by Ben Boswell
“Not unless you win,” she insisted.
I laughed. From the two, he stacked everything on the line. I called a quick slant. Snap, immediate throw, he tackled my receiver after just two yards, but it was enough. I dropped the controller and thrust into Rachel hard. I squeezed her ass and fucked her almost violently.
She was incredibly hot and wet. I spread her ass cheeks and admired her tiny, little rosebud clenching with each stroke. Anything, she’d said. Anything. But all I wanted was her pussy. I rammed her hard, then reached under the tiny top and groped at her breasts, pinching her rock hard nipples.
It was too much for either of us. I felt her cunt clench on my cock just as my balls tightened to prepare my own release. We came together and collapsed onto the floor.
-----
We lay in bed, sweating and very satisfied. The session in front of the TV had transitioned into one in the bedroom. At some point she’d lost her boots, top, and pom poms, but she was still wearing the belt-sized skirt.
“That was fun,” she said.
I laughed. “I’ll say. Would you really have gone through with going out to the Redwood?”
She hesitated. “Maybe I’d have gone, but…”
She reached out and ran her hand over my cock checking for a sign of life.
“If you want more, you will need to visit the Redwood,” I said. I was feeling completely drained.
“That was fun,” she said again, but this time her tone was different, the stress on the word “was” rather than “fun.” There was also a “but” coming.
I provided it, “but?”
“But, well Max, this was fun…”
“You already said that.”
“But, well, I wish you could just share your fantasies with me yourself and not do this whole Tommy thing.”
“This was Tommy’s idea? The cheerleader outfit?”
“Oh, come on, Max. I know you’re Tommy.”
“I’m Tommy?”
“Max, this is only making things worse. Inventing imaginary third parties is not a healthy way to communicate. Tonight was fun. I admit, if you’d suggested it outright, it might have been weird, but…”
“Would you have done it?”
She laughed. “I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I’d like to say yes, to say I’m game and giving, but it is weird to have your husband suggest you dress up as a slutty cheerleader and then,” she giggled, “and then offer to screw the winning quarterback.”
“I’m not Tommy.”
“Look, I promise to try harder, but just talk to me –“
“Seriously, Rach, I am not Tommy. He’s a real person.”
She sat up and the sheet fell off her. My eyes drifted down to her bare chest. I’m thirty-seven, but I still can’t keep my eyes off a pair of naked tits.
“No, Max, no. You’re Tommy.”
I shook my head.
She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God!”
“What?”
“Please Max, please tell me this is some sort of game.”
“What is the big deal?”
“The big deal, Max, is that I’ve told him everything. I told him about Jack, about Tony, about the Cellars. I told him about Cancun…” she hadn’t told me about Cancun, I could only wonder what that was about. “I’ve been spilling my guts out to you, trying to make things right with you, and now you tell me it was another man?”
“Rachel, I’m not upset. I think –“
“You think? I sent him a naked picture of myself. I thought I was sending it to you. I thought it was all a game.”
I sighed. “I never –“
“No, God, Max, no you never pretended otherwise. Oh God,” she sighed. “Fuck, I really am just a stupid, stupid whore. Well, good job, you proved that once and for all.”
I sat up as well. “Rachel, I get that you’re upset, but why? So you gave another man some personal details, and you and I then had some totally hot, totally fun sex. So what if he has a naked picture of you?”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known.”
I shrugged. “Okay. But so what? Who’s been hurt by it? And who’s to say this isn’t, exactly, what we need.”
“What’s the end game here? He suggests fantasies and we role play them?”
“Maybe. I don’t really know.”
She looked at me skeptically. “You’re holding out on me.”
I sighed. “Okay, Rachel, but just know I never agreed to anything.”
“Oh God, Max, what?”
“He wants to meet us. He thinks, I guess, that he can work with us, help us, I dunno, get in touch with our real needs and desires.”
“And what are those?”
“See, Rach, that’s the point. What are those?”
We both looked at each other, but neither one of us seemed able to speak. In a weird way, our silence spoke louder than words.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Instead of communicating more, we retreated, both of us to our computers, both of us communing with our virtual therapist. During the day, we were a portrait of normalcy, keeping up the house, being extra attentive parents. In fact, Brent and Allison, in contrast to other six year olds, almost seemed annoyed by engagement.
“Mom, can we just watch SpongeBob?” They chimed in unison at her latest effort to induce them into playing a board game.
I laughed. Rachel looked over at me, initially annoyed, then rueful.
She walked over to me, leaving the kids gratefully alone with their favorite talking kitchen implement. It was time to broach it.
“So, have you been talking to him?” I asked.
“I thought that was confidential?” she replied.
I nodded, but she replied anyway. “Yeah.”
“Still sharing with him?”
She nodded. “I shouldn’t, right?”
“Why not?”
“Because Max, we can both see where this is going. He’s worming his way into our lives. He already knows more about me than any man.”
I nodded “Me too. But somehow, I trust him.”
