Tell Me Everything

by Amy Hatvany

  “I feel like she’s being sort of slutty,” Ella said, quietly. “I mean, putting a boy’s penis in your mouth is sex. Right?”

  I nodded. “Yep. But more than that, it’s a pretty intimate thing to do with another person.”

  “So gross,” Ella said. “I am not putting a penis in my mouth, like, ever!”

  I laughed, thinking about what I’d done with Jake and Will a few weeks ago, and how much I’d liked it. “You might change your mind about that, but I’m glad you feel that way, now.” I paused, trying to think of the right thing to say. “The thing is, when you have sex with someone, even if it’s ‘just’ a blow job, you’re sharing a piece of yourself. When you’re in a loving, committed relationship, sex is, hopefully, more of a give and take situation that you both agree upon.” Ella watched me, intently, so I continued. “But especially when you’re younger, that give and take is tough to navigate. It sounds like Conner is taking a blow job from Lizzy, and maybe not giving anything back. It’s also really easy to confuse having sex with a boy with being loved by him. Physical intimacy definitely isn’t the same as emotional intimacy, and you can’t exchange one for the other. Does that make sense?”

  I thought about Will, then, feeling somewhat strange talking to my daughter about confusing sex with love when my connection with him had nothing to do with that particular emotion. A brief flash of guilt nipped at me—a faint shadow of the shame I’d felt when my parents walked in on me and Ryan when I was fourteen—but then I reminded myself that I was a grown woman, and clearly, after what I’d done with my husband—and was about to do, alone—with Will, I had the ability to have sex without linking it to emotion. I couldn’t have done something like a threesome when I was younger and riddled with insecurities about whether I was thin or pretty enough, or whether or not a boy liked me. I wouldn’t have had the confidence, or more importantly, a true understanding of what my sexual desires were so I could take control of an encounter, or at the very least, ask for what I needed. Peter never gave me an orgasm because even though we were married, I couldn’t work up the courage to tell him how I wanted to be touched; I was too afraid that if I told him that what he was doing wasn’t working—that kissing me a little and then fucking me wasn’t enough to make me come. In fact, by the time it was my turn for an orgasm, he was already in the kitchen, making a sandwich. But he never knew it, because I used to fake satisfaction so he wouldn’t get his ego bruised. Of the many ways that Jake differed from my first husband, one of the most significant was how from the start, he wanted to know what I liked, checking in as he used his hands or mouth on me. “Is that good?” he’d ask, and because he cared so much, I felt comfortable saying “a little faster,” or “slower,” or “a little more to the right.” He made me feel safe.

  But now, in talking with Ella, I had to remember that she and Lizzy were barely teenagers, and had much to learn about themselves and the intricacies of having sex. “Ella?” I said, when she didn’t answer my question right away.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I get it.”

  “And do me a favor,” I said. “Don’t call her a slut. It’s a really mean word. She’s young to be doing this, but being curious about sex is a totally normal thing, and she shouldn’t be made to feel ashamed of herself.”

  Ella gave me a worried look. “You’re not going to tell her mom, are you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not my place. But you might be able to say something to Lizzy about it. Maybe let her know, sort of casually, especially if she brings it up, that you’re there for her if she wants to talk.”

  Ella thought about that for a moment, and then lay back down, resting her head in my lap again. I wanted to say more, to ask her if she had done anything close to what Lizzy was doing, but I knew if I pushed the subject, she’d clam up. Better to leave the door open for her to come to me later. Meanwhile, I’d have to decide if it was a good idea to talk to Tiffany about Lizzy being the purge ring leader after all.

  “You’re a good mom,” Ella murmured, then, snuggling her head against the pillow in my lap.

  “Thanks, honey,” I replied, thinking for the first time how she’d feel if she knew about what I’d been exploring, sexually, with her step-dad and Will. I imagined her disgust in discovering that I not only enjoyed giving a blow job to one man, but two, and the thought of her revulsion made me a little sick.

