by Jason Lenov
I roared as my climax thundered through me, my mind focusing on my clenching muscle and the deliciously sweet sensation emanating from it. It seemed to last forever but when it finally left me I collapsed onto Becky. After a few seconds of catching my breath I rolled over onto my back and pressed the back of my hand against my forehead.
Becky kept her legs raised high in the air, occasionally crossing her ankles.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
She giggled, rolled onto her side and put a hand on my chest. “Practising,” she replied. “They say there’s more of a chance of it taking if you keep your legs up like that.”
A jolt of panic shot through me before I remembered she was still protected for a few more weeks.
Becky must have noticed because she laughed and played with my chest hair. “What’s the matter? Have a little scare?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’m starting to think you really are crazy,” I said. There was something slightly mischievous in her smile. “You’re still good, right? I mean there’s no chance that…”
Becky’s smile widened into a grin. “That what, Jeff? That I might get pregnant?” she asked.
My softening cock flopped on my lap.
The motion caught Becky’s eye and she glanced down at it. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh my,” she said softly. “Wouldn’t that just be the dirtiest thing?”
I knew she was just playing with me. I balked at how deliciously terrifying that game might be.
Becky seemed to sense this. Running her fingers through my chest hair again, she let her eyes wander down my body. “Can you imagine?” she whispered. “The sweet wife of a nice, polite guy like you getting pregnant by another man?”
My cock throbbed again.
Becky’s eyes opened a little wider. She reached down and took me in hand, massaging my dick to life again. “Wow,” she said. “Jeff, it’s not me that’s the dirty one around here. It’s you.”
I groaned as she worked me up to hardness again.
When my cock had stiffened, she swung a leg over my lap and mounted me.
As she slipped me inside herself again I felt my own cum dribbled out of her and coat my balls. I groaned again as she squeezed me with her pussy.
“Is that the game you want to play, Jeff? You want to pretend I’m not on any birth control? That I’m bare and ready and fertile? Is that it?”
My cock answered for me. Blood surged into it and it hardened inside her.
Becky gasped. “Oh it is,” she cooed. She swayed forward, her breasts mashed against my chest, then slipped back down, my cock sliding into her again. “I can do that for you, baby. Anything you want. You want to see another guy come inside me again?”
Still a little terrified at how arousing I found the fantasy, I nonetheless nodded in admission.
“You want to see your slutty wife take a big load of hot cum in her pussy? A big load that might make her pregnant?”
My hips bucked up, driving my cock up into her to the very root.
Becky leaned close to my cheek and whispered. “Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll take another man’s load for you. Right into my bare pussy. I’ll even keep my legs up in the air just like I did just now. What do you say?”
I had nothing to say. My body erupted into a furious rut. Grabbing her by the hips I started fucking up into her, desperate for another release to ease the pressure that had once again built between my legs.
Becky rose up, hands pressed against my chest and started to ride me like she was on a mechanical bull. “I’ll do it for you, baby. Anything you want. I’ll let another man fuck his seed into my pussy. Oh fuck Jeff this is so hot,” she moaned.
I tried to push back against the climax that was threatening to consume me. I wanted that moment, all that heat, to last forever. But when I felt the first spasm of Becky’s cunt around my cock, when I realized she was as turned on and as close to coming as I was, I lost it.
Grabbing her tit, I roared as another wave of pleasure engulfed me.
“Fuck yes!” Becky screamed. “Fuck it into me!”
As another load left me and spurted up into Becky’s hot hole our eyes met. Time slowed to a crawl as we both felt the another connection forming between us. I’d never known such pleasure.
When the feverish orgasm finally broke we rutted out the last threads of pleasure before Becky collapsed onto me, panting for air.
It was a little scary how close I felt to her in that moment. The fear was chased away when Becky pressed her mouth against mine and locked me in a deep kiss. “I love you Jeff Adams,” she whispered as she released me.
I stared into her eyes, overcome by love for this woman that would do anything to please me. “I love you too, baby. I love you too.” We stayed locked in that embrace for a long time. When the moment waned, Becky rolled off of me, off of the bed, walked toward the mirror and straightened her hair. She giggled at how dishevelled she was. “I think I’ll have to have a bath,” she said.
As she walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap my thoughts drifted out of the moment and once again toward my dark fantasy. A part of me wondered if what I was about to do would break something between us. Becky had said she wasn’t into it, after all.
But even as I dragged myself off the bed I knew I had no choice. There was only one cure for what haunted me. Grabbing her phone, I scrolled through the contacts until I found the number I needed.
It was time to call Quentin.
Chapter Thirteen
A week and a half passed before I worked up the courage to text him. A week filled with white-hot sex and a metric ton of dirty talk to go with it.
Becky’s enthusiasm to entertain my dirty breeding fantasy stoked my arousal and I think that’s what eventually pushed me over the edge. It was on a Wednesday afternoon, a day she usually stayed late at the university because of an evening seminar, that I finally picked up my phone and tapped out a short message. I revised it about thirty times before realizing I couldn’t just text the guy. This was far too intense a request. My hands were shaking a little when I dialed the number. My mouth dried out at the sound of the phone ringing on the other end.