She sighed. “I do too. And that’s the problem. We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t have our best interests at heart.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Why would he?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Max…”
I put my hand on her forearm. “What’s the worst case?”
“The worst case? He’s a psycho killer.”
“Do you believe that?”
She laughed. “They say Ted Bundy was charming.”
“That’s not your real worry.”
“He doesn’t just want to talk.”
“No, he wants to work with us.”
“He wants to fuck me,” she replied.
We both instinctively looked over at the kids to see if they had heard. They hadn’t. Mom and Dad cursing was still much less interesting than cartoons.
“Has he told you that?”
“Yes. And more.”
I knew better than to ask for additional details. I was already skirting the edges of my promise about confidentiality.
“And you’re upset because you don’t want to? Or because you do?”
“Max, don’t…”
“Don’t what, Rach?”
“Just, don’t…”
I shook my head. “I can’t Rach. I want to make you feel like Tony and Jack and your fantasy about the plumber, and I just don’t know how. If he can do that to you, bring that out, and if I can learn…”
“Max, this is crazy. I am perfectly satisfied with –“
“Exactly. Satisfied. Not fulfilled. Not completed. Not overwhelmed. I satisfy you. And you know what? Maybe that’s enough for you. Maybe it really is. But it isn’t for me. I don’t want to be the kind of husband who does just the minimum to keep you happy.”
“You’re not, Max, I swear you’re not.”
“Not in all ways… but in some. You don’t need to say it. I appreciate your not being willing to.”
She sighed and shook her head. “This is crazy. So, what, we invite another man into our lives. And then what?”
“He either makes us or breaks us,” I replied with more equanimity than I actually felt.
“That’s a hell of a risk.”
“I don’t think we have a choice… and neither do you.”
She didn’t reply immediately. Instead she just stared at the kids watching the TV. Then without a word she gave me a quick, firm nod.
-----
We invited him over in a joint email. No more secrets at this point. He replied promptly.
–Okay, but there are three rules, one for each of us.
Rachel: You have to promise to obey me without question.
Max: You have to promise to not interfere.
Me: I promise that if either of you says the word “Aardvark,” I will immediately stop what I am doing and leave.
We confirmed our agreement and set a date. The kids would be at my parents’ house for the weekend. It would just be the three of us.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We were both extremely nervous as it got closer to Tommy’s arrival. I think we each sort of hoped the other would pull the plug on it. But for me, this seemed to be my only chance to move forward. And for Rachel, well, I guess Tommy had done a good job piquing her interest.
She had dressed casually, but with obvious care. She was wearing her best jeans, the ones that most flattered her gorgeous ass, and a blue, ribbed tee that brought out the color of her eyes. She had slipped into a pair of open-toed sandals, with a low heel, and I noticed she’d recently redone her finger and toenails in a rich, glossy red.
The doorbell rang. I looked over at my wife. She was blushing and twisting her hands nervously. She gave me a small nod signaling she still wanted to go through with it.
I opened the door. He was shorter than I had expected. Maybe five-foot-eight and a little older than I’d thought, in his early fifties. He was wearing tan slacks and a white, button-down, short-sleeve, un-tucked shirt. His chest hair peeked out, thick and salt and pepper, matching the hair on his head. He and Rachel had the same eyes, blue-grey. He had thick arms, an anchor tattooed on his forearm. He gave me a confident smile and a firm handshake.
“Hi Max, nice to meet you.”
“Um, yeah, come on in.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and leaned in close. “You still okay with this?”
I nodded.
“Remember the safe word?”
I nodded again.
“Okay, let’s go meet Rachel.”
She hadn’t moved. She was still rooted to the same spot in the kitchen, still wringing her hands. When she saw Tommy, she gave him a small smile that did little to counter the anxious look in her eyes. She followed with an awkward little wave.
He approached her directly, looking her up and down as he approached. She stuck out her hand, but he ignored the proffer, and instead took her by the back of the neck and pulled her into a quick, but charged kiss on the lips. As they broke the embrace, she looked from him to me with a look of near panic on her face.
He ran his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, taking her wrist in a firm grip.
“Look at me,” he said tersely.
She returned her gaze to him.
“You’re a pretty girl,” he said, appraising her again, “but I would have liked you to dress sexier for me.”
She hesitated and looked over at me again. He squeezed her wrist tighter and she again focused on him again.
“Should… should I change?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes… but first, I think you should get on your knees and give me a proper welcome.”
“What? You don’t mean…”
“Now, hold on,” I interjected.
This was moving too far too fast.
He chuckled mirthlessly, never taking his eyes off her, and she in turn now seemed incapable of looking away from him.
Without looking at me, he spoke to both of us. “I gave you each a single rule to follow. I’ve been here less than two minutes and you’ve both already broken your commitments. Now, you know how to end this. But until you do that, I expect you both to keep your promises.”
I sighed. Another fucking disaster. But as the seconds ticked by I realized that Rachel hadn’t spoken the safe word. And even though “aardvark” was on the tip of my tongue, I hadn’t said it either.
“Rachel,” he said simply, though there was a weird force behind it.
