Two Sides of Terri

by Ben Boswell

  I nodded. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  She nodded as well. Then as I watched in shock, she reached under her dress and pulled off her panties. She held them out in front of me.

  “I won’t be needing these,” she said as she dropped them in my lap.

  She grinned at my open-mouthed look of surprise. Then when I didn’t say anything, she turned and with a sexy swivel in her hips walked to the front door. She grabbed the car keys and was gone.

  --------

  There was no ambiguity about it this time, no possibility of denial about what was happening. She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t teasing. His apartment was less than fifteen minutes away, and once that quarter hour elapsed, I knew they were having sex. She’d even helpfully demonstrated to me how she intended to begin it.

  I wasn’t hard, but my cock felt oddly sensitive, any stimulus—from the fabric of my boxers to my hand brushing my crotch—was enough to give me shivers. I had her panties in my hand, fingering them, squeezing them into a ball. Twice I put them down, only to pick them back up obsessively moments later.

  --------

  I was in the bedroom, frantically flipping through TV channels. I couldn’t focus on anything, not TV, but also not even my feelings about Terri being with another man...again. It was like a bout of ADD on steroids.

  And then she was back. I heard the door open. It had been 112 minutes since she’d left. Fifteen minutes each way. They’d had 82 minutes together. Had they fucked twice, or three times? More?

  She came right up and closed the bedroom door behind her. Her dress seemed even more flimsy than before—just a sheer sheet of fabric covering her naked body. She was grinning, face flushed, hair roughly combed, by her fingers from the look of it.

  “Did you have fun?” I couldn’t keep a sneer out of my voice.

  She smirked. “Mmmm, yes. It was less awkward. More like old times.”

  “So he made you come more than once?”

  She nodded and approached me, a little spring in her step. She stood beside the bed and lifted her dress above her head, exposing her naked body. Her alabaster skin showed the marks of his rough handling, and she twisted this way and that as if showing off to me, letting me see the redness on her ass, the puffiness of her nipples, and what seemed to be a bite mark on her belly.

  “Am I going to need to wash those in extra hot?” she said, glancing at her panties, balled up in my hand.

  “What? I...” Then I realized what she meant. She wanted to know if I’d jerked off into them while she was away. “No, I was waiting for you.”

  She crawled up onto the bed and reached into my lap. “Mmmm, I can see that,” she cooed.

  She rolled onto her back and pulled me on top of her. “I don’t need any foreplay,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m still wet from him.”

  “You’re a whore,” I growled. I didn’t mean it. It just came out.

  “No,” she replied, reaching between us and pulling my cock from my boxer. “A whore washes up between tricks.”

  I plunged inside her. She was soaked, her pussy loose, puffy, and very hot.

  “Sloppy seconds...well, technically, thirds since he came inside me twice.”

  I grunted and fucked her harder, the lack of friction being the only thing that kept me from coming right away.

  “Tell me,” I ordered.

  “He was extra eager, fervent even. He barely let me get inside his apartment. He spun me around and shoved me against his heavy door. He lifted up my dress and went down on me from behind.” She moaned softly. “Oh God, baby, you’re fucking me so hard, I can barely think.”

  She was right. I was almost frantic. I slowed down a little.

  “Mmmm, that’s better,” she sighed. “Where was I?”

  “He was eating you out from behind.”

  She smiled. “Hanging on every word, eh?” But before I could answer, she continued, “Mmmm, yeah. He’s a dirty boy. He licked me all over. All over.”

  “Oh God,” I groaned as the image hit me. Had she reached behind, spreading her cheeks so he could more easily tongue her rosebud? I’d never done that for her, never imagined she’d like it, but also never really been tempted either.

  “Do you like that, um, sort of thing?” I asked a little defensively.

  “It was hot,” she admitted.

  “And did it stop with that?”

  She shook her head. “Ummm, no. He stood up and took me from behind.”

  “You mean?” Had she given him her butt?

  “No, not that. Not yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Wait,” she replied. “You’re getting ahead of things.”

  “Okay, okay, just tell me what happened,” I gasped.

  “We had sex. He was behind me. Thrusting hard. Almost lifting me off the ground.”

  I was thrusting harder now as well, her pussy so wet with her excitement and his come that it squished with each stroke.

  “He was playing with my butt. Squeezing it hard. Spanking me. He slid his thumb between my cheeks and...” She paused. “I can’t think when you’re going that hard.”

  I was again hammering her frenziedly. I forced myself to breathe and slowed down again, trying to focus on the feel of her pussy, velvety and wet.

  “Mmmm, that’s nice.”

  I slowly stroked my cock into her sloppy pussy. Anyone watching us would see nothing out of the ordinary. Just a man and his wife making love conventionally, a boring missionary screw. But my mind was reeling, not just from what she’d already told me, but from what I imagined was coming next.

  She’d started talking again, and I picked it up mid sentence. “...I asked him not to, but I guess I wasn’t that convincing...”

  “What? What did he do?” I groaned.

  “His thumb...in my butt.”

  “Oh God,” I gasped. “Was that your first time?”