“Hello?” The guy sounded like Barry White getting ready to sing “Can’t get enough of your love.
My courage faltered for a second. I almost hung up, but somehow I managed to pull it together. “Hi, Quentin?” I said.
“This is Quentin. Who’s this?”
It was then that I’d realized I hadn’t taken a single second to figure out what I was going to say. A panic gripped me. As the seconds ticked by I thought for sure Quentin was going to hang up and all would be lost.
“Hello? Anyone there?” He sounded so earnest.
Something about that drew me out of my shell. “Quentin my name’s Jeff. Jeff Adams.”
A moment of silence. “Jeff Adams as in Mr. and Mrs. Jeff and Becky Adams?” he asked.
Hearing him say her name sent a thrill surging through me, one that propelled me head-first toward my goal. “That’s right.”
“Everything alright man? I mean Becky. She okay?”
His immediate concern set me at ease. Because of course that would be the first thing he thought, that something had happened to Becky. “Everything’s fine. Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no, it’s alright. I just thought…well, you know, kind of strange hearing from you.”
“For sure,” I replied. “Sorry,” I muttered.
Quentin waited for a moment but I was having a hard time choosing my words. “What’s this about?” he finally asked.
I sighed. This was not an over-the-phone sort of conversation, either. “Hey I was wondering if maybe you had a minute to talk? Could we meet? Whatever works for you. Could be next week. Or this week. Or…whenever.”
“Sure thing, man. How about tonight? I’m just finishing up at the animal shelter.”
Of course he was.
“You want to grab a coffee or something
?”
“How about a beer?” I said, a little too quickly.
“Oh…I don’t drink. But it’s okay I’ll just have a soda or something. Maybe some wings. Haven’t had wings in a long time. You got time tonight? There’s a place on Main street called…”
“Django’s,” I whispered. I heard Quentin smile.
“Yeah, Django’s. You ever go there?”
A knot tightened in my stomach. Becky and I went there all the time. Had that been her favourite haunt with Quentin, too? “Once or twice,” I said, trying to hide the tightness in my voice.
“Cool thing,” Quentin said. “How about seven?”
My palms started sweating. I had this out of body experience where I felt like I was watching myself take this thing, this urge, out of the safe cocoon of my own thoughts and plopping it into the real world. But I knew I couldn’t back out. It was too late for that. “Seven sounds great,” I answered.
“Alright man. See you then.” Like it was no problem.
“Okay see you then.” I was about to disconnect when Quentin cleared his throat.
“Hey Jeff?”
“Huh?”
“Becky know about you doing this?” he asked.
I swallowed back the tightness that had gripped my throat again. “Uh, no. She doesn’t.”
He paused, as if considering whether that was important.
For a moment I thought he was going to shut it down. What would I do if he told me that would make him too uncomfortable? That he didn’t want to go behind Becky’s back? Even from our brief conversation I could tell he was a stand-up guy. I squeezed my eyes shut tight as I waited for his reply.
“Okay. That’s cool. No big deal. I’ll see you at seven.”
The other end of the line clicked and he was gone.
Dajngo’s had the feel of a dive bar with the food of a fine restaurant. The lighting was dark. The booths were private. The music was low and the beer was ice cold. The opposite sort of place you’d think a woman like Becky wanted to frequent. Just another one of her little contradictions, I guess.
It stung me a little as I sat in the back corner of the room, thinking about how many romantic evenings Becky and Quentin had shared there. I indulged a sort of titillating moroseness thinking that she might have whispered the same sweet nothings to him that she had to me. What was enjoyable about it I couldn’t tell you. But thinking of Becky fawning over her ex-husband, sharing hors d-oeuvre, then going home and letting him fuck her twisted through me in the hottest way.
I knew it was Quentin as soon as I saw him walk through the door. Handsome fuck. Broad, athletic shoulders and chest, seemingly untouched by his age, his head was shaved bald and he wore a tight black t-shirt and blue jeans. I watched him for a few moments scanning the room, then waved.
When he saw me his lips parted in a toothy grin. He walked over with a confident swagger and stretched out a hand. “Hey man. It’s good to meet you,” he said.
I clambered out from behind the table and wiped my sweaty palm on my pants before shaking his hand. He was a foot taller than I was and even more imposing up close than from a distance. “Nice to meet you, too,” I replied before sitting back down again.
The waitress I’d previously dismissed came over and took our drink orders. I asked for a hoppy beer and Quentin asked for sparkling water. When she left, he looked at me with a friendly smile and clapped his hands together. I must have looked pale or something because his smile waned into a frown. “You all good? You alright?” he asked in a concerned tone.
I started chuckling. Partly at the absurdity of what I was about to propose and partly at how sheepish I felt. “I’m fine,” I said. His easy manner made me relax almost right away.
Quentin nodded. “Alright. That’s good. What can I do for you brother?” he said.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself for our conversation. “Okay, listen, you’re probably going to think I’m crazy,” I began.
