Leslie Visits

"Oh, hell yes!" I grinned in response.

"It's kind of messed up," she said a little hesitantly.

I was intrigued. She wasn't usually embarrassed by anything.

"And blowing me in the car and then sitting on my face and making me lick your ass wasn't?" I asked, trying to contain my laughter.

"No...that's just catching up. Here's what I want, though. I want you to take me upstairs and fuck me."

"Why not right here?" I asked.

"Because that's the part that I've been thinking about since we got here. The messed up part. I want you to fuck me on your wife's side of the bed. I want to pretend for just one minute that I'm the one you come home to and make love to whenever you feel like it."

"Leslie..." I said slowly. "That IS pretty messed up."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice quivering a little bit. "I just...I haven't had anybody good in my life in a long time, and I'm a little jealous of what you guys have. Is that so messed up?"

"No," I said sympathetically, "it's not. I totally get what you're saying."

"But it's too much, right?"

My brain did a quick recap of our situation. I was way past guilt or anything like that. It was completely disloyal, but so was fucking Leslie on the couch. I could live with the symbolism of her fantasy just like I could live with the raw fact that I was about to fuck another woman. Again.

"No. It's not too much. I just needed a minute to wrap my head around it!"

"So...can we?" she whispered.

"Yup. I'll have time to throw the sheets in the wash before we leave."

"God damn it...you're being practical again!" she said as she pivoted to sit up. "You figure out the details...that's what you're good at. But first, take your fucking clothes off!"