by Sean Geist
I loved her long hair. I loved her short hair. Length or color, it didn't matter. It was Robin's hair and I loved it, as I loved everything about her.
She wore a lacy black push-up bra that, immediately drew the eye to the modest cleavage she exposed. My attention was caught by a single bead of sweat, slowly and steadily rolling down her chest, into the promising valley between her breasts.
“Eye's are up here, silly,” were the first words she said to me.
“I know, but your tits are right there,” I said.
After a short pause, I looked up with, what I hoped, was a sexy grin. She had a rather wicked gleam in her eye. Like she hadn't fucked in a long while, and need it badly.
It had been two weeks since we had last laid eyes on each other, probably the longest we'd been apart since we got married.
“Well, are you going to invite me in?”
I felt silly inviting her in. It was her home as much as mine. “You're not a vampire. I don't have to invite you in.” I turned away and headed towards the kitchen.
“You want a drink? Water or something?”
I was half way to the kitchen when I felt Robin's hand grab my arm. Like a spark to dry kindling, her touch ignited my desire. And just like that, two weeks of loneliness were gone.
I turned around and took Robin's face into my hands. I pulled her towards me, our lips met, our tongues dancing to a moanful tune. My fingers brushed through Robin's hair, as she threw her own arms around me. She held me in a tight embrace, surprisingly tight for her small frame.
My cock was caught between our bodies at an awkward angle. I was starting to become aroused, and it was becoming uncomfortable.
Robin must have been able to feel it. Even as we kissed, her lips turned up in a grin. She thrust one of her hands down the front of my jeans and adjusted my stiffening penis into a more comfortable position.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yes, much better,” I said, our lips still pressed together.
“Little Petey's happy to see me,” she said, finally pulling away.
“So am I. You hungry? Wanna get some lunch?”
Robin put her index finger to my lips. “Shh,” she said. “Food can wait. I'm hungry for something else.”
We made our way to the bedroom, tripping over ourselves to get there, disrobing along the way.
In the very back of my head, thoughts of Scott, my wife's lover, loomed, but they were smothered by the powerful lust I felt for her.
I tossed her on the bed; she landed face down. Before she could turn around, I was on her, my hands grasping her shoulders, my lips kissing the side of her neck, my cock wedged between her legs, rubbing against her warm, wet, vaginal lips.
Robin may have taken a lover, but she was my wife, and I was going to reclaim her.
A few soft moans escaped her lips as I thrust my hips creating friction between my shaft and her clit.
“I've wanted you so badly,” I whispered into Robin's ear. “Wanted to be inside you.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” my wife said, spreading her legs just a bit.
I grabbed her hips and pulled Robin up onto all fours. I was going to take her from behind.
Robin held herself up with one hand, with the other she helped guide my cock to her waiting opening. I was about the thrust when she told me to wait.
“Wait?”
“It's in the back pocket of my shorts.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and went in search of my wife's clothes, somewhere between the bed and the front door. I found her shorts, tossed aside in the hall. In a pocket, I found a condom.
We hadn't used condoms since we were married. Why did we have to start now? The thought of using a rubber made my dick start to deflate.
“Before you say anything,” Robin said, as I returned. “Let me explain.” She was laying on her back, one hand behind her head, the fingers of the other playing along the folds of her labia. “My gynecologist has me on a new birth control regime. She says the chances of me getting pregnant are low, but” I was having a hard time concentrating on what she was saying as I watched her play with herself. The show did help me regain my erection. “...we should use condoms for the next two months, just to be safe.”
I looked down at the red and silver foil package. They appeared to be from the same box we used in Vegas, well the box Scott used in Vegas and during our threesome in Camp Verde. And probably after I left.
I thought again about Scott banging Robin, and my dick started getting a little harder. What the fuck was up with that?
“What if I promised to pull out?”
“You know we can't take that chance. Remember what Doctor Shaw said?”
Yes, I remembered. The doctor said Robin shouldn't get pregnant. I don't remember all the details, save for one fact. That carrying a fetus to term had a high probability of killing her.
I quickly let that very un-sexy thought drop and stopped resisting the condom.
“I'll wear it, but I'm not sure I remember how to put it on.”
“Come here, lover,” Robin said, beckoning me with her finger, one she had used to play with herself, one moist with her own juices. “Don't worry, I can help. I've had recent practice.”
“Oh, have you?” I said, crawling onto the bed with her. “You've been a very naughty girl, have you?
“Oh, you wouldn't believe how naughty I've been.”
“Oh, I think I can believe it.”
“You want to spank me?” A sly grin played across Robin's face.
“Maybe later,” I said. “Right now, I just want to fuck you.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Robin said and she started stoking my cock to full erection. After she got me good and hard, she opened the package and rolled on the condom.
The latex felt weird, but not uncomfortable.
Robin laid back on the bed, her legs open, her arm stretched towards me. “Come to me Peter. I need you inside me.”
