by Jason Lenov
Becky grinned. “Fucked another man. Yeah, I know.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
Becky sighed, closed the drawer and walked back over to me. She put a hand on my cheek. “Jeff,” she whispered, “I love you. That was incredibly hot. I had no idea…” She studied my face. “But if this is going to make you crazy I’m not doing it again.”
This sent me reeling. Was that really all that was bothering her? What did that mean? Shouldn’t she be more upset?
“Jeff,” she said. “It’s just sex.”
Just sex?!?
Wasn’t sex supposed to be something special? Something magical shared between a man and a woman, something sacred? It felt now like nothing was sacred between us. “Just sex?” I asked.
She ruffled my hair with her fingers. “Just sex,” she repeated.
“Beck, he went inside you.”
Becky shrugged. “How’s that different from someone brushing up against me on the subway?”
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. “Becky it’s totally different. He was in you. That’s so personal. So intimate,” I insisted.
Becky sighed again and shook her head. “No, Jeff. This is intimate. What we have here. I love you. That was just some guy I let fuck me. That was nothing like this.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Ugh, I have to go and clean up. You two are gushing out of me. Can you find the cigarettes?” After another kiss on my other cheek, she skipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs like a gazelle.
Chapter Ten
I was left alone with my thoughts until I realized what time it was. Almost noon. I had a class starting at one and it took forty minutes to get to the university. I ran upstairs, threw on some fresh clothes, then bolted back down, grabbed my briefcase and ran out to the car.
I drove to school white-knuckled as I gripped the steering wheel. My mind just wouldn’t clear. I had no idea how I was going to get through the rest of my day.
Somehow I did. As soon as I stood at the lectern I changed modes. From lusty voyeur to bored professor I droned for an hour about the virtues and vices of biotechnology. A few of the students fell asleep. It felt good. It felt safe.
The faculty meeting that afternoon was a little more difficult. My mind kept wandering back to that morning, thinking of what I’d seen and trying to piece together how it might have changed me. Afterwards I managed to make beat a hasty retreat before Colleen, a colleague I was authoring a paper with, could sink her claws into me and ask why I hadn’t answered any of her emails.
The drive home, though, heightened my tension again. I wondered what it would be like seeing Becky. Would things be different between us? We hadn’t had a chance to even say goodbye I’d been in such a rush.
By the time I pulled into my driveway my heart was thundering in my chest and I was sweating profusely. I opened the door with a shaky hand to the find the house dark except for a faint light glowing from the kitchen. I stepped inside, closed the door and listened.
The house smelled amazing. As my eyes adjusted to the light I realized the light was coming from two candles on the table. The table was set with good plates and our antique silverware. There were empty wine glasses and an uncorked bottle in the center. “Becky?”
Becky appeared in the door of the kitchen. She looked stunning. She was wearing a red pencil dress that hugged each and every one of her luscious curves. Her freshly washed hair cascaded down over her shoulders and her smile was filled with mischief.
“What is this?” I asked.
“So you did forget,” she purred, swaying toward me, taking my briefcase and setting it down on the ground.
“Forget? What’d I forget?”
Becky shook her head. “It’s our anniversary, silly. Ten years, remember?”
Oh shit. “Becky…I’m so sorry,” I stammered.
She laughed and pressed a palm against my cheek. “As sorry as you are every year?” she asked.
She was right. I was terrible at remembering dates. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise, I’ll…”
She silenced me with a finger on my lips. “Stop it. If it mattered we’d be divorced already. Come on,” she said, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
She poured out two glasses of wine, handed one to me, then took a generous swig from hers. “I made prime rib.”
I settled into my chair and watched Becky take the roast out of the oven. She shaved off two pink slices, then heaped scalloped potatoes and asparagus onto our plates before bringing them back over to the table.
Something shifted inside me as I watched her lovingly preparing my meal. My mind drifted back to what she’d said that morning. She was right. This was real intimacy. This was what made us tick, these sorts of moments. And while I was still a bit unsettled by watching her with the plumber I knew she was right about that, too. It was just sex. Sex had nothing on this.
Becky sat down and raised her glass to eye level. “To us,” she said, beaming.
“To us,” I echoed, lifting mine and touching hers with it.
“I love you,” Becky said.
A warmth swelled through me at her soft expression. “I love you too, baby.”
“Now dig in while it’s hot,” she said, picking up her fork and knife and cutting into the juicy meat.
We ate in silence for a while. The rib was cooked to melt in your mouth perfection. The potatoes were creamy, the asparagus crisp. I couldn’t stop staring at her as I ate.
Finally Becky burst into giggles and set down her utensils. “Are you doing that thing again?” she asked.
I was slightly cowed by the question. “Sorry. I kind of am.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Becky said. “You want to talk about it?”
I paused, wondering if she did. “I think so.”
“Shoot.”
What to say? I didn’t want to spoil the perfect evening she’d created. But my brain had started wiggling again, wondering whether Becky was in any way put out by what had happened or whether she was just doing her Becky thing and living in the moment like she always did. “You don’t care?”
She frowned. “About you? Jeff of course I care.”
