by Ben Boswell
Her hands were active too. She unzipped one pair of pants after the other, pulling out hard cocks, stroking them firmly. From behind me I could hear her husband softly whimpering, but when I glanced down into his lap, I saw that his pants were tented in excitement.
I looked up and noticed Tommy had moved over to the front door. He beckoned me in his direction. I walked toward him, unable to completely take my eyes off Donna, who was now on her knees, alternating between swallowing three cocks. It was an intoxicating, erotically charged display, and one I knew would only become more debauched over the next few hours.
“So what do you want to do?” Tommy asked. I wasn’t sure what he meant. “You wanna stay and watch? You wanna stay and fuck? You wanna go get Rachel and bring her over?”
I hesitated, considering the first two at least, but was I maybe also considering the third? The idea made me feel ill, but I knew that Rachel would probably enjoy it. Was it fair for me to deny her that? Deny her what? The opportunity to be used like a whore by a roomful of men?
I shook my head silently. Tommy nodded and we walked back toward his truck.
“Don’t you need to stay?” I asked, worried about who would watch out for Donna.
“I’ll come back after I drop you off. She’ll be okay. She knows most of those guys. I know the rest. She’s done this before,” he added.
For the first time, Tommy didn’t fill the silence. Instead, he just drove, inviting me to speak.
“So what was that?” I asked finally.
“Ghost of Chistmas Future.”
“So you think that’s going to be me tied up in a chair and Rachel taking on a roomful of men?”
He shrugged. “That wasn’t the point of the book.”
“Unless I change my ways,” I corrected.
“Lots of possible futures. That’s one though. You realize it, right?”
I nodded. It was what I’d already thought about. The idea of giving Rachel a free pass, that’s where that could lead to. I shuddered. Or Jack could have brought her to this, if he was just a little more skilled, a little more patient. I wanted to ask Tommy again what do to, but I knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t answer.
“How did you get with Donna?”
“Drew and I were in the Navy together. I was getting out when he was getting in. Donna was one of those stereotypical young Navy wives. Married too young. Feeling lonely and sorry for themselves and entitled. It’s not a myth what happens in Navy towns when a ship pulls out.
“She’d gotten herself mixed up with a group of Marines. They were passing her around and she liked it. Problem was, they wouldn’t give her back when Drew’s ship came back from deployment. I can’t say I really blame them. The girl is an animal… as you know.
“But that sort of shit is cancer on a base, especially since the Marines were being assholes, bragging about it, showing her off in front of Drew’s buddies. If they’d just been willing to go by their apartment and fuck the shit of out her, Drew would have probably put up with it. It turns him on too, you know. But it doesn’t turn him on for everyone to know about it. Even cuckolds have a limit for humiliation.”
I thought of Drew, tied up with ten men in his house, watching them go at his wife. It was hard to imagine him having any limits.
“Is that what I am, you think, a cuckold?”
Tommy laughed. “Well, literally yeah. Your wife’s had sex with another man. But in terms of kinks… I don’t think so. Cucks like to watch. They like the humiliation of seeing another man take their woman. I don’t think that really describes you. I think you just like seeing Rachel get hot and bothered, and you definitely don’t seem satisfied in just watching.”
That rang true. And yet, if she only got hot and bothered when being taken by another man, what was the practical difference?
“What did you do about the Marines?”
“I told them to cut it out.”
“And they just did?”
He laughed again. “Oh, don’t imagine it was some big beat down. Any one of the could have thrown me through a wall.”
“So?”
“Fucking around with a junior Seaman’s wife and tormenting him is one thing. Getting into a scrape with a Senior Chief over a piece of ass is something else altogether.”
It occurred to me that his experience with command was part of his presence.
“And then what?”
He laughed. “She was twenty, a firecracker, her hubby got off on watching her fuck other men, but also hated it getting out. It would have been negligence to turn them loose. Guaranteed murder-suicide in a trailer park within five years.”
