rubbed myself harder, and before I knew it, I was coming hard, filling my shorts.
-----------
“We need to talk,” I said as we climbed into bed.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m already naked, babe.”
“I know, I know, but it’s not that. Well. It is that, but I need to talk.”
She laughed. “Jeez, when did you turn into the chick in this relationship?”
I shook my head. “No, don’t,” I replied. Don’t call my masculinity into question, I thought. “This is weird enough.”
She nodded, understanding.
“So, did you Google him?” she asked.
“How’d you...”
“Google auto completed it when I...”
“I was just curious, you know...” I stammered defensive. Then it struck me, “Wait, what were you searching?”
She gave me a knowing smile.
“Guilty,” she replied.
“So why were you looking him up?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I swear I haven’t in years, but...”
“How many years?”
“Oh, I dunno, lots. At least since we’ve had the kids. But yeah, when we were first together, I did look him up once in a while. It was, I guess, like a safety blanket as we were getting more serious. Like knowing I had a port in a storm, or something.”
“More like a bed in the night.”
She smiled. “Okay. But are we talking about the last decade or last night right now?”
“Last night.”
“Okay, well, last night I’m going to have to blame you. You put the thought in my head by asking if I was still in touch. And I will remind you that you’d looked him up first.”
I realized my heart was pounding . I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.
“So,” I began slowly, “so, last night both of us spent time on the computer trying to track down your old boyfriend.”
“Not really a boyfriend, but...”
“Right, your old lover.”
“I think the term we’d settled on was fuck buddy,” she replied with that same amused grin.
I shook my head to clear away the fog that was rapidly clouding my mind.
“And I presume we both found him?”
She nodded.
“So now what?” I asked.
“Now nothing,” she replied. “I told you, I’m not going to lead him on.”
“What are you saying? That if you ever ran into Chucky again you’d feel obliged to have sex with him?”
She gave me a quizzical look. “Running into him randomly is not the same thing as deliberately getting in touch.”
I was an autopilot, speaking before even processing what I was saying. “It could be. What if, you know, what if you just happened to be at a bar where he was for a happy hour or something?”
“Well, that would be random, wouldn’t it?” A look of understanding crossed her face. “Oh God, Bill, that’s crazy. What? We’d stake out his office and follow him somewhere?”
I hadn’t actually thought it through that clearly. But now that she’d said it, it seemed to make a lot of sense. I warmed to the idea quickly.
“Sure? Why not? Aren’t you curious what he’s up to? Whether he’s married? Has kids? Is still a player?”
“So, what? We’d follow him into a bar and just be all, like, wow Chucky is that you, long time no see?”
“Well, you would at least.”
“Oh, not the two of us?”
“Well, it just seems. I mean, you know, if I’m there, it’ll be all awkward.”
She laughed. “Oh right, because it won’t be awkward otherwise.”
“Well, less so at least. Just two old friends running into each other at random.”
“And then what?”
“I dunno. I really don’t. I mean, maybe you just say hi and go your own way, or maybe you have a drink and catch up.”
“So, let me get this perfectly straight. You want me, your wife, the mother of your children, to follow her old…” She paused. “Her old fuck-buddy into a bar and have a drink with him while he chats her up?”
“You wouldn’t be leading him on. And you wouldn’t need to do anything more.”
She grinned. “I dunno. I told you, Chucky can be very persuasive. I always did have a hard time saying no to him. What if he invites me up to his place?”
My heart was in my throat, but my cock was also throbbing almost painfully.
“You wouldn’t need to go. It would just be something for us. Just a little game. He doesn’t need to know. You wouldn’t be leading him on.”
“You’re crazy,” she replied. But all I noticed was that she hadn’t said no.
CHAPTER 6:
EXPECTATIONS
It was a harebrained scheme, and yet all the pieces came together seamlessly. His downtown office was close to the “L” and Terri noted that he used to live in Wrigleyville, so we assumed he either walked or took the train to work. All we need to do was stakeout the main entrance of his office.
We picked a Friday and arranged to have the kids spend the weekend with my folks. I picked up Terri early. She was dressed to impress, wearing that same clingy party dress from her birthday. If the plan to ambush Chucky failed, we agreed to go out to dinner instead.
We set up shop at Starbucks across from his office. Starting a little before five, his building started to empty out, and I was sure we’d never spot him in the crowd. But after just a few minutes, Terri gasped.
“Oh my God, there he is.” She pointed at a tall, slim, dark haired man exiting the building and heading north on La Salle.
“I’ll call if he goes somewhere close by,” I replied, dashing off after him.
It wasn’t a long chase. A block and a half away, he ducked into a bar with a large happy hour crowd. It was a trendy place. Lots of nice suits, girls who’d obviously “freshened up” before heading over. A meat market, but classy or at least expensive.
I texted Terri with the bar’s name.
Are you sure? she texted back. She was asking about the scheme, not the address.
It’ll be fun, I replied.
You’re crazy, she answered.
Chucky was at the bar, part of a small group of well-dressed men and women. Obviously a regular crew. They were laughing and trading shots. He seemed to be the elder statesman of the group, but definitely one of the guys.
I had managed to snag a small high top against the wall. I had a good view of the bar, although freque
ntly interrupted as people crossed in front of me heading to and from the dining room.
I waited anxiously for Terri. I was about to text her, asking if she was backing out, but when I looked up from my phone I saw her. She approached Chucky and gave him an exaggerated reaction.
Oh my God, Chucky, is that you?
Terri, baby, let me buy you a drink.
I couldn’t hear their conversation, of course, but that was the body language.
Chucky seemed to introduce her to his friends, but as I’d expected, dreaded, fantasized, he quickly pulled her aside and ensconced her on a bar stool as he hovered close over her.
I could feel the intimacy between them. At least I thought I could. At the very least, it was obvious they were comfortable with each other. They were huddled together. Was that just to be heard over the noise of the bar? She was smiling, laughing. Was that an act, just part of the game?
To me, though, they looked like an item, like lovers sharing some time together in public. As she laughed, she casually touched his forearm. He rested his hand easily on the back of her chair, his thumb caressing her back. She flicked the hair from her eyes. He bought another round of drinks and made a toast. She giggled at him. I could feel the jealousy coursing through my veins, and yet seeing her with him was undeniably erotic.
I looked closer. They were leaning in, talking softly. His hand... his hand was now on her bare thigh. Was she wearing underwear? Somehow I knew she wasn’t. His fingertips were just inches from her naked pussy. Her hand was on his shoulder. Another drink. Another toast. She was glowing. He was looking at her, hungry.
A large group filtered past me, moving painfully slowly. They were leading an elderly couple, probably regretting having chosen a happy hour night spot for their early dinner with grandma and grandpa.
When they finally moved into the dining room, I looked back at the bar. The stools where Terri and Chucky had been were empty and quickly filled with other patrons. I couldn’t see them.
And then it hit me like a shot. The bathroom. He’d offered. She’d accepted. She could never say no to him. She was bent over the sink right now, her dress rolled up over her ass. He was hammering her from behind.
I took a hurried step toward the restrooms. And then I saw them. They’d stepped back away from the bar. They had their phones out, exchanging numbers from the looks of it. He turned back toward his friends. I caught Terri’s eyes and nodded toward the door, asking if it was time to leave. She shook her head and glanced down at her phone. I pulled out my own phone just as her text arrived.