She didn't have to ask again. I fell on top of her and she helped guide my sheathed shaft into her warm and inviting pussy. Despite the condom, it felt wonderful, thrusting into her, then withdrawing until just the tip nestled between her dewy lips, and then back down.
“Oh, God, Peter. That feels so good.”
I bent down and took her left breast into my mouth. I sucked hard, my tongue flitting against her nipple.
“I've missed you so much. I play with myself every night after we talk. Oh shit that feels good.”
I switched breasts but kept on thrusting, occasionally altering my rhythm, pulling out and going back in half way a few times, before going in hard and deep. Each time I went deep elicited a cry of pleasure from my wife.
Under normal circumstances I should have blown my load by now, what with my very sexy wife talking dirty and a whole two weeks without sex. And, unlike my wife, I hadn't masturbated the whole time. The latex helped me hold back.
And just as I was about to erupt, Robin let out one more cry and then I felt her muscle walls tighten around my dick. I continued thrusting through her climax and this finally set off my own orgasm and I started cumming myself, filling the condom with my seed.
Afterward we held each other close.
“I love you so much, Robin,” I said.
“I love you, too, Peter.” There was a short pause as we just lay there in each other's arms
“Are we going to make it?” she asked.
“I'm willing to try if you are.”
“Oh, God yes, I want to make it.”
We continued to lay there in silence, thinking about what the future might hold for our very unconventional relationship.
“So, you masturbate after we hang up each night?”
“Yeah.”
“You think about me while you play with yourself?”
“Yeah,” Robin was a little bit slower with her answer this time.
“You think about Scott?”
Silence.
“Come on, fess up,�
�� I said and I started tickling Robin. She tried hard to fight be off. “I won't stop until you answer me.”
“Ok.. ok” she said between laughs. “But I can't talk if you keep tickling me.”
I stopped and wait for my wife to catch her breath.
“Yes, I also think about Scott. There, you happy? I said it.”
“Happy? No.”
“You're not mad, are you?” The playfulness left Robin's tone.
“No, I'm not mad.”
“Then how do you feel?”
“Aroused,” I said. “Thoroughly and confusingly aroused. Don't ask me to explain.”
***
We spent that whole afternoon in bed, making love, only taking a short break for a quick lunch of Chinese delivery. Robin had two more condoms from the original batch in her purse. We used those that day.
We meant to get more on Sunday morning, but we never got around to it. We woke up late; around 9am. We had planned on going to church, but decided against it since we didn't want to rush. We weren't regular church goers by any stretch of the imagination, but we liked to go every so often.
Instead, I made some pancakes and ham for breakfast.
“So, what is it you see in him?” I asked Robin.
“Wha – Who?” my wife said, feigning ignorance.
“You know who, Scott. Your lover.”
“You like calling him that, don't you?”
How true that was. Using that label helped me deal with the emotional break that had come between us. The sex – the affair – wasn't the issue for me, it was the falling in love.
“Don't deflect,” I said. “Answer me. What do you see in him?”
Robin sat in silence, sipping her coffee and staring out into the middle distance. Just when I was about to give in and change the subject myself, she answered.
“I think his astonishing good looks and confident manner were what attracted me at first. He's intelligent and witty; man, can he hold up his end of a conversation; that's unusual in a handsome man.”
Was she saying I wasn't handsome, or that my conversations were dull?
She continued, “After we got talking while you were upstairs in the room in Vegas, I learned he liked to explore new experiences. He shares my love of Southwestern art and culture.”
I sighed. This answer was getting pretty fucking long. Did I really want to hear all the great traits Robin saw in my rival?
“Of course, I also found out he's good in bed. He's a great kisser, and the things he can do with his tongue. Wow.”
I started tapping my fingers against my coffee cup.
“Oh, and did I mention his ass. God, he has a great ass.” Robin stopped talking, looked me right in the eye and took a bit of breakfast. “That enough for you?” she said, her mouth full of pancakes.
“I guess I asked for it. I just wanted to know what you find lacking in me, that you were able to find in him.”
“It's nothing you're lacking, dear. It's just something – different – he has. The bottom line is, I love you both. I can't help it.”
Hearing her say that, so boldly, hurt. Like a punch to the gut. It turned out to be a horrendous ending to a wonderful weekend.
Chapter 4
Another two weeks and I was sitting at my favorite bar, staring down at a disappointing text message on my phone.
Can't make it down to Phoenix this wkend. Issues with plumbing. Sorry :(
God, how I hated emoticons, those symbols that fail to convey how we are really feeling. Like I wouldn't believe her if she just texted 'sorry' without the colon and left parenthesis. These attempts to try and add subtly to serious messages didn't work for me. I preferred face to face communication, but my long distance romance forced me into compromise.
This latest message had arrived earlier that Friday, so I had all day at work to be pissed about it. Even though we talked every other night over the phone, I was still really looking forward to Robin's visit, to enjoying her company and enjoying her body. It was a cliché, but Robin's absence was driving me crazy with desire.
