Only Me

by Vivian Ward

  Kissing him, he can taste his saltiness as he grabs my hips and bucks against my rhythm, forcing himself deeper inside of me.

  With each thrust getting harder and faster, I can feel myself growing closer to coming before he finally pushes me over the edge.

  Turning my head, I look at my husband’s face light up in amusement as I cum all over Jeremy’s dick. He’s completely getting off on this and loves watching me orgasm all over another man.

  For a moment, time stands still while my lips are still in a perfect ‘O’ until I ride out my wave of pleasure. It’s only seconds later until Jeremy can’t hold back any longer and releases his seed deep inside of me.

  J: When and where would this all go down?

  C: You could come over to our place, and what’s your schedule like? When is your next day off?

  J: That sounds good, and I’m off tomorrow if you want me to come over then.

  Wow! OMG, I’m totally freaking right now.

  “Babe! Jeremy said he’d come over tomorrow,” I say to Brett. “That means he’s going to go through with it!”

  I’m so giddy that even I know that I look dumb but I can’t help it. I’m just so excited.

  “Damn, Cathy, act like you’re happy. Look at you squealing and bouncing around. You have to work, don’t you?”

  The excitement escapes me for a moment.

  “Damn work,” I pout. “Okay, let me see when his next day off is.”

  C: Gotta work tomorrow. When’s your next day off?

  J: Next week’s schedule won’t come out for two more days, but I don’t have any plans for my days off anytime soon.

  C: Okay, I’ll check back in with you after it comes out and we’ll see how our schedules line up next week. And Jeremy? There’s no pressure. I’m cool with just being friends, so if this is something you don’t think you can go through with or aren’t sure about, then forget I even brought it up. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.

  And it’s true; I don’t. He’s a good guy and fun to talk to. I’ve had a crush on him this long without telling him; it’s not like we ever have to act on anything. I’m glad to have the chance to talk to him and see what he comes up with because he’s so funny.

  J: No, it’s fine but Cathy? Can I ask you something? Why does your husband want you to do this? I mean, it’s kind of cheating, and I don’t get it.

  C: I know it sounds crazy, but it’s not. It’s the act of “watching” me fuck, getting to see me from angles that he never gets to see when he’s fucking me. The idea of other men “taking” me and having their way with me, and in the end, he gets to reclaim me and own that pussy because it belongs to him. It always belongs to him no matter who I’ve been with or what I’ve done because he loves me unconditionally.

  It’s about seeing me satisfied whether he gives it to me or not. And believe me, he fucking does the job, there’s NO question about that.

  We have sex (almost) every day and no matter whether I get off with him inside me or not, he always makes sure that I come. Always.

  So it’s not a matter of “replacing” him, or me trying to get with other people (emotionally), it’s about the raw, primal fucking that it entails and seeing me satisfied.

  I know that this isn’t for everyone and it’s not the norm, but it’s no different from swinging. The only difference is he has no interest in being with other women; he just wants to watch me with other men.

  And he’ll be involved most of the time. Sure, he might just watch, sometimes he might join and sometimes he might even just loan me out to you.

  Privately.

  There’s something very sexy about other men desiring your wife and getting her, knowing all the while it’s just for fun and at the end of the night, she’s going home to the marital bed.

  We don’t view it as cheating. There’s no emotional attachment, and I have his full permission and encouragement.

  Make no mistake; my husband loves me unconditionally. Coincidentally, he also enjoys watching other men fuck me well.

  J: That’s a good explanation! I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.

  If he only knew the things I’ve thought about or what’s been running through my head for the longest time.

  C: Oh, you have no idea. We’re going to have a lot of fun, and it’s going to be totally worth it.

  J: Oh yeah? I’m guessing it wouldn’t be the first time? haha

  C: Not even close.

  “Cathy,” Brett whispers in my ear as I’m almost asleep. “I want you. I need to be inside of you.”

  “I know you do, babe,” I mumble as I adjust my pillow.

  “No. Now. Right now.”

  I don’t even have a chance to respond as he dives under the covers and begins to slide my panties down my thighs. His face is buried in my pussy before I have any reaction to him, but it feels good, so I let him keep going.

  “Damn, baby,” I say as his tongue traces along the outline of my hood.

  “Mmmm, you taste so good.”

  He pushes two of his fingers inside of me as he continues lapping my sweet juices and I can’t help but moan as he teases my G-spot, grazing it every so often.

  “Babe,” I beg, “put one back there.”

  He pauses for a second and looks up at me.

  “You want me to put one in the backdoor?” he asks.

  I nod my head.

  “Yes,” I answer timidly. “You know how I’ve wanted to know what a DP felt like?”

  He flashes a grin; I’m pretty sure that he knows exactly where this is headed.

  “Would you also use my toy on me?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asks.

  My eyes bulge out of my head.

  “Well, don’t put the toy back there! Just use a finger back there and use my toy like normal.”

  He laughs and can’t wipe the smile from his face.

  “Your wish is my command, babe.”

  He hops off the mattress and pulls out the white tote that we keep under the bed and searches for my favorite toy.

