by Vivian Ward
His hands slap my ass, grabbing hold of the meat, squeezing my ass cheeks together as he buries himself deeper inside me. He’s right there; I can see it as his teeth begin to clench together.
“That’s it, baby,” I coax him. “Come inside of me. Add to his come.”
I can feel thick streams of his cum shooting inside me, flooding me as it leaks back out but he’s nowhere near done. It’s becoming a sticky mess all over his groin and my thighs as he continues thrusting upward into me.
Using my Kegel muscles, I tighten the walls of my vagina to snugly wrap around him to make the grip even tighter as I milk him for every drop of come that’s still left in his aching balls.
“Fuck, Cathy!” he belts out, his fingers digging into my hips as I continue grinding against him.
“Oh, my God!” He takes a few deep breaths. “What the fuck?”
He’s fully alert now. Completely awake.
Now, he’s confused.
I smile down at him, proud of my creativeness and the incredible orgasms that we both just experienced.
“How was it, babe?” I ask.
“Oh, shit,” he says. “That was so fucking good.” He pauses for a moment while his cock finally begins to stop twitching inside of me. “Did you leave? You go somewhere?”
I shake my head.
“No, I didn’t go anywhere,” I laugh. “You were having another sex dream about me, and I decided to take advantage of you.”
“What’d you do? I know you did something, I just don’t know what it was.”
As he begins to subside, I ease off of him and grab his shirt from last night off the floor and start to clean up with it.
“You know how we’ve been talking about me coming home with a cream pie?”
“Yeah?” I can see his eyebrows furrowing.
“I decided to grab the lube and let you think it was come. It was just a little role play, that’s all.”
He looks over at the nightstand and sees the drawer still slightly open and knows I’m telling the truth. I toss him the shirt as I start to put my panties back on.
“Huh,” he says, nodding. “That’s fucking genius. What the hell possessed you to do that?”
“I dunno,” I shrug. “I was just trying to be creative. It’s something that we’ve talked about, and it’ll likely never happen, but I thought it’d be fun to try.”
“Well, I liked it,” he laughs.
“Yeah, you did! I thought I’d do it while you were having the sex dream because I knew you’d be confused and a little disoriented, so it’d be more believable for you.”
He shakes his head at me.
“That’s not playing fair, you dirty little sneak.”
“You love me,” I say, carefully taking his disgusting shirt from him after he’s wiped off with it.
Now that we’re both clean, I toss it in the dirty clothes basket and cuddle up in bed with him.
“Cathy?”
“Hm?” I ask.
“I love you.”
“I love you. Good night…and stop having sex dreams,” I tease.
“Maybe I would if someone would stop molesting me in my sleep!” he says.
“Shut up! You like it, perv!”
Chapter 16
By the end of the week, Scott and I have exchanged a few more emails, and he’s very eager to meet me, and I’m just as excited to meet him, too.
He tried to give me his phone number after the first few emails, but I politely declined. Brett and I decided early on that it would be better if none of the guys ever had my number and we communicated exclusively through email.
This helps prevent them from being shady, trying to hook up with me behind his back (which would get them barred from any future fun) and it prevents them from calling or texting me over and over if shit goes south.
Even though it’s Saturday and I’m scheduled to go in this afternoon, we’ve decided to meet up at a nearby walking trail on my way into work.
It’s a pretty populated area with plenty of people who walk and run on it, so it seems like a relatively safe place to meet him. Today is Brett’s turn to lead the Cub Scouts, so I’m going solo.
Pulling into the commuter parking lot, I see the blue pickup truck that Scott described to me. It’s a raised, electric blue pickup with a jagged lightning bolt running down the side of the vehicle.
It would be impossible to miss something like this, but even if that weren’t enough, I also spot the sticker in the back window that represents the American flag. He served in the military and is proud of our country.
As I turn the engine off and open the car door, it flies out of my hand, catching me by surprise.
I look up and smile as I see him opening the car door for me.
“Hi,” I say smiling up at him.
My uneven voice gives away my nerves.
He’s even better looking in person.
“Hello, Cathy,” he returns a handsome grin that shows a concealed dimple.
Looking around, I check to make sure there are plenty of people, yet I also scan for familiar faces to make sure nobody that I know sees us together.
“Should we go for a walk?” I ask once the coast is clear.
“After you,” he extends his arm.
While the two of us are walking, it just feels natural to be with him. It’s not weird nor does it feel forced.
“So, it’s been a while, huh?” I start off the conversation after we’ve made small talk about the weather and people.
“About four and a half years,” he says matter-of-fact, the corners of his lips pull down as he tries his best to smile.
“That’s gotta be rough,” I wait for a mother with a stroller to pass us on the trail. “Have you done anything like this before?”
“Not that it’s any of my business,” I quickly add.
He smiles at me.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind questions. To tell you the truth, I used to cheat all the time in other relationships before I marred her, but she’s different. I have never cheated on her. Never.”
