Yogi Berra once allegedly said, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Sage advice, I suppose. But what if you’ve been staring at the fork for years, and you can’t even see it, but suddenly it becomes apparent. What then do you do?
It had been a long day. A long week, a long month . . . I needed a friend to talk to. As I creeped through the Friday night traffic jam, I called Warren at home. Carol answered, “Hey, Donald, what’s going on?”
“I thought maybe I could talk Warren into grabbing a drink,” I wearily submitted.
“You sound tired,” my best friend’s wife commiserated. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it would be too easy to say ‘everything,’ wouldn’t it? It’s just a tough time, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but Warren’s away for the weekend. Why don’t you come over anyway?”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“You know it’s not like that. Get your ass over here.”
“All right. Fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll have the drinks poured.”
Warren, my mentor at the firm where I first started, was sixteen years older than I. Now he was 56 and I was going to be 40 in a couple of weeks. Yes, that was part of my problem. No young man wishes to think of himself as middle-aged. And here I was, loveless, in trouble at work, and getting old.
I had friends, at least, Warren and Carol at the top of the list. I’d been standing with Warren when he met her, a decade before, at one of those cocktail things you’re forced into. A prim little blond with short hair in a black dress, just waiting to be swept off her feet. I would have tried, but Warren beat me to it. I watched her glance at him, his premature peppered hair swept to the rear, his thousand dollar suit and his wedding band. It was immediate, their love, I’ve been told by both of them. Warren told me about the affair a few weeks later, he had to confess to someone, and I covered for him often over the next couple of years before the divorce. They waited seventeen months before the obligatory wedding just out of courtesy, I was a member of the bridal party.
Carol treated me with warmth from the very beginning, realizing I was important to her lover and husband, we’d go out on double dates. If I was between girlfriends I was welcome at their house by myself. It took her months before she’d hug me as I left, some talebearers accused her of being cold, I preferred ‘reserved.’ But eventually she accepted me, almost as a member of the family.
Was there a touch of lust to our friendship? There always is between women and men. I wondered what she was like between the sheets, would her breasts really be that small? The first time I saw her in a bikini, I wondered at her perfectly curved ass, the lean legs that looked longer than they were. Once in a blue moon I’d lock eyes with her and fantasize that I sensed a snippet of lust for me in her gaze, but I knew I was mistaken; her favors were reserved for her spouse, I was sure.
I drove the long driveway leading to the Tuscan abode they inhabited on the acre and a half in the woods, I knew the way well and Carol waited for me in the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. I was bewildered - Carol’s normal mode of dress was conservative, favoring high necks, long sleeves, slacks with room to breathe, skirts that hung below her knees. But this evening she wore an outfit I’d never suspected she’d think of. The basis was a grey on grey suit, padded shoulders, but the skirt concluded at mid thigh, revealing the laced top of nylons, on her feet were stiletto heels. The jacket hung open, below was a white on black corset, her breasts magically overflowed the upper bounds of the bustier. She smiled as I stood there in my shock, approached me, took me into her arms for a kiss on the cheek. I was embarrassed as the firm fabric dented my chest.
“What’ll you have?” she offered, and poured me my favorite blend of scotch. We sat on padded stools around the kitchen island.
“Were you going out?” I asked.
“I was going to meet a friend, but when I heard your voice I knew you needed someone, I texted and said not to wait for me. Don’t worry about it. Now, what’s wrong?”
I began with my work problems. “One of my clients got ticked with me, they asked my boss for another rep. And she moved Cary into my position. I don’t know, maybe I’ll have to look for another job.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as that,” Carol sympathized and placed a hand on my sleeve. “Warren can help you when he gets back next week.”
“Where is he? I didn’t know he had a trip planned.”
“Oh, one of those conferences came up. It was sort of last-minute, he left this afternoon, I expect him home Sunday evening. Are you hungry?”
“Just a little.”
“Let me get some hors d’oeuvres.” She got a package out of the fridge and put them into the oven to warm. “But that’s not the big thing, is it? Something else is wrong, tell me.”
“Mary left me,” I blurted, and we discussed the departure of my latest girlfriend. I’d been seeing her for nearly two years, for all practical matters living together for most of the previous year. “She said I was getting too morose. We weren’t arguing much, as least I don’t think so, she just wanted to have more fun, I guess. It was just so sudden.”
“Was she having an affair?”
“I don’t think so. Oh, maybe, I don’t know. I wasn’t, I can tell you that.”
“I know,” Carol agreed, reaching across the island to pat my hand, “you wouldn’t do that.” And, suddenly, her sympathetic gaze morphed into one of fervor, or so I imagined, but the moment soon glided away. As we sipped our drinks, she let me reminisce about the times with Mary, clucking at the memories. “Any chance you’ll get back together?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I doubt it. She isn’t taking my calls, and she emailed me and said it’s over, so . . .”
