I fell, more than sat, on the bench, one hand working the showerhead, the other hand working my flesh. Everything else faded away, and I came in a rush. I heard myself cry out, but I couldn’t stop it if I tried—and I didn’t want to, at least not at that moment.
The wave passed, and I opened my eyes. I thought I saw a shadow moving away from the bathroom entrance. Did Gemma come to check on me? Was I that loud? I felt embarrassed, like how I imagined it would feel getting caught by my parents.
I stood, and washed my hair last, letting the rainfall rinse the shampoo out, and I dried off with the towel Gemma left out for me. After I got dressed, I went out to the kitchen to join her.
“Isn’t that shower amazing?” Gemma asked as she handed me a glass of water. “I could spend half a day in there when I get stressed. I just love it.”
“It was wonderful,” I agreed, taking a sip from the glass. More than you know, my brain added.
“It’s way better than showering at the gym. Besides, you can’t really masturbate at the gym. People look at you funny if you’re loud.”
I coughed, spitting up water. Gemma did catch me! It was funny—even though I’d told her every detail about a college orgy I wantonly participated in, the thought of her finding me playing with myself was somehow more mortifying.
“What?” she asked. “I told you I’ve done some things. Everyone does it. It’s no big deal but scream ‘oh fuck’ in the shower at the gym while you cum, and all the women give you attitude. It’s partly why I come home to shower.”
Maybe she hadn’t seen me.
“Like, I heard you cumming just now, and I was like, ‘Yeah, she knows not to waste an opportunity.’ I don’t know why people get so uptight about it.”
I gulped. Busted. It was time to change the subject. “So, uh, what’s for lunch?”
“Turkey pesto avocado wraps and Tapatio Doritos. Don’t worry, the tortillas are low carb. The Doritos, however, are not. But dammit, they’re good! And while we’re changing the subject away from auto-erotic pleasures, you have more of your story to tell me.”
Gemma didn’t miss anything. “Right. Why do I feel like I’m at a deposition every time we meet? The subject always turns to my sordid past.”
“Because, Darcy, you fascinate me. When I first saw you at the gym, I knew we would be good friends. I’m way more interested in you than in talking about myself. You seem to need to unburden yourself, and I’m cheaper than a therapist. Plus, it’s like a real-life erotica audiobook for me. Are those enough reasons? Seriously, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. We can just eat in silence like a couple of psychopaths.”
I laughed. “Okay, well, let me first say, these Doritos are insanely good. I’m glad we worked an extra half hour today because that bag is going down.”
She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I have another one in the pantry.”
“Well, I guess I’m going on a long run tomorrow then. So, where did I leave off?”
“You said you saw Peter a couple of months ago, and you showed me your lucky panties.”
“Okay. Well, I had just moved back to town, and I was going around, getting the lay of the land. What gym was closest and most affordable, what supermarket is the best, stuff like that. It had been a decade since I lived here, and a lot of things had really changed.
“But some had stayed exactly the same too.”
Re-Pete
Three Months Ago
I was in the produce aisle at Kroger’s, looking for fresh cilantro, when I heard a man call my name. I turned and looked, and there he was. Peter.
He looked good. A lot of guys get out of school, get a desk job, and get fat. But not Peter. He looked older—because he was—but his basic features had held together well. He’d grown up but hadn’t aged, if that makes sense. Even his hairline was hanging on—a little higher than it was before, but the forehead was not quite a five-head.
“Peter!” I exclaimed. I’d been here a week with no real contact with anyone, so I was excited to see a familiar face. “I had no idea you were still in town! You look great!”
“You do too!” His eyes worked me up and down. I was glad I’d fixed my hair and put on a little bit of makeup before I went out. I was in shorts and a tank top but had a running jacket tied around my waist because it was still spring, and I never knew when it would turn chilly.
I took his compliment in stride. “Thanks. I try to stay in shape.”
