Ice Cream Man

by Charles Puccia

His desire was wrung from a dishcloth. Ginny’s heat poured out from a ladle. Dan burst with a choir’s cry.

  The explosion forced Ginny’s nails into Ben’s sinew, moored by tendons that tethered ocean liners. Her hands moved along shoulders bigger than Ben’s head, fingers curling inside triceps as her pussy fucked her husband. Her fingertips skirted the ridges of Ben’s biceps.

  A crawling anticlimax released Ginny and Dan. She had what she wanted. She loved Dan, yet she needed her Ice Cream Man.

  The couple’s cries were a blend of joy and pain. Ben’s deltoids and trapezoids were fatigued, yet Dan’s concave ass gave Ben’s cock the force to spew while he lowered his friends.

  As all three toppled to the bed, no one spoke, nor did they need to. Their feelings spoke on bedspread stains.

  Chapter 63

  Incentive

  Heavy breathing dominated the room, and rising heat circulated from floor to ceiling. The three of them were completely spent.

  Ginny rose from the bed, glancing over her shoulder at the two bodies side by side: the man she loved, beautiful and intelligent, his eyes closed; and the man she craved, caring and log cabin big, eyes wide open. As she entered the bathroom, she felt sated and content. She had what she wanted, what she needed.

  The sound of Ginny’s shower reawakened Ben’s desire. He turned on his side, examining Dan. “You okay, Dan?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Ben’s left hand reached under Dan’s legs to massage Dan’s ass. His middle finger pressed against the perineum.

  Dan sat up. “Fuck.” His penis started to rise.

  “Still okay?”

  “What? Dunno.”

  With his forearm extended, Ben moved his hand farther under Dan. Two fingers lifted Dan’s sack and balls with the skilled touches and sensuousness of a gay man. He released then pushed repeatedly, each act prickling Dan’s testicles. It was good, Ben knew, and Dan’s excitement was rising. Ben waited for Dan’s words.

  Embarrassment prevented Dan’s objection. His rising penis was not excitement, not emotional. He wished Ben would stop, but he couldn’t say it. His erection wasn’t hard like it had been with Ginny. He wanted to shout “enough,” but he did not. Did he feel an obligation to Ben? Was this part of his promise to Ginny? Why he said nothing, Dan didn’t know. Six months ago he would have protested, would have expressed both disgust and repulsion. But now he didn’t know what he felt, except that this didn’t matter. Not in the long run, not in a big picture way.

  The new Dan Livorno was freed from conformity. Which didn’t mean he liked what Ben was doing, but he wasn’t repulsed by it.

  Unlike Dan, Ben was enjoying this exploration. He loved everything about this gorgeous man, and Ben’s excitement was real and very hard. Ben’s hand centered on Dan’s ass, and his finger moved between the tightly clenched buttocks. With skill, determination, and strength, Ben separated Dan’s tight cheeks, pushing his middle finger deep into Dan’s hole, his sphincter stretched from recent coitus. Ben breached, and if Dan had leaped before, this touch produced flight. Ben waited for Dan to catch his breath before going further.

  The cry to stop did not come, so Ben continued. This was the moment he’d imagined since the day he met Dan, the thought repeated at every training session. His request that Dan touch his muscles was an excuse. He had fantasized that Dan meant it. Dan had Davis’s beauty, fluidity, and intelligence. Ben sought peace, maybe joy, certainly serenity in Dan, as he had in Davis. Ben longed for pleasure given by a friend, not a one-night pickup with a muscle worshipper.

  The fingers found the spot. Dan reacted. “Oh, fuck.”

  Ben’s lips stretched and he smacked his words. “Everything okay?”

  “Don’t know. I’ll manage.”

  Not typical words for this kind of foreplay, but good enough. Nor was this foreplay, not in the real meaning. This would go no further; this would have to be enough. Ben was content to watch Dan’s dick grow, was surprised that he ejaculated so soon, a rapid-fire sluice.

  Pumping his own hard penis, Ben masturbated, coating Dan’s legs and stomach.

  Dan’s eyes retreated and his eyelids vaulted closed. He did not want to see what he knew to be true. Liberation had its limits.

  Ben spoke. “I appreciate this. I hope you’re not offended. This has meant more to me than I can say.”

