Pool Party

Yes, to my shame, I was going to come for him. And I was going to open my legs to him if he wanted to fuck me again after that.

And he did.

* * * *

One night, two weeks later, in our bedroom, I sat on the side of the bed, in my silk sleeping shorts, and watched Ann, in her robe, sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair. She was a beautiful woman, with a natural beauty. I didn't have to watch her scrubbing off cosmetics. Everyone said we were a beautiful couple. Bev Thornton had said it at the pool party. Others had agreed. Jim Thornton, smiling, had agreed as well.

Then he fucked me. Repeatedly. I sat there, Ann counting each stroke of the brush in her hair out loud. Mentally, I was marking off an ejaculation under Jim Thornton's and Vince's and even Zach Childs's influence with each stroke she voiced. I included the times I jacked off the last time I was with Jim Thornton at the cabin behind Hal's Tavern and watched him fucking Randy Hill—and of course I included my ejaculation when I fucked Randy too. She reached the end of her count before I reached the end of mine. I was hard.

I said, "About that job offer you have on the West Coast, Ann."

"Yes, what about it?" she asked.

"I've thought about it. I think you should take it and we should move out there right away. They want you right away, don't they?"

"Yes, that was the idea killer, though, wasn't it? Going out there right away?"

"It's a good job. You'd be head doctor of the department. I think you should take it."

"But what about you? About your writing?"

"I can do that anywhere."

"Well, if you think so." She turned to me. Her robe opened to expose her right breast.

"Come to bed now," I said, my voice thick with need. I pulled my sleeping shorts down, and she could see my need. She, I'm sure, thought the erection was for her. That's what I wanted her to think.

Shucking her robe, she came to me. I lay on my back on the bed, as she straddled my hips and rode my cock, her head bent over me, her long, luxuriant hair brushing my chest as, hands on her still-thin waist, I slowly raised and lowered her on my hard cock—my cock not hard for her really, because my mind was thinking of me riding Jim Thornton's cock—or, now, Randy Hill riding my cock.

Something that couldn't continue. We inevitably would be caught and exposed.