by Jaime Thorne
I hadn't expected this.
He grabbed me and moved me. He spun me onto my back with himself on top of me. His hips moved and he thrust himself inside of me but his movement wasn't fury and thunder, it was deliberate intention.
With strokes that were long and slow and secure, he fed me his cock. He thrust into me with a clarity that let me feel every inch of him, every vein and every bit of him moving inside of me, pulsing and filling me up. He didn't fuck me, fucking was hard fury and force and this was something more.
And our lips came together as our bodies came together, tongue and lips pressing with a sort of passion that was reserved for familiar lovers but that would be enough for us. Because this was the burgeoning of familiarity, the beginnings of something that was more than an intense physical connection.
More than I could have ever possibly imagined.
When he broke for air his whispered confession made my body tremble.
“I'm close,” he told me, and I could sense that same feeling in me too.
I needed it. I needed that climax no matter what else came next. I had come this far and I wasn't going to deny myself this pleasure and passion and need.
“Don't stop,” I told him, knowing that it was wrong but saying it regardless, “Don't stop fucking me. Don't pull out. I need to cum baby. Bruce, I need to cum. Oh Bruce. OH BRUCE!”
And I felt him filling me, spilling into me and burning inside of me. I felt the heat of his pleasure rebound in my body and spill over into my own pleasure. I felt it build and build and build until the warmth was burning inside of me and the heat of it was undeniable in its complexity.
I felt complete. I felt finished.
And when we collapsed into each other our bodies and our lips came together in a display of passion. And I knew that I'd made a terrible mistake but in that moment, basking in the afterglow of something new and exciting, I couldn't bring myself to give a damn.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JEREMY
I had a problem, I was sure of that now. Not just one problem either, a whole myriad of issues all stemming from the same root.
I was beginning to think that I'd made a mistake opening up the Pandora's Box of my fantasy.
Jacob was inconsolable and entirely unable to work. I touched base with him a few times per day under the guise of keeping him appraised of the goings on of the business but in truth, it was because I was worried about him.
The man was ruined, a shadow of the person he used to be. I'd tasked out people to go into his house and make sure he was eating and bathing and everything that an ordinary person needed to do to stay alive, and I know that if I hadn't done that he wouldn't have followed through on any of those things.
He was barely hanging on, his voice on the phone cracked and empty. I wanted to be there for him, to help him through this, but I didn't know what I could do or say other than be there for him when he decided that he wanted to make progress forward.
The ball was in his court, and all I could do was be available for him.
And I know that partly I was avoiding him because I didn't want to face up to the truth of him, to understand that truth and what it would mean for me as well.
At the core of his problems was that choice to cross that line. A line that'd he crossed out of ignorance and curiosity but one that I had dashed over with the desperation of a man stuck in the desert running toward a mirage.
While his desires had been for experimentation and experience, mine had been driven by a need that was ferocious. I needed to see this through, to see through my wife being with another man and I entered into it fully knowing what it might cause.
Jacob had been caught by surprise when Emily left him, he'd always set out what they were doing as playing. He hadn't seen it as a serious endeavor and his ignorance to that had doomed him to the place he was in now.
I was aware of what might happen. I knew that without a strong foundation a choice like hotwifing could lead to feelings between wife and bull, could lead down a path that shifted it from fun into cheating.
And even knowing this I had made the decision to go forward with it. I had decided to cross that line knowing that it might mean problems for us in the future but frankly not giving a damn about it.
That might be selfish, but I knew that my relationship with Avril was strong enough to withstand even the hardest of trials.
Avril and I loved each other. She loved me and I loved her. We had committed ourselves to each other and we weren't about to lose that connection for the sake of some sort of passing tryst. We weren't about to lose ourselves to our fantasy, we knew that we could keep the one separate from the other.
So while I felt for Jacob, I also knew that this was a bed at least in part of his own making. Emily and Jacob had gone into this with the wrong approach, and that left them vulnerable to cracks that were already present in their marriage.
Since he'd been gone the office had been busy and I'd found more and more of my time dedicated to managing the workload that had been balanced on the both of us until this point. I was working late hours, large spans of time spend doubling in meetings and jumping between them, attending everything and making decisions without the benefit of consultation or consideration from my partner.
And that meant long nights in the office, it meant getting home after Avril was already asleep. It meant extended absences as I caught up with work and it meant little time to myself.
The whole thing started to wear on me.
I am a firm believer in the idea that all work and no play make you go mad. I know that you need breaks and time to recuperate and that if you don't take that time out for yourself your brain will make you take that time out by force.
It started in meetings that dragged on too long, distractions leading me to start daydreaming while various people argued across the table with each other or listed off numbers and data in dull and droning detail. Distraction had never really been a problem for me before, but now I found myself slipping into it and falling deep into the well of it and the moment I was beneath the surface I was lost to it.