  “Are you getting ready for Jeremy?”

  The way he puts extra emphasis on Jeremy’s name makes my smile widen, and I can’t help it.

  “Maybe,” I wink at him. “But you’ve got help me work my way up to being able to take both of you at the same time.”

  He assumes his position between my legs and glides my flesh-colored dildo inside me. Brett finds a good rhythm working it in and out of me, bringing me so close to the edge.

  “Please, I want to feel you back there,” I mumble, bucking my hips against the toy he’s skillfully controlling.

  I can feel the pad of his finger pressing against the opening of my backdoor and the sensation of it is almost enough to make me come, but I force myself to hold off.

  “More,” I thrash my hips against my toy. “Please.”

  Slowly, he begins advancing his finger, and my anus instinctively tightens against it.

  “Too much?” he asks, being cautious with me.

  “No, you’re fine. Keep going.”

  This feels so damn good; there’s no way I want him to stop it now.

  The pleasure of having both of my holes filled is almost overwhelming, and I can feel my climax building. I know I won’t be able to hold out much longer.

  “Oh, God, babe,” I grab fistfuls of the sheets.

  His finger is all the way inside me now, and he’s working my dildo at full speed.

  “Fuck!” I call out the second he begins moving his finger in and out of me while simultaneously manipulating my pussy with the toy.

  Wave after orgasmic wave washes over me and I can’t stop thrashing and twitching about as my walls—front and back—clamp down and tighten.

  “Oh, Brett,” I finally manage to say after I remember to breathe again.

  “That good, huh?”

  He’s obviously pleased with the orgasm that he caused. And rightfully so.

  I nod, “Ye
s, and then some.”

  He starts to remove the toy and his finger at the same time but the sensation is too much, and I can’t handle it.

  “Ah, stop,” I whimper. “Too much. Try just your finger at first.”

  He carefully removes his finger while my ass clenches it, threatening never to give it back to him.

  “I think someone’s got a lot of working her way up to a DP,” he teases me as he begins sliding my dildo out of me.

  “Oh, shut up,” I stick my tongue out at him. “Maybe you’re just really good at it. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Judging by the way I almost didn’t get my finger back, I’m not so sure.” He wipes his hands on his shirt that he picked up from the floor. “But don’t worry, babe. I’ll get you nice and loosened.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I mock him.

  “Didn’t Jeremy say he’d be getting his schedule today?” Brett asks.

  “Yeah, but I haven’t gotten any messages yet. Maybe he’s been busy?”

  “Maybe,” my husband says. “Or maybe he’s going to flake. That seems to be our luck.”

  No. No. No. I don’t want Jeremy to flake. He wouldn’t do that. We’re friends, and he said he wouldn’t do that. I believe him.

  “Do you want me to send him a message? Ask him if he’s gotten his schedule yet?”

  It’s almost a dare to challenge him because I know Jeremy’s just busy or hasn’t gotten it yet. He wouldn’t blow me off.

  Brett is wrong.

  He might have been right about the last guy, but not this time.

  “Yeah, I guess you can do that,” he says.

  Logging into Facebook, I see that I’ve been tagged in a few posts and then I type Jeremy’s name in the search box to go to his page because I want to see what he’s posted lately. He always posts lots of good memes and funny stuff.

  When his page pops up on my screen, I’m shocked to see that his wall is blank and there’s a green “Add Friend” button at the top of his profile.

  Completely shocked.

  “Oh my God!” I turn to Brett, my mouth still hanging open.

  “What?” he perks up, eager to see what has my eyeballs bulging out of my head.

  “Jeremy!” I loudly whisper, so the kids won’t hear.

  Brett shrugs, still oblivious to what’s happened.

  “He unfriended me! Can you believe it?”

  I never thought Jeremy would do that, not in a million years.

  “What?” Brett gets up to take a look at my screen.

  I think that he’s a little surprised too.

  For some stupid reason, I feel flat and deflated. Like getting rejected by your biggest crush in high school. It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel that way, especially since I have the best man in the world standing right next to me wearing the promise he made me for life.

  My feelings are hurt, and I want to cry, but I don’t want to be weak. I also don’t want Brett to know how upset I am.

  Disappointed, sad, and confused are all good words to describe the wave of emotions washing over me as I stare at the lime “Add Friend” button.

  “Oh well,” I click back to my newsfeed. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” I mumble.

  No matter how hard I try to hide my disappointment, I can tell that Brett sees it. He knows.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I know how bad you wanted him, but I told you that I thought he’d flake.”

  Taking a few minutes to collect myself and realize that it’s his loss and not mine, I face Brett.

  “You know,” I start. “I was so worried that he’d turn me down right off the bat, but he didn’t do that. Instead, he gave me an inkling of hope and then ripped it away. It’s his loss.”

  I turn my attention to the kitchen and start getting dinner ready.

  “Besides, it’s probably for the best. Maybe you were onto something when you said that it’s not a good idea to involve friends. I know that you didn’t initially want to bring him in on this.”

  “Nope, I didn’t,” he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist as I begin preparing the food. “But I knew how badly you wanted him, and I’d do anything for you. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

  He follows up with a soft peck on my neck as he squeezes his arms around me.

