Hesitant Heat

"I'm good," she said.

Then she drew her legs beneath her and crawled to the edge of the bed, breasts swaying as she moved. Perched there, she reached forward slowly with one hand.

"Would you mind finishing with my hand?" she asked, fingers brushing the button of my jeans.

It wasn't a barb. It wasn't a tease. There was a hesitant heat in her eyes. She wanted to go further, but not much further. She was hot, and concerned.

And I didn't know how to reply.

Two things were true. If I were here to get off, her hand would be great. And also, I wasn't here to get off. Which thing to say? Could I even say anything without breaking the spell of the moment?

She was already fishing my cock out of my pants when I knew what I needed to do.

As Fumine had done to me earlier, I put my hands out and grabbed James's shoulders.

"I was think—"

"Sorry," I said, grinding to get the words out, "but I only wanted to do the one thing."

"Look—"

"Before you say I'm just making a decision, L, please. The fact that you're even thinking about this is beyond my wildest. I..."

"Fumine?"

"How are you so sharp?"

"It's what you love about me."

The last time I'd seen her use that word, it had been an email, almost fourteen years ago, telling me I didn't love her. I didn't know her well enough. Didn't know her well enough. Had the years, had the distance really deepened my understanding rather than eroding it? Something had changed for her, clearly. She understood me.

After a moment, she drew back on her bed. "This isn't my fault," she snapped.

"Fault?"

"If you dare to try to make me feel like I've done something to her—"

"God no," I said, reaching for her hands. "She asked me what I wanted to do. I told her the same thing I told you. She gave me the go ahead."

James's expression softened again. "You asked your wife to let you eat me out?"

"Yes."

"And that's it?"

"Yes."

"And because you didn't ask for anything else, you feel you shouldn't do anything else?"

"Yes."

"You were about to jizz your pants anyway."

"Probably."

"You're a fucking dumbass," James laughed, and then she vaulted over me and grabbed my phone from where I'd left it on the floor by the spare bed. "What's your screenlock combo?"

She planted her ass on the spare bed, leaned forward, phone in both hands.

I gulped. "L, I didn't come here to get you hot and push my luck. I get what you're trying to do, but that's not the point."

"Not the point?"

"No."

"Not for you, maybe. Have you thought about the point for me?"

"Inscrutable."

"Lazy."

"Effort isn't the thing I—"

James threw my phone at me and ripped off her camisole. Her breasts plopped free, and I was painfully aware of my own clothedness. My cock, embarrassed, retreated slightly toward my fly. She stood and gestured to her own body.

"What the fuck do you think I am?"

"I don't follow." My arm smarted where the phone hit me.

"I'm not some frigid object," she said, volume increasing. "I'm not some programmed robot where you found the one in, cunnilingus, ding ding ding! Fuck you. You still haven't apologized for the worst thing you did because you still don't see it, because you're still fucking doing it."

"I'm sorry," I tried, knowing it wouldn't get anywhere. If she was right, she was right. I didn't know what I was still doing, so I couldn't really apologize.

"Fucking ask me what it is," she hissed, stepping closer.

The giddy panic was back. There was something about her anger that had always induced it. My boner was back, too.

"Please tell me what it is, L."

I looked up at her, her thighs, mons, belly, tits, shoulders, lips, eyes. My ideal.

Oh.

""Pedestal,"" we said simultaneously.

"So you did see it. You were just holding out on me."

"I promise not," I said quickly. "I just—it—it clicked."

James dropped to her knees before me, crept forward, leaned with her hands on my thighs.

"Why do you think I said yes? Where do you think you'll find a flesh and blood woman who's okay with precisely one specific sex act from someone with whom she has such a complicated history? Do you even ascribe any desire to me? You think by rejecting me, you're being chivalrous? You think accepting my wants is pushing your luck?"

I had no rejoinder worth issuing.

I didn't think she was precisely right about my perspective. Seven years of rejection and seven years of omission added up to almost half a lifetime of impossibility. The idea that any intimacy wasn't pushing my luck seemed ludicrous. That she had nodded to my initial request still baffled me. But she was still fundamentally right. I hadn't thought about her desires—only their negative. And just because I was a revolutionary didn't mean that there were no traces of the patriarchy's conditioning left in my brain.

So I just sighed and handed her my phone.

