I tune him out as I toss the salads. Once Rory starts talking about algorithms he can go for hours.
Later, after we’ve eaten, they leave me on the patio, curled up under a cashmere blanket, as Jesse insists on helping with the dishes. From where I’m sitting I can hear their playful banter—Jesse is still asking questions about science and engineering, and Rory is in his element. If I lean back in my chair I can just see through the archway into the kitchen. Jesse is carefully rinsing everything while Rory stacks the dishwasher with his characteristic finesse.
As he finishes, closing the dishwasher and turning it on, Jesse leans against the counter, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. Even from where I’m sitting, I can see the invitation in his expression, in his body language, and I get the sense that I’m watching a master at work.
This kid, only eighteen years old, is about to seduce my thirty-five year old hetero/asexual/impotent husband. I can only watch it happen, fascinated, and aroused. I stand and relocate to the sofa where my view of the open plan kitchen is better. Both Jesse and Rory glance at me, unperturbed, it seems, by an audience.
Rory takes the towel from Jesse and hangs it over the oven handle, as Jesse helps himself to the hand cream I keep in a bottle on the windowsill. As Rory turns back Jesse takes his hands, rubbing them with the cream. Rory looks at me again, a little nervously, but I just smile back, and he seems to relax.
“That’s better,” Jesse says. He lifts Rory’s hands to his face. “Your hands smell like lemons now.”
Rory’s usual chatter has been stilled. He untangles his fingers from Jesse’s and lays them on either side of his face. Jesse’s smile widens as Rory’s hands slide around to rest on the back of his neck. He takes Rory by the hips and pulls him forward until their faces are inches apart.
This is a side to Rory I’ve never seen, though oddly, I’m not surprised. He’s an adventurer, always has been. When he was younger he explored tunnels and abandoned buildings with zeal. He took apart almost every item of electronics he ever owned, hacked into private networks out of curiosity and often had to be politely or not so politely redirected out of staff-only areas in hotels and museums. The medication hasn’t dulled his curiosity, only put a lid on his impulsivity. He now knows there are consequences to unfettered exploration.
But in this moment, as his fingers brush the back of Jesse’s neck, straying over the close shorn undercut and up into the tendrils of his blue Mohawk, I can see that Rory has taken a measure of the risks, and by my encouraging smile, found them to be tolerable, even favorable. Jesse gives a little tug and Rory lets his face fall forward into a tentative kiss.
My breath catches, watching them, as Jesse crushes their hips together and the kiss becomes less tentative, their mouths opening against each other. Jesse bends his knees, moving one foot between Rory’s legs so that when he rises, the bulge in the front of his snug jeans presses firmly into Rory’s groin. He whimpers with pleasure, grinding his hips up and down.
We used to do this, Rory and I. We used to make out—on the sofa, in bed, in the kitchen, even in the car—and it would proceed just like any other make-out session until that moment of escalation, of expectation. But then with the new medications his body wouldn’t respond in the way he wanted it to. Finally, after months of experimenting, and several discussions with his therapist, Rory confessed to me one morning over coffee that he simply had no appetite for sex any more—not with me, not with anyone, and his body was refusing to let him fake it.
I listened to those words: “fake it” with a stoic expression plastered on my face. But after Rory kissed me lightly and left for work, I broke down. How long had he been “faking” an interest in me? I called in sick to work and rode out to Highway 1 heading north. Part of me thought I might keep going, maybe until I got to the Redwoods, where I could just disappear into the trees, letting my humiliation seep into the mossy earth at my feet. But as the ocean whisked past me to the left and the cliffs and fields to the right, the rumble of my bike soothed the storm inside me enough to replace my humiliation with something else. Something, for me anyway, more manageable. Grief. Loss.
I missed Rory’s cock. I missed what we had. And I was afraid he would stop loving me. Without the bond we had, those early morning interludes, where only his intent pursuit of my pleasure, his vigorous lovemaking stilled his mania enough to let him sleep, would we still work? I missed that so much it was like being hollowed out. But I turned the bike around to get back to what we had left. It was still a million times what I had ever had before.