  She nodded. “Hmmm, yeah. He’s always been more into that sort of thing than you. Tickling me back there. Maybe a little finger tip once in a while, but nothing like this.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I... I... I don’t know. It didn’t feel that good. You know, uncomfortable, distracting. But I liked the way it made me feel.”

  “What?”

  “Dirty, slutty. And it was like Chucky could read my mind. He leaned in close, breathing right into my ear, calling me a filthy whore, taunting me about how much I loved his fat thumb in my ass while he slammed me into the door over and over.”

  I was hammering into her roughly again, but now Terri seemed to welcome it. She was gasping and grunting.

  “Oh yeah, just like that,” she cried. “He called me a slut. Then he said his thumb was just the beginning. That he was going to fuck me in the ass. Oh, God, baby, it was so dirty, so nasty. I... I.... ahhhhh,” she came hard on my cock, demonstrating for me her reaction to Chucky’s taunts.

  “Did he?”

  “Huh?” She looked at me through dreamy eyes.

  “Oh God, Terri, did you...did he...Christ, did he fuck you in the ass?”

  “No,” she replied with a grin. “No, I told him I’d have to ask your permission.”

  “What?!”

  “I told him he couldn’t have anal sex with me unless you agreed to it,” she paused.

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

  “Well? Is it okay with you if Chucky fucks me in the ass?”

  “Oh God,” I groaned as I exploded inside her.

  --------

  We lay side by side panting for a few minutes, and then she rolled over to face me.

  “Well, mister, you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Are you serious?”

  She nodded. “He said that was the one thing he regretted not doing with me.”

  “Jeez, Terri, is this something you want to do?”

  She nodded quickly, blushing and looking away. “The idea has always sort of turned me on. But I guess I was always scared, maybe embarr
assed.”

  “But you’re not scared anymore?”

  “No, I still am. But less so. Or maybe I’m getting braver.” She paused. “Would you want to try it?”

  The idea turned me on immensely. Probably my most popular search when looking for porn online was “anal” or “teen anal” or “rough anal.” Something about seeing a young porn star, dressed up as a schoolgirl and getting pounded in the butt always got me going. The juxtaposition of innocence and raunch. But even as that went through my mind, my body was already reacting negatively, slowly shaking my head.

  It was precisely that is was so raunchy, so dirty, that I was at once turned on and freaked out. And while I liked the idea in theory, I knew I could never follow through—never do with Terri.

  But she wasn’t really asking me anyway, I knew. She was probably just saying it by way of reassurance. But she also wasn’t just teasing me. I could tell from the way she was looking past me, biting her lip, clearly anxious. The situation with Chucky had triggered something in her. She might say this was about me and my obsessions, but it was obvious that she was also exploring her own fantasies.

  I didn’t answer. And she didn’t push it. But the question hung out there between us. Were there any limits on what I would let her do with Chucky?

  --------

  Fundraising for school projects has to be one of the most thankless tasks imaginable. Terri’s “class mom” duties involved putting together an auction for the annual fund drive. Worse, after finagling a pair of tickets to a new modern art exhibition for the auction, there were no bidders, so we ended up “winning” them ourselves.

  Now, my interest in modern art—well any art really—is pretty limited. Terri’s is barely higher. But the gallery owner who had donated the tickets seemed eager to meet with the winning bidders, so we didn’t have any choice but to get dressed up and attend.

  Even though neither of us were interested in the art, it had the potential for a fun evening. Art gallery openings draw out an eclectic crowd, always good for people watching, and there was an open bar. No dancing, just a jazz trio for background, but even still an opportunity to dress up.

  I went plain, all in black: suit, shirt, tie. Terri added the color, sporting a floor-length, clingy, green satin dress that left very little to the imagination. Very little. Amazing how sexy it is possible to be without showing any skin.

  The gallery owner quickly ascertained that we were not candidates for a big purchase, and since he was flaming, even Terri’s charms did little to encourage further conversation. After being dismissed, we wandered the gallery aimlessly, snarking at the exhibits, commenting on the more gaudily attired guests.

  It was a genteel crowd, but it was obvious as we walked around that Terri was getting as much attention as many of the pieces on display—at least from the men in the room.

  I leaned in close. “Seems like that dress of yours has a lot of admirers.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be silly. Everyone is dressed up.”

  “Then it must be what’s underneath. Because I don’t think there is a man here who isn’t thinking about banging you.”

  “Banging?” She giggled. “Do you mean they want to do me? Am I hittable?”

  “Not only that, but I’m sure they’d love to bone you, maybe even give you a hot beef injection.”

  She laughed louder. “Stop, Bill, please. You’re getting me so hot with your dirty talk.”

  “Wait. You didn’t let me give the best one. I bet there are even some guys here who’d like to pork you.”

  “Count me in,” she replied, then leaning in close she gave me two quick pig snorks.

  I laughed and tapped her empty glass. “Do you want another, or should we get out of here?”

  “I think we should milk the open bar a little longer. Might as well get our money’s worth.”

  “If we do that, they’ll have to carry us out of here.”

  “That could be fun. Depends on who’s doing the carrying.”

  I shook my head. “You’re wild.”