“Why now?”
I know it’s blunt, but I’m curious.
“Let’s face it, I’m 47, and in a few years, I’ll be 50. The ladies don’t want old married men. Usually, they don’t even want married men.
“When I saw your ad, I thought it was perfect. It’s the ideal situation for me. You’re married, I’m married, and neither of us is looking for any emotional attachment, no reasons to leave our spouses. Just sex, and that’s all I want.”
“That makes sense,” I agree with him.
“I love my wife, but it’s hard not to have sex. It’s something I love to do, but with her medical condition, it’s not possible for us to do it, so I’ve patiently sat by her side. For the longest time, I was creative and tried to find ways to engage her, hoping that something would work, that I’d find something to stimulate her.
“Sex for the woman is just as important as sex for me. I take great pride in making sure the lady always gets what she needs otherwise there’s no fun in it.”
From the sincere tone of his voice, I can tell that he means it. This guy is the real deal, there’s nothing fake about him, and I like it.
Most of the guys I’ve talked to or have tried to meet were only in it for themselves, but this guy seems like he has something to bring to the table—for my pleasure, not just his.
“I hear that,” I nod in agreement as we walk past a patch of tall oak trees before we reach the small bridge that leads us to the pond.
“I’m the same way,” I tell him. “I like to please the man I’m with, and I usually do a pretty good job.”
We smile at each other, and this might sound crazy, but it feels like we get each other.
“I’ve read about stories where men have complained about women lying in bed like a dead fish, and I can assure you, I’m no dead fish. I’m more of a,” I pucker my lips as I come up with the right word. “I’m more of a firecracker in bed. I�
�m lively, full of energy and I make sure things end in a big bang,” I laugh.
“Yeah? Sounds like a good time to me,” he says. “One thing that I didn’t mention to you before is that I’m clean. I don’t have any diseases—I’ve never had one. And I’m fixed, I got snipped about 20 years ago.”
“Oh, um, that’s good. My husband got fixed too, and it’s nice. Neither of us has ever had anything either.”
We’ve made a full circle on the walking trail and are back by the commuter parking lot where we initially parked.
“Scott, I’ve got to say that I like you. I don’t know why but I feel completely comfortable with you.”
“I was about to say the same thing,” he bobs his head. “It feels like I’ve known you forever.”
“So…do you want to see each other on your next day off?” I say as we come to a standstill.
The warm afternoon sun is beaming through his blonde hair, making his blonde hair look red in certain patches. Even if he were a ginger, he’d still be cute.
“Would I? Yes, I’d like that,” he flashes me a warm grin that makes me feel good.
It’s the kind of smile that says, “I really dig you.”
We walk back to our vehicles and saying goodbye is a bit awkward but mainly because neither of us wants it to end because we were having such a good time talking, but I have to get to work.
“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll email you.”
We shake hands before I get into my car and head in for my shift. Work is going to be mighty hard to concentrate on tonight.
The kids are outside playing while Brett and I enjoy our Sunday off together. He typically works Monday through Friday, so we don’t get to hang out much on my second day off.
Typically, I’ve always reserved Monday’s for house cleaning days while the kids are all at school and I dreaded them. But now that I’ll be doing some extracurricular activities, they don’t seem nearly as bad.
Work was so busy last night that I didn’t get a chance to tell Brett about mine and Scott’s conversation during our walk. By the time I got home, he was sprawled out across the bed, snoring.
“Is that all the two of you said?” he asks.
I’m trying to rack my brain to remember every detail, but it’s hard to do because we talked about quite a bit. Our walk probably lasted about an hour because many parts of it were interrupted since we were being cautious about what we said around others.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. All I know for sure is that things started well and ended well. I couldn’t ask for better.”
“Why is that?” Brett’s brow furrows to the middle of his forehead.
He’s insinuating that I like Scott based on the inflection of his voice and his body language.
“I don’t mean it like that!” I throw a couch pillow at him. “It’s just that he’s friendly, respectful and not a tool like most of the other guys. I like him, and I think this is going to be awesome.”
“Yeah, except the fact that I’m loaning you out instead of being included,” he sulks.
I feel bad. I really do. When we started out on this venture, it was always supposed to be a threesome with some occasional one-on-one time with the other guy.
The problem is that none of the guys responding to us are interested in threesomes. They say they are, but they’re not. You can always tell right away too because they’ll ask about us having sex alone without Brett almost immediately.
It’s like they don’t even try to beat around the bush that they only want me. They’ll say things like, “So does he always want to be there? Will he always watch?” or my personal favorite from the creepiest of creepy dudes is, “When do I get you all to myself?”
Cringe.
It makes my skin crawl.
“You know what, I want to ensure he’s going to be okay with the camera when I go over there. Let me email him real fast.”
“Hey Scott,
Before I come over tomorrow, I wanted to mention something. Since it'd be just me and you (I don't think you're interested in doing a threesome), are you okay with taking video/pics?
