Passion & Perspective Ch. 20-21

Once again it was my turn, she asked me to lie on my stomach, climbing above me, and with hands and breasts and belly and kisses began to massage my neck, my shoulders, back, legs, and then my buttocks. Nervously I sensed her approach the crack from the top and stroked it top to bottom, finishing her contact at the base of my testicles. She reversed direction, the pressure of her fingers increased, the skin was spread a bit further. A few strokes later I sensed actual contact with the anus, and a couple of strokes later her movements stopped at the fissure, circular motions stimulated it, I felt warm wetness, decided it was her spittle, and then a finger was dipping inside. "Relax," she commanded, "you'll love this." And soon her finger was inserted, I was sure, to the wrist, although it probably never actually passed the second knuckle. As I would jiggle a digit inside a woman's vagina she manipulated my rectum. To my surprise, I responded, I could feel my erection, only half hard at the beginning of our play, stiffen until it was more than capable of penetration, and we planned our return engagement. She choose a complex arrangement of limbs, one leg beneath my waist, I on my side, behind her, the ingress was made from the rear. I was surprised, it was very comfortable, we both had pillows, I could massage her back, cup a buttock, fondle a breast and tickle a nipple. For her part she was able to reach behind and encourage my arms, stretch between her legs to finger my testicles or rub my cutlass as it slid and out of her torridity. Three times I was able to entice loud bellows from her, and then I was prepared for my own ultimate pleasure, once more I spasmed, and if the intenseness of the orgasm was limited or the amplitude of spunk was reduced, I appreciated the emission no less.

We turned to each other, clenched tightly, more kisses were shared, and relaxed. Perhaps twenty minutes passed without a word, nothing but a shared appreciation of the energy between us. And then I felt her head raise, she announced, "Luke's expecting me home soon."

"What time is it?"

"Half past eleven. You need to go home to Molly, don't you?"

"Probably."

We went back to our embrace, more kisses, explorations of erogenous zones, perhaps I would have performed oral sex for her a last time, but she pushed me away. "No, any more and I'll want to stay, and then we won't want to go to work in the morning and then . . ." I understood her desire, and her demand, and so we helped each other dress, I clinched her bra, she buttoned my shirt, we seemed to feel more attraction to each other than usually followed even the most ardent of Lifestyle love makings.

"I'd like to see you again."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she agreed, "next week?"

"All right. I'll call you?"

"Oh, please." We made sure everything was tucked back into her overnight bag, I turned to examine the room, trying to picture Amy in every corner of it, naked and willing, and then we walked to the elevator and in the lobby, I still didn't want it to end.

"Another drink?" I suggested.

"All right."

We sat at the bar, almost deserted, the same one Molly had picked up three men in, and I felt, somehow, I was ahead. The bartender was the youngster that had brought us our tray, Molly would touch me just to tease him, I was sure he was picturing her nude and wishing it had been him, not I, who'd ravaged her. I noticed that every now and again Amy would catch his gaze, lick her lips, teasing him brutishly.

"Would you like to take him to bed?" I teased.

"Him? No. Oh, no! I'm too exhausted, you've done me in. And he's too young, he wouldn't know how to do the things you do."

~~~~~

Molly was in bed, a sheer peignoir covering her delicious frame, perfumed, desirable. "So, how was it?"

"Pretty damn good."

"It took you long enough," she joked.

"And yet, I only came seven times." My joke was certainly better than hers. I held her, explained Amy's change of clothing, shared the story about room service, stimulated her to detonation. I loved my wife, her sexiness, her willingness, but as I drifted to sleep a strange longing for Amy permeated my inner soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 21

I was on my way to work, I'd just left home, and the dashboard lit up, this time the display announced 'Amy' in the largest of letters.

"Hey, you!"

Her low voice filled the cabin. "I forgot to tell you something."

"What?"

"That was the best sex I've had in a decade."

"Really?"

"I'm telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth," she contended. "There's something about you that just does it for me. I can't wait to get together again. Want to blow off the morning? I've still got the room key."

I seriously considered the overture, would she say 'yes' if I did? And I really wanted to say yes, I was sure I could get it up again. Only the fact that we were on a deadline and my boss was watching pretty carefully kept me from agreeing.

"You don't know what you're missing," she badgered.

"Yes, I do, and it's wonderful. We'll just have to wait till next Tuesday."

"I don't want to."

"Neither do I. I loved the way you teased the room service guy. I'll bet he's still jerking off."

"Either that, or his girlfriend is sore! Should I have told him to join in?"

I quickly knew that answer. "No, I wanted you all to myself. I'd like you all to myself in the future, too."

"Luke might have something to say about that, you know."

"I know. If he wants a threesome, I won't fuss. But you're way too good to share."

"I'm pulling into my garage now. Promise me you'll think about me today?"

"You, and fruit."

"That's my boy."