  Whatever happened on Saturday, my children could never find out.

  Eleven

  I stood in front of Will’s building alone, trying to work up the courage to enter. It was almost seven, and I’d left Jake at our house about an hour before, kissing him passionately in the garage as we said our goodbyes. The kids were with Peter for the weekend, and not scheduled to come back until Sunday night.

  “Have fun, baby,” Jake said as we stood next to my car. “Be safe. Text me when you get there, and when you’re about to leave, so I know you’re okay.”

  I nodded, searching his face for any hint that he might be hesitant to let me go through with this experience. But his expression revealed nothing but excitement and the beginnings of lust, so I kissed him again. “I love you so much.”

  “Love you, too, gorgeous.”

  I’d texted him in the garage across the street from Will’s building, as I told him I would. Now, my knees shook as the security guard confirmed with Will that he was, indeed, expecting a visitor. I held my breath in the elevator; my nerves were on high-alert, drunk on adrenaline. My heart felt as though it might pound right out of my chest. I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored wall, happy that I’d shopped for a new dress and lingerie. It felt strangely intoxicating, selecting something so intimate for another man’s enjoyment, but I’d modeled what I’d chosen for Jake the minute I brought it home, so really, it was for him, first. He’d had a hard time not stripping it off of me. I’d spent the last couple of days feeling constantly stimulated, thinking about what it would be like to be alone with Will. At night, Jake and I had whispered to each other about it, too—how excited he was for me to come home and relay every detail.

  Will answered his door almost immediately. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a black, V-neck T-shirt. His feet were bare. “Hey, you,” he said, welcoming me inside.

  “Hey,” I said, a little breathlessly. When the door closed behind me, I dropped my purse on the small table in the narrow entryway. I was about to say more, but before I could, Will pulled me into his arms, and kissed me, passionately. I could feel him, already hard, against my leg, and I tensed, only for a second. He immediately let me go and stepped back.

  “Shit, sorry,” he said, giving me a worried look. “I’ve just been thinking about doing that for two weeks.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I said, with a shaky smile. What woman wouldn’t like to hear that? “I liked it. I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

  “Let’s have a drink,” Will said. He motioned toward his living room. “Ease into things. And if you’re not feeling it, I’m totally okay if you want to leave.”

  I looked at the couch, then shook my head. I appreciated how considerate he was being, but I didn’t want to make small talk with Will. I had come there for one thing. “This isn’t a date,” I said, boldly. “I don’t need you to seduce me.”

  “All right, then.” He stepped toward me and pressed me up against the wall. His hands roamed my body. When they reached my breasts, he moved his lips down my neck, nipping my skin with his teeth. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on the ripples of pleasure moving through me, surprised at how easy it was to be alone with him. To give this man, who I barely knew, full access to my body.

  My mind strayed to snippets of what my husband and I had done with Will the last time we were here. I thought about Jake, at home, now, knowing that another man was touching me—knowing that he was likely reliving the night the three of us had been together, too. Picturing me doing the same things, again, without him, waiting for me to come home. The headiness of these thoughts only
fueled my desire.

  Will’s hands moved over my hips to the outsides of my thighs, where he used them to push up my dress. When his fingers found my lingerie, he gripped my flesh. “God, I love a woman in stockings,” he muttered.

  I set my hands against his chest, then, shoving him away from me. I began to pull my dress off over my head, slowly, and with deliberation, revealing the royal blue and black corset I’d chosen to go with a black lace garter and seamed thigh-highs. I stood there, my shoulders back and my chin slightly lifted, letting his eyes roam over me. After a moment, I took his hand and led him down the hall to his bedroom. I felt like a Victoria’s Secret model, gliding down the runway, or a high-class call girl about to do her job.

  Once we were in his room, Will stripped off his shirt, and I stood in front of him, trying to undo his belt. It stuck, and I yanked on it a couple of times, until finally giving up. “Help!” I said, laughing.

