“It’s not just Vinnie, and it’s not about the money,” Dan explained. “It’s just… I’ve changed.” Dan didn’t mention that the thought of Paris conjured up his irrational jealousy and memories of his moment of weakness.
“Me too,” lied Ginny. She hadn’t changed; she still had bouts of stethy.
But they agreed about their love for each other, and so they resolved to reformulate their lives.
Dan abandoned his economic forecasting career. And his temperament changed, which was obvious to anyone who knew him. The funerals and the reproaches weighed on Dan. Depression had come with Vinnie’s coma, then anxiety had come over Ginny, drugs, and the mob. And his self-recrimination trailed him always: an appendage he could not amputate. His latest worry was the prosecution of Bill and Linda, and its implications for Vinnie’s safety. His transformation could not be denied, not by Ginny, not by friends.
The one thing that hadn’t changed was his concern for Ginny’s obsession. She’d become moody without reason and would snap over nothing. “Dan, can’t you get the milk from the refrigerator yourself?” “The newspaper’s behind the table where you left it!” “Do you need to know everything I’m doing?”
He didn’t, but it wasn’t much to ask. He noticed Ginny attended more bodybuilding competitions, even minor events. She supported young Billy, UltraFit’s champion on the rise; she would excitedly recount Billy’s routines and his first-place trophy. She’d been giddy over her backstage tour with Blanca—they were both Ben’s special guests—and wowed by the room filled with muscle glued to bone.
Dan spent less time with Vinnie, giving more attention to Ginny. She appreciated it, but did not reciprocate the effort. The imbalance bothered Ginny more than Dan—more proof of how much he’d changed.
So Ginny daydreamed at Bloomingdale’s, unfocused on either Easter or the summer collection. With self-analysis came realization: weeks before the DV&N perdition she had relapsed. The tragedies aside, her apathy had grown from her obsession. The fault was hers. The solution, too.
Her solution needed cooperation. She counted on Dan’s new persona. He had shed his self-consciousness and his jealousy. This was her opportunity, the time for bold action.
And if she planned to be bold with Dan, the same held true for Ben. Forget the pretext of a friendly dinner or the critique of his posing routine. She’d be up front this time, and tell both men that this was nothing more than her attempt to satisfy her obsession. The direct benefit went to her and her alone.
They would accept or they’d tell her to drop dead.
****
Ginny approached Ben first. As she took the protein shake from him at the end of her workout, her hand was shaking.
Ben’s fingertips steadied her. “What’s wrong? Did we overdo the workout?”
“The workout’s fine. This is about you, me, and Dan.” Ginny swallowed her shake. “Dan and I… our sex is mechanical, no passion.”
Ben’s jaw dropped. Ginny raised her finger. “I know this is uncomfortable for you—it is for me, too. But I have to talk about it.”
Seeing Ben’s head tilt backward, she continued. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
“I guess.”
“It goes back to us. I’ve given it thought, with Sarah and Betsy’s help.”
A smile appeared on Ben’s face. “Cauldron on full heat, chicken hearts and toad legs included?” He mimicked stirring a large spoon in a big pot.
“Very funny. You can’t blame them for our fiasco. It wasn’t their fault.”
“And pigs fly.”
“Fine. I’ll leave now.” Ginny stood up, playing her trump.
“Sit. That was rude of me to say about your nice witch friends.”
Humor felt good to Ginny. She pretended to put a hex on Ben. “Apology accepted.” She put down her protein drink and used her lecturing voice. “I’m going to be blunt. You know about my sthenolagnia obsession.” God, my mother’s words.
Ben raised his arms for a double-bicep pose. Tensing, balloons inflated, veins crisscrossed high. “Ginny, you know I’ll flex for you any time you want.”
“I’m serious, Ben. Thanks for the show, but it’s not that. Stop pretending. You know, don’t you?”
Lowering his arms, Ben’s voice was one tone short of a trill: “I’m a homosexual man. This can’t be right for Dan, or for you.”
“Not if you’ve observed the change in Dan. It’s in his face, his attitude. He sounds different. He’s not the same. He won’t behave like last time. The question is: will you?”
Ben’s consent came with no conditions.
****
The clues butted Dan: the dining room table set with china and crystal glasses, the lit candles, an open bottle of red Montepulciano, the fresh flower centerpiece.
“What’s this going to cost me?” he asked.
“You’re such a cynic.”
“The cynic wants to know the bottom line.”
Ginny stuck her tongue out. “Eat first.”
When the bottle was emptied, Dan retrieved a second. He knew he would need more when Ginny motioned him to the living room, her shoes off, toe-stepping so her rear end oscillated.
On the couch, Dan handed Ginny a full glass. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said, knowing he wasn’t. He looked at Ginny’s soft, tight jeans sewn to her skin; her T-shirt tinged with pale purple that accented skin, the fabric hugging braless breasts and protruding nipples; the rippled abdomen of her exposed midriff. She’s gorgeous, he thought.
“I need to spice up our sex.”
The directness startled Dan, and his tin voice replied, “Of course. We can have great sex.”
Ginny’s harsh staccato ground out her words. “We can’t. Let’s stop pretending. I’m going to say something I never thought I’d admit out loud. My mother was right—is right. I have sthenolagnia.”
Dan leaned back, and his empty glass dipped forward. His mother-in-law’s words from years before replayed in his mind: “Dan, obsession can increase or decrease over time. You’ll need to keep watch. Ginny won’t be unfaithful, but if she’s driven by her obsession she might ask for a divorce so as not to hurt you… or do something to hurt herself, or…” Anna Swinburne had stopped there, her shoulders stooped as she walked away. Dan had understood, afraid to ask more. He had tried to forget.
His pursing lips and short breaths alarmed Ginny. Rejection? She thought Dan was about to cry. Why? She hadn’t demanded, had made no threat, had said nothing definitive.
Dan’s glass dropped to the floor.
“Are you all right?” Ginny moved closer, touched Dan’s knees, felt his face. She had miscalculated, had not considered his months of depression.
His hands covered his face. His muted voice spoke through fanned fingers. “I know. We both know… have known for a long time. I don’t know what to do, what’s best.” Dan sobbed. “I swear that whatever it is I’ll do it. Please don’t do anything to harm yourself, I beg you. I can’t take any more loss in my life.”
Shaking her head, Ginny said nothing for several seconds. “I don’t understand, Dan. I’m asking you for another chance with Ben. That’s what I’m asking. What did you think? Why would I harm myself?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused, so confused.” Dan stopped to rub his eyes. “If that’s what you want, need, I’ll do it. Anything to protect you.”
Sobs came from Dan, and Ginny’s head lowered, her long hair falling to her lap. She pulled Dan’s hand away from his face and saw his red eyes, felt him shaking. Her own words fluttered. “I’ve spoken to Ben, and he agrees. Are you saying you do, too? No reservation, anything goes?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be different this time, I promise. We’ll have sex in front of another man. Do you care? Can you manage?”
Dan nodded and answered in a barely audible voice. “I don’t know. I’ll try.”
“Dan, are you all right? You can’t feel coerced. You have to be fully supporti
ve. Can you do that?”
Dan honestly didn’t know.
****
Later that evening, after ruminating in his study, Dan found Ginny reading in bed. She started to speak, but was stopped by his lips on her cheek.
“I don’t care about anything except you,” Dan whispered. “I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ve suffered from my hang-ups—and you from yours. We had a comatose friend and two of my colleagues died. Why should I care if we have sex in front of a man? It wouldn’t be my choice for a thrill, but that’s not important—you are. I commit to this with my body and soul if it keeps you safe.”
Chapter 62
Bedroom Lifts
The two men stood in the living room, surprising Ginny. Waiting was not an option for either—better sooner rather than later, get it over with. Ginny’s wish had been granted in a day.
With a commanding voice, she stated the rules. “Stop if anyone wants to talk. No one walks away.” Ginny looked to Ben’s lowered head. “This is for me, but I believe you’ll have a good time too.” Ginny grinned at the stone-faced men.
In the en suite bathroom, Ginny helped Ben apply oil to his muscular canvas. Then she left him there and returned to the bedroom, where Dan waited. She undressed Dan, caressing him as each item of clothing was removed. She cooed over his sculpted body, the results of five months at UltraFit. For each zippered tooth she lowered came a crotch rub and a pole rise.