  “Sure. I’d never considered doing anything like this, and I don’t expect I will again.”

  “Yes, well… er… er… never mind.”

  Dan’s eyes did not open again. His breathing grew even, each inhale yielding a slight rise of his chest, and purrs of satisfaction dotted his sleep.

  But although Dan slept, Ben did not. He rested on his side, his hand atop Dan’s pectorals, moving around his nipples. Ben commiserated with Ginny’s obsession like never before. He understood her desire. He needed someone—and that someone could not be Dan. But he would enjoy the now; tomorrow he could worry about a new life.

  Dripping wet from her shower, Ginny peeked into the room. The scene had changed. Ben rested on his side, his hand on Dan, nude on her bed. It was a strange sight; Dan was always clothed, even when alone.

  Ginny pedaled to the bed for a closer look, but Ben’s laterals obscured Dan. Ben’s arm craned over Dan’s chest. A few candles had extinguished, and the room was darker than before. Ben’s striated legs bent into Dan. Ginny’s unexpected damp touch caused Ben to shudder.

  Ben removed his arm. Ginny leaned across, water droplets falling on Ben back. Dan’s face was a portrait, every facial fixture perfect in form, size, location, and color. “He’s beautiful,” she whispered, and Ben agreed.

  Ben swiveled upright, putting his feet on the floor. He mouthed “thank you” to Ginny. Using two fingers, Ginny touched her lips, then Ben’s. She shimmied back into the bathroom, her neck craned backward for one more look. Ben was kneeling at the bed as if in prayer, his words whispered yet heard by Ginny: “Thank you, Dan.”

  A guttural reply: “You’re welcome.”

  His clothes bunched under his arm, Ben looked to Ginny, walking out with no goodbye.

  ****

  Under the bedcovers, Ginny disturbed Dan with her snuggle. He asked that she roll on her side, allowing him to candy wrap around her. He kissed her neck, snuggled her buttocks. One hand was secured to his pillow, the other to Ginny’s breast. Sleep took over again.

  There was no sleep for Ginny. She smiled, her hand on Dan’s, pushing his to flatten her breast. Her face teemed with the night’s pleasure until a shadow draped her thoughts. Dan had had sex with another person—a man. Not penetration, but how else could you define masturbation? It had been sex, and she’d permitted it.

  “Fuck.” Ginny said it out loud, but Dan didn’t hear. I’ll have only myself to blame if Dan’s become a homosexual.

  That’s stupid. People did not become homosexuals by choice. Maybe Dan had always been gay, though? No. She found that idea inconceivable. He’d had opportunity: Vinnie, Ben, or even his former boss, Gary Del Vecchio. She’d have known. Tonight he may have been bi-curious, is all. That shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did. Why? Dan bi-curious? No, not that. Her thoughts followed the flickering wall shadows. Ben gave Dan his climax. So? She recalled Ben’s tender touch. The two men had thanked each other. Ben was the reason for Dan’s enjoyment, not her.

  She nudged Dan to roll over so she could rest on her back. Was this betrayal? An extramarital affair of her doing? She’d miscalculated. She was jealous.

  Jealous. That was Dan’s affliction, not hers, so what was this feeling? Was this how Dan felt, the reason for his outrage? His constant complaints about her touching bodybuilders, his indifference to her comments about men’s physiques, his nagging her over time spent with Ben. She had never understood his jealousy. She did now. Her stomach knotted knowing that Ben had substituted for her, had fulfilled Dan’s needs. She thought of her own desire for Ben’s muscles and strength. Did Ben need Dan for masculine intimacy? Had both been s
exually satisfied? Now she desired Dan’s body, she wanted to satisfy Dan’s sexual and intimate needs, and she had allowed Ben to do it for her.

  Holding the fingers of one hand in the other, she pulled each. She wasn’t only jealous that Dan had sex with Ben—not entirely. She had lusted for Ben’s masculinity herself, and had seen that Ben had had the same feelings for Dan. This was the lust for attention. Ben wanted Dan’s attention, and she feared Dan would now seek his from Ben—the same attention she had denied Dan all year.

  Fear fueled her jealousy. Ben was unstoppable in his lust; Dan would succumb. She imagined that Dan had conquered Ben’s desire, and soon the reverse would happen. She understood like never before: jealousy was all-consuming.