~~~~~

I couldn't get her out of my head. It wasn't like Bobbie, or the other girls. Yes, the specter of what I'd done with them, to them, often filled my mind at work during walks down the corridor, lulls in meetings. But the aura of Amy somehow sapped my concentration. In a meeting when I wasn't able to keep up, one of my guys asked if I was okay. When I got home, Molly was working late, I sat in the bathroom, thinking about Amy, masturbating.

It modulated as the week went on, I was able to return to a semblance of my usually focused self, although the strength of her memory pervaded most of my less active moments. Molly and I had a relaxing weekend planned, a get together with vanilla friends, we took in a movie, brunch at the Boat House.

I was puttering by myself in the heat of the Sunday mid-afternoon, minor repairs I meant to get around to, when my cell phone rang, it was Amy.

"Listen, Luke decided to head up to the city with some friends of his, go to the ball game, then get dinner. He won't be home until at least eight. Why don't you come over?"

I more than thought about it, I nearly jumped at the chance. So after I told her I'd try, I thought about my ploy. "Honey, I need some things from Lowes, I'm gonna head over. You want to come?" Molly was busy with some paper from work, she had a deadline to meet, I was almost sure she'd say no, and she did. "I'd love to, but I just can't. I've got to get this done. Why don't you stop at Appleby's and pick up some salads for dinner?"

I took just a few minutes to clean up, I was still in shorts and tee shirt, but the shirt was clean, I called Amy from my car." The garage is open, just come in, I'm in the back. Can't wait!" A few minutes later I was in her townhouse and found the patio door. Through the glass I admired her, she was sunning herself in a bikini, modest enough not to shock the neighbors, but any teenager who happened to live nearby might be fantasizing what this woman, older than their mothers, would be like in bed. But I knew, and was merry in my belief that I'd refresh my memory in minutes. Daubs of sweat shone on her forehead, belly, and I wanted to taste them, lick her skin. It was then she saw me, rose and walked into the house.

We kissed, intensely, and I felt her desire, as strong as my own. "I'm so glad you could make it. Would you like some iced tea?" She filled a glass with ice, then opened the refrigerator, bent to retrieve the pitcher. I couldn't help myself, so I didn't, my hand was on her ass. "So it's like that, huh?" and she turned towards me, I had my hand on her breast, she was groping my readiness. I picked her up, sat her on the kitchen island, the knots on her top were pulled, I greedily suckled the nipple. Her cry jumped to the ceiling, slightly subdued, I knew she wanted to let go with her voice but the neighbors shouldn't hear this. She pulled my top off, her hand was suddenly full of ice, she rubbed it on my chest, and the variance of the chill combined with the warmth of her tongue on my nipple was painful. I loosened my shorts, her hand still cold from the crystals grabbed my rocky skin, I untied the last two strings, we were exposed to each other and without hesitation I plunged.

She twisted back, forcing me further inside, on tiptoes I made my thrusts, quick moans escaped from her lungs, her eyes clenched tightly, and, not surprisingly, so did the muscles of her womb. Faced with the sensations of passion I lost control, and while she was still in fury I grunted and sent my dew on it's mission. It had only taken moments, less perhaps than that teenager of fantasy would have lasted, and yet we were both satisfied. When I withdrew, a glob of my sediment dripped from her womanhood onto the edge of the island, spread down the side. We laughed uncontrollably at the haste of our coupling, yet somehow we were both gratified by the quickie, it had been what we needed.

She was still on the counter, I was in front of her, we were touching, searching, considering where to continue this unexpected exploit. Her cell phone lit, she put a finger to my lip. "Hi, honey . . . oh, just sunning in the backyard . . . no, I've got all my clothes on, no shocked neighbors this time . . . what happened? . . . okay, sure, I'd love to go out . . . maybe Olive Garden? . . . I know how sexy you are, I'll wear something you'll like . . . See you then, love you!"

"Well, that was my husband, apparently he's not going to dinner after all. We've still got a half hour, though, what do you want to do?" We played a few minutes, but Luke's homecoming put a strain on the high jinks, I put my clothes back on, just twenty five minutes after I'd arrived I was heading out, fully quenched. As I drove to Loews, I wondered what would have happened if Luke hadn't called, if he'd caught Amy and I in the kitchen. I wasn't worried about it too much, Amy had his permission to play, didn't she? And even if he wasn't expecting it, he wouldn't make a fuss, would he? Just the same, I was glad we weren't discovered. Then my mind took another twist . . .

Late that evening Molly decided to pounce on me, although she was being satisfied by mouth and finger I was unable to raise the flag. "Is anything wrong?" she worried.

"No, I'm just tired, I think." It wasn't the first time I'd lost the ability, although it was a fairly rare condition, she bit on my excuse. But I had a fantasy I wanted to try out on her. "You know what I'd like? I'd love to come home sometime unexpectedly and find you here with a guy."

"Who? Mark?"

"Maybe. Or maybe somebody I didn't know, or a neighbor, or something. You think it might happen some time?"