I still miss that part of our lives. Daily I think I would do anything to have it back.
Even this. Even watch him making out with another man.
I can see his interest in Jesse is not faked exactly. For Rory this is likely not so much a sexual experience as one of novelty. We’ve talked about everything, even the most intimate things, so he knows that I did girl on girl live shows when I was at my wildest. And I know that he was always curious about homosexual sex—curious enough to watch gay porn, but never brave or outgoing enough to seek it out. I’m only his third lover. The other two were women too, a girl in high school and another in college. Rory called them “boxes that needed ticking”. In contrast to me that is. He calls me “the love of his life”.
Jesse is tugging Rory’s shirt from his pants as they kiss, sliding his hands over the skin of his soft waist. When Jesse begins undoing Rory’s belt, Rory stops him, tensing.
Jesse withdraws respectfully. “Okay,” he says, gently. “You can touch me if you want.”
I half expect it to end at this point, but Rory gives me another uncertain look. When I nod my agreement he smiles back, nudging Jesse’s face, and they continue kissing. Rory fumbles with Jesse’s belt and buttons and slides his hand down. Jesse whimpers again, smiling against his lips. His breathing is heavy, a little raspy in that way some men breathe, as Rory’s hand moves up and down.
After a few minutes, Jesse stops him, gripping Rory’s hand over his cock. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” he says, barely above a whisper.
Rory seems delighted about this. His face lights up and I begin to understand what I’m witnessing. This is reminiscence. Rory is remembering what it was like to have a cock that would come to life and respond to stroking, get hard. Come even. And here’s the thing that I love about my husband most: his nostalgia is always joyful, never bitter. Unlike me, he’s happy to remember what he had. Because Rory’s great wisdom is that any of us are lucky to have anything, even if only temporarily.
“Do you want to do something else?” Jesse asks, and for some reason I rise to my feet, approaching them as though called.
“Like what?” Rory asks. “I can’t get erections. Or come. It just doesn’t work anymore.”
Now I’m standing in the archway, the light of the Tiffany lampshade glowing around me. Rory turns to me, letting his cheek rest on Jesse’s face. Jesse nudges his ear, kissing it lightly.
“Do you want to watch, maybe?” he asks. “Do you want to watch me fuck your wife?”
Rory’s smile becomes wicked. His eyes narrow conspiratorially. “Oh, yes,” he says. “Yes, I really do.”
Chapter Five
Boy Blue rather sweetly suggests we all brush our teeth. As he ducks back into the powder room, Rory and I use the double sinks in the master bath.
“How do you want this to go?” he asks, dropping his toothbrush back in the holder.
I swish mouthwash for a moment while I formulate an answer. This is uncharted territory, even for me. I spit, and take an even breath. “I’m not sure,” is all I can come up with.
“Jesse seems up for pretty much anything.” He steps up behind me, lightly touching my shoulders, leaning forward to smell my hair. His hands drift down over my breasts, making me gasp. “You’ll be happy to know he has a big cock,” he says, nipping my ear. “And a pierced tongue.”
I turn and wrap my arms around him. We embrace all the time, and cud
dle affectionately. But since the great change, it is only ever affectionate. This feels different, intimate, sexual.
“How much did you pay him?” Rory asks.
I tense, but he simply kisses me, his lips moving against mine. “It’s okay. He’s very clean. You made a good choice. It was a good idea.”
“Two hundred dollars,” I say. “But that was just for company. He’ll want more for sex.”
“Fine. There’s money in the safe.”
I shake my head, amazed at my fortune, being married to such a man. “I love you, Rory.”
“I love you too.”
When Jesse finds us there a few minutes later, we’re still kissing. Rory has pushed my shirt up and unhooked my bra. As he caresses my tongue with his, his fingers pinch my nipples, making me whimper. We pause when Jesse clears his throat. He has a sly grin on his face.
“Should I leave you to it?”
“No,” Rory says. “We’re just warming up.”
Jesse laughs lightly, throwing his messenger bag onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling his t-shirt over his head.
