by John Locke
“What stopped you?”
“I never met anyone I’d be willing to lose my marriage over. At least, not until you came along.”
“You’re willing to lose Alison over me?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. That’s quite a compliment.”
“You’re welcome. So anyway, we’ve done a lot of settling in our marriage over the years and probably would have divorced by now, had it not been for Jessie. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when she goes off to college.”
“How often do you make love?”
Before I can answer, she says, “Remember, you have to tell the truth.”
“I will. Let me think a minute. It varies. She’s really weird about sex.”
“How so?”
“She only wants to do it when we’re out of town, which is rare. But over the past few years she hasn’t even wanted to do it then.”
“When was the last time you made love to her?”
“This is going to sound weird, but…we did it last week.”
“What?”
“Before that it’s been at least two years.”
“What happened last week?”
“You came to visit. Alison told me you were going to call me. I guilted her into having sex.”
“Did she know you were thinking about me the whole time?”
“I think so. She certainly accused me of it afterward.”
Nicki giggled. “Poor Alison. Tell me more about her.”
“There’s really not much to tell. We’re coexisting. We’re roommates, not lovers.”
“She’s very pretty.”
“She is.”
“What does she look like naked?”
“Excuse me?”
“Remember our agreement? We can ask anything. And the other person has to answer truthfully.”
“She looks good.”
“Details.”
“You’ve seen her.”
“Not naked.”
“Right. Well, her breasts are average, I’d say, and they’re spread a little wider than average.” I looked at her and laughed. “You want more details?”
She nodded.
“You mean like her nipples?”
“Tell me everything.”
“Well, they’re average, I guess. More pink than brown, and they’re surprisingly long when erect. Her tits don’t really sag, like you’d expect.”
“She’s only forty, David.”
“Right. What I mean is they’re quite firm for her age, I think.”
“Does she shave her bush?”
“Whoa. Uh…no. She trims it.”
“Every day?”
“I think so.”
“What’s her natural hair color?”
“Same as her eyebrows.”
“Did you ever give her anal?”
“Anal? …Alison?” I laughed. “No way!”
“Does she pleasure herself at night?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you ever caught her doing it?”
“Once. A long time ago.”
“Did she use her hand, or—”
“She was lying on her back in the bathtub with her legs spread apart, straight up in the air. She was letting the water do the work.”
“You came up on her unannounced?”
“Exactly.”
“Was she embarrassed?”
“Mortified.”
“How’d she react?”
“She was furious.”
“With you?”
I nodded.
“That’s so typical. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” I said, wondering what she meant. How would she know what’s typical behavior for Alison? Or maybe she meant it was a typical reaction for a 40-year-old woman. Or a wife. Or…
“Is she loud in bed when you’re having sex?”
“Not these days.”
“What about before?”
I laughed. “She was pretty vocal.”
Nicki smiled. “Did she yell Fuck me! and stuff like that?”
“Yeah.”
“Imitate her.”
“For real?”
“Uh huh.”
I raised my voice an octave and started hollering, “Oh God! Oh…Oh YES! Oh! Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK me! Oh…I’m…I’m cumming! Oh God! Oh, Oh my GOD!”
By then Nicki and I were laughing hysterically.
Then she said, “You’d do her every night if you could.”
“Probably.”
“She still rocks your world.”
“You think?”
“I know it for a fact.” She pointed to my crotch. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you excited to see me?”
“I’m definitely excited to see you.”
“And yet you chubbed up after describing your naked wife.”
“So it would appear. Is that okay?”
“It’s sad.”
“In what way?”
“You want her, but she’s fucking your insurance agent.”
“She’s…What?”
15.
“WHAT ARE YOU talking about?”
“Alison’s been having an affair with your insurance agent. I can’t remember his name.”
“Arthur Blass?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certain.”
“How do you know?”
“Jessie told me.”
“She must be mistaken.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got a copy of their texts.”
“Whose texts?”
“Arthur and Alison’s. You want to see them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Are you serious? My wife’s cheating on me?”
“Aren’t you about to do the same to her?”
Good point. “Yes. At least, I hope so.”
“That being the case, would you want her to know everything you and I have said today?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to ask you to forget everything Alison’s doing with Arthur. I have copies of every text message they’ve ever exchanged, and I’ll show them to you right now if you really want to see them. But I hope you’ll resist the urge.”
“Why?”
“Because Alison’s my friend.”
I wanted to ask if Alison’s her friend, why would she have an affair with her husband, but that would certainly kill the mood. So I said, “I’ll respect your wishes.”
“Thank you, David. I’d also like you to promise not to confront her about it.”
“Why?”