She let me talk - she always did - and as she listened, she bent over the island across from me, I confess I gazed at the cleavage, again I envisioned a moment of lust. As we gazed into each other’s eyes I felt almost a physical connection. Carol didn’t look away, it was I that broke the gaze, and she graciously turned to remove the tidbits from the oven and place them on a platter. “Tell me, was Mary a good lover?”
I was a bit shocked at the query, it wasn’t a thing we talked about, but to my astonishment I found myself revealing my relationship with Mary. “She was all right, I guess. A little conventional. She didn’t like sex out of the bedroom, or during the day.”
“I thought so,” Carol observed, “she never struck me as cold, exactly, just not warm.”
“Yes, that’s it, restrained.”
“And you’d like a woman who’d be . . . less restrained?”
Suddenly, a torrid desert wind blew through the kitchen, our eyes locked again, this time I was sure a link developed between us. She strode around the island towards me, her heels clicking on the travertine flooring, the voltage increasing with each of her movements, until she was near enough to seize. “I could be that woman, if you want,” she offered, and then leaned in until our lips met. Her mouth was open, the lipstick tasted of springtime lilies, her tongue was strong against mine. I stood, we continued to nibble and embrace. I felt the tightness of her corset against my chest, her belly pushing against my groin, I was sure she could feel the strength of my desire.
My mind, while desiring this encounter, fought against it at the same time. This was the wife of my best friend! I was betraying my pact. Yet, the moment was somehow stronger than the alliance with Warren.
“I’ve always wanted you,” she whispered into my ear.
“But Warren . . .”
“Don’t worry about that. Take me.”
That was enough to throw my discretion out the window, I grabbed her waist, she helped me remove the jacket. Her shoulders were bare except for fragile strips holding the corset to her torso. I bent to lick at the notch between her breasts, I felt her hand at my fly, she was adept at the clasp of my belt, the draw of the zipper, my prick was in her hand. “The table,” she begged, and we stumbled a few feet until we were next to it. In a wink her skirt slid to the floor, she let me lift her onto the wooden surface. Her panties were a trifling scrap of black lace, she helped me as I drew it over her stockings, I saw that no hair covered her pubis, the folds of her labium were flared and glistening. I bent to kiss the skin there, she pulled me up. “No, please, I want you inside me so bad.”
I tried to give her what she yearned for, I placed the tip of my dick at the opening, and at the speed of light, an image of Warren’s face appeared to me and my tool was no longer rigid enough to bury within her. She sensed the change immediately, asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me help you.” She kneeled in front of me, took the offensive ounce of sinew between her lips, sucked and licked. I let her tantalize me, I ruffled through the short locks of her hair, I slipped a hand into her bustier feeling the firmness of her meager breasts, the nipple responded quickly to my pinch. Carol was proficient at the art of bringing a man to firmness, the strokes of her fingers on my testicles encouraged me to regain my erection in only a few moments, soon I was ready. She pushed me onto a chair, faced me and lowered herself to my lap. But it was not to be; again the specter of my friend appeared to me, I lost my clot, it was impossible to complete the act.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “this doesn’t normally happen to me.”
“That’s fine, we don’t have to hurry, we can take our time.” She led me to the den, with it’s soft shag carpeting, and as I watched she kicked off her heels and unzipped the corset, she was naked save for her stockings and jewelry! At her urging, I slipped off my shirt and socks, we gazed at each other’s nakedness.
She came to me, we kissed standing, my hand hefted her breast, hers wriggled through my pubic hair. “Is it Warren?” she asked. “Are you worried about him?”
“Yes, I think that’s it.”
She crumbled to the floor, dragging me with her, we hugged closely, I could sense the heat she was giving off, the desire for me. “I don’t want you to worry about that, and neither does Warren. When you called me, I texted him. He’s known how I feel about you for a very long time, and he wants us to make love. So take me!”
“Truly. He’s fine with this, he’s happy you’re here with me, like this.”
We went silent then, except for the sounds of two bodies pulsing together, the licks and slurps and moans. I found Carol tasted nectarous down there, and that she was quite sensitive when I lapped at her bulging knob. As she came, she held her breath and then moaned loudly, I was able to keep her in a state of orgasm for quite some time. Yes, the face of my friend appeared to me again, but this time it seemed to be smiling at us, my karma now seemed unaffected.
She didn’t ignore me either, her lips grazed at my neck, my face, my nipples and, of course, at my phallus. The stupid thing slowly reacted to the stimulus she provided and eventually became of the required rigidity.
