Sarasota

I hated that stupid little ring on her left hand. And I hated it more that he wasn't a bad guy. He was generally pretty funny, knew how to throw a good barbecue and seemed to worship her. His timeline was filled with posts about their little dates, and cute pictures of her with coffee, with their little terrier, and out on hikes.

More than I want to admit, I'd find myself alone in my bed, gripping my hardness while I remembered the little comments she had made last time we talked. "It's been a hell of a week, I just need to get railed." Fuck, was he not up to the task? I could do better. And she knew it. My mind replayed over and over again our one drunken tryst on an overnight trip to the west coast, before she had met him. The way she had asked me to use her body like a toy, the way her black hair looked matted with sweat as I pinned her wrists down, the way she smiled as she melted into a puddle when we finally finished. I knew what she needed, and that damn ring meant I couldn't give it to her.

I was halfway through a black coffee and bacon breakfast when I saw the notification on my phone.

The text was short, and polite. "Would you be interested in coming over tonight?"

As I picked up my phone, my fingers instinctively began to swipe the word "Sure" before I deleted it. I was sure I was interested, but I wasn't sure I was interested in going home at 10, blue-balled and frustrated from watching her play Little Miss Housewife. I started to craft a delicate excuse in my mind when the second text came in. "He and I worked out an arrangement. I need another Sarasota."

Those four words hit that same as a double of Jack, immediately to the pit of my stomach and then up to my brain. My head spun. The final text was one word. "Please." I knew her well enough it wasn't politeness anymore. It was desperation. It was a whimper.

My half-hearted excuse faded away.

"I'll be there at 7."

----

He offered me a beer as soon as I arrived. "I knew about Sarasota, but holy shit man. You left quite an impression." The more he talked, the more it was clear he was trying his best to be friendly. I still hadn't seen her yet, but could hear the shower cut off upstairs. We chatted about work, about the Braves but the conversation fairly quickly turned back to the real reason I was there.

"You know, she's been really patient with me. I've been working a lot more, and bringing a lot stress home. And with our anniversary coming up, I wanted to give her something really special. She told me the Sarasota story and I'll be honest, I just kind of want to watch y'all."

We laid out some basic boundaries. He wanted to stay in the room to watch, but would let us know if that boundary changed. We established that I wasn't interested in doing anything with him, but he was free to do whatever he wanted with himself while he watched. He let me know that her only boundary was that I be the only one to touch her tonight, and what her safe-word would be in the event that she needed to pull the brakes. He looked at a notification on his phone, smiled, and turned his phone off.

We finished our beers just before she texted me to let me know she was ready. He grabbed the empties and turned towards the garage. "You head up, I'm going to take care of a few things downstairs and then I'll head up. We've never done this before, you know." The first sentence had nothing to do with the second, and somehow lit the fire even more than anything else so far.

--

She was sitting on the bed when I got there, candles flickering in little tin cups on the dresser. Her black hair was carefully curled into soft waves, her makeup impeccably done, yet understated. I had expected the full lingerie experience, but what I got was better. She wore stockings but nothing else, leaving her body on full display.

On that drunken night, I hadn't appreciated the importance of taking your time, but this would be different. My eyes soaked her in, savoring the image of the triangle shaped patch of dark hair between her legs. She wasn't the same person I knew then, she was something more. Someone driven and motivated, she knew who she was and who are wasn't. And that made it all so much better.

I reached out and put my hand on her knee, tracing my fingers up her thigh to her hip. I wanted her so badly, but I wasn't sure whether we could start before he got into the room. I started to pull my hand away and she put hers on top of mine. "He told me last night he wants to catch us, to walk in on me already lost in the moment. Which is good, because I'm so fucking impatient right now."

The last word flashed in my mind like a green light, and I sharply grabbed her by the shoulders, fingertips gripping at the bone beneath her pale skin. I pushed her back against the bed and grabbed her legs at the knees, spreading them. I knelt down at the end of her bed and kissed my way along the inside of her thighs, paying special attention to a small series of fingertip bruises along the way. Clearly they weren't lacking for action like I had thought.

My tongue found its prize quickly and she squirmed beneath me. I placed my hands on her quads, holding her in place, as my thumb and pinky stretched across her legs. A gasp escaped her and a small moan squeaked out. "Just like that. Oh fuck don't stop. Don't ever stop." I wasn't planning on it. I kept my tongue right where I been dreaming of since that night. "But we really should stop. What if he catches us?" She wasn't the greatest actress, but I was too lost in the moment to care. A quick "mmhmm" as I kept to my goal was all I needed to say for my part in the little roleplay, anyway.