“I just told you: she’s my friend. She’s always been good to me. I love her.”
Her words made so little sense I kept waiting for her to say “Just kidding.” But she wasn’t kidding. She’s just nuts.
Then she said, “I really do love your wife, David. Craving you has nothing to do with how I feel about her.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Is there anything else we need to say about her?”
“No.”
“In that case, I’d like you to leave the room, close the door behind you, and wait for me to open it.”
“Seriously?”
As I stood to leave she said, “I know this seems silly, but it’s symbolic. Like I said earlier, when you leave this room today we’ll never talk about Michael or Alison again. And when I let you in, from now on, everything’s gonna be about you and me.”
“Sounds great.”
I walked out the door, closed it behind me, and waited. Ten seconds later she opened the door, motioned me in, closed the door behind me, took my hand, and led me to the couch. Then she sat down and had me stand in front of her. Then she said, “Will you take your pants off now?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s part of today’s plan. Like I said, you don’t have to, but it’ll set our relationship back if you don’t.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“You’re going to show me your penis.”
“Uh…just like that?”
“Would you prefer not to? Because I think you’ll be glad you did.”
I kicked off my shoes, unzipped my pants, stepped out of them, stood before her.
“And the shorts and socks,” she said.
“Are you—”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I almost asked if she was going to remove her clothes too, but caught myself just in time. I already violated that rule once, and promised not to do it again.
Was I nervous? Of course. Self-conscious? How could I not be? I was a forty-two-year-old man getting naked in front of a goddess half my age who until two weeks ago was giving my son hand jobs on a regular basis. Although I had no idea how big Michael was, I’m sure the smart money would back him in a big dick contest. I only hoped Nicki wouldn’t laugh.
As I stood before her completely naked from the waist down, I was pleased to see myself sporting the biggest erection I’d had in years. Not saying she was impressed, but at least she didn’t appear disappointed.
She picked up my soggy shorts, smiled, and said: “Looks like you started without me. Can I borrow your tie?”
I removed my tie and handed it to her.
“You said you trusted me completely, David.”
“I do.”
She tied a slip knot into one end of my tie and put it around my neck. Then asked, “Have you ever done this before?”
“I’m not sure what we’re talking about.”
“Erotic asphyxiation.”
“What’s that?”
“The intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for purposes of sexual arousal.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It would be, if you couldn’t trust me. But you can. I didn’t work this hard to let anything happen to you that falls short of total ecstasy.”
“I like the sound of that!”
“Thank you. Stay put.” She walked to the bathroom, got a face towel, and arranged it under the tie. “This will help keep it from leaving a mark,” she said.
She tightened the tie until I experienced a measurable—but not considerable—degree of discomfort. In other words, I was able to breathe, but had to work for it. I’m not saying my eyes were bulging out or anything, but my neck felt exactly as you’d expect when someone puts a gentle tourniquet around it. Then she said, “Masturbate for me.”
“What?”
“Please. For me.”
“It’s…I mean…”
She stood in front of me and said, “If you do, I’ll take off my top.”
If there’s one thing I knew how to do well, this was it. So I started, and true to her word, she took off her top. To my great disappointment she was wearing a bra, but at least it was partially see-through, and I saw enough to gasp several times, and I may have even screamed.
And then it was over.
She loosened the knot, and I continued gasping for breath, and she hugged me and kissed me, and at first I couldn’t kiss her back, but after a few seconds I recovered, and we rolled around on the couch and I kept telling myself: Don’t touch her! Don’t ask her to do anything!
It had already been the most amazing orgasm of my life at the point she removed the tie, then it continued for a full ten seconds afterward.
She said, “Omigod, David! You were wonderful! I’m so proud of you!”
I wasn’t sure which particular part she was proud about: my erection, my stroke, my kissing…but then she showed me, and I realized she was talking about how excited I had gotten: the evidence was all over the couch as well as her pants.
“Oh, shit. I’ve ruined your clothes,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. You were a rock star!”
And just as she predicted my mind went straight to Michael, and I wondered if she used to do this to him, and wished I’d asked her more details before leaving the room moments earlier.
16.
April-May-June-July
EVERY TUESDAY I called, and every Friday we met at noon, at different hotels. She always purchased the room, and the pattern continued: she’d give me the room number, I’d push the door open, we’d talk about everything except Michael and Alison, have something light to eat, and then she’d introduce me to her own special brand of eroticism.
With each passing week, she drew me closer and closer to the prize. The first week she led me to the bathroom and let me feel her up as she stroked me to orgasm. The second week she did the slip knot thing with my tie again, only this time she blindfolded me and made me stand on a book and told me I had to remain standing on the book at all times while she stroked me.