  The night’s success vanished. Ben had solved her obsession, her stethy problem, only to create a new obsession. I’ll make sure Dan knows he’s all I want. He’ll see I lust for him alone. I’ll make him mine again.

  ****

  Shuffling across his living room to glowing wall lights, Ben thought about his bedtime music. “Nessun Dorma” had set the evening mood earlier, but now the mood had changed. Surprise, pleasure, and fulfillment were mixed together. Ben was surprised by his own strength; and more surprised by Dan’s submission. He was pleased he’d helped Ginny overcome her sthenolagnia, although he doubted this success would be more than momentary. He was pleased that Dan’s first sexual experimentation had succeeded, and his months of desire for Dan been satisfied.

  Ben fingered the CD collection with thoughts of Dan snuggling into Ginny. This was love, the fulfillment he wanted, needed. That had not come. Dan would not fulfill this need, but Ben believed there was a person that could. And that person was only a staircase descent away.

  Reaching for Etta James, Ben sank into the couch, waiting for her rendition of “At Last.” As Etta crooned “My lonely days are over,” Ben made his decision.

  Chapter 64

  Watershed

  After a poor night’s sleep, Ginny rose at seven on Saturday morning. Dan was still curled up in a deep sleep. A few blocks away, Ben’s sleep matched Dan’s; both were oblivious to the dawn. Of the three, it was only Ginny who had the restless night, as anxiety surfaced in dreams mixed with reality.

  She’d had her perfect night until the end. Now, sitting sideways on the bed, her bare feet waxing the wood floor, Ginny stared at the extinguished candles. She rose and entered the en suite bathroom, finding Ben’s oil open on the vanity.

  The bright lights did not illuminate her mind’s dark disquiet. Something had changed. Ginny sensed it. Her life had changed. She had changed. Was it possible that a night of incredible sex, of her fantasy realized, could have this impact? She had said this to Dan and Ben, but it had only been her way to persuade them—she had not fully believed it.

  On her return to the bedroom, her brow furrowed, she again marveled at her husband curled under the sheets. She loved him. As if for the first time, Ginny saw what had been said repeatedly to her by family and friends: Dan was perfect. He was handsome; his sinewy body was the work of a talented sculptor; his face was a personal sketch by God; and his intelligence was superior to most. Last night he had proved his commitment to her, his devotion, his willingness to act against his own wishes. Of course, he did not have Ben’s bulging muscles. Nor was he without flaws, especially his jealousy, which she now understood. His fear, too, could be explained. Yet Ginny could not think of anyone without some flaw, some imperfection. She saw, too, that that applied to her even more. So what had happened? What was happening?

  Ginny went to the kitchen for answers.

  “It’s me. That’s what’s happened,” she said out loud. She’d vanquished her most desired sexual fantasy—and she had lost her need to feel immense power while engaged in sex with Dan. This was real. The image of bulging muscles had lost its appeal. She had beaten her sthenolagnia. But she needed confirmation.

  ****

  Two hours later, Dan entered the kitchen. “Geez, Ginny. You should’ve woken me. Look at the time.”

  “It’s Saturday, and you’ve nowhere to go. You were exhausted from last night. Do you remember last night?”

  Dan shuffled to the refrigerator. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yes you do. Did you not have a good time?”

  “Yes. But I’m not like that. I don’t know why I let that happen. I mean, Ben was great, and gentle—well, not the lifting us in the air part. Can you believe that? I mean, how strong is that?”

  “Yes, he’s strong. And guess what? It’s gone. I don’t feel it anymore.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “My stethy. I can tell. Even when you mentioned Ben’s strength just now, it didn’t feel the same. I’ve no desire inside. I think it’s gone.”

  “Ginny, that’s great! Can it be true? Will it last?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I haven’t felt this way for a long time. Maybe never. Before, any mention of strength, power, muscles, bodybuilders… it would have given me tingles and I’d zone out. But not now. It feels different.”

  Dan walked over to Ginny and took her in his arms. He was about to flex, but decided that might tempt fate. Ginny leaned in to kiss him. “I love you, Dan Livorno.”

  “I love you, Ginny Livorno. Can we eat?”

  “Sure, loverboy, you’ll need energy for what I have planned.”