Dan became impatient with Ginny’s leisurely pace. His hand rushed to her breasts the instant she exposed them. He loved her firmness, her perfect knolls crowned with pigmented areolas and hard nipples. He surged as silk panties rubbed his penis. She held back, prolonging his wait. Dan sweated with desire.
Cool bedcovers bunched up as Dan’s ass shimmied up the bed. Ginny straddled Dan. Practical instructions were whispered. Dan held on to her breasts as if they were life buoys. Candle fragrances filled the room, flames flickering.
“Honey, close your eyes and slide down to the foot of the bed. Think of how much I love you, nothing else.” Dan exhaled with her brush touch of his penis, the powdering of his testicles, the kissing of his chest.
“Come in,” Ginny said to a closed bathroom door.
Ben entered, his muscles like carried luggage. Dan’s eyes opened, and his gaze lowered to the small poser suit, the pouch a mere string on Hellenic legs, this poser for partners, not contests.
All waited for the sounds of “Nessun Dorma”—Ben’s idea for the evening’s theme. When it began, he performed a routine tailored for Ginny. Crushed stone realigned with each beat. Three minutes and one second into the music—when Pavarotti belted “Vincerò!”—Ben’s butterfly stroke sequenced into Da Vinci’s “Perfect Man X” pose.
Ginny shouted her approval. “Ben, you’re perfect! You won.”
Two heads turned to Dan, who replied, “I’m with Ginny. I never expected this. I can’t believe all that muscle—every part of you is rippled. You look like marble, yet move like ballet. I’m blown away, really.”
The professional emerged in Ben, and he started to explain his routine and diet. Ginny barked, “Not now! Tomorrow you guys can talk. This isn’t a bodybuilding seminar. Ben, come over here.”
Stepping forward, Ben saw Dan’s full-on erection. “Enjoy yourself, Ben. No need to be self-conscious.” Ben laughed and looked down. “Me too.” Ben shed his poser, then raised his arms for a double-bicep pose, his log legs making a twig of his stiff penis.
“Enough.” Ginny’s loud voice caused both men to shrink. She turned to Dan, her breasts rubbing his jacked-up penis, aware that her ass was in Ben’s face. She signaled for Ben to move to Dan’s left side.
Whispered words of affection and love soothed Dan. He entered a trance, unsure if Ginny had given Ben permission to touch until Ben’s pipe-wrench hand stroked Dan, nuzzling his scrotum. Dan held back his protest. He allowed this man to touch him. This had been his vow to Ginny, and it was also a result of the gratitude he owed Ben. Dan’s head lowered; his lips sealed to the crevice of Ginny’s breasts, seeking her hardened nipples. He knew these hands kindling his cock and balls were familiar with the apparatus, and not the hands of a woman.
The time had come for Ginny to reap her pleasure. She massaged Ben’s billowing sinuous arm. Ben’s flexed steel fibers didn’t even feel Ginny’s puny grip. He relaxed before tensing again, then repeated this maneuver twice more. Each time the bulge grew higher, until the mound split into a cleft wide enough for Ginny’s pinkie. She panted steam.
Dan was near apoplexy with stimulation. He didn’t care if the source was woman or man, he had descended into a pleasure warren.
Ginny looked at Dan for signs that he would panic—that his anxiety and jealousy might explode. She examined Ben just as carefully. But so far both men kept their word.
The time had arrived.
Leaning across the bed, Ginny lined up her legs. She lifted herself to her knee, her ass spread. She waited for Dan to object, but heard nothing. Dan had changed. His jealousy was gone; his fear, too.
Dan knew why. He’d been battered by life’s capricious uncertainty. He would accept love and friendship when it came. If this act gave pleasure to Ginny and Ben, then wasn’t he rewarded as well? And he was, both emotionally and physically. The sensuous tingling in his spine was proof.
Ben’s feelings were similar. He didn’t like this kind of trio. It would never have been his choice, even allowing for his fantasy about Dan. But his life had been full of choices he didn’t want: loss, years of emptiness. Ginny and Dan were his best friends. He’d willingly give them what they needed. He wanted this to be Ginny’s special night, and he’d find some way to make that happen. His exhibition alone wasn’t enough, but what was… he didn’t know. He would wait and provide what she needed.