“No, no. I mean about this morning. It doesn’t…bother you? That you did that?”
She put a finger against her lips and thought for a moment. She drew in a breath and hesitated before shaking her head. “It doesn’t,” she replied. “Does that bother you?”
“I think so. Maybe? I don’t know. It’s just…I guess I never knew this about you. That you could be so casual about sex.”
She shrugged. “Only with people I don’t care about,” she explained. “I could never do something like that with someone I had any feelings for.”
Her answer was illuminating and reassuring. “So you don’t, I mean, you wouldn’t…” I couldn’t find the right way to say what I wanted to ask.
“Fall in love with the plumber?” Becky offered, then laughed.
I blushed a bit at this, at how well she knew me. “I guess,” I muttered.
She shook her head. “No, Jeff. That was just fucking.”
I wanted to believe her but something was still bothering me. Maybe it was just fucking. But was sex ever just that? It had never been for me. I’d always felt an emotional connection with the women I’d slept with. And it always seemed strengthened by the sex. Could Becky really be so different that it didn’t affect her in that way? “You don’t feel anything? No residue? Did you…did you like it?”
Becky thought on this. “I guess I did. I liked knowing you were watching. I liked knowing that you were there and how turned on you were. I liked that I could do that for you. But residue? Like, do I miss it now that it’s over?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her blonde hair bounced along her shoulders as she did. “It was pleasant but it’s over. That’s all there is to it.”
It was hard to believe but I knew I had to
trust her. I couldn’t crawl inside her mind and read her thoughts. The only way I could know her was by what she said.
We ate a few more bites before Becky set her fork and knife down again. “So is that it?” she asked. “Had enough of dirty Becky?” She flashed a coy smile.
My lust awoke deep within me. The image of Becky being defiled formed in my mind and stoked it from a glowing ember to a single, flickering flame. “I don’t know,” I said quietly.
Becky’s smile twisted into a grin. “We can ditch the slutty thing if you want,” she purred. “But I was kind of enjoying being your little slut.”
My cock began to swell. I had certainly been enjoying that part of it, too. But I wasn’t so sure about ditching the slutty thing. Maybe it would have been easier just to leave it behind us but it seemed…unfinished. I thought of Becky taking the plumber bent over the island. That blew the single flame into a crackling fire. “Would you do it again?”
Becky chuckled. “Which part?”
“Would you let another man fuck you again?”
“For you? Anything.”
My heart swelled with love for this woman. My cock hardened in my lap as I started contemplating the possibilities.
Becky, perhaps sensing my renewed interest, pushed her chair out from behind the table, stood up and sauntered over in her high heels. She drew a line along my shoulders with her finger, then leaned over me to whisper into my ear. “Guess who called today?” she said.
My chest tightened and I nearly blurted the question. Quentin? Was it him? Jealousy and arousal twisted together inside me at the thought of Becky talking to Quentin, maybe inviting him over the next day. All for me. I’m glad that I didn’t. “Who?” I asked instead.
“The tile guy. Seems the plumber called him for us. I wonder if he mentioned we were very prompt with the payment?” she said, then giggled again.
My heart sank a bit but then quickly seized again at what Becky had said. I turned to look into her eyes. “Was he here?” I asked.
Becky shook her head. “No but he said he’d make time tomorrow. He’s busy but for some reason he didn’t mind blowing off another client.”
My palms began to sweat. It wasn’t as intense a reaction as I’d had imagining Becky with the plumber. Some of the potency was missing. But the pangs of jealousy were gone, too. Replaced by a feverish excitement that Becky would do this thing for me again. “Did you make an appointment?” I asked.
Becky smiled. “I did. I hope you don’t mind. He’s going to be here first thing.” Becky’s eyes lit up. “What do you think?” she whispered.
I didn’t know what to think. But my cock was hard and I felt far more ready to endure watching Becky have another encounter with a strange man. “What are you going to do to him?” I asked.
“Funny you should ask,” she mused. “I thought maybe this time we’d try not hiding the fact that you were here?”
“What?” I asked, breathless. “He’s not going to go for me watching while he fucks you. No way.”
“I didn’t say he was going to know you were watching. He‘ll just know you’re downstairs in the office.”
I smirked and shook my head. “He’ll never go for that either. You’re not going to get a guy to have sex with you if he knows I’m right downstairs. That’d be crazy.”
Becky stood up and folded her arms across her chest, still smiling. “Wanna bet?”
Chapter Eleven
That’s how I found myself pacing the living room the next morning, wringing my hands in between the occasional gulp of coffee. It was seven-thirty and I’d been up since five. Apparently first thing meant somewhere around eight and Becky was upstairs getting ready for her encounter.
I was slightly nervous but far more confident that whatever happened that morning wouldn’t tear our marriage apart. It took a bit of the edge off my anxiety and sharpened my lust.
I think I was also a bit skeptical about anything happening at all. Becky seemed as confident as ever that she could lure another man between her legs. I found it highly unlikely. Sure, maybe most men thought with their cocks more than their brains but this? Come on. Fucking a guys wife while he was downstairs? It was too risky. It could end too badly. It just didn’t seem likely. Like another well-worn porn trope, you know?