  “Ginny, I don’t know if I could. I’m feeling a little sore in strange places.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  ****

  The way Dan stared into his cereal bowl gave Ginny her excuse to leave him alone. And she had her weekend jog with Sarah and Betsy. Before giving Dan his space, she mentioned that he could take the weekend to recuperate, but he’d better be ready on Monday. After her jog, Ginny planned to spend the weekend in Connecticut with her mother. After last night’s sex arcade, the last thing Dan would have wanted was a visit with his mother-in-law, and he’d appreciated not being invited.

  During their cafe sit-down, Sarah and Betsy had more questions than answers for Ginny. They’d been shocked, excited, curious, and envious of all that Ginny had told them, and, as always, Ginny had told them everything.

  “Ginny, that’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you call me?” said Sarah.

  “Me too, after all I’ve done for you! Did Ben really press you and pump-fuck the two of you overhead? I’m so envious. I’m getting wet just sitting here thinking about it,” said Betsy, the senior VP financial executive and a married woman with two kids.

  Neither friend could be sure if Ginny had changed or, if she had, whether it would be permanent.

  “Let’s hope there’s no relapse,” said Sarah. “But if there is, put me down for the repeat treatment.”

  “Fuck you, Sarah.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s the spirit, Ginny.”

  “I’ll say it again, in case you didn’t catch my drift. Fuck you, Sarah.”

  This is a lost cause, thought Ginny. Her friends were fascinated only by the sex—though to be fair, what had happened was fascinating.

  The banter stopped when Ginny told her friends that she’d arranged an impromptu weekend in Connecticut. Nothing stopped silly talk like mentioning Anna Swinburne.

  Yet Ginny’s mind lingered on Dan’s question during the train to Connecticut: Is your stethy gone forever? She’d like an answer to that question herself. Was her psychological change permanent, and was she sure about her altered sate? She needed to understand how her years of obsession could dissipate in one night. Was this typical? How could she prevent relapse, notwithstanding Sarah’s hope she would?

  Was her sthenolagnia truly gone?

  ****

  Dr. Anna Swinburne started with questions. Most daughters would have been evasive, but Ginny had learned this didn’t work with her mother—and besides, she wanted to be honest. So Ginny told her mother every detail of the prior night: the overhead lift, the pushing of buttock
s, Ben’s anal incursion into Dan, and Ben’s rubbing Dan’s chest. Anna listened, asked questions, and never judged.

  “Do you realize what this means? Your sthenolagnia syndrome has evolved—and for the better, from my perspective. This is good news.” Anna did not go so far as to say that Ginny was fully cured. She explained that Ginny had learned to enjoy bodybuilding and had bodybuilder friends. She told Ginny not to abandon her friends, which would be a mistake. But perhaps she could consider the bodybuilders as a hobby, not a desire.

  “You mean I’ll still want to feel their muscles?”

  “Yes. But as an art form, as sport, in admiration for their dedication—not as a sexual desire, or as a part of your deeper issue: your need for powerful musclemen to protect you. You don’t need Ice Cream Man. From this point forward, you’ll enjoy looking at muscular physiques in and of themselves.”

  ****

  Neither Ginny nor her mother could know the full extent of the change. That knowledge would come five weeks later, with a new obsession that they’d share: shopping for maternity clothes and layette paraphernalia.

  Ginny’s pregnancy changed everything. With his usual precision, Dan calculated the moment of conception, and there was only one possible date. Their baby was conceived in an impossible air-fuck squeezed out by a muscleman. The same day the new daddy had had his first and only homosexual relation. Ginny, Dan, and Ben would forever celebrate that day every year under the heading “AFF”: Air-Fuck Friday.

  The pregnancy was not the only big news to affect the Livorno household. Even before the pregnancy was known, an event at DV&N shook their lives, on the Monday after AFF.

  Chapter 65

  Roommate

  Sunlight glinted off Ben’s bare chest as he leaned back against the headboard. The previous evening’s physical exertion, a fraction of his usual workout, could not account for his drowsy state. He had dreamed of being with a man, but the face had been unseen, so naturally he concluded it was Davis McGregor III. Yet the figure did not have Davis’s short-cropped hair. For thirty languid minutes he reviewed the night spent with Dan and Ginny. He had given them joy—and himself, too.