by Brit M.
That one, Marissa snagged. She held her head high and marched into the main room again. Her DVDs felt hot in her hands. The clerk smiled at her again, as if she were buying groceries, and rang her up. Marissa's face felt like it was a thousand degrees. Her hands trembled a bit as she took her wallet from her pocket. It was so public, but nobody was going to say anything. She hated how silly and embarrassed she was. This was the kind of thing exploring her sexuality and growing up was supposed to prevent: humiliation about what she wanted, a fear of admitting her desires.
Once outside, her purchases in a nondescript black bag, she took a deep breath and sighed. Maybe it just wasn't in her to be unashamed and open like Lita. But she wanted to. She wanted to be able to buy porn and toys and find men without having to feel wrong or ridiculous.
It was getting late. She climbed in her car and headed back home.
The air was cool and the sky dark when she parked her car and climbed the stairs to her apartment, bag in hand. The slow burn of her desire built as she closed her door behind her and took out her movies, fanning them in her hands like a pair of cards. Now, in the privacy of her home, she felt—naughty, in a good way, not just embarrassed. She unwrapped them, walked to her DVD player, and stuck in the one with the office-worker men.
After making sure her door was locked and her blinds closed, she retrieved her vibrator from her bedroom and shimmied out of her clothes. Walking into the living room nude made her shiver and glance at the balcony doors, which were completely covered by the thick blinds. All the same, it gave her a thrill. The movie was on its menu screen. She selected play, snuggled down on her couch, and tucked her legs under her.
Maybe she wouldn't like it a second time. She watched with bated breath as the two men who came on screen—in suits and ties, looking like characters from Mad Men—and flirted with each other, making heavy eye contact and brushing hands together over the desk between them. Her tension wound as the scene unfolded. Finally, after a groan-inducing pickup line, the man with the gelled brown hair grabbed the other by his tie and yanked him into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues were visible briefly, twining slickly together, as they shifted, leaning together over the desk.
Marissa gasped a bit when the man being kissed swept all the papers off the desk and crawled up onto it, the brown-haired actor using his tie as a leash. The sight of the red silk wrapped around his fist as he maneuvered his partner's head, guiding him, made her pulse race. It was almost as good as the bondage in Lita's movie. Yes, she thought to herself, I definitely like the kinky parts.
She pressed her fingers to her pussy, feeling her own heat and dampness, and pressed her thighs tighter together, digging her toes into the couch. The men onscreen were stripping each other; clothes came off with yanks and grunts, both of them seemingly unwilling to break their kiss. The man on the desk jerked the other's belt open and unzipped his pants. Marissa held her breath. That slim but still masculine hand slid inside the gap in his pants and drew out his half-hard dick. The brown-haired man gasped, hips canting forward into the touch. She watched him harden further while the hand stroked and squeezed, until his cock was pointing up at his belly.
The man on the desk smirked at the camera and bent forward, mouthing at the other's cock. It was hard to tell who was in control now—the brown-haired actor was moaning, hands petting the other's back and shoulders while he sucked him. The camera caught each wet, spit-slick glide up and down, the way his lips plumped with the pressure and how every few moments his tongue licked out past the suction of his mouth to tease at the flesh he couldn't reach.
Marissa picked up her vibrator and turned it on low, laying it in the crook of her lap. With her thighs pressed together and her legs tucked under her, the firm pulses of the toy seemed to echo through her whole lower body, not just her clit. It was erotic, charged, but not enough to make her come. She wanted to wait until the movie got further along, maybe orgasm at the same time as the actors. They were so, so hot. She'd never been so turned on so quickly in her life. How had she missed this? How had she never noticed how much this aroused her?
Simple: she'd never tried to find out.
With a moan of her own, she watched the men part, saliva stretching in a glistening line between one's mouth and the other's erection. His eyes were half-lidded with desire. They were actually into it, not just faking, she thought. At least they could pretend chemistry.
“Fuck me,” the brown-haired man said, stroking himself.
The man on the desk grinned. “Okay, boss.”
He slipped down off the desk and shucked his pants, revealing his own hard-on. Marissa lifted her hands to her breasts, tweaking her nipples between her fingertips. Small bursts of pleasure followed each pinch. The brown-haired man caught him in another quick kiss, then bent over his own desk, pants around his thighs while the other man was totally nude. The camera followed him as he walked around behind his partner, grinning, and plucked a condom from somewhere on the desk. He rolled it over his cock and stepped closer, rubbing himself along the crack of the other's ass.
Marissa thumbed the power up a notch on the vibrator and shifted to spread her legs a bit and ease it between them, putting pressure on her clit and sending sharp sparks up her spine. Her back bowed and she moaned. She closed her eyes for a brief second to revel in the sensation.
“You're already slick,” the man on the film said.
“I got myself ready for you,” the brown-haired man purred. “Stretched myself with my fingers and fucked myself ‘til I came. I want your dick.”
The dialogue might have been corny, but it made her whole body flush with need as she imagined the actor before the filming with his fingers in himself, pleasuring himself, his mouth open and lips damp. She shuddered. The man in the movie did the same, shifting his hips and pushing his cock against the other man. The actors and Marissa both gasped as the man on top thrust into him in one smooth stroke, until his hips met the smooth curves of the other man's ass.