“So you’re a hero, huh?”
“No. Believe me, I’m no hero. Being with Donna has given me some of the most exciting sexual experiences of my life. But yeah, all things considered, I do think they’re better off with me in their lives.”
“What about me and Rachel. Are my kids going to know you as Uncle Tommy, the mysterious relative who shows up every once in a while and teaches Mommy a new aerobic routine?”
Tommy looked at me, disconcertingly long considering we were hurtling down the road at 45 miles per hour.
“I wouldn’t mind it,” he said as he finally turned back to the road. “Rachel is a very sexy woman. But that’s really up to you. There will come a time, pretty soon, when you two will need to pick a road.”
I sighed. “Tommy, I really wish you’d stop with the Zen shit.”
“That’s your problem Max. You want an equation, a script to follow. Even if I didn’t know you’d gone to business school, I’d have guessed it. You want certainty. That ain’t life. Life is messy and stupid and ugly and weirdly beautiful and passionate.”
I looked out the window. We were getting close to home again. What would happen then? Was he expecting to come in, have his way with Rachel? Not that she would mind. I thought again to her short pleated skirt, the sheer white blouse she’d put on earlier. If he did come in, she’d be angry we’d left her, but I had no doubt Tommy would be able to turn that anger to arousal, and arousal into a sexual explosion. It would be hot to watch. I groaned. Was I a cuckold after all?
Eager to change the conversation, I turned back to Tommy.
“So what’s your story? What do you do when you’re not a sexual therapist?”
He laughed. “I’m a plumber by trade.”
I could tell he was being modest. I didn’t know much about the Navy, but I knew enough to know that a Navy Chief did more than fix toilets. He’d been trained to build and maintain industrial, high-pressure systems, dangerous, technical work.
“And what? You have a stable of married women you’re involved with?”
I saw his jaw tighten, but he kept his tone level. “I know this is going to come off as weird, given everything else, but I’d rather not get into that. Let’s just say, I deal with my demons.”
It was bizarre. He’d asked us to share so much, and yet he was still a cipher. I thought to press the point, but then we pulled up to our house.
“Are you coming in?” I asked, looking at the lights burning inside the house.
“Do you want me to?”
I hesitated. “No, actually, probably not.”
He grinned as I stepped out. “I’ll give Donna your love.”
-----
I had hoped Rachel would be waiting for me in her school girl outfit. I’ve been waiting for you. Instead, she was sitting on the sofa in her fluffy white bathrobe, the first time she’d worn it since our night with Donna. She was reading on her Kindle, and drinking red wine out of a huge goblet.
“You’re not supposed to fill those to the rim,” I joked.
She threw down her e-reader. “Did you boys have fun?”
I wasn’t really surprised she was upset, though her tone was harsher than I had expected.
“You don’t really care, do you, Rachel? All you care about is that you weren’t included. Everything has to be about you.”
“You didn’t a
nswer me,” she continued. “Did he introduce you to his other little whores? Were they more accommodating than your selfish, pain-in-the-ass, wife?”
I laughed. “You’re jealous?”
“Should I take that as a yes?”
“Believe me, sweetie, there isn’t a girl out there who’s more accommodating than you are. You’re just upset that you weren’t the one surrounded by a roomful of men.”
Her eyed widened. “So, what, you went to a sex party?”
“Something like that. I didn’t participate.”
“You just watched.”
“I left before anything really happened. It was supposed to be a warning of sorts, I guess.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t either,” I admitted.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
I went and got a glass from the kitchen and emptied half of hers into mine. I sat down beside her.
“We’re in a strange place,” I said, slowly shaking my head.