“Seriously, you’re one of those people that’s gotten better looking as you’ve gotten older. You must spend all your time at the gym.”
I laughed, but it was true. I did spend a dozen or more hours working out every week. “Peter, you act like we’re fifty or something. I’m not even thirty yet. I’m supposed to look good. I’m just hitting my prime.”
“True, I suppose. So, are you back for good, or just visiting?”
“Who would I visit here? I’m back for good. Or, back for now, anyway.” I spotted the ring on his finger. “Peter Olsen, you got married!”
He blushed a little bit and held up his hand, looking at the ring like, How the fuck did this thing get on there? “Uh, yeah, I did. Three years ago, last month. We have a twenty-month-old daughter.”
“Wow, good for you.” Then, I couldn’t help it—the words were out of my mouth before I knew I’d said them. “Are you going to teach her to stay out of fraternity basements?”
“Oh, man, Darcy. I was hoping that wouldn’t come up.” He seemed genuinely uncomfortable with the topic.
I reached out and touched his arm. God, I was flirting with him! “How could it not, Peter? It’s the whole reason I met you. And for what it’s worth, I don’t regret it. I had fun that night, and I had fun the short time we were together.”
“Yeah… I’m sorry about that too. It was pretty weak of me to end it over what the other guys thought. I’ve often looked back on that with regret.”
He seemed like he’d become a—dare I say it—good guy. “I get it. Peer pressure is a mother. And seriously, I don’t bear any ill will over you ending it. I was planning on leaving town at the end of that semester anyway. It would have been nice to ride Peter’s peter for another few weeks, but hey, we don’t always get what we want.”
“True that. Listen, it’s really good to see you, Darcy. I mean that. You look like you’re doing well, and that makes me happy. I’d love to catch up some time.”
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “I’m free right now. Why don’t we grab a coffee?”
He pulled out his phone and looked at it. “Yeah, you know, I don’t have anything on my calendar for the rest of the day. I just needed to get diapers before heading home. I can hang for a few.”
I left my cart where it was since I hadn’t gone very far down my list. Peter bought the diapers he’d come in for, and I followed him in his Range Rover to a Java Jungle. Even though the place was close to empty, we grabbed a table in the back. I suppose he didn’t want anyone seeing him with a woman who wasn’t his wife.
We covered the usual “catch up” topics. I told Peter about finishing school in California, how living near the beach in San Diego got me into working out, how I hated working for a corporation and started doing side gigs on a temp site, and I turned that into a successful business that allowed me to go where I wanted, when I wanted.
For his part, he finished his business degree and ended up buying his dad’s insurance practice. He met his wife, Kimberly, toward the end of his senior year. They dated on and off for a couple of years and lived together for three before getting married. Kimberly was pregnant six months later, and for now, was a stay-at-home mom.
“Is she hot? She’d better be, or I’m going to get jealous.”
He pulled out his phone, opened up a Facebook album, and handed it over to me. She had short blonde hair and skin so white she made me look Hispanic. She had broad shoulders, small breasts, and a tiny waist. She looked like a gymnast. Her smile pushed her
cheeks up and revealed a set of brilliant white teeth. I had a wicked thought about her and pushed it out of my head. “Wow, Peter, she’s a hottie! I can see why you put a ring on it! Well done, old man!”
“Thanks. Kim was a cheerleader in college, so…”
“So, she must be kinda petite and… acrobatic?” Again, my mind was wandering toward the gutter.
“She’s five foot four, one-thirty. The last ten pounds of baby weight has been stubborn. God, she’d kill me if she knew I told you her weight.”
“Jesus, Peter, it’s not like she’s obese or something. Relax. So how does she handle Peter’s peter? I mean, you have a kid, so we know the pieces fit, but that’s a long pipe for a shallow well.”
He squirmed with this line of conversation, clearly uncomfortable with me talking about his penis. “She likes it just fine,” he said. “It’s just… we’ve been in kind of a rut since the baby came.”