So, here I was on a Friday evening, playing at being single. The place was packed, all the tables taken, and more people than stools at the bar. Angie and a new kid I wasn't familiar with were pouring drinks. I waved the red-head over for a refill.
“Crazy, tonight,” I said. “Even for a Friday.”
“Yeah, I think there's a bunch of Dodger fans staying at the Holiday Inn across the street.”
“And they decided to all come here to drown their sorrows after the D-backs kicked their asses?”
“Looks like it,” Angie said back, waving off a few other patrons trying to get her attention. “Here's your scotch. I'd love to chat, but I gotta go help Kenny, he's getting swamped over there. Idiots are ordering mojitos.”
“No problem,” I said, taking a sip of the Glenlivet she put in front of me.
So instead of spending the night with my wife, I had to entertain myself by watching the circus that played around me. The drunken Dodger fans had taken up about half the tables. They weren't too rowdy, but they also weren't afraid to let everyone know L.A. could still win the weekend series, despite losing the first game. The bar was mostly populated by couples waiting to get a seat in the restaurant, beckoned onward by the blinking lights on the vibrating pager held in their hands. And then there were the loners like me, sipping drinks, some reading a magazine or iPad, with nothing better to do on a Friday night.
During a lull in the chaos, Angie came back over.
“Hope the Dodgers crew are good tippers,” I said. “They've been taking up enough of your time.”
“We'll see,” she said. “We'd definitely make more if their team had won. Happy fans are happy tippers.”
“But, that would mean the D-backs had lost.”
“So, you're a fan, huh?”
“Yeah, I try to go to a couple games a year.”
“So, been to any this year,” Angie said as she tried to catch up on cleaning the dirty glassware.
“Not yet,” I said. I had been thinking about taking Robin to the game this weekend, but the text message I got put a stop to that plan, and I really didn't want to go alone. I'd just have to enjoy the game on the cable.
“So, are you a fan, Angie?”
“Only since the team's been in existence. My dad took me to like a dozen games that year – '98 I think.”
“You must have been like, what, six years old then?”
“Please,” she said, flicking her wet fingers at me. “I'll inform you that I was almost twice that age.”
“So, 12.”
“Eleven, a mature eleven.”
I had never felt as old as I did at that moment. I was just starting medical school that inaugural season. I had nothing to say back.
“So how old were you, Peter?” Angie asked, her eyes beaming with curiosity, like an excited puppy dog. I'd later realize I failed to note the sarcasm.
“I'm not answering that question.” I said. I punctuated the declaration with a sip of my scotch.
“I told you my age,” Angie said, like she had given away some top secret codes.
“Yeah, but I didn't ask.”
“Bet I can guess,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“What do I get when you get it wrong.”
Angie thought a moment then said, “how about...” I didn't know why she was stalling. It was just a silly wager. She could have said a dollar or a drink.
“how about I take you to a ballgame if I'm wrong.”
Like a date, I thought.
“Like a date?” I said.
“Sorta, just don't tell Jason.”
“Okay,” I said. “And you can't tell my wife.”
Angie chuckled. “What do I get when I guess right?” she asked.
It only took me a second to come up with an answer, one I'm sure Angie was expecting. I smugly smiled and said, “I'll take you to the ballgame.”
Angie kept on smiling as she walked away to pour some more drinks.
It gave me a chance to think about what I had just done. Was I really ready to take a woman over 10 years younger than I was out on a date? Although she was an adult, didn't it make me look a little desperate? Then again, what should I care, I was married, I wasn't suppose to be going out with other women anyway.
Angie came back a few minutes later. “Okay, Peter, I'll go to the game with you.”
“Aren't you going to guess my age?”
“I could fake it and try to impress you, or I can just tell you I've seen your driver's license. I know how old you are.”
“You don't have to guess my age to impress me. Going out with a man my age is enough.”
“You're sweet, Peter. Yes, I'm willing to go on a date with a man old enough to be my dad.”
“Fuck you,” I said with a smile. “I'm not old enough to be your dad.”
“Almost,” she replied, returning the smile.
This was going to be a fun date. We decided to go to Saturday's game. It was an afternoon affair and Angie didn't have to be behind the bar until 7. Plus the Diamondbacks were on a ten game winning streak, so it promised to be interesting.
I paid my tab and asked Angie where she wanted me to pick her up. She said she'd meet me at the ballpark. I was a little disappointed, but not surprised. I was only an acquaintance; our relationship, up until this point, was only as drinker and barkeep.
I left looking forward to my first date as a married man. I knew people would judge me for dating a woman much younger than myself. If they knew I was also married to a different woman, well, that would be a whole other indictment.
***
I was walking out of the bar to my car when my phone buzzed. It was Robin, of course.
“Hey, love,” I said. “How's it going?”
“You miss me?” she asked.
“Fuck, yeah, I miss you.”
“Whatcha been doing?”
“Drinking. At a bar. You know, the one near that taco place we love.”
“Yeah, I know it. You drinking alone?”