The only person that would ever see them is my husband that away he gets what he wants which is why he allows me to do what I do. As much as I enjoy the experience, he gets off on me fucking other guys. It's a HUGE turn on for him. And we don't ever have to record your face if you don't want, but he loves getting pics/video of me being fucked and giving BJ's.
We would never EVER upload or share them or anything like that. When guys ask for naughty pics (and they do it all the time), I refuse. You never know what people will do with that kind of thing, and I don't trust men. Most of the guys who respond are pic collectors.
I won't have pics of me (sexy ones) floating around on the internet because I have kids and one day that shit can come back to haunt you. lol”
Brett snickers as he watches me hit the send button.
“What?” I ask him.
“Our kids are never going to look at porn because they’re going to grow up to be priests and nuns.”
“Dream on! If those kids take after us, we’ll have 20 grandkids. Easy,” I tell him.
He shakes his head and then nods toward the computer, “You’ve got a response.”
I look at the screen and see that he’s right. It’s Scott responding to my email.
“You should not assume that I don't want to spend time in a three-way. I have done that before but some one-on-one time would be nice.
I talked to my wife about you, and she is concerned that I’m going to fall in love with you. I told her that she has nothing to worry about. She said that she knows me and knows that I’m not the type who can just have sex and leave it at that because I like to get to know people.
Usually, I’d say she knows me better than anyone, but this is one thing she’s wrong about because I love her very much.
While I have you to myself, your husband will get what he wants. Don’t worry about that. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I’ve included my address at the bottom of the email so you can put it in your GPS.”
WhenI look over, I notice right away that Brett’s giving me some serious side-eye as he crosses his arms across his chest.
Oh, no. He didn’t like something he just read.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“Uh, the fact that his wife is worried about him falling in love with you? Now, she gave him permission to find a ‘friend with benefits,'” he air quotes that last part. “And now she’s worried that he’s going to fall in love. Cathy, I think this guy likes you a lot more than you think.”
I shake my head. There’s no way this can be true because we just met and I hardly know the guy. We had a longish walk on the walking trail—the very public walking trail—and we shook hands. That’s it.
“I think maybe his wife is a little paranoid, babe. I mean, you worry about me developing an emotional attachment to every guy that I talk to, but it’s not about that. This isn’t why we do this. We do this for the sex only, for the thrill. It’s not fun when people get hurt, Brett.”
He shakes his head as though things still aren’t sitting right with him.
“You and this guy have been emailing back and forth for days—a lot. What if he’s crushing on you because you talk to him all the time?”
His words strike a chord.
“What? Are you listening to yourself?”
I pause, waiting for him to answer but he doesn’t.
“Brett, you don’t seriously expect me to find a random stranger on the Internet, take a 45-minute walk with the guy and go to his house alone, get naked and fuck him without knowing something about the man? What if he’s a serial killer? And his wife doesn’t know? Or what if he’s got a torture dungeon and they’re both in on this? I’ve gotta feel the guy out.”
He shrugs.
“If you think you’re going to get murdered or raped while you’re over there, maybe yo
u shouldn’t go,” he smirks.
His words are confusing me and none of this makes sense. Why have me put an ad up on the Internet to fuck someone—by myself—and then get pissy because I want to know something about the person? It sounds crazy.
Maybe I’m crazy.
Or maybe he’s just jealous.
I’m going with the latter.
“Look, babe, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean that I think he’s a bad guy or that I’m worried about him. But for me, there’s a whole mental aspect in all of this. I have to know—or at least think—that he’s interested in me and attracted to me. There’s also a need for me to know that the guy’s not a complete tool or creep before I get naked with him while it’s just the two of us.”
He sits in silence, staring at the TV without acknowledging me and it pisses me off.
“Brett!” I snap my fingers. “Look at me, babe.”
He turns his head and looks at me with the dullest expression on his face like he’s bored or bothered by listening to me talk.
“Don’t look at me like that. Before I met you, I had quite a few friends with benefits….and we all used to hang out together, but guess what? None of them knew I was fucking the other one. In fact, you wouldn’t know unless I told you. Why? Because I don’t kiss and tell.
“Everything was casual. We were literally FRIENDS. Nothing more, nothing less. We laughed, talked and hung out. That’s what friends do, and if you want me to post ads for friends with benefits, you need to let me be friends with these guys. Like my ad said, I have to like them in order to fuck them.”
“Cathy, I get what you’re saying but where is the line? When does that line get crossed? What happens when the two of you become such good friends that those lines blur and you start developing feelings? Then what? How will you know when it’s time to cut things off?”
He’s raising some very valid points, but I can’t even fathom thinking about entertaining the idea or thought of falling in love with another man. To me, this is truly about friendship, and before I can go to the dude’s house and fuck him, I need to feel safe.
I need to feel wanted and desired, and I want to feel comfortable.