I wasn’t expecting the conversation to take that turn. “I’m sorry, Peter—”
“Pete, please.”
“Okay, Pete. I didn’t mean to pry or bring up a sore subject. I was just—I don’t know. Busting your balls? Sorry, I probably shouldn’t mention your balls, either.”
He laughed, which made me feel a little bit better. “No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t dump that on you, so it’s my bad. It’s just…”
“It feels good to open up to someone?”
“Yes! Exactly. And, given our history, it’s not like we have any secrets, you know?”
I smiled. “Yes, Pete, I know exactly what you mean. I have some skeletons deep in my closet, and you were there when I put them there.”
“And you’re very easy to talk to. You never judge. I feel a little guilty because…”
“All you’ve been thinking about for the last twenty minutes is how much fun we had in bed?”
“Is that what you’re thinking about?”
“No! Unless—that’s what you’re thinking. Then yes. I want you inside me.”
Ten minutes later, Pete was cumming inside me on my entry rug. We hadn’t even bothered to close the door before he had my shorts pulled down and his long, hard cock pushing its way between my wet pussy lips. We were feral, rutting like animals, and it was beyond incredible. He rolled off me, and I put my head on his chest, letting my hands run over his stomach and watching it twitch.
“Holy shit,” he said. Those were the first words either of us said since arriving at my house. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
I felt the familiar river of cum seeping out of me. “How long has it been?”
“Three months, give or take. And a few months before that.”
“You have to give it time, Pete. A baby fucks with a woman’s hormones like you would not believe. She’ll come back to you.”
“Oh, I know, it’s not like we’re on the verge of divorce or anything. But this felt… right. I don’t know. I got semi-hard the moment I saw you in the store. All those old, familiar feelings came flooding back. I’m just trying to justify it. Fuck! I just cheated on my wife!”
“Pete, I won’t tell her, and you for sure better not. Besides—it’s not like you’ve done this before, right? Cheating, I mean. And this doesn’t really count—I mean, you’ve already hit this pussy. Your number didn’t go up. So technically, it’s not cheating.”
He was drawing circles around my nipples, making them stand at attention. “Nice try, Darcy. It’s not okay, and we can’t do this again.”
I sighed. “I know. This was fun, and I needed some deep dicking, but it was a bad idea.”
At three o’clock the next day, he knocked on my door, and at three-thirty, I was screaming, thrusting my hips into the air and cumming in his face. I will say he and I were very compatible in bed. We knew all the right moves, like a quarterback and wide receiver reunited after a decade spent with other teams.
“This doesn’t count, either,” he said. “You didn’t get off yesterday, so I owed you this one.”
I agreed. “Yeah, it’s really just a continuation of what we started on the floor of my entryway. That was basically foreplay.”
“Right. But no more after this.”
“Agreed.”
We lay on my bed, his face shiny with my juices, my pussy happy as could be.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.
“Sounds good.”
The next day I answered the door naked. We didn’t even make it out of the entryway before he lifted me up and sat me on his cock. He carried me like that to my bedroom, where he threw me onto my bed and took me from behind. That day, we both came.
The day after that, I again answered his knock naked, and he had his erection out, glancing around furtively when I opened the door. I grabbed his divining rod and pulled him inside, climbing onto him and pushing that shaft inside me while he let his pants fall to the ground and penguin-walked to the couch. I sat astride him, thrusting my hips in the cowgirl position, shoving my tits in his face. His orgasm practically blew me off him. He was still cumming in me while the first salvo was dripping out.
It went on like this for a couple of weeks. The weekends were hopelessly long and interminable, and each weekday Pete would come over at lunch or at the end of the day. We’d pleasure each other, then he’d clean up and leave. It was almost like a business transaction, but we were having the time of our lives. It was the first time in more than a year that I was getting laid daily, and I forgot how satisfying that is.