Each time it was the same thing, or rather it was all variations on a theme.
Avril was there each time, as was Bruce and myself. Sometimes it would be Avril and me, sometimes it would be Bruce and her, and sometimes it would even be just her by herself. But always she would be unsatisfied with me, always she would be aching for Bruce, and always the both of them would be mocking me.
The last time I had been with Avril should have been upsettingly bad. The lack of compatibility between us in that bed should have proven to be awkward and should have made me second guess everything that was happening and the path that we were on.
But instead of that I found that it just made me want to pursue the pleasures of my fantasy more and more. Our awkward encounter was fuel for the fire of my need, and that fuel was growing the more I leaned into things.
You aren't enough for me.
That had been the words that Emily had written for Jacob and they were true now. She had wanted him to know that he couldn't satisfy her the way she needed to be satisfied, and that core fixation was the whole of my fantasy.
A fantasy that played out in my mind in boring meetings. That made me lock my office door at every opportunity and sit tremblingly finishing myself into tissue after tissue. A fixation that led me to spend late nights at the office frantically scouring the internet for videos with women that looked like Avril and men that looked like Bruce.
Denying any of this was an impossibility. We were well past that point at this stage and I had to embrace it and embrace the truth that I could no longer deny: once was not enough for me.
The notion that I would be able to experience it once and be done with it was folly. Once I'd gotten a taste for it I'd developed a craving for it, and I would never again be satisfied by anything but the real thing.
The question was how to make that happen. I'd used up the idea that this could be my annive
rsary gift already and that wouldn't work twice. How could I possibly convince Avril to go through with this again?
I hadn't really spoken to Avril since that last night we'd spent together. She was asleep in the mornings when I left and asleep in the evenings when I got home and what conversations I did have with her were usually short calls where I told her that I was working late.
When I called her this night I'm sure she was expecting more of the same, made obvious by the fact that she answered with the words, “So I guess I won't be seeing you tonight again?”
“I'm sorry Avril,” I told her, “I wish it wasn't so.”
“Don't apologize,” she replied quickly, “I know you're doing what you need to do with Jacob being out and all. And don't worry I'll find some way to pass the time tonight. I was thinking of maybe going out with a friend.”
“You should,” I encouraged her, “You should go out and have fun. You deserve it, Avril, you really do.”
There was a lull in the conversation as if both of us were seeking out what to say. I knew what it was that I needed to say but I didn't have the first clue what to tell her.
I decided to get it over with, blurting out the request I'd worked up in preparation for this, “You know I can make sure that I'm home this Saturday night. I can make sure that I don't have to work for that and I was thinking we could be sure to spend time together.”
“I think that sounds good,” she said cautiously, and I knew that she knew I was holding something back and she waited for me to go on.
“And I was thinking I could invite Roger over,” I said quickly, not even really realizing what I said.
“Roger?” she asked.
“Bruce!” I corrected myself loudly, then meekly followed up, “I was thinking I could invite Bruce over. Maybe he's free...”
Avril was silent on the other end of the phone. I clenched my eyes shut picturing perfectly the furious anger welling up in her. I braced for a response from her, to let me know just what an asshole I was being and to cut short our conversation.
I pictured her talking with Emily, both of them laughing at their useless husbands and what fools they were. Talking about the decades wasted with men who were weak and who could never satisfy them.
What I didn't expect was for her to quietly say, “That would be nice.”
My hand shook with the phone and I took my seat at my desk with legs that were shaky. I didn't know why she had agreed but I didn't want to question things too much. I was too focused on the possibility that I might be able to see my fantasy one more time to even begin to wonder why.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BRUCE
When he called her I was busy memorizing the lines of her naked back. The curves of her spine and the gentle sweep of her shoulders. I could write sonnets about the angle of her neck and the way that wisps of her hair would kiss the tops of her shoulders when she had her hair up in a bun.
Our time at R.A.'s studio had been only the first time that we had been together, and it was by no means the last time.
As I understood it Jeremy wasn't around much anymore. There was some vague statement about work taking up too much of his time, how Avril barely saw any of him anymore, but I didn't press for more information.
I was having an affair with Avril, but that didn't make me a part of her life. I was her lover, not her confidant. I was there to help her physically and she was there to help me physically and that was all that we were to each other.
It was what we had agreed on, in that studio after we slept together when we extricated our bodies from the tangle of sheets and actually had a moment to gather our thoughts and talk about what had just happened.
This was fun and nothing more. It couldn't ever be anything more than just fun because she was committed to her marriage and I wasn't interested in anything long term. Both of us wanted a moment of freedom, a passing fling and nothing more.
Oh the lies we tell ourselves.
Because while fun had started out as exclusively focused on our time in the bedroom, it had gone beyond that. Because fun was a mutable definition and didn't necessarily exclusively mean sex.