The first wave hit her suddenly and she clenched her knees tightly around the side of my face. I kept going, to push her through it, and into the next one while I planned exactly what I wanted her husband to find. "Oh fuck. I need you inside me. I don't care if my husband is downstairs anymore." She was now in that gray area between roleplay and truth, and I was loving it.

I wanted my back to the door, partly for the purposes of their little game, but partly because I really didn't care if he was there or not. I wanted her body, and her little fantasy world was just the story I had to tell myself to get there. I undressed as she moved herself to the center of their king bed, my henley and jeans left in a pile at the foot of their bed. She had started playing with herself and I stood a moment longer, taking the sight of it in, enjoying the way her hand seemed to glide across her body while she teased it, teased me.

I climbed on top of her and guided my body into hers. Her hands spread out across my body and held onto my hips, setting the pace she wanted. "Is this what you wanted?" I asked as I moved just slightly slower than the pace she was setting. ", Oh fuck you, you asshole." She stuttered on the last word, as it broke her character, revealing her true attitude beneath. "Oh I'm going to go there too, don't worry." She pulled me into her with more urgency, faster and deeper now. I was torn between a desire to give her exactly what she wanted and a fear that if I did, it might be over faster than I wanted. I heard the door handle turn just as I made up my mind.

I heard him enter the room, but I heard nothing else as I slammed into her. Her moans got louder, but more real, with each thrust. "Oh fuck baby." I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or him, if this was more of the character she was playing or the truest version of herself I had been privy to all night. I wasn't sure if I even cared.

She had another orgasm shortly after he came in the room. I wasn't sure how much time had even passed, and I didn't want to start counting the minutes because it meant they were disappearing. "Let me ride you." The words came out ragged as she recovered from what was clearly enjoyable agony. I turned over as she grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand and pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. Clearly the curls weren't meant to last.

As she straddled me, my eyes glanced over to her husband. I had forgotten he was even there, and now curiosity overtook me. Jesus, he wasn't small. Another thing I was wrong about. His hands moved with a familiar purpose as she lowered herself onto me. Her back was to him now, but I watched as he got up from the chair he had placed in the corner, and now leaned back against the dresser, stroking himself.

Her hips made small circles as she took control, and I was happy to let her. She had always been a good dancer, and this skill served her well now. I let her lead, and I followed, just hoping I didn't step on her toes. "Oh god yes, this is exactly what I wanted." Again, I didn't know which of us it was directed at, if anyone. And again, I wasn't sure it mattered. She lifted her hands off my chest and slowly they climbed like vines up to her own neck, and onto the messy bun she wore like a crown. I took the chance to put my hands back onto her hips, and speed up the pace. My hips challenged hers, rougher and faster than before. Her eyes widened and her lips pursed, trying to stifle the the moan that was building. Suddenly her hands fell back onto the bed, and her chest rested on mine. I felt the sheets get tighter underneath my back and she clenched her hands around the fabric.

"It's your turn next time." The words came louder than I expected, but I didn't want it to end yet. I glanced at the alarm clock on their nightstand. Fuck, it was later than I realized. She dismounted me and turned to face the dresser, the door and her husband. "I want you to finish with me like this."

On her hands and knees, she looked so good. I entered her with a groan. God, how was she this tight? "I want your cum. I need it." She said the words to me and his hand sped up, pumping himself faster and faster while I slammed into her over and over. "Oh fuck yes. This is what I need. Cum for me." My arms started to shake as I held onto her shoulders and I felt myself getting closer. Before the question was even formed in my mind, she answered. "Cum wherever you want. You deserve it."

The words sent me careening over the edge. I groaned and unloaded years of frustration and longing into her, emptying more than just my body. I slumped against her back, I watched her husband grab a towel and wipe his hands. He must have finished too. He grabbed two others and tossed them to us, one to each.

"Holy shit that was hot," he said as she and I rolled over and I wiped the sweat off my face. She walked off with an insane level of confidence, calling out "Hell yeah it was," as she went to the bathroom. Her husband and I remained in a cautious silence, both still clearly in recovery mode.

I heard the water start and stop as my brain struggled to right itself, like a ship in a storm. "Seriously, thank you for that," she said as she walked back into the room. I sat on the bed and watched as she walked over to her husband and kissed him deeply. "And I mean it, it's your turn next time."