As we finished our wine, I described the scene in as much detail as I could remember. My overwhelming sense was the general tawdriness of it all. When I’d finished, we both sat for a moment in silence. I’d left early enough that most of what must have happened was left to our imaginations. After the men had gone and the music was off, and the house was filled with empty bottles, the trash cans with used condoms, how did Drew and Donna feel about it? It was an alien sensation to me. I tried to convey that to Rachel, but she seemed more interested in Donna. Had she seemed scared? Did she approach the men, or did they approach her? I’d moved on to the morning after, Rachel was still focused on the night before.
“Could you see yourself doing that?” I asked.
She looked at me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “No,” she replied, softly, without conviction.
“Could you really?” I asked in shock.
“I said ‘no.’”
“Yeah, and you’re blushing like a school girl.”
“Am not!”
Before she could react, I reached into her bathrobe, my hand cupping her small breast, noting her rock hard nipple.
“Don’t, Max, I’m not in the mood.”
“I need to check the oil.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t… God you’re so crude.”
She squirmed but didn’t quite resist as I slid my hand over her flat belly, between her legs, feeling her heat and wetness within.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” she protested as my finger explored her swollen slit.
“Come on, Rachel, tell me what part of it turns you on? The roomful of strangers? Is it the idea of men taking their turns with you, one after another?”
“It doesn’t,” she moaned.
But her excitement was palpable. I pulled open her bathrobe, took in her naked form.
“Or is it being watched, surrounded by eyes watching you get fucked.”
I plunged two fingers into her. They slipped in easily, squished wetly in her well-lubed cunt.
“Is it the idea of being ravaged? They wouldn’t stop at your pussy. They would also want your mouth, your ass.”
I pressed my pinky into her tight rosebud. She bucked against my hand as I thrust three fingers inside her. I couldn’t help myself. With my other hand I freed my hard cock. I rolled on top of her, plunged inside her.
“Or is it just the idea that someone might one day find out what a slut you are.”
She growled lustily. “No!”
“Friends and family knowing you’re the kind of girl who takes ten cocks in a single night.”
“No!”
“I’m going to tell them,” I teased, thrusting hard.
“No!” she hissed, now grabbing my ass, pulling me into her.
“Everyone will know.”
“No… aaarrghhhh,” she cried out, bucking violently against me, until I also crashed over the edge, coming hard inside her.
I lay there between her legs and she continued moaning, “Oh God, oh God, Max.”
I kissed her passionately. “I know, baby, I know.”
It felt like a breakthrough… but as my excitement faded, I felt like I was again back to square one. Like the night with Tommy and then the encounter with Tommy and Donna, it had been hot. But now what?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
This time Tommy didn’t get back in touch. It fell to us to write to him. And it was consciously US. Rachel and I had discussed it, and from now on, any time we communicated with him, any plans, would involve both of us. It seemed weird, in retrospect that we had ever agreed to anything else.
We’d debated the issue for a while. Rachel raised the possibility of not writing at all. I felt that somehow we had unfinished business with him. By her rapid acquiescence, I realized she agreed, that her own reluctance to renew the dialogue was feigned. And that itself seemed to confirm the judgment. We were not done with him yet.
His tone in response to our email was cheerful.
--Hey guys, great to hear from you. I have an event in this city this weekend. Do you want to come along?
--What kind of event?
--In or out?
No explanation. I got that it was part of the game, but it was still frustrating. And yet, also weirdly irresistible.
“Screw him, we don’t need to go,” Rachel said as we read his email.
I laughed. I’d learned enough to see right through her attitude.
“What do you think it is?” I asked.
“Some sort of orgy?” she replied. Was that a hopeful tone?
“Maybe a gangbang,” I teased.
She flushed.
“He was in the Navy,” I continued. “A roomful of Sailors to ravage you. Sound like fun?”
“Sound like fun to you?” she asked.
I laughed. “Actually no.” Her face fell. “I don’t really want to be ravaged by a bunch of Sailors.”
She giggled. “They have lady Sailors nowadays.”
“Bunch of dykes,” I replied jokingly.
“Would you like to see me ravaged by a bunch of dykes?” she teased back.
“Hmmm, only if they were wearing big, black strap-ons.”