“Oh, fuck,” the brown-haired man groaned, his voice almost cracking. “Yeah, yeah!”
The top groaned, clutching at his sides with white-knuckled hands and pounding into him. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and their moans came from the television. She saw his hand slip down his body, grasping his own cock where it bounced between his thighs. He whimpered, head bowed to the desk, and he rocked back into the fucking. Marissa couldn't catch her breath. She panted, pressing her vibrator harder against her clit as the pleasure built and built.
She climaxed almost at the moment the actor did, his come splattering over his hand and the desk. Her breath stuck in her throat as she shivered through the waves of ecstasy. The other man on the video bent low over his partner's back, grasping at his shoulders, and cried out as he finished. They collapsed onto the desk together, breathing heavily. The screen faded out and another scene started.
Marissa pressed the stop button on the remote and turned off her toy, taking a moment to catch her breath.
There was no doubt about it—this turned her on, so much. It made her come. She dropped her head back against the couch and sighed. Watching men have sex really, really did it for her in a way nothing else quite could.
Except possibly a woman sandwiched in between them. She pried herself off the couch and shut down the TV, going to clean up. As she collapsed into bed later, freshly scrubbed from a quick shower, the sheets slid over her bare skin. It was more erotic than it had ever been before. She stared up at her darkened ceiling, wondering if any of those links would have a way for her to see men together in real life, not just on video… To be in the same room, smell the sweat and hear their luscious noises.
Or to join in.
Suddenly, it seemed more viable.
* * * *
After a long, arduous day teaching the merits of Milton to one class and basic composition to several others, Marissa was unbelievably grateful to walk into her quiet apartment. She'd spilled her coffee that morning, though thankfully
not on herself; lost her only pen halfway through the day; and gotten so unnerved at the presence of the auditor that she managed to forget the ends of a few sentences.
There was nothing quite like standing in front of a room of cynical college students with your mouth hanging open, going “um, uh, er—” while you tried to remember what you'd said before and where you were going with it.
The auditor had finally lessened her tension by rolling his eyes at her and quirking a grin. While a part of her was horrified that he was laughing at her, most of her brain just relaxed. If he was trying to make her calm down by showing her that she amused him, then he understood he was making her nervous by sitting there stone-faced and imperious. She knew she needed to find a way to be less intimidated by his presence. He seemed like a good guy with no intent of being cruel to her or grading her down. Like he'd said, he wasn't there to get her fired, just to tell her bosses where she might need training. That wasn't so bad.
As she made herself a fresh cup of tea, she tried to think through why she was so nervous in front of him. She'd never been a bad test taker, and this was another kind of exam. She needed to pick up the pace, teach better, and learn to be more at ease in the classroom. But how?
Marissa cupped the hot mug in her hands and went to sit on her couch. It sank under her, comfortable and soft. Her eyes fluttered closed. The mug between her fingers was warm and soothing. She'd managed not to think about the e-mail from Lita all day, but now that she was home alone again, it crept to the forefront of her mind. Should she check some of the links?
The night before in the darkness of her bedroom, freshly sated, it seemed like the perfect idea. She could find a male couple who would find it erotic to have a woman watch them, or join in. In the evening light after a long day at work, it seemed more like a pipe dream.
“It can't hurt to look,” she repeated to herself under her breath.
That much was true. If she found nothing, then she found nothing, but did she want to be the kind of woman who let opportunities slip by without grabbing for them? Did she want to be the kind of woman who let the voice in the back of her head—which was pretty insistent about hooking up with strange men being something good girls never did—dictate what she allowed herself to enjoy? Lita always said that being raised by her grandmother had done some damage to Marissa's self esteem, but she'd never believed her friend.
Her grandma had been sweet, supportive, and helpful. It was just that she had so many old-fashioned ideas about womanhood and femininity. Marissa was a bit chagrined to realize how much of that she'd really internalized when it came down to it. She couldn't enjoy her sexuality the way Lita did because she was ashamed. She didn't want to be that way. It wasn't her. She wanted freedom and erotic development.
So, with a fortifying gulp of hot tea, she opened her laptop.
The only way out of this morass of old-fashioned silliness holding her back was to do the things she'd only ever dreamed of, do the things that embarrassed her, take what she knew she wanted, deep down. She had walls to knock down.
Marissa opened the e-mail again and clicked on the “Kink and Coffee” link because it seemed the most cute and simple. The entry page warned her that the site was for viewers eighteen and older. She stifled a smile and clicked through. The main site was understated in browns and golds, with a message board and a few links to other websites. It seemed to be locally oriented, too, not national. She entered the message board, found the room entitled “Looking For” and was immediately surprised at how many listings there were just for her state. There were that many people looking for “kink and coffee” together, who had fantasies they wanted filled?
It made her feel—better. Lita was such a force of nature that it was hard to judge sometimes if her way was the best way. But here were all these normal people, all looking to hook up and find their desires. Marissa bookmarked it and began to sift through the listings.