"I don't know," she said bitterly, refusing to take it. "I don't really think I could live with myself if I accepted a pity fuck from you."

"Fair enough," I said.

I pushed away and stood, storing my cock. She looked up at me, then stood herself. Somehow the inequity in our relationship was manifest in that moment, in the height differential, in the clothing differential.

"I'm sorry," I said, "for putting you on a pedestal."

"I don't forgive you," she frowned.

The room was stained a faint pink. Dawn was breaking. Cinderella. Without looking away from James, I pressed the speed dial for Fumine on my phone's home screen and put the device on speaker.

"Hey honey!" she replied, speaking low.

"How's Rose?"

"She'll be fine," Fumine said. "Turns out nothing too serious. I ended up snoozing in the hospital room a bit. You're up early—you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"Must not have slept much."

"I haven't slept at all," I said.

"Oh no!"

"L and I talked most of the night after you left." I swallowed hard. Had I imagined the conversation with my wife, the permission she'd granted me? And if I hadn't, was there a chance it was a trap? I had nothing to rely on except the history of intentional honesty in our relationship. "Then I went down on her."

"I feel like you're skipping a few steps," James objected.

"Oh! Hi Laura," my wife said cheerfully. "Speakerphone?"

"Yep," she said.

"How was he?"

"Fervent."

"Nice."

"Yep."

My mind raced. What was going on? Had I not fucked up? Was my wife fine with this? Was James fine with this? A pregnant pause filled the room as the sun rose further.

"I have a lot of questions for you," James said, finally, addressing the phone.

"You can ask them," Fumine said, "but first you need to answer one of mine."

"Okay."

"Should I switch our flight back a day?"

I had the distinct pleasure of watching James blush while glaring at me, unsure how to respond to my wife.

"Don't you have work tomorrow, love?" I asked.

"I'm not talking to you," said Fumine.

James looked from the phone to me, then her face cracked and she was smiling.

"You need to make more decisions for this asshole, Fumine."

"I'm hailing a taxi now," Fumine said. "Don't be too good until I get there."

She hung up.

"You heard her," said James, stepping closer.

Slow to process things, I dumbly said, "I did."

"Your wife sounds like a swinger, dude."

"We're not," I said, maybe too quickly. "From the first day of our relationship, she's made it clear she wanted a closed affair."

"And I'm sure from the first day of your relationship, you made it clear that you were over me."

She was dragging me back to the bed, sitting on the edge, pulling my head between her legs.

"Thank you," she said, looking down between her breasts at me as she positioned my mouth at her vulva, "for admitting you were wrong."

"You're welcome," I tried to say, lips flush with hers, but the only thing that came out was a low buzzed humming.

"I most certainly am," she laughed. "That's actually nice. You want to say more bullshit?"

I opted for more classic techniques, hardening in my pants as I brought her closer to orgasm. Her flavor changed as she became more excited, and I noticed that I preferred the taste of Fumine's juices, with perhaps too long a note of pride for not simply ranking James above my wife. Still, it was far from unpleasant, and James's obvious pleasure was almost distracting from the task at hand. An idle hand went to my crotch, feeling my cock through my jeans, and I twitched eagerly in response to my own touch.

"You've been such bullshit tonight," James said, squirming on my tongue, "I kind of want you to jizz your pants. Don't take it out. Put that hand in me."

I complied, one hand under one of her thighs, the other maneuvering below my tongue to slip two fingers into her vagina. Her flow accelerated and she arched her back.

"Fuck," she moaned.

I pulled her clit into my mouth as I caressed the roof of her vagina. My own pleasure crescendoed as her hips began bucking, and jizz my pants I did, releasing spurt after spurt in my underwear as James's vagina contracted around my fingers. Broken breathing preceded a rough hand shoving my head away, and she curled up in a ball, shuddering.

"Fuck, are you okay?" I asked, trying to ignore the gooey feeling in my pants.

A deep sigh evened her breathing, and she looked up at me.

"What, Fumine doesn't cum this sweet?"

Unsure how to answer, I set myself to the task of drying my chin. After a moment, James stretched out, and remained like that, luxuriating under the dawn rays through the skylight.

"Did that please you?" she asked.

I nodded several times in short motions, my eyes closed. "More than you can imagine."