Obviously, I exploded.
Then, as before, she rushed to loosen the knot to keep me from passing out. After I recovered, she made me stay on the book with my blindfold on, and surprised me by removing her clothes and rubbing her body against mine from behind. Then she stepped in front of me and said, “No touching with your hands, but you can kiss them if you’d like,” and so I went after her nipples like they contained the secrets of the world, and only my lips and tongue could decipher them.
Each time we met she went a little further and allowed me to experience more of her passion, more of her body, and as great as those things were—to my utter amazement—I found myself craving the tie around my neck. I loved the different things she did to make me excited, but the tie enhanced the experience beyond words. Nicki used it two weeks in a row, then skipped two weeks, and then, toward the end of May, she said: “I’d like to go down on you. Would that be okay?”
Wow. This is something I know for certain she never did to Michael.
She started by asking me to remove my clothes and lie down on the bed. Then she held up my tie and said, “With or without? Your choice, David.”
“With.”
“Very well. But this time I want you to loosen it afterward. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m not sure.”
“If you can’t, no problem. I’ll take care of it. But I’d like you to try.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Great. As for what I’m about to do, would you rather close your eyes, or watch me?”
“Watch you.”
She propped my head and shoulders on pillows. Then said, “Ready?”
I was.
She tied the knot, positioned the washcloth under the rope, then tightened it and gave me the best—well, obviously it was the best blowjob of my life, but that doesn’t begin to describe what I experienced. More powerful than any drug rush you could imagine, this was a screaming high that scaled the very Olympiad of ecstasy.
I cried.
I literally cried.
And yes, she had to loosen and remove the tie from my neck or I—no doubt in my mind—would have died that day. And I was so grateful she saved me, and so sexually spent, and so emotionally dependent on her affection that I curled up in a ball beside her and cried for joy. And Nicki held me close to her body and placed little kisses on my cheek and neck, and told me how much she loved me. It honestly broke my heart when she said it was time to leave.
“This was a good day,” she said.
As I got dressed and left the hotel it dawned on me that Nicki had been right all along. Her version of sex was worlds better than anything I’d experienced or seen in movies or read about in books. She was guiding me, step-by-step, into a world I never knew existed. One that had always been there, but was never appreciated. Like those contestants on Naked and Afraid XL, where they go to some God-awful place and try to survive for 40 days with little food and water. And when they’re done they get to take a simple shower—you just know they have a deep appreciation for that shower! —and all their senses are engaged, and a common shower becomes a spiritual experience.
Nicki was a spiritual experience in her own right. Add the tie and her incremental approach to giving me more and more of herself with each visit and you’ve
got a prescription for paradise. What I interpreted as her craziness or possible insanity during our first date, including the slap, turned out to be a poor judgment on my part. The truth is Nicki has a precise, orderly mind, and when you allow her sexuality to unfold at her pace, and accept and trust her without hesitation, the rewards are infinite. I found myself living for the Tuesday phone call, and needing Friday like a drug addict needs his next fix.
Each visit with Nicki was like a game of chess played at the highest level, where every move brought me closer to taking the Queen. And finally, after many weeks, she allowed me see her completely naked. And that’s when she told me how to unlock “a person’s” phone and delete “a person’s” photos. She also hoped she could trust me not to copy those photos onto my own phone, and of course I promised not to, knowing full well I was going to break that promise, because honestly, how would she ever know?
As I dressed to leave she said, “Promise you won’t get jealous or angry when you see the photos. Try to remember that was a different place and time, and I only did it then so this could happen now.”
“I won’t even look at them.”
“Yes you will. But when you do, take a moment to study my facial expressions and you’ll be able to tell how much I hated doing that. But what helped me get through it was knowing it would keep me in the game long enough to get you interested.”
“I know how hard that was for you, and I’ll take it for the compliment it is, and won’t get jealous.”
“Thanks, David.”
17.
IT’S NOT LIKE Michael disappeared during the seven weeks Nicki and I had been hooking up. He was barely surviving, pouring himself into his work during the week, spending his weekends moping around his apartment or at our house. It was obvious he was using illicit drugs to cope with the pain of losing Nicki, and though we were growing annoyed with his inability to move forward, Alison and I gave him as much encouragement as we could.
Of course Michael made Jessie’s life miserable. Every few days he’d ask about Nicki and pump her with questions about where she was or what she was doing or who she was seeing. This, because Jessie’s the only family member Nicki has called since early April. But Jessie refused to tell him anything more than Nicki was fine, she had a secretarial job somewhere in Colorado, and wasn’t dating anyone yet, far as she knew.