"Let me work on it." I knew she was just playing the game, most of these figments would never be acted on. "I know, I've picked up a guy at the grocery market . . ."

~~~~~

The next night Molly made fish, we were drinking a glass of wine, and she asked, "You're getting together with Amy tomorrow night?"

"You said it was okay."

"Yes I did, and it is, and I want you to have a great time. Were you planning on going back to the hotel?"

"I suppose."

"Well, listen. Liz has been bugging me to have a girl's night out, and I told her I was free tomorrow night, I'm going to meet her right after work, I won't come back to the house. So, if you want to, you could bring Amy over here. I'll try not to get back until at least 10:30, and if you guys want to keep going after then, well, I'll just sneak in and go into the office, you'll never know I'm here."

"Thanks," I said, "I'll pass it by Amy, find out what she thinks."

~~~~~

Amy had no problems with the idea and she showed up on my threshold at seven, I had pasta ready, we ate a bit and then were overwhelmed by our craving, we headed for the bedroom. Amy saw the huge whirlpool tub and wanted a shared bubble bath, I scrubbed her back and she scrubbed my front and then she sat on top of me and we caused a tsunami. Molly and I have screwed in the tub many times, and once Bobbie and I played in there. But, like everything else I was finding about her, with Amy although the exercises were the same the sensations were so very different. I managed to hold off while she screamed, I was glad the windows were closed, we dried off and then continued on the bed, she wanted me to enter from behind and when I snuck a finger into the rear hole she hollered to get it deeper, I was screwing her to beat the band in both holes, I wondered if she'd mind if I took my main appliance out of the front hole and moved it, and just the thought of having anal sex brought me off.

When we were ready to pause, I headed to the kitchen for dishes of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of Chambord. Amy had never had that particular combination of desert before, and we figured out a way to eat it that didn't involve spoons. I got her to go round the bend again, I was too pooped to pop a second time.

By eleven, we were ready to call it a night, we dressed and when I escorted Amy to the front porch I saw the office door was closed, a light glowing under it. I gave her one final kiss, we both shared how nice it had been, we were looking forward to the next time. Back in the bedroom I was changing the sheets, Molly entered the boudoir and helped me. "What a mess!" she exclaimed, told me she'd been home forty-five minutes, got to hear Amy in the last phase of the opera, was nice enough to take the linens to the laundry room for pre-treatment, or maybe she didn't trust me to get the stains out.

~~~~~

We had a date with Mark that Friday night at his house, when I compared my wife's inventiveness in bed with that of my lover, I found myself underwhelmed. Molly had a great time however, as did Mark, and if I observed more than participated, the two didn't seem to be concerned. Later that night, in our own bed alone, Molly remarked, "A few months ago, I was over at Mark's place and he wanted to go bareback. I really wanted him to, it feels so much better, but I made him wear one, we've really got to be careful about disease, don't you agree?" I said I did, and we drifted off. But the next time I got together with Amy, I put one on.

~~~~~

Amy couldn't get together the next week, and when we met up again in the middle of August, I realized we were great in bed, but we hardly knew each other. To correct the deficiency, I planned a date. I picked her up in the hotel parking lot, then drove her to the historic district where we entered an American bistro with French overtones. I asked if I could order for her, we started with a sparkling cocktail, a tartare for an appetizer, rack of lamb and duck accompanied by a deep Bordeaux. I gave her a choice of desserts, she chose a creme brulee trio. Over the unhurried meal I discovered the outline of her life, childhood in a rural village near the state border, a popular teenager and then disaster could have struck. At her senior prom, she gave her purity to a boy she admired, and in July she found she was with child. She carried it to birth, gave it to an unknown family, she knew the biological father was too immature to be a suitable husband, but her first year of college was ruined. She went on to get an associates degree in accounting, then found herself at a loss. She bummed a ride to Arizona with a friend, picked up a low-paying bookkeeping position. She was in love with the desert, but after three years during which she had a bunch of friends, she realized that the sun couldn't make up for the seclusion from her parents and siblings, so she moved back. She got a better job, and then a still better one, took night classes until she had her bachelors degree and along the way she had a million boyfriends. In her early forties she met Luke, decided it was time to settle down, then after eight years of marriage, they both realized they were suffering from the seven year itch, they entered the Lifestyle.

We talked about my life, of course, but not in the detail of hers. I thought Amy was taken by my willingness to listen, understand. We headed back to the hotel, it was well after ten at that point, and if the sex we had was less inventive than the previous chapters, it hit the spot none the less. We cuddled, and then, given the liqueurs and heavy sauces, we drifted to a nap.

I sleepily realized my phone was beeping, Amy was softly snoring, the display read 'where r u ru alright' and discovered the message from my wife had been sent at 2:17! I woke Amy, after she regained alertness we discovered she had four texts and two phone calls from Luke, but she'd unfortunately had her phone on silent. I texted Molly I was fine, we'd just fallen asleep, I'd be home soon, and when I got there, her look informed me I probably shouldn't make a habit of not telling her where I was.