"It is hard to imagine," James said. "I've never had it so good from a man before."

"From a woman?"

"A couple times. Real good. But what I said earlier is true." I tilted my head. "They don't know me like you do."

I did a spit take. "It was my first time down there."

"You don't have to believe me." She looked down at my pants, the dark stain on the crotch. "You do need to do something about that."

I nodded my agreement and left in search of a bathroom. When I'd done what I could, I returned, running into Fumine in the stairwell.

"Someone smells like pussy," she said, taking my hand and giving me a deep kiss.

After the kiss, we just stood there. I didn't know what to say or do. I'd spent the night with another woman. I'd eaten her out twice. She'd touched my cock. We'd both orgasmed. My wife looked better-rested than I. A faint sparkle danced in her eye.

"I'll only regret this if it makes you weird," she said, after the moment had dragged on too long.

"Okay," I said, but then moved away from the stairs. "I feel like we should talk before going back in there."

Fumine smiled. "I don't think I have anything to say to you that won't come up when Laura asks me her questions."

"Okaaaay." I shook my head. "But I—"

"No," Fumine said. "Just no. Laura is right. I need to make some of the decisions."

"What's going on with the two of you?" I asked, as my wife began to lead me up the stairs. "You showed her the stories, too. It's almost like you plotted this together."

"Almost."

"My God."

"Almost!" Fumine squeezed my hand. "Promise we didn't."

"I mean, it's fine either way. I'd just want to know."

She clicked her tongue. "Our number one is honesty. I'm certainly not going to go back on that now that you're sleeping with your high school crush."

A shiver coursed its way through my body.

"Damn girl," Fumine said, looking at me with new eyes, "you like when I talk to you the way she does."

We were at the attic landing, by James's door.

I hung my head. "I'll be good," I said. "You can have your convo."

"Don't be too good," Fumine said, mock indignation in her voice.

She opened the door. James was dressed again, and under her covers, though the flush was still visible in her shoulders and around her collar bone.

"Hi Laura," Fumine chirped.

"Fumine."

"Looks like you got back to it."

James nodded.

"Cool. Honey, I'll have what she had."

I blinked.

"Where—"

"Less talking, more stripping." Fumine stepped across the room in a few large strides, removing her top as she went. Then her pants, then her panties. She crawled onto the spare bed in just her socks, ass and pussy right in James's line of sight. Rearranging herself so that she was seated on the bed with her back to the wall—where I'd spent most of the night—she directed me to get busy between her legs.

I knew she'd been cool with social nudity in public baths when she lived in Japan, but this was something entirely new. Sex with Fumine was an intensely private act. In our first weeks dating, even discrete groping around others had elicited harsh reprimands. Now she was telling me to go down on her in front of someone, and I was in shock.

"Have you forgotten your master's voice?" Fumine asked, voice sweet but stern.

This also surprised me. We'd barely dipped into the most vanilla of power play.

"If you're not stripped and lapping at me in twenty seconds, I'm canceling your flight back to California and filing for divorce."

I had no idea how serious she was. And if she was serious, if this is who my wife suddenly was, did I want to be married to her?

"20."

Our history flashed before my eyes.

"19."

Seven years of passable attraction, of emotional intimacy.

"18."

Bonding over disability and shared political views.

"17."

Her singing voice, her love for our cat.

"16."

Nothing bad stood out.

"15."

Our sex life had been pretty basic, but I had no interest in more.

"14."

Or did I? Either way, who was I to begrudge her a fantasy?

"13."

If there was an irreparable rift in our relationship, I could address it later.

"12."

I nodded, and she stopped counting as I stumbled out of my clothes and between her legs. I found her pussy right where I typically wanted it: at the tip of my tongue. She was incredibly wet, and I pulled the whole thing into my mouth.

"That's more like it," said Fumine.

I looked up at her face, saw her staring in James's direction. Her eyes were those piercing orbs she'd used on me the previous evening. I was curious to see who she really is. And I was curious to see who you really are.

"You had questions," my wife stated, keeping her voice even as I licked her lips and clit.

"I did," said James. "But first I have to say, damn you're freaky. Your husband thought you were ultra vanilla."

"Sorry," breathed Fumine, running her hands over her breasts, rolling her nipples. "Did you give credence to something this dog barked?"