She gave him a small nod, and then to my shock, slowly dropped down to her knees before him.
“That’s a good girl,” he said in a tone that was just barely removed from the way one might praise a dog. “You know what to do.”
Another small nod and she reached out and began to unbuckle his belt. He didn’t help. He obviously wanted to make it clear that she was freely carrying out his instructions. She unzipped his pants and yanked them down to mid-thigh. She reached out and began to fondle his package through his striped boxers.
She was staring straight ahead. Was she enthralled with her task? Was she merely trying to avoid making eye contact with either of us? I noticed she was breathing heavily, her cheeks pink with excitement, her lips pursed slightly. Unlike my past efforts, she’s wasn’t just amusing me this time. She was getting into it for real.
She snaked her hand into the front of his shorts. She began pumping her hand up and down. She looked up at him. They made eye contact. Something passed between them, and he gave her a quick smile and a nod. She blushed more deeply and looked away, still avoiding me, though I could see a grin on her face as well.
What was it? A private joke? They’d been emailing back and forth for a month, each only sharing with me snippets of their conversation. It had culminated in this. Supposedly this was all for me. Tommy was working for me, and Rachel was doing it at my behest. So why was I suddenly feeling like such a mark?
“Go ahead,” he said softly yet firmly.
She didn’t hesitate this time. Instead she deftly maneuvered his cock through the opening in his boxers and resumed stroking him firmly. Fuck he was big. Nothing freakish, but very thick, with a prominent head. She licked her lips and looked up at him again. He gave her another small smile. This time there was nothing mysterious about their communication this time. Nice Cock! Thanks.
“Suck it,” he ordered.
It felt like he’d said it more for me than for her. She was already leaning forward, gripping his shaft with both hands, her lips pursed to kiss his spongy head. As her lips touched the tip of his prick, her tongue suddenly shot out and encircled the head. He ran his fingers through her hair, brushing the strands from her face, giving him a clearer view. She opened her mouth wide, took the head of his cock inside her. I knew from experience what she was doing now, vigorously swirling her tongue around his glans.
“That’s good,” he moaned contentedly.
Jesus. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The whole fucking process of exploration and discovery that we’d gone through from the time she confessed her affair had been supposed to prevent her from cheating on me, supposed to give me the confidence to trust her. And yet, it had all led to this point, with her on her knees sucking another man’s cock.
Aardvark! Aardvark! Aardvark!
The word was trying to force its way out. I could end it. I should end it. And yet, in a weird way, I knew somehow that if I did that, I’d be forced to give up on the marriage. This was the only way forward. This was the only way I could learn to give her what she wanted, or at least to understand it enough to come to terms with it.
Rachel, for her part, didn’t seem as conflicted, or actually, at all conflicted. She was sucking on Tommy’s big tool like it was the most natural thing in the world. She was taking him deeper now, bobbing up and down on him more rapidly, the room filling with wet slurping sounds from
her efforts.
“You’re good at that, aren’t you? Had lots of practice, lots of practice sucking cock,” he taunted.
She didn’t answer or pause. She just continued to slaver over his erection.
He suddenly closed his fist on a mass of her hair, freezing her in place. She looked up at him, her expression seeming to betray a fear that she had displeased him somehow. He chuckled.
“You’re doing fine. I just wanted to look at you. There’s nothing sexier than a pretty girl with a mouthful of cock.”
I nodded despite myself. He was right though. She did look insanely hot like that, on her knees, her hands encircling his shaft, her lips stretched around his fat cock.
He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
“Wai…” I began to protest, but then stopped. It was all or nothing, and I wasn’t ready for nothing.
He looked over at me, as if inviting me to end it. At the very least, he was giving me every opportunity to pull the plug, as he had from the very beginning. It was that consideration that had gotten us this far. Again I wondered whether he was genuinely trying to help or whether he was a master con man who’d been playing me perfectly.
He snapped a picture and then another and another.
“What do you think, baby? Should we send this to your contacts list? Post them up on your Facebook page? You don’t mind letting your husband see you suck cock, how about your friends and family. Think they’d be surprised? Or do you think they already suspect you’re a secret little whore?”
She didn’t answer verbally. She couldn’t, not with her mouth full of cock. But she did answer in her own way, shaking off his hand and taking him even deeper into her mouth. Over and over she swallowed his big prick. His shaft glistened with her spit. She pumped him up and down roughly with her fist.
“You want my come, don’t you?” he asked.
Her eyes flashed and she swallowed him deeper still. She released his shaft and reached around to grab his ass. He began thrusting into her mouth. She met his strokes enthusiastically, urging him on with small, submissive moans.
Their eyes were locked as he began to groan. “Oh fuck yeah.”
She flinched momentarily as his hot seed flooded her mouth, but she quickly adjusted, gulping down each spurt. When he was done coming, she continued to bathe his cock with her tongue, lapping up every drop of his jism. Then, when she’d milked him dry, she gently eased his cock back into his shorts. She pulled up his pants and zipped them up, finally, re-buckling his belt.