After the first few weeks, we slowed it down. It wasn’t an intentional thing. One day I had a late meeting, another he had new clients he was signing policies with. Our daily trysts became thrice weekly, then twice a week, and then he got serious about ending it. He told me he thought Kimberly was getting suspicious. She was asking a lot of questions, and despite our torrid affair, he really did love her. I told him I respected that but left an open invitation if he needed to talk—or do anything else. I would give myself to him whenever he wanted.
I thought that would be the end of it until a week later, when I ran into the whole family at Home Depot.
Super Tasty
Y ou always leave me wanting more,” Gemma said. “That’s the mark of a good entertainer.” She looked at her watch. “Shoot, it’s almost three. I have some work I need to do. Promise me you’ll tell me the rest later!”
“Of course, I will. I can’t seem to say no to you. Why don’t you come over for a run tomorrow morning, and we’ll have breakfast after?”
“Perfect.”
We ended up not going for that run. I was in the mood for sushi that night, and something in the jalapeno tuna rolls disagreed with me. I was up half the night throwing up, and in the morning, I was in no shape to run. I texted Gemma to tell her I wasn’t going to make it.
Around eleven, my doorbell rang. I knew that I looked like someone who had been throwing up for several hours, and even though I wasn’t expecting anyone, I answered the door. It was Gemma, dressed in her running attire—with a giant probiotic shake from Shakes Alive!
I was so happy I almost cried. “Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver! I was just wondering what I was going to eat for lunch, but nothing I have here sounds good. This is perfect! Thank you so much!”
I wrapped her in a long hug, lingering long enough to get my emotions in check, and invited her in. She looked around the entryway, and I saw a smile spread over her face.
“What?” I asked. I realized she’d never been inside my house before, and I was worried she was laughing at my décor.
“I was just wondering if I got that semen light from CSI, how much of this entryway would light up?”
“Fuck you,” I said, laughing as the words left my mouth. I looked around at the floor and walls. “Like, so much. It would look like someone was murdered here.” I pointed toward the couch. “And there.” I pointed to the hallway leading to my bedroom. “And there. A lot of murder scenes in this place.”
“Yeah, you murdered some dick!”
I showed her the living room, where I’d been lying on the couch under a blanket, binging Supernatural on Netflix. I grabbed a bottle of water for her from the fridge as we passed through the kitchen. Then we walked down the hall, where I showed her my office, which was fortunately relatively clean. A Jack-and-Jill bathroom connected it and the guest bedroom, which was not clean. There were boxes and miscellaneous things piled up on the bed and in the closet. “I don’t have a lot of guests,” I explained. I could tell the mess bothered her analyst’s mind, but she didn’t say anything.
We walked to the master bedroom. I stepped in front of the door. “You cannot say anything about the state of this room. I was not expecting company today.”
“What, do you think I’m conducting an inspection? Besides, I know not everyone is as anal as me about things. I think it’s because I’m in finance, so everything must be perfect in my work, and that carries over to my personal life. I wish I could be messier.”
She motioned for me to move aside, so I let her pass. She glanced around at my unmade queen bed, the mess of charging cables on my nightstand, and the many dirty clothes near—not in—my hamper but offered no commentary. She peeked inside my bathroom, which was very small and simple compared to hers. She flashed me a wicked grin. “Hey, you have the same handheld showerhead as me!”
“Yes, I noticed that too,” I said, remembering that she caught me masturbating with hers. “Obviously.”
“I like it, Darcy! This is a great place. I wish I would have gotten a three-bedroom… but that bathroom was such a deal maker. I don’t know if I would have found one in my price range anyway.”
“Well, I had a motivated seller. I had to basically re-do the whole backyard because they had a neurotic lab that liked to dig and eat sprinkler heads. I had to patch drywall in my office, and the place needed a lot of updates on the appliances. Plus, the privy in the guest bath wasn’t working, so I had to fix that. I was out of money to hire other people by then, so I had to fix that one myself.”
Tell-Tale Hearts Page 7