“You’re ready now,” she pronounced, and rising above me she aimed the armor at her core, we pushed towards each other, and her flesh surrounded mine. She made a lovely visage as we ground together, her hair lurching in her pleasure, her small breasts bouncing just a bit. I reached behind her, let my palms surround the generous globes of her rear, and as she whined her enjoyment I felt the serum rise within me. “I’m going to come!” I screamed and I don’t know if she heard or not, but she continued to pirouette as my sperm leaped inside her, bathed her enthralling crevice. I screamed, I bucked, she wouldn’t give up. After the long moment of perfection I regained my sense of time and space but Carol continued to gyrate, her eyes closed, her breathing cycling between huge gasps and the absence of respiration. In a moment of relative calm she repositioned us, one of her legs was below me, the other raised onto a shoulder, I kneeled and drove into her again - I was surprised I hadn’t lost the ability - and now I was able to set the rhythm which her hips mimicked. Again and again I satisfied her - or perhaps I simply allowed her to satisfy herself with my assistance. I was amazed at her stamina, the muscle tone in her legs, arms and abdomen as we played. When my legs tired we drifted into other positions. When my penis lost contact with her tunnel we laughed and found another alignment that would incite us.
Eventually, of course, we tired. Laughing, she told me not to move and hurried to the toilet to relieve herself. When I heard the bathroom door open, I walked to it myself, as we passed we kissed and fondled. After I urinated, I cleaned myself of the stickiness, and since she wasn’t in the den or kitchen, I searched for her, finding her lying in the guest bedroom I’d often used.
“Come join me,” she urged, “I’ve got more plans for you.” She was lying on her stomach, facing me, her globes hung below, the perfect rear end visible, her bare legs waving above her.
“I’m not sure I’ve got much more.”
“Give it time,” she smiled, “and I’ll bet I can coax you into it.”
I wasn’t adverse to the predicament, I went to her. We cuddled, she fondled the tool she’d taken so much pleasure with. “It’s a beautiful one,” she announced.
“You’ve taken a sampling?” I asked, half jokingly, but with sober undertone.
“I’m a far cry from a virgin.”
I believed her. “And Warren. You really told him? And he’s okay with this?”
She didn’t evade, by the look directly into my eyes I could tell she wasn’t dodging. “Yes, Warren’s known for years I’ve lusted after you.”
“You could have fooled me, I didn’t have a clue.”
“You weren’t supposed to. It’s a faux pas to let somebody know unless you have serious plans. And I didn’t really know if you’d be accepting of it.”
“Oh, I accept. Back to Warren . . .”
“Well, when you called and I heard your voice, I knew you were vulnerable tonight. I thought this might be our chance, given that Warren’s out of town. So I texted him, he called right back. And we decided that, if it turned out well, there’d be no problem.”
I thought for a few seconds. “Do you do this kind of thing often?”
“Often? No, I wouldn’t say that. But you’re not the first.”
“In the top ten?” I tried to joke.
“It’s like this. I can be shy with guys, but I like sex. When I met Warren, I was dating three different gentlemen. I told Warren that on our second date. And even so, it took me over six weeks until I invited him into my bedroom; I’d been burned by married guys before, but once I got to know him I guessed Warren would be worth the heartbreak. I never expected he’d divorce his wife for me! I really didn’t want it, but Warren was pretty unhappy at that point. Did you know that?”
“Yes, Warren and I talked about it quite a bit.”
“Well, we hooked up, and I found out Warren liked sex as much as I did. We tried a bunch of things, some I’d never done before, and then one time Warren brought up my other guys. I told him I’d pretty much given up on them, and he was disappointed, I asked him why, and he told me he’d always wanted to watch his wife make love to somebody else. But she thought that was weird, so it never happened. I didn’t think it was preposterous, although that was another thing I’d never done, and after we talked it over a few times, I agreed to try it. I called a friend I knew in college, told him what was going on, and he agreed to help us out. The first time, when Ray was undressing me and Warren was sitting in a corner of the hotel room watching us, I was so nervous I couldn’t perform very well. But I managed to fake it some and Ray had a great time. And so did Warren. He took pictures while Ray and I were going at it, later we looked at them and I couldn’t believe how hot it made both of us. So we invited Ray over again, and that time it was pretty good for me. And that started our little hobby.”
“Tell me more, I’m curious.”
“Okay. Well after that, we looked for guys for me to have fun with. Sometimes we’d go to a bar and pick somebody up. Or Warren would find somebody on the Internet, we’d meet, and if I liked him, well, why not? But after a couple of years, it got a little tired. That’s when Warren and I got into swinging, where we’d meet people and swap. We found one couple we really enjoyed. We had one gentleman friend we both really liked, one time when Warren was out of town he encouraged me to go over there, and I did. And he turned into a boyfriend for me, we dated. That went on for years, sometimes with Warren there, other times I’d just go over to his place. Unfortunately, he moved away and it’s been ages since I’ve seen him. Since then, I’ve sort of slowed down.”
“Hmmm . . . “ I pondered.
“What?” she asked.
“Tonight, when I got here, you were dressed like I’d never seen you before. Did you do that just for me? I wouldