Oliver and Emilie Wright

byMatt Moreau©

"No really. I think our little problem a few months ago has actually done us a little bit of good," she said.

"Hmm, maybe, but I don't want any more help with our problems from the Walcotts, ever!" I said. Yeah, I knew what was coming; there'd been hints.

"Honey, could I ask you for a big favor, but really not that big?" she said. I knew for a fact she could feel my back stiffen.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" I said. I heard her sigh.

"Honey, I ran into Mavis at the market today." My look must've cued her.

"No, we didn't socialize. She was buying carrots and I was buying cabbage, that's all. We did say hello to each other. She asked how you were doing. I asked how they were doing. Well, and then we went our separate ways," she said.

I knew what she was about. Like I said, I twern't no idiot. "No," I said.

"No? No what?' she said.

"No, there will be no thaw in our relations with those two. Not now not ever," I said. "Find another store to buy our groceries from."

"What if..."

"Fuck it, Emilie. The answer is no. Now, do you understand me here?" I said.

"Please, can I at least get a word in edgewise," she said.

"Say it and say it fast. You're beginning to bore me," I said.

"What if she did you?" she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"What if she slept with you? You know like you wanted that one time," she said.

"You said a lot more to each other than hello didn't you, Emilie," I said.

"Okay, yes. I—I—well, I wanted to break the ice. She was my best friend forever, and because I was stupid; well..."

"And, what if I said yes? What would be the next step? You sleeping with big dick Billy?" I said.

"No, no, I mean no!" she said.

"Uh huh, really. Okay, call her up now. Tell her to get over here—now. I think I still have enough juice left for another go or two. Call her now," I said. "I'd make the call, but one humiliation asking her for a little relief is a lifetime's worth."

"Now?" she said. "I mean you mean now!"

"None other, Emilie," I said. "A big affirmative, a loud you better believe it, got the imprimatur of the Pope on it. Put another way, yes, I mean now."

"Okay, Ollie. I'll call her. And, oh, just to be clear. She didn't mean to insult or humiliate you that last time. Frankly, she thought you were half kidding. Kind of a turn off for her, if you know what I mean. The truth is she asked me to ask you this time around. She said she'd really like to sample you. That's how she put it." I knew she was lying, but I had a plan.

"Okay, fine. But get to it. I ain't talkin' Chinese," I said, "now, actually means now, not when you get done yakking. Oh, and remember, for Billy it is gonna remain forever never. Got it?"

"No, no, I get it. Okay, I'll make the call," she said. Oh, I knew she was setting the wheels in motion for what she thought could be a phased in assault on my resolve, but she had no idea the degree of hate I held for mister Billy Walcott. The only way I'd ever allow that asshole around me or in our house was to fuck him in the ass myself—I smiled at my mind's picture. Yeah Billy how do you like getting' in the ass from your cuckold; kinda fun huh? For me at any rate asshole. Yeah, well I could dream,

She headed into the den to make the call. I didn't follow her in, but I did lurk just outta sight of her in the kitchen. I didn't know what I might hear, but whatever it was, it was sure to be interesting.

"Hi Mavis...Yeah, I asked him...He's real suspicious, but he did go for it...Yeah, yeah, yeah...No, he's good to go...Well, so what; it won't kill you...Oh yeah! Well if you wanna know, he ain't half bad in the sack...No, Billy is better, but my Ollie's okay...Yeah, yeah....Maybe someday...but for now he's still persona non grata...baby steps, girl, baby steps...I hurt him pretty bad, and so did you when you turned him down...Yeah, well he won't believe that, nor would anyone else...Okay, anyway, get your ass over here now and fuck him...yeah, yeah, I mean now. Otherwise it's a no go...Okay good...you too. Hurry up," she said, and hung up.


I have to admit it; it was nervous time, and that for the both of us, me and Emilie. It was maybe half an hour later, and close to 11:00PM when we heard the knock on the door. She answered it. I was standing next to the dinette table when she came in. Emilie for her part wasn't quite shaking in her boots, but she was clearly concerned. I looked from one to the other of the two women across from me standing side by side.

I spread my hands in a what's next gesture. Mavis took up the slack.

"Ollie, before we get down to business, I'd like to apologize for the last time; I mean the way I talked to you. I wasn't very nice. Please forgive me, okay?" she said. I nodded, but it was a noncommittal nod.

"Would everybody like a drink or something?" said Emilie. She looked to be wanting to do something for us, or, more accurately me. She wanted me calm. This was her idea, sort of. She had a vested interested, or so I presumed, in me getting what I wanted—whatever that was—out of this strange as hell situation.

"Yes, that would be nice," I said.

"Ditto, that for me," said Mavis. Emilie headed for the den.

"So, does Billy know what's going on here tonight?" I said. I was actually more than a little interested in what she was going to say in that regard.

"No, he was out when I got the call from Em', I think he's out grousing around for some strange," she said. "But, it doesn't matter. He'll figure I'm doin' the same thing and just go to bed if he gets home before I do." I nodded. Just then, Emilie reappeared with the drinks.

The two women took their seats. Emilie on the couch and Mavis in the easy chair across from her. I smiled.

"I think maybe we've got things a little backwards here," I said. I was still standing. They looked askance at me.

"Shouldn't Mavis be sitting on the couch so I could sit next to her?" I said. Both of the women flushed.

"Oh—oh!" said Emilie. "Yes, yes, of course. I wasn't thinking. Just habit, I guess." They switched places. I moved to the couch and sat right next to my wife's best friend. I reached for my drink which Emilie had placed on the coffee table.

"To a thrilling night of sex," I said, raising my glass. I almost laughed out loud. Mavis had the look of one who was throwing herself under the bus for the team. It was clear to me that she didn't really want to be with me, didn't want me to screw her for sure. For my part, I hadn't quite decided if I was actually going go through with it or not. Mavis forced a smile onto her face.

"To good sex," she said, echoing me. We all raised our glasses and sipped. Mavis leaned in against me, reluctantly, I thought, but definitely. I put my arm around her. Her hand went to my lap. She found my bulge and now she smiled for real. "Hot for me, big guy?" she said.

"Sure," I said. I kissed her. Em's face was a mask of passivity.

"Well, I'll let you kids alone for the duration. I'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight. She passed by me, placed her hand briefly on my shoulder and headed off down the first floor's hall.

We, Mavis and I, made out for a little while, and then I stood. I offered her my hand. She winced, the moment of truth, I guess. She seemed a condemned prisoner being marched off to the gallows. I decided to call her on it.

"You don't want to be here, with me, do you?" I said. "Almost anybody else but me. Right?"

"Oh no! Ollie. That's not it at all. It's just—well—she's my best friend..."

"But it was all right with the two of you if she fucked your husband," I said. She looked away. Suddenly, she was ugly to me. I not only didn't want her. I wanted to be away from her—far away from her.

"Just leave, Mavis. I've lost interest. Just leave," I said.

"Ollie, please. I'm just—well—a little uncomfortable. I really do want to sample you. Just give me a chance. Please. Okay?"

I paused, made a decision and nodded. I took her hand leading her up the staircase. I would be screwing her on the same bed her husband screwed my wife on. It was poetic as hell.

I sat on my wife's vanity stool while she stripped. C-cups, narrow hips and waist, bubble butt: she was a winner if female body parts had anything to do with the equation. But, the acid test was still to come. Was she going to be into it, or was it just a case of her tolerating me so I would lighten up on her communing with my wife.

Naked, she lay on the bed and eyed me. I stood and began to do my own strip tease. Down to my skivvies, I hesitated. I pushed them floorward, and straightened up. So far not a word had passed between us since we'd come up the stairs.

I stood straight and still as she finished her appraisal of me. She gave me a very slight nod. "You'll do," she said, chancing my reaction to her analysis. I snickered.

"It is what it is," I said. I was feeling confident for once, and, I was feeling really really horny. She giggled.

I lay down beside her and kissed her, gently, almost lovingly. She gave me a quizzical look, but said nothing. I let my hand roam her body, eventually finding her slit and playing with her clit. She purred; I don't think it was fake.

I pushed my finger into her slit and pulled it out. I licked it. She smiled. I rolled on top of her. My arms consciously and relentlessly pinned her arms to her side. I began probing with my dick, now steel hard. I was in no hurry. I wanted the first time to last. Finally, I slipped in. She was wet enough to make the slide inside of her an easy one. She grimaced slightly as I impaled her. I began screwing her. It might be the only time I ever did her; I wanted it to be if not memorable, at least not too bad.

Having had Emilie twice earlier in the evening, it took a while for me to cum; she didn't, cum that is, but she mooed. I took that as a sign that she at least more or less enjoyed it. I rolled off of her.

We lay breathing heavily side by side. "Was it as bad as my wife thinks it was sure to be," I said. I figured she'd tell me I was wonderful. I was wrong.

"One, your wife has never said you were all that bad, not as good as my Billy; but, well, not that bad. Still, you've got a lot to learn if you care to know," she said.

I rolled onto my side and studied her. She wasn't joking and she wasn't putting me down. I was sure of those. She was being honest?

"Really?" I said.

"What, you expected me to stroke your ego? I'll do you again, in the future. You show promise. Just not a heckuva lot of imagination," she said.

"Really?" I said.

"Yes, really," she said. "And, for my money your wife should appreciate you more. Your tool is a little on the short side, but it can get the job done if you learn a few things. Give me a call later in the week. We'll talk. Okay?"

"Yeah, maybe," I said.

We talked for a few more minutes, and then cuddled up and napped for about an hour. It was a little after 1:00AM when she got up to go to the bathroom. When she came back she dressed as I watched her. Done, she came to me, kissed me on the forehead, and left.


It was quiet the next morning. I was up first. She must have slept okay in the guest room because she got up an hour later than usual. I heard her footsteps on the floor of the dinette before I saw her. I turned. She was dressed, and she was gorgeous. I was in my jeans and a t-shirt.

The mug was half way to my mouth when I saw her; I paused with it hanging there. "You look good. Going somewhere?" I said.

"Yes, to breakfast, with you," she said.

"I was just going to have coffee and little toast," I said setting my mug down.

"Your plans have changed. You're taking me to breakfast," she said.

"Well, I guess a man does have to do what he can to please his woman." I got up and headed for the bedroom. I needed my wallet and my keys. I got 'em, grabbed my hat, and was back downstairs and ready in less than a full minute.

"Where to?" I said, as we exited the back door.

"IHOP would be fine, the one on Chester. We can eat and maybe talk," she said. I nodded.

"Okay," I said.


Hotcakes consumed, second cup of Java in front of us: we settled back in our seats to talk.

"So how was it, dare I ask?" she said.

"Good, I guess. She seemed to appreciate me more than you. But, maybe she was faking it. I mean how am I to know for sure?" I said.

"Boy, I did screw up your head didn't I," said Emilie. I didn't respond to that; I mean, what would I have said.

She sighed, "Can I ask, you know, are we okay now?"

"No." I said.


"What? You think one roll in the hay with one of your confederates is going to make us even? You imagine that all of the hurt you laid on me, the arrogance of it, is going to just magically disappear?

"If we do manage to straighten things out, Emilie, it'll have to be you figuring out a way to get me to trust you again. And, as the old country boy might be likely to say: They'll probably be driving Buicks to the moon by then."

"Jesus. Ollie, can't we just forget the past and try and start over? I want to start over. I haven't been real smart in the way I've handled things up to now, but I can do better," she said, "a lot letter." Her words were wrong.

"Whaddya mean handle things better, exactly. Sounds like you mean to keep on doin' what you've always done, but maybe hide it better than before. Is that what you mean to say, Emilie? How about a little honesty here, okay?" I said. She grimaced. She sighed.

"You want honesty. Right, honesty. But do you really? Okay, I'm going to give you honesty. And, I'm going to give you point of view too. Coming here this morning, I was not deluding myself that everything was going to be hunkydory from now on; I knew it wasn't. But, I did think that maybe the groundwork might be laid for future progress if that's the way to say it. But, it looks as though this little breakfast meeting might be for all of the marbles, or, maybe most of them anyway," she said.

"I think you may be right in thinking that," I said. "It just might be for all of the marbles.

"So, okay, lay it on me. The honesty part I mean," I said.

"And, the point of view. Okay?" she said. I nodded.

"Honestly Ollie, to be honest I am dying for a good screwing and I mean right now. You can take it to the bank that what I'm saying is the god's truth. Problem is, even if I could get you interested enough to do me with the enthusiasm that I require, you couldn't. I mean do me satisfactorily. And, before you get up and storm out of here, it's not because it's beyond you. You could do it, or rather learn to. But, you have never really been into listening to me on that score. And, it's not something that is easy for a woman to talk to a man about, I mean to push him to do it right," she said.