Quentin shook his head. “No, man. I’m easy. You just tell me what you need.” Really he just couldn’t be a nicer guy. Becky hadn’t been lying about that. “Everything going okay with Becky?” he asked.
“It is,” I said, nodding. “Things are going great. We’re thinking of starting a family soon.” What?!? As soon as it was out of my mouth I regretted saying it. Why the hell would I start with that?
Quentin must have noticed my discomfort. He put up a hand and shook his head. “Hey don’t worry about it. I think that’s great. Don’t you worry about me. It was hard but I’ve moved on. Trust me.”
And somehow I really felt like I could. “It’s just there’s this thing, you see.”
Quentin laced his fingers together and leaned forward over the table.
Another deep breath before I dove in. “I just want to say that if you don’t want to have this conversation you just tell me. This is kind of personal and it’s your life, I mean, it was your life. It’s not like I feel I have a right to…”
Quentin held up a hand to stop me. “Like I said, I’m easy.”
And suddenly there were no other excuses to be made. Nothing to stall with. The only thing to do was move ahead and lay it all out. “It’s just Becky’s never really told me a lot about you and…” I left the end of the sentence unfinished in the hopes that Quentin would pick it up for me.
He paused for a moment then started nodding. I watched him putting the pieces together. He cracked a slight smile. “And you just can’t figure out what a smart girl like that was doing with a dumb jock like me? That it?”
The blood drained from my face. “Man, no! I wasn’t…” I was mortified. Because it was the fucking truth and Quentin had figured it out in seconds.
He laughed and leaned back against his seat, waving a hand at me. “Relax brother. Trust me I used to get that all the time. All the freaking time,” he said, staring off into the distance.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he was reminiscing on his time with Becky.
He let out a wistful sigh before leaning closer again. “I’m not surprised she hasn’t told you much,” he said.
His admission caught me off guard. I braced myself for whatever he was about to reveal.
“The thing is I don’t think Becky ever really loved me.”
It nearly broke my heart the way he lowered his eyes toward the table. “What?” I whispered. “I’m sorry. If I’d known I wouldn’t have…”
“Nah don’t worry about it. Like I said it’s all in the past. I’m seeing this girl now. She’s just what I need.”
Fuck.
Why hadn’t I thought of this? That a handsome, athletic former football player who loves puppies just might be in a relationship? I felt like an idiot. “Good for you, man. Good for you.” I saw my dream, my dark fantasy, crumbling before my eyes.
“Yeah,” Quentin said, the furrowed his brow. He leaned even closer, as if he was going to share a terrible secret. “Trouble is, man, this chick likes to swing.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my skull.
“Yeah,” Quentin said with a thoughtful nod. “She wants me to go out and do the dirty thing with other chicks!”
My jaw fell open.
“Right?” Quentin asked. “That’s what I said. Darn world is turning upside down with all this new kind of love,” he said, shaking his head.
More panic as the question formed in my mind. “Quentin, did you and Becky ever…”
He raised an eyebrow, apparently puzzled by what I was asking. “Huh? Becky? Aw shucks, never! Are you kidding? Ha!” He threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh that drew the attention of some of the other patrons. “That girl is as clean as a whistle. You should know that, you’re married to her!”
My hands got a little shaky as I leaned in. I shook my head. “No, Quentin. She’s…she’s changed. She’s…”
Quentin furrowed his brow, trying to piece things together again.
I realized I was gripping the edge of my seat so tightly my knuckles had
turned white. “She’s different, Quentin. She’s dirty now.”
Quentin’s eyes went wide. “What? Wow,” he muttered.
The guy was so easy to talk to I felt like we’d known each other for years and not minutes. “That’s sort of what I’m here to talk to about,” I admitted.
The waitress came back and set down our drinks. She pulled out her notepad and asked what we’d be having. Quentin slipped back into his friendly demeanour and ordered wings with the mild sauce.
I got a chicken Cesar.
The waitress flashed a friendly smile and walked off to put our orders in.
We both hunched over the table, resuming our conspiratorial postures. “I can’t even remember how it started but Becky’s been, well, I’ve been watching her sleep with other guys,” I said.
It took Quentin a while to process this. When he did, he let out a low whistle. “Wow, Jeff. She must really love you to be acting like that. Not that I ever asked her to, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have done anything like that for me.”
A warm relief soaked through me. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Whatever you want, man,” Quentin said.
“What did she do with you? I know it must sound crazy but it’s been eating away at me. I don’t know why. I just can’t stop…imagining things.”
Quentin shook his head. “No, man, I get it. She’s your girl now. You want to know what she got up to with other guys, right?”
I nodded. The moment of truth had arrived.
Quentin sighed and leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head. “See, this is what I was talking about when I said I don’t think Becky ever loved me,” he explained. He lowered one hand, two fingers extended, thumb cocked and pointed toward his groin like a pistol. “She loved this.”
A shiver tingled down my spine.
“You may not want to hear what I have to say about this, brother,” he said.
I grabbed the edge of the table and leaned even closer to him. “I do. I really do.”
“Alright,” Quentin said. “Becky worshipped this dick,” he said, his voice low. “She freaking lived for it.”