“Black, eh?”
I blushed.
She picked at the scab. “I’ve never had a black… strap-on.”
I decided to meet her challenge. I wrote back to Tommy.
--We’ll go, but only if you promise Rachel some chocolate.
“Don’t send that,” she said, aghast.
“Too late,” I replied as I clicked on send, though I noticed Rachel had done nothing to stay my hand.
--Deal!
-----
Again, we turned to my folks. They were delighted by our increasing willingness to let Brent and Allison stay with them. And the twins were delighted by the amount of toys and candy they’d be able to extort from their grandparents. Happily, neither the kids nor my folks had any inkling about what was really going on.
Tommy had warned us to dress up, so no cheerleader or school girl outfits. Rachel picked instead a long, green, satin dress. It looked painted on and made it impossible to wear underwear, not that she would have anyway for a date with Tommy.
Is that what it was? A “date” with Tommy? I suspected he’d be fucking her before the night was up. Was there a girl for me as well? A Donna to numb my jealously, to distract me from what Rachel was doing, what was being done to her? I didn’t bother asking for details. I knew what he’d say. Trust me.
Tommy came to pick us up, though not in his F-150, but rather in a gleaming, black stretch limo. Was that some sort of joke? Rachel would get into something big and black before something big and black got into her.
I shared my insight with my wife. She laughed.
“God, you’re crazy,” she replied. But did I notice her regarding the limo in a new light?
Tommy and I were in matching black suits, though he’d gone full Mafioso, with a black silk shirt underneath, whereas I was wearing a white shirt and gre
y and white tie. As we got into the limo, he offered us each a glass of champagne.
“You’re the damnedest plumber I’ve ever met,” I said.
He laughed. “Nothing but the best for my favorite couple.”
We headed toward the city and again, Tommy allowed for no awkward silences. The topic this time was travel, and he’d been everywhere – Naples, Singapore, Hawaii, Dubai, a dozen other spots.
As we entered downtown, he moved beside Rachel. He withdrew a long, silk scarf from his pocket. Covered in multi-colored checks and splashes of pigment, it was obviously expensive, a work of art. Somehow its tones matched Rachel’s dress. I wondered if Tommy had a selection available or whether he’d just been lucky… or maybe Rachel had run the dress by him?
I didn’t have time to contemplate this fully as Tommy slowly wound the scarf over’s Rachel’s eyes, tying it firmly in the back.
“I can’t see,” she giggled.
“That’s the point,” he replied. “Max will make sure you don’t fall.”
I chuckled at the potential alternative meanings; then it occurred to me that wasn’t an accident.
We pulled up to a marina. Or was there a different word they used for where luxury yachts were berthed? Valets were parking Mercedes, Porsches, and Teslas, though there were a couple of other limos as well.
The doorman opened our door and we stepped out. I held Rachel firmly by the hand.
“You won’t believe this place,” I said.
“I hear waves.”
“We’re going on a yacht,” I said as I led her over the carpeted gangplank.
“Do I need to duck?”
I laughed. “I don’t think you understand, this is a yacht.”
I tried to describe it to Rachel. Was it 100 feet? 200? I had no idea. It wasn’t quite big enough for its own helicopter, I guess, but was still more like a modern mansion than a ship. Every surface gleamed. Dark polished wood, mirrors, huge glass windows, long leather sofas, tuxedo-clad waiters serving champagne. It was a very smart crowd, the men handsome and self-assured, the women on display.
“I am the only one…”
She trailed off. Blindfolded? Yes. It struck me for the first time that I was now moving in a circle where I might be recognized. It was, indeed, frighteningly easy to imagine I might run into someone I knew from work, which would normally have been fine, except that I was leading my blindfolded wife along beside me. I felt a shiver of concern and then one of excitement. I wondered if this was how Rachel felt with one of her inappropriate men, both fearing exposure and reveling in the delicious excitement of it.