"And, so where does that leave me? Leave us?" I said. "Seems like your saying that there is no hope for us," I said.

"No, I'm not saying that. What I am saying is that, I love you so much, and need you so much, that I am willing to settle for less than I would like. How's that for being honest?' she said.

"I can't fault your honesty, but I do fault your logic. I do not recall a single instance of you trying to teach me the ins and outs of pleasing you," I said. "One would have thought that at least you would have made some small effort in that regard. But, there is more isn't there. It isn't just me not knowing things is it?" She looked away.

"You promised to be honest, so let's have it," I said.

"It's cock size. I'm not exactly a size queen, but large cocks are a major part of it. It's the one thing that I couldn't overcome for us even if you did learn to do me good," she said. I could feel my mood darken.

"So, I ask again, is this the end of us?" I said. "Because I will not stand for you fucking around on me," I said. "Not in any imaginable world. And I am really and truly not into pity sex."

"Get real. Why do you think I did what I did calling up Mavis for you? Why do you think I am trying so hard to keep you, to get you to trust me, to forgive me for all of the mistakes I've made by sneaking around on you? I did it because I love you and only you. In most ways you do it for me, and you would for any woman. You don't have a big dick. Your bedroom skills are pure junior high; but those realities, as big a deal as they collectively are, should not be the end of the world for us. And, yes, I'll say it: for me—selfish though I'm sure I sound," she said.

"Sure it's not just my income you love and not me?" I said. "Let me put that another way—and here is where honesty will be at a premium—what if I didn't have the kind of income that I do. How would you feel about me then? Convince me that you'd love me, and only me, even then, and all will be well." She gave me a look that was utterly unreadable.

"Your income? I suppose one could make the case that without it you wouldn't be as—what—attractive as you are. I do like being able to spend and go and do the things I like. Who wouldn't? But, then none of that really answers your questions does it."


"Well, then, honestly, yes it would change things, change how I look at you in some ways. But, that said, if you lost your job, and we went bankrupt or something; I do believe that I would still love you just as much. Can't prove it. But I'm sure of it," she said.

"Hmm, right words but of doubtful credibility.

"So that's it?" I said. "Doesn't change much. And, if you care, my self-esteem is still pretty much in the shitter."

"I do care Ollie, but no, that is not quite it, as you say," she said. I looked her askance.

"My point of view—and yours too if you want," she said.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," I said. She snickered.

"I wish I could get you to forget a few other things," she said.

"Yeah, me too," I said. She studied me. I was sure I was going to hate this one, but, whatever. I mean how much worse could things get?

"Ollie, when you caught me and Billy that day, I was embarrassed. But, truth told, I wasn't all that concerned about your feelings. Frankly, I wasn't worried at all. That was my very very bad! I didn't consider how you might feel. Jesus, stupid stupid stupid on my part! Anyway, then I treated you as if 'you' were the moron when it was me all along. All of that said, there was and is, in my mind, the reality of things," she said.

"The reality of things?" I said, really not getting where she was going with this.

"Yes. It came to me the day after it all came down. I mean you catching me and him, Mavis treating you like a two days old donut, you crying your eyes out—and don't deny it; we both know you were devastated by it all. Anyway, the whole thing, it came to me," she said.

"What came to you?" I said. I was doing my best to be patient. I signaled the waitress for a third cup of java. She came, refilled our mugs, smiled, and left us to our words.

"Yes, I was seeing things through my eyes while not considering that other people might see things from a whole different perspective, point of view. It came to me while I was bemoaning your reaction to everything to Mavis.

"Ollie, you have always been not only number one, but really the only one. People, like cars and video games and sporting events, divert us. They enter our lives and interact with us and help fill our days, our lives. Then, they leave and go to their homes and husbands and wives and jobs and golf games and the like. I was treating Billy, and a few other men over the years, like those kinds of things—like diversions, like toys. Hell, they were so fucking wonderful that I don't even remember their names, except for Billy, but that was just recent so, well, I remember his."

"But people are not video games, Emilie. They have feelings and opinions and attitudes that get applied to those around them—like for example wimpy assed husbands like me," I said. "At least that is the way Billy and the other men you just mentioned likely saw and see me.

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byMatt Moreau© 53 comments/ 125007 views/ 12 favorites

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