A prod from Ginny awoke Ben to her instructions. He sat behind Dan, his legs spread into a V, and his bookshelf pectorals held Dan upright as Ginny mounted her husband. Dan’s embrace pulled Ginny deeper into coitus. He loved her smile, and he loved the way she fucked him. He focused on her, blotting out thoughts of the half-ton man behind him.
Impatience and desire quickened Dan’s pace. But it was too quick for Ginny. “Slow down. Take your time.”
Slowed to four-quarter rhythm, Ginny’s labia relaxed and widened. Dan’s penis sank deeper into her, and Ben helped Dan rise up by lifting him under his armpits. Inadvertently, Ben’s shaft slid along Dan’s spine. Dan’s rising anus lifted above the bed.
Dan lost his libido momentarily, fearing he’d exposed too much to Ben. “Ben, don’t, please.”
“Don’t worry Dan, I understand.” He did understand, but he didn’t reveal that he had wanted full access. He wished he could have raised Dan higher. He tapped Ginny’s back.
She dismounted and complained, “What happened?”
Ben arranged Ginny and Dan like Barbie and Ken dolls, the couple facing each other. Then pushing Dan’s shoulder, Ben forced Dan into a squat. Ben directed Ginny to straddle Dan’s legs, her vagina on Dan’s straight-up glowing lust. She obeyed, and Dan entered her, her rhythm matching his thrusts. Summoning his willpower, Dan overcame his embarrassment as Ben stared.
Ben moved closer, his legs and penis now touching Dan. With ease, Ben moved Ginny and Dan to their haunches. Ginny’s full squat now matched Dan’s bent legs; his chest rubbed her breasts and his penis penetrated even deeper than before. They moaned their desire and pain, their balance precarious.
Ben squatted too, letting his forearms become resting posts for Ginny’s and Dan’s buttocks. He clasped his hands together, then flexed to seal the union. His balled biceps pulsated against Dan’s anus and lifted Ginny up, pressing her breasts into Dan. She grabbed hold of Ben’s popover mounds. The odor of muscle wafted throughout the room. Ben held his squeeze. Ginny grabbed Dan’s neck, and he clasped Ginny.
With an inhale, Ben squatted lower. His deep bends allowed his arms to span the flared cracks. Ben pushed with the power gained from lifting hu
ndreds of pounds ten thousand times. Ten-inch snowballs formed his pectorals. As he squeezed, Dan’s penis was pressed into Ginny.
Grunting, Ben’s nose invaded the copulating space, and sex trailed up each nostril. His aching cock swelled with the vision of Dan’s penis. Ben’s scrotum pumped iron, lifting his ball sack.
Ben’s oak legs straightened, lifting Ben, and Ben lifted Ginny and Dan into the air. He had squatted seven-hundred-pound barbells for warm-up.
Ginny said to no one, “Yes, yes, I love this feeling.”
Reaching the bed, Ben lowered the pair, holding them until they found their footing. Spreading his stance, cupping his hands like gloves, he made custom seats. His middle finger lined up with each anus. Dan initially grunted protest, but with a look at Ginny, he soon acquiesced.
With one leg back, Ben genuflected before raising his arms. The copulating couple moved to the ceiling. Every muscle strained. Arms, legs. Penis, too. Ginny and Dan fucked while suspended in air.
Ginny called out an invented alphabet. Her hands rested on Ben’s python-headed trapezoids, on shoulders torn from the Alps. She produced new words for each of Ben’s hydraulic pumps. The mirror reflected a portion of Ben’s deltoids, spreading from one wall to the other. Ginny’s syllables made soup.
Dan fucked his brains out. Was it possible? Could anyone be this strong? Ginny screamed as her wetness covered Dan’s stiff member. Dan’s sweat rained down his chest; his penis felt like it was as long as a broom handle.
With a grunt his only warning, Ben crushed Ginny and Dan’s coccyges, ramming Dan deeper into Ginny. Ginny slobbered words of strength and power until her sounds had no meaning. She finished her second climax with, “I can feel the strength… I feel it… I… I… the muscles and power.”
The joyous outburst gave Dan insight into Ginny’s obsession that he’d never had before. Her hummingbird lips fluttered between smile and scream. Her rising chin beseeched, her elongated neck twitched. Dan saw his wife consumed by ecstasy.
Ice Cream Man Page 30