It was my fault. I was pushing the boundaries. I was pressing for more from her.
More time spent around her and more time spent getting to know her. Getting to know her as the person that she was, and not just getting to know the woman that she was in bed.
Our interest in art was mirrored in food and music as well. It was mirrored in books and cinema and I was determined to pursue that.
I had told myself that I was obviously fixated on her and that I was just trying to find out more about her. I had told myself that I was trying to seek out an answer to the why, to discover why I couldn't let her go.
But I knew the truth was so much more complex than that.
Catching feelings for someone didn't happen for me, and so I wasn't entirely sure that what I had with her was feelings. I know that I grew to miss her when she was gone, to make little notes about things to tell her and imagine conversations that I would have with her when I next saw her. I know that I felt her absence on the days that we didn't meet, and that my dreams were filled with memories of her body but also memories of her smile and memories of the swell of warmth that filled my chest each time I saw her.
I wasn't sure what I was feeling, but I knew that it was new and I knew that I wanted more of it.
Our relationship was an impossibility. In the short term we could have these stolen moments but in the long term it would never work.
I didn't know much about love but I knew that she was deeply in love with her husband. I knew that each time she was with me, whether in bed or out on the town together, she would have this pain of regret and doubt behind her eyes when she thought I wasn't noticing.
That told me that she was feeling at least something close to what I was, but that she was also feeling the sting of betrayal.
What we were doing wasn't fair to Jeremy. We'd taken his confidence and cast it aside. We'd broken the rules of the agreement and so it wasn't any surprise to me when she would jump at the smallest request of his, when she would fixate on making it happen as a means to compensate for what she was doing behind his back.
That didn't surprise me in the least. If anything it just cemented the knowledge in my mind that the longer this went on the worse it would be for her. The more that Avril would grow to regret the choice to be with me and the further she would draw away from me.
Our relationship had an expiration date, and that date was fast approaching.
She had jumped to answer the phone in spite of the fact that we were in bed together, pulling off of me in an instant and slipping over to grab and answer her phone. Avril sat half-in and half-out of the sheets while she answered and I heard her side of the conversation sounding so very much like normal and when she told him I love you and hung up I didn't press for more information because it wasn't mine to have, because her life with him was separate from and more important than the stolen moments she had with me.
But I wanted to comfort her, seeing her false sense of chipperness melt as her shoulders fell and she stared down at the phone in her hands. I could feel the sadness coming off of her in waves and I wanted to be there to hold her and bring her back to the beautiful and light and happy woman that I was starting to fall for, but that wasn't my place to be.
“Jeremy wants to see you again,” she said quietly, not looking at me, “This Saturday. He wants to set up another night with the three of us.”
I couldn't read her tone, her quiet voice hiding whether or not this was a good thing. But I sensed a note of regret about all of this beneath the quiver of her voice and I needed to say something or it could ruin all of this.
“I can say no,” I told her, “I can tell him I'm busy.”
It was the wrong thing to say. It was so obviously the wrong thing to say and if I'd had more than a moment to think about it that would have been clear. Avril was committed to giving he
r husband what he wanted, of course she would want me to be there.
“No,” she said quickly, panic rising in her voice as she turned to me, “No you have to say yes. You have to tell him yes. You have to go through with this. For me.”
Her eyes were nearly crazed, caught halfway between fear and sadness. They were the eyes of a caged animal, desperate for release but unable to find it.
So I nodded to her, I agreed to her terms and when Jeremy texted me later that night I set up all of the details and arranged everything so I could be there for them. For the both of them.
And now I'm standing outside of their door staring up at it. This place that Avril had made clear to me that I wasn't to ever go near, the home that they had together. The one place in the city that was barred to me.
I walked up their steps, my feet feeling heavy and weighed down. My whole body feeling like it had been hooked and was being pulled back, like every part of me knew this was a bad idea.
Still, I grasped the knocker on the door and slammed it down. Still, I pressed on because I knew that it was what Avril wanted and needed me to do.
That first night with them, the last time we'd done all of this, I had gone into with such confidence. I'd looked at the man that was Jeremy and knew that I could do this, that I was naturally the strong and dominating man that his fantasy needed me to be. That I could be the bull in their relationship without fear of having to fake it.
I don't know that I had that confidence anymore.
When he opened the door and I looked down into his eyes I saw an eager excitement in them but didn't feel that same automatic sense of disdain for him. It had been easy to be the person I had been that first night because I saw Jeremy as weak and didn't give a damn about him but that wasn't really the case anymore.
I didn't know Jeremy, but I didn't need to. I knew that he mattered to Avril and I knew that by hurting him I was hurting her too. That made all of this so much more difficult to do, so much more challenging to bulk up and be the intimidating man I'd been that first night.