  He laughed, too, and immediately obliged, undoing the top button of his jeans for me. I was about to unzip them, but Will surprised me by taking me into his arms and walking me backward until I had no choice but to fall onto the bed, my legs bent and hanging over the side. He dropped to his knees, spread my legs, and then ran his hands up and down the silky fabric that encased them. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and then his lips were on my inner thighs, nipping lightly, the same way they had on my neck. He nuzzled between my legs, barely brushing over the fire there. I moaned a little, reaching down to touch his head, trying to urge him to do more.

  “Not yet,” he said. Once again, his lips moved over the skin of my thighs, his hands continuing to stroke my stockings. One of my heels fell off and he took a moment to put it back. “Those stay on.” He stood up, and then lay on top of me, kissing me, the heft and pressure of his body different than Jake’s, but just as reassuring. I reached down and touched him through his jeans, struggling to get them unzipped.

  “Those come off,” I said, mischievously, and he laughed again, helping me with the zipper and then shimmying until he was naked. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I felt with him so quickly. I had worried that I would freeze up and have to leave—that perhaps this fantasy should remain only that. But here I was, as full of aching and longing as I had been the last time, more confident than ever that I wanted to do this. In that bedroom, I wasn’t a mother or a wife. I was simply a woman. I was Jessica. All I wanted from this man was sex.

  “Put your mouth on me,” I said. As an adult, I’d never been assertive like that about what I wanted; at least, not until recently. But there was a new boldness rising up inside me. And when Will complied, when he gently moved my lacy black thong to the side and used his tongue to tease me, I closed my eyes again, tensing my muscles, slowly letting the pleasure build, and when Will’s fingers joined his mouth, I knew release was only moments away.

  “Oh god, yes, like that,” I moaned, and so he moved his hand a bit faster, increasing the pressure of his tongue, and then I was coming, wave after wave of sparks exploding through my body, white lights flashing behind my eyes. He curled his fingers inside me, keeping his tongue moving, gently, leading me to tense again, almost immediately, and another spasm rippled through me.

  “Fuck yes,” he muttered. He continued his movements until I came again, and then once more, until I finally laughed a bit and pushed him away.

  “Jesus,” I said, breathing hard. I’d had more than one orgasm during sex with Jake, but never one on top of the next like that, rolling together. I felt a flicker of guilt, thinking that if anyone should be giving me new sexual experiences, it should be my husband, but then I realized that Jake was part of this experience, even if he wasn’t here to witness it. I would go home and tell him what Will had done, and I imagined Jake between my legs, determined to recreate it.

  “That was amazing,” Will said, joining me on the bed. We kissed, and I felt him begin to undo the top few hooks on my corset, revealing my breasts. He shifted and got on top of me again, but quickly moved so that he was straddling me, his hips just under my chest. He held my breasts together with his hands and slipped himself between them, his thumbs flicking my nipples as he moved slowly, forward and back, coming close enough to my mouth so I could lick and suck the tip of him. He looked down at me, watching, so I made sure to make eye contact when he was in my mouth.

  After a minute or two, he stopped, and flipped me over onto my stomach. “Get on all fours,” he said. I did, hearing him rustle in the side drawer. I glanced over and saw him pull out a condom. He tore the package open, and put it on before slipping inside me in one swift movement, grabbing the flesh of my ass as he did. I groaned, feeling him filling me up, pushing back against him. We began to move in sync, then, slowly at first, and then faster, until I felt another orgasm begin to build. I adjust my body so I could put my own hand between my legs, finding the spot I knew would send me over the edge.

  “Yes,” Will said, thrusting with intent. “Come with me.”

  “Fuck me harder,” I hissed. I closed my eyes, moving my fingers, picturing my husband’s face, thinking about how the last time I was in this bed, in this exact position, I had his cock inside my mouth, and the memory of that was all it took. My body began to convulse, and I cried out. Will’s hips slapped against my ass in a heated motion, moving faster and faster until he stiffened and cried out, too, and then collapsed onto my back.