Rory takes my hand, pulling me out of the bathroom to the edge of the bed. We sit and watch Jess finish undressing.
He’s slender to the point just before appearing gaunt, with smooth clear skin—apart from a few small tattoos—and defined muscles. The only hair on his body is in his underarms and the line from his navel to his…
Fuck. Rory wasn’t kidding. For such a slight young man, Jesse is impressively hung. His cock dangles, half erect as he kicks off his jeans. Now nude, he pumps it a few times and brushes his hand through the hair on his abdomen and up onto his smooth chest.
“Well? Do you guys want to play something, like a game? Role-play? Tie me up? Put things in my ass? I have some toys in my bag.”
“Jesus!” Rory coughs, laughing. “I…no. I’m not really into ass stuff.”
Jesse grins and steps forward. For my part I’m so tongue-tied by his beauty that I just sit there, my eyes roaming up and down his naked body as he approaches.
“What about you, Desiree?” he says, stroking my cheek. “Are you into ass-stuff?”
Rory turns to look at me quizzically. We’ve talked about everything, right? So he knows that yes, yes I am into ass stuff, though Rory’s distaste for it means I haven’t indulged in years. And I miss that too. I miss a lot of things about my old life. Not the drugs. Not the abusers.
But the sex? Oh yes.
All I can manage is a shy nod.
Jesse bites his lip. “Why don’t you undress her, Rory?” he says. He turns to the light switch, flicking it off, then pads over to the night stand to turn on one of the lamps. It infuses the room with soft light. I’m grateful for that. My body is not the hard stripper’s body it used to be.
Rory stands and tugs my shirt over my head, slipping my bra off and tossing both aside.
As I stand, Jess slides up behind me, caressing my neck and back as I slip out of my shoes. Rory fumbles with the button of my jeans, but eventually manages to get them open. Behind me, Jesse trails his lips down my back as he crouches to the floor, pulling my jeans down with him. I step out of them, obediently.
He slides his hands up my sides as he stands, letting them come to rest over my breasts. I’m busty enough for there to be plenty of room for both men to explore and caress them; they seem to cooperate naturally. Jesse lifts both breasts up, letting Rory bury his face into the valley of my ample cleavage. He bites lightly, first one breast, then the other.
“Your body is beautiful,” Jesse says, making me gasp. “You know what would make you look even lovelier?”
Rory lifts his head up, expectantly as I wait for Jesse to answer his own question.
“If we tied your wrists,” Jesse says. He hands slip down my arms, grasping each wrist. He pulls them back and up, just enough to make me gasp again.
“You know what a safe word is?” he says.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, of course.” Rory eyes are mesmerized, alight with curiosity. “Let’s use ‘Bonneville’,” I say, because why not bring my beautiful motorbike into the fun?
“You should have one too,” Jesse says to Rory.
Rory is taken aback, but recovers quickly. “Algorithm,” he says. He takes a step back his gaze travelling up and down my body and Jesse’s. We’re both naked, while he’s still fully dressed, which puts him, in my mind anyway, automatically into the dominant position. I wonder if he’s ever really occupied it before. I wonder if he’ll know how it works.
“What about you, Jesse,” he says. “Do you need a safe word?”
He chuckles behind me. I can feel his erection pressing into my hip. “I doubt either of you could make me use it, but if it will make you feel better: Salty.”
“Bonneville, Algorithm and Salty,” Rory says, firmly. He won’t forget. His mind is like a trap. “Let me get a tie.”
Jesse continues caressing me from behind until Rory comes back with the red tie he wore at our wedding.
“Very nice,” Jesse says. He swishes the silk around my wrists and forearms, wrapping them neatly and tying a tight knot. Not too tight, though. I can tell he’s done this before. When he’s finished, he lays his head on my shoulder, curving his arms around me from behind in an embrace that feels more tender than sexual. There’s something so vulnerable about him, so in contrast to his frank sexuality.
I move my hands over slightly and am able to wrap them around his hard cock, giving it a little squeeze. He sighs with pleasure.
None of us comment on the small stack of twenty-dollar bills Rory has set down on the dresser. Perhaps that would be impolite.