  She laughed. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who got me all worked up with your talk of banging and porking. How’s an innocent girl like me supposed to resist that kind of talk?”

  I laughed. “Oh yes, so innocent. Next time I’ll make sure we have a fainting couch nearby in case you’re overcome by the vapors.”

  She batted her eyelashes at me.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  I took her glass and edged my way up to the bar. It seemed as if many of the guests shared my view of the exhibition. The bar was the most crowded area of the gallery, and with various hipsters ordering 1950s cocktails, it took a while to get two glasses of wine for me and Terri.

  Not surprisingly, when I finally returned, Terri was locked in conversation with another man. He’d apparently arrived bearing gifts because she held a half-full wine glass in her hand and was sipping it slowly as he spoke, gesturing periodically at the installation before them: an unstable-looking tower of wire-mesh encircling a length of newsprint twisted into a double-helix. Something about freedom of the press?

  I wondered if he was the artist, but he didn’t have that kind of look. He was older. Mid-50s probably. A full head of white hair, but tall, well-built. His hands were large and he moved them with a forceful precision. A surgeon maybe. A CEO. A man used to respect, to commanding a room. Did he remind her of Gary?

  I wouldn’t say Terri was rapt, but she was certainly attentive to him. She laughed at his jokes. Leaned in closer when he lowered his voice. Was lively in response to whatever he was asking her. And, I couldn’t help but notice, even though I’d been away longer than expected, she wasn’t looking for me.

  Ever since she’d hooked up with Chucky, I’d fantasized about her with other men. I couldn’t help it. But those fantasies were always abstract. It was a generic other man. A policeman, a plumber, some executive in a suit, not another flesh-and-blood human being. Until now.

  He was older, but powerful. I imagined him escorting her through the gallery, impressing her with his knowledge, his presence. He’d lead into the side room, less populated, quieter. Talking softer, he’d draw her in, closer. A hand on her forearm to call her attention to a particular painting.

  She’d feel the attraction. Feel her own desire. I would duck out of sight as she looked over her shoulder guiltily, worried that she was betraying me, not realizing how turned on I was. Then he’d cup her chin in his hand, kiss her gently. She would feel the lust, the passion boiling up inside her. He would feel it as well, kissing her harder now, his strong hand cupping her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple as it stiffened and pressed through the fabric of the dress.

  She’d be his for the taking, but he would be too classy to finger her in public or bend her over a bathroom sink. Instead he’d take her hand and lead her outside. She’d look around for me, grateful that I wasn’t there to stop her. Then to his car—an expensive sedan, a Jaguar maybe, with black leather and walnut trim. She’d be nervous. Worried about how I’d react when I found out. But he’d be calm, in control, the right mix of funny and flirty to keep her in the mood and comfortable.

  Then to his home, an expensive, tastefully appointed Lincoln Park brownstone. Once inside, he would let the facade fall. He would kiss her hard, his hand firmly gripping her hair. Then he would order her to strip, save for her heels and jewels. With him still fully dressed, he would lead her upstairs to the bedroom—

  “Bill? Where’ve you been?”

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Looked like you were making a friend.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What do you expect? You left me alone forever.”

  “No, I mean, he was a good looking guy, don’t you think?”

  “Are you going gay?” she said with a grin.

  “No, I....”

  She laughed. “I know what you mean, husband. You were thinking that since I’m—we’re, um, exploring my inner,” s
he leaned in close, “slut, that maybe I’d just let myself get picked up by some random stranger.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I mean, I know he’s not Chucky, but why not?”

  She shook her head. “Bill, I don’t know how this works, or how you think this should work. Is that where we are now? You just choose random guys and I have sex with them?”

  “No, God, I’m not saying that. Why would you say that?”

  “It just seems—”

  “No, Terri. Look, all I was asking was whether you’d considered it. A handsome, older, successful man comes onto you at a party. After the last few weeks, don’t you think about it?”

  “I... I... Wow, that’s a tough one.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, okay, so did I notice he was handsome? Yeah, of course. Did I know he was coming onto me? Sure. But I don’t know. That’s as far as it went in my mind. I was here with you. I just wasn’t thinking about it.”

  “What if we’d run into Chucky? Would you have thought about it then?”

  “But that’s not the same thing,” she exclaimed. She hadn’t actually answered the question. She didn’t need to. Of course she would have. “Chucky and I were lovers. It is inherently a different relationship.”

  There was nothing about what she was saying that was particularly controversial, but it still bothered me somehow. I couldn’t put my thoughts into words. What did I want? Would it really have been better if Terri was thinking lewd thoughts about other men? About co-workers and random strangers and handsome, mature men she met at parties? The thought sent another twinge of excitement through me. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  Then suddenly she turned and headed for the door. I caught up to her in the parking lot, but we didn’t talk. Not a word through the entire ride home.

  CHAPTER 9:

  COMPLICATIONS

  We finally climbed into bed together and she turned toward me. She had a weird look on her face, as if she were balanced between competing emotions. “This is fucking insane.”

  I looked at her in surprise, almost as if I were seeing her for the first time. We’d been gradually stripping away layers over the past few weeks, both of us exposing more of ourselves than we ever had.