“Jeff?” Becky called down the stairs, yanking me from my thoughts. “Can you come up here?”
Casting a final glance out the window, I padded up the stairs and into the bedroom.
Becky was standing completely naked in front of the open dresser, looking like her usual stunning self. Half of me felt like throwing her onto the bed and banging her right there and then.
When she turned to face me I gasped. She was wearing the same vacant expression she’d used on the plumber. Lips slightly puckered, eyes wide like a bimbo. “What do you think I should wear?” she asked, sweet and innocent.
My cock hardened at the question. It was almost more taboo than what Becky was about to attempt. Not only was she going to try and sleep with another man in our marital bed while I was home, she was asking me to help her pick the outfit that would seal the deal.
I walked over to the dresser and picked through some of the items there. A pair of jean cut-offs caught my attention. They were barely a scrap of fabric that Becky used for gardening sometimes. I’d never told her how much I liked staring out the window at her ass when she was in the backyard wearing them. “How about these?”
Becky smiled. “Those should work,” she said with an obedient nod.
I realized then that she was already in character. She was no longer the lead scientist on the largest study of bird migration in North America, she had changed to Becky the bimbo. Becky the tramp.
That’s when I realized the part of this I’d been missing. This whole time, with Josh, then with the plumber, I’d been trying my best to figure out how to handle what had been happening. I’d spent the time I should have been using to enjoy Becky’s digressions wrestling with my own emotions about it. But I didn’t need to.
All I had to do was not be me.
There was no reason to play this game as Jeff Adams the uptight penny-pinching bio-ethicist. That was what was making things difficult. I needed to be someone else. Which is when Jeff the slightly crude, somewhat uncaring husband was born. The one who occasionally turned his wife out to other men.
It was an empowering revelation that filled me with courage. I grabbed a flannel shirt and tossed it at Becky’s chest. “Here,” I said, in a tone far gruffer than I’d ever used with her before. “Wear this.”
Becky dropped out of character but just for a moment. She raised an eye, as if puzzled by the sudden change in my demeanour. Then she must have realized what I was doing because she smiled in that absent way and nodded again. “Whatever you say,” she replied.
When she pulled the shirt over her shoulders and started doing up buttons I swatted her hands away. “No. Not like that. Like this.” Grabbing the two ends of the shirt I tied them in a knot just under her breasts, so her midriff was completely exposed and it was clear there was no bra supporting her tits. “There,” I said. “Just like that.”
Becky’s chest swelled with excitement at the way I was talking to her. “Okay. Whatever you want,” she said. Her eyes darted from side to side in feigned nervousness. “What should we do until he gets here?”
The pointed question sent a powerful lust rushing through me. My transformation was complete. “Why don’t you get on your knees and suck my dick.”
Becky didn’t bat an eye at this. She sank to her knees and began undoing my belt. It was filthy.
I loved it.
She hauled my cock out from my underwear and without a moment’s hesitation wrapped her wet lips around it and hollowed her cheeks. Looking up with wide eyes she started bobbing back and forth along my shaft, her expression a question asking “just like this?”
It felt amazing. Her mouth was wet velvet. Each thrust sent my cock deeper into it until I fe
lt the tip touch the back of her throat. I shuddered at the pleasure that churned between my legs. And suddenly I was no longer scared or intimidated by our little game. I’d accepted it as being just that, a game.
As my cock began flexing inside her mouth, Becky reached into her shirt with one hand, cupped her tit and eased it out of the fabric. It hung there for my viewing pleasure, the nipple stiff and pointy, the orb of flesh wagging as Becky coaxed me to the edge of my emission.
When she’d started I planned on telling her to stop before I came. But the tickling ache between my legs got the better of me as seed began to drip from the tip of my cock.
My act flagged as I realized I was about to let loose inside her face. “I’m gonna come,” I grunted. “If you want to…” I touched her cheek to let her know she didn’t have to finish me that way.
This had the deliciously opposite effect. Becky’s eyes widened and she redoubled her efforts, bobbing faster on my cock and sucking even harder.
I cracked through the surface of my orgasm and groaned as my seed began to leave me.
Becky’s eyes bulged as she began to swallow my load. The undulating muscles in her throat were a mesmerizing sight as my pleasure crested.
I shuddered through a few more convulsions then my cock began to sag.
Becky’s tempo slowed. She worked up and down the shaft in long, slow sucks, cleaning the last flecks of ejaculate and spit from my muscle. When she was finished she grabbed the root and popped off the head with her mouth. Her tongue flicked out and drew a circle around her lips.
The doorbell rang.
Becky stood up, tucked her teat back into her shirt, then kissed my cheek. “Now you’re getting the hang of it,” she whispered.
We stared at each other for a few seconds. It felt like a new connection was forming between us. One far deeper than we’d ever shared. “You gonna be a good slut and get the door?”
“If that’s what you want,” Becky replied.
I took a step forward and gave her a light slap on the ass. “How dirty are you going to let this get?” I asked.