“What now, boss?” Jesse says to Rory.
Rory pulls one of the small armchairs over from the bay window, turning it to face the bed. He takes a seat, the expression on his face so intent and focused that I barely recognize him. There was always, even with the new medications, something a bit addled about Rory’s manner. But he seems very calm now, serene almost. I wonder if we’ve happened on some bizarre psychological tool that stills his lingering mania at last.
“Sit down on the edge of the bed, babe,” he says. “And open your legs.”
I do as I’m told, sitting, leaning back on my bound hands.
“Make her come with your mouth first,” Rory says.
Jesse smirks at me as he kneels between my legs, first reaching up to tug my hair out of its ponytail, and letting it cascade over my shoulders. He strokes the skin of my neck and décolletage, in between my breasts, over the curve of my stomach, across my thighs and back up over my hips before wrapping his arms around my waist.
“I’d like to kiss you,” he says. “Is that okay?”
“Yes.” Rory and I say it together, which makes Jesse grin again. He leans forward letting our lips meet, our tongues touch. It’s a sweet kiss, then a sexy kiss, a deliciously wicked kiss, his small tongue jewel like a little treasure. Now I regret letting them tie my hands because I’d love to touch his lean body. In the soft light of the lamp I can see his trim muscles ripple under his smooth pale skin as he moves his lips down my body.
His lips graze my navel, biting softly before he nudges my legs further apart and settles, kneeling back on his feet. He begins with his thumbs, stroking my folds, parting them to reveal my tingling, hungry pussy and clit. One finger dips inside, making me whimper, before his lips and tongue finally find their mark. He swishes his tongue over my labia and clit, his finger pumping lightly. Another joins it, spreading me, opening me.
His mouth is so warm it almost burns as he closes his lips on my clit and both his piercings dig into me. I moan as his fingers probe my core, pressing expertly on the spot inside that lights up my nerves.
“Ahhh, God…” I whimper.
I can feel Jesse’s lips bend into a smile, his tongue dipping down to join his fingers. Leaning back for a moment he slips my legs over his shoulders angling my hips so he can reach…
“Uuhhh…” I tu
rn to look at Rory, who is watching intently, as Jesse circles my ass with his tongue. He pulls his fingers out of my pussy, pressing one wet one insistently over my other opening.
“Relax…” he whispers on my skin. I know. I remember. I breathe out softly as he breaches my body’s resistance an inch, then another until finally my muscles surrender and his finger is deep inside me.
“God, yes…” My head falls backwards and suddenly Rory is there, above me, kneeling on the bed. He cradles my face, bending to kiss me as Jesse fingers my ass with one hand, my pussy with the other, while his lips work my clit. Rory’s hands find my nipples, pinching them hard enough to make me cry out against his lips.
“Shhhh…” he says, with a wicked smile. “You’ll disturb the neighbors.”
His tongue invades my mouth, and I hungrily devour him. My body is tingling, the fire rising up all over me.
“I’m going to come…” I manage before I lose all ability and sense. Rory catches me as I slump into his arms. He holds me tightly, containing my spasms of pleasure, breathing in my gasps of release. As for Jesse, I’ve lost all sense of him apart from the intense waves of pleasure surging between my legs.
Dimly as I descend from the clouds, I become aware that Jesse and Rory are kissing again.
“You taste like her,” Rory says. Jesse smiles his big sexy smile and turns to me, letting me taste what Rory did—the salty, earthy taste of my own cum.
We stay like that for a while—Jesse standing between my legs, Rory cradling me from the side, kissing. I notice that Jesse’s hand is on Rory’s crotch, and there’s a hitch in Rory’s breathing. I kiss him deeply. God, I love this man. I’ve missed his body so much.
As though they are communicating telepathically, Jesse extricates himself from our embrace. We barely pay attention, but I hear the water running in the master bath.
We he comes back Jesse sits my other side, his cool hands stroking up my hip, across my stomach and right down into Rory’s pants. Rory gasps.
“Your hands are cold,” he says.
Biker Chicks: Volume 2 Page 30