The first thing she noticed was that there were women posting, not just men. Some wanted things she found odd, like foot massages, but others made more sense to her: role-playing, dress-up, games. One caught her eye, halfway down the first page. “Two bisexual men looking to celebrate an anniversary with a like-minded woman.” She took a quick sip of her tea to wet her suddenly dry mouth. That sounded like what she thought she might want.
Should she click? The mouse hovered over the link for a moment as she thought about it. It couldn't hurt to look, she thought one more time. She clicked. The posting had a longer paragraph inside. “We're about to have our five-year anniversary, and neither of us has been with a woman in that time. We want an adventurous, kinky, self-confident woman who would like to spend the weekend exploring all the combinations we could make with three people. If you're interested, please e-mail us with a photo. We can talk about it.”
Marissa sat her laptop on the couch and stood, leaving the page open as she went to the kitchen. Her thoughts were consumed with images of her between them, watching them kiss and touch while they rubbed their bodies against hers. She shuddered. It was hard to put together any kind of dinner when all she could think about was sex—dirty, kinky sex.
Though it took longer than usual, she eventually succeeded in putting a chicken and pasta dish in the oven to bake. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Lita's number. The other end rang and rang, then went to voice mail.
“Hi, hon,” Marissa said. She licked her lips, nervous. “I think I might—I might—oh hell. I think I want to answer one of those ads on the sites you sent me. What do I do? Should I do it? I don't know. Call me.”
She hung up and heaved a sigh.
“I'm such a grown-up,” Marissa muttered to herself. “I have to call my best friend to decide if I should even think about hooking up with a guy.”
Well, that was what best friends were for. She flopped back onto the couch to wait for her dinner to bake and turned on the television, this time to watch the news. She didn't quite feel up to another night of adult film entertainment. Her fingers lazily tapped at the keyboard of the laptop at her side. The ad was still there. It was phrased nicely. If she e-mailed them with her picture, would they send one back? How did she politely decline if she didn't think they were hot?
What if it was a couple she knew? How would you get past that? How embarrassing would it be to answer a friend's sex ad and not even know until it was too late and they realized it was you? She made a face at the news-anchor blathering along on the TV. Lita would be able to help her. She'd done stuff like this before.
Her phone buzzed. She flipped it open and saw only a text message, from Lita: “On a date. Call you tonight. I think you should do it.”
Marissa read it twice and closed her phone again.
She picked up the laptop with trembling hands, her breath speeding with nerves. It was just an e-mail. She clicked their e-mail link and composed a succinct message, then attached a photo of herself Lita had taken a few months back.
“I might be interested in spending a weekend with you. I am very new to this, though, and very shy. Please go easy on me. I've attached a photo. Thanks!”
Hitting the send button felt like cutting loose strings that were holding her whole body up. She collapsed back into the soft cushions of the couch and closed her eyes. It was done. She might end up with a date to screw two men, who were a couple. She rubbed her eyes with one hand. That wasn't so hard. It was the rest of the deal that she might not be able to go through with.
A moment later, her e-mail dinged. She nearly jumped, then scrambled to open the reply. He must have been at his computer to response to quickly. With her pulse in her throat, and a familiar tingling creeping up her spine, she read his answer: “A new shy girl, huh? You're lovely. What made you want to answer our ad? Here's a picture of us, too.”
Marissa opened the attachment. The picture was of two men, arm in arm. One was taller than the other by a bare inch or two. The taller man had olive skin and a wide smile, curly black hair cut shor
t. The other was pale as Marissa herself, the kind of porcelain skin that seemed to reflect sunlight, and appeared to be a natural blond. His eyes were bright blue. Together they made a beautiful contrast. The tingling firmed into the tightness of arousal in her belly as she imagined them together: kissing, hands tangled in hair, their bodies pressed together.
She responded, “You're both handsome. I decided to answer your ad because I want to explore myself.” She paused, considering how to frame her words. “I like watching men together. I think I'd like being with two men at once. I've never tried, and I don't want to let my whole life go by without giving it a shot.”
She sent it before she had time to worry that it was too honest, too personal. If she was even considering sleeping with these guys, or they with her, there had to be some level of honesty, right? And she knew she would never be able to fake Lita's suave sexual pull.
At best she seemed like what she was: a delicate, easily embarrassed bookworm who spent most of her time alone, reading. They needed to understand that going in to the whole mess. She wasn't as demonstrative or as outwardly sexual, but she wanted to try. They might be willing to help. Or, maybe they wanted an experienced woman, and they'd turn her down.
The reply pinged back quickly again. “I'm curious—how old are you? What else have you never tried that you might like to, if we do this?”
Marissa tapped her keys without typing. “I'm twenty-six. How old are you guys? I honestly…” She paused again. “I honestly don't know what I like. I haven't had much experience. Is that a problem? Like I said, I want to explore. I want to discover things about myself. I'm adventurous.”
The reply back came almost instantly, and had more picture attachments. “Adrian says he's into helping you figure out some things. You sound sweet and nice. And you're attractive. We're both into adventurousness, too. Before we make a date to meet, if you wanted, what do you think of these pictures? It might give you a hint about what you want to try.”