  “I know you would,” I smile at him.

  Craning my head, I look into his hazel eyes. They’re so dreamy and soft; I could never grow tired of them.

  “I love you,” I say.

  I’m tired of sulking around and feeling down. Jeremy shouldn’t have that kind of power over me. Initially, I told Brett that maybe we should take a break from looking for someone to play out this fantasy with but now I’m regretting it.

  It’s time to put some bounce back into my game and get back out there. I’ve refreshed all of my profiles and uploaded new pics.

  So far nothing has panned out, but I’m optimistic. I’m sure that eventually, the right guy will come along who will make this fantasy far better than either of us could have ever imagined, it’s just a matter of finding him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Want another one?” Brett asks as he’s pouring himself a margarita.

  With no sitter, we’re homebound for the night.

  Usually, on Friday’s, we make plans to go out, but the rainy weather put a damper on any plans we could have done so instead of paying for a sitter, we decided to have some drinks at home and hang out on the back porch.

  I’m not sure whose idea it was to drink margaritas, but they’re definitely hitting the spot. I’ve only had two, but I’m already feeling pretty tipsy.

  “Sure,” I say. “Pour me another one. Maybe by the time I finish drink number 3, I won’t be able to feel my nose anymore,” I laugh.

  He fills my glass and plops down next to me, smiling at me as he soaks up my features.

  “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to find anyone, babe,” he says.

  I finish taking a gulp from my glass and nod in agreement. We haven’t talked about it much, but I know it’s bothering both of us.

  Our hopes were so high that we’d find someone to have a threesome with or someone who I could sneak away with to send Brett some hot pics or a sexy video, but nothing is happening.

  We find guys who talk a big game and then, bam! They disappear or stop responding to our messages right before we’re supposed to meet. It’s frustrating, to say the least, and a waste of time.

  But the role play that we have is fun, and I enjoy doing that with him. Sex has been the hottest it’s ever been in the history of our marriage, and it’s not because of the possibility of having another guy. It’s the fact that he finds me so damn irresistible. For once in my life, I finally believe him when he says he can’t keep his hands off of me.

  “I know, it sucks. I was hoping that we’d find someone by now. Do you think it’s me? Am I somehow a turn-off to guys?”

  I know that Brett finds me attractive, but he’s married to me. Maybe I’m not as attractive to other men as I once was. I am older now and I’ve had unforgiving pregnancies stretch my body more than I’d care to admit.

  “Are you insane? Look at you, Cathy. You’re beautiful, everything about you is beautiful. I love how your hair frames your face, your ocean blue colored eyes, your pouty lips and that ass.” He bites his lip. “Damn, I love that ass of yours.”

  “Brett,” I laugh. “The guys on the internet can’t see my ass. Well, at least not in the pictures I’ve posted.”

  The best shot of my ass that I’ve posted online is a picture that Brett took of me wearing my yoga pants one day while I was cleaning house.

  It’s nothing fancy, just a candid photo of me glancing over my shoulder when he called my name as he snapped the pic. For not being planned and me being a sweaty mess, it’s a pretty cute photo.

  “They can see your tits, though,” he counters.

  That’s true. I have a couple of selfies where I’m holding the phone above mys
elf, and you have a perfect view of my cleavage. I do have a nice rack if I say so myself.

  “Yeah,”I laugh, sipping my margarita. “Wanna go inside and see if we have any messages on any of the sites? It’s Friday night; maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “Sure, let’s go,” he swings his arm around me as we stagger into the house.

  We pull up an extra chair at the computer so we can sit together while we go through messages. Brett’s on his fifth margarita while I’m still on number three.

  “Nothing here,” I say after I log into our email. We made a special email address just for chatting with potential guys, so we don’t have to give out our real info. “Let’s check SwingLifestyle.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think there’d be anything in the email,” he gulps down most of his liquor.

  Logging into SwingLifestyle, I see there’s not much there. A few random IM’s from people just saying, “Hey” on different days.

  “OKCupid?” I ask him, unimpressed with our progress thus far.

  “Third time’s a charm, right?”

  Tipping my glass, I taste the salt on the rim of the glass followed by a sweet lime and tequila mixture as I log into OKC.

  The message icon is red, indicating I have a message. My eyes light up as I look over at Brett.

  “Maybe you’re right!”

  Clicking on the icon, I open the message.

  “Hi, I’m a foreign exchange student. I thought you were gorgeous and wanted to know if you’d give me a shot.”

  I hover the mouse over his profile picture, and he seriously looks like he’s 12-years-old. His skinny body is sporting a thin, black tank top that showcases his stick-like arms poking out from the sides. The overly large black-rimmed glasses on his tiny head look ridiculous, and his ears are a bit too large for him.

  Gee, what a hottie…. I roll my eyes.

  My husband doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. Explosive laughter roars through the house.

  “Go ahead, keep laughing,” I mutter, unamused.

  “C’mon babe, that was fucking funny.”

  “Mhmm,” I grab my glass and start for the kitchen. “I’m getting another. You want more?”