  We remained like that for a few seconds, until he rolled off of me and shifted so that I could roll over, too. We lay on our backs, staring at the ceiling, our breathing slowly returning to normal, not saying a word until I turned my head and looked at him.

  “That was fun,” I said, and he grinned.

  “Hell yeah, it was.” His cheeks were flushed and his blond hair was messy, flopping over one side of his forehead. His brown eyes sparkled. “You’re fun.”

  “Thanks,” I said, basking in the pleasurable afterglow of my orgasms and his compliment. I did sort of an internal, emotional check-in: Was I attracted to him? Was I having any kind of romantic feelings? Did I want to be with him more than my husband? The answer to the first question was yes: I was attracted to Will, but only physically. I liked him, but not in a starry-eyed, gee-I-get-a-funny-feeling-in-my-stomach kind of way. He was smart, handsome, and an excellent lover. But the only thing I could really think about was how much I couldn’t wait to get home and see Jake. I didn’t want to cuddle with Will, the way I always did with my husband after we had sex. The only thing I wanted from Will was what he had just given me. The only longing I felt was for the man I already loved.

  “You doing okay with all this?” he asked, and once again, I appreciated that his consideration for my feelings. “Not too weirded out?”

  “Surprisingly, no,” I said. “I was worried I might be.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine it’s pretty strange to be here, doing this, for the first time.” He rolled over onto his side and propped up his head with his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. “I’ve never been someone’s first before.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, the few other couples I’ve done this with were more experienced than me. The women were great, actually. They kind of taught me how it all worked. What my role is, and how to play it.”

  “Interesting,” I said. I told him about the few articles I’d read online about the hot-wife dynamic.

  “Wow,” he said, when I’d finished. “I never gave much thought to why the whole thing is such a turn on. But it makes sense, what you said about biology.” He paused. “For me, though, it’s more about seeing the woman really embrace herself as a sexual being, shedding her inhibitions. There’s something really powerful about that.”

  “It’s been powerful for me, too,” I said, thinking about how much more confident I’d felt over the last several weeks. I wondered if this was what it would have been like for me if I hadn’t gotten married and become a mother so young; if I’d spent my twenties having sex with men purely for pleasure’s
sake, and I felt a stab of regret for not having granted myself that kind of freedom. But that feeling was quickly erased by the realization of how lucky I was to be experiencing something similar to it, now.

  “Did you meet all of the couples you’ve been with the same way you met us?” I asked Will.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, and then popped up and walked across the room to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The water ran, and a couple of minutes later, he returned and joined me on the bed. “Okay. So, I met two couples the same way, but the one other I actually found online. There are all sorts of websites you can peruse for this kind of thing.”

  “Like, dating websites?” I asked, unsure of what he meant. “Hot-wife, match-dot-com?”

  “No,” he said, laughing. “Just for sex sites. Adult Fun-dot-com, Craigslist.”

  “Craigslist?” I repeated, with disbelief. “The same place people post about their garage sales?”

  Will laughed. “Well, yeah, but it’s in a different section. There are lots of sketchy people on there—a lot of hookers and spam accounts trying to get you to sign up for porn sites—but there are also some normal, intelligent, sexually adventurous people. That’s how I met my last couple. I posted an ad, and they answered it.”

  “That’s crazy,” I said, trying to imagine going online to look for what Will, Jake, and I had come to somewhat naturally.

  “A little bit, yeah.” Will reached over and set his hand on my stomach. Normally, I would have felt self-conscious about my not-so-six-pack-abs and found a way to shift on the bed so he wasn’t touching me there anymore. Instead, I let him gently stroke the bulge of soft flesh that peeked out from under my corset, enjoying the way it felt. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said. “So hot.”