The escalation of the fantasy must have taken James aback, because she said nothing. I continued my ministrations. I knew I had no place in the conversation.

"Look," Fumine said, after a pause and a delightful moan, "I should admit something. I've basically never fucked outside a bed, outside a bedroom. I have been super vanilla. But I've been reading these stories he's been writing, and becoming more interested in exhibitionism and power stuff. And when he mentioned seeing you today, and I saw the spark in his eye that he thought he'd killed, I saw an opportunity for myself."

"That... actually answers a lot of my questions," said James. "I take it you're pretty much down for wherever this leads."

"As long as he remembers whose he is. I need him to come home with me at the end of this."

The evening before, the three of us had talked about how my presence at home soothes her, makes her work more bearable. James understood.

"Despite appearances, I'm not a home wrecker."

"Appearances? Home wrecker?" Fumine laughed, her pitch uneven as I fingered her. "Laura, you just look like a slut who hasn't been fucked enough."

"That's exactly what I am," said James.

As I applied gentle yet rapid flicks to my wife's clit with my tongue, I heard fabric rustling behind me. The floor creaked. A hand on my shoulder gave me pause, then another hand was pulling my head away from Fumine's pussy. I was roughly dislodged and sent sprawling on the floor. James knelt in my place.

"I need to thank you, Fumine." James reached back and shoved her right hand fully in my mouth, almost making me gag. She got her hand well-lubricated, then let me breathe. "This guy was a good friend, but he was also a huge pain." She swung back to my wife and inserted three fingers into her slick vagina in a single, swift motion. Fumine moaned. "You turned that pain into pleasure."

"Fuck, yessssss," hissed Fumine. "Just pump, just pump like that, I'm gonna cum from my pussy."

James maintained pace, and soon Fumine was screaming, legs kicking, knuckles whitening as she clutched the sheets.

I'd never seen my wife with anyone else before. Hell, I'd never seen two people engage in a sex act like this in person. My cock ached as I watched James lean back on her haunches and lick her fingers.

"You look like you want to ask Laura something," Fumine said.

I nodded.

"Go ahead."

"I'd take that hand now, if it's still on offer."

James glared at me, then leaned forward and licked my wife again.

"Ooooh." Fumine's eyes rolled back. Another lick, another drawn-out moan. "Fuck, I could come again."

And she did, quickly. James brought my wife to a second leg-shaking orgasm in a minute, and kept going.

"You taste better than I do," she breathed between licks.

"Hear that?" Fumine asked, gloating.

I just nodded. It was true. I loved that James knew her own flavor. I was also happy than the women were enjoying themselves. I didn't need James's hand. I didn't need to get off. For all James's earlier admonishment, it really wasn't about my ejaculation. I watched my wife turn to putty in the hands of my high school crush. I must have had the dumbest grin on my face.

James did keep looking back at me, always with a glare on her face. As she persisted in my wife's crotch, she kept adjusting her own position. I assumed this was because her knees were uncomfortable, but eventually she took a break from cunnilingus long enough to say something another thing:

"Take a fucking hint, already."

I focused my mind and realized her ass was raised invitingly. My wife chuckled, somewhere deep in her inter-orgasmic bliss. "Good giiiiirl," she moaned. "I wasn't going to tell him."

"I didn't exactly bring condoms on this trip," I said.

"Oooooooooh yeah," Fumine drawled. "The one other thing we talked about while you were in the bathroom. Sexual health."

They fucking did plot this.

I scooted to be right behind James. Her pussy was red and swollen, drooling wet, slightly agape. Lowering myself on my ankles, I lined my cock up with the entrance to her vagina.

"I-" I choked. "I don't want to do this if it's another thing I'll need to apologize for later."

Fumine opened her eyes to look down at me, James between us. She squinted and raised both eyebrows as if to say "really?"

And before I could say anything else, before I could make any other decision, James pushed back, impaling herself on my cock. I was in. Fully in, in one stroke. She was indelibly wet. It felt completely different from being inside my wife, but still good. And the significance of it shorted something in my mind.

The next thing I knew, I was emptying myself deep into James, cumming in powerful spurts.

"Oh, fuck," I said, embarrassed, pulling out just in time for my last ejaculation to splatter across her right ass cheek. "I'm—I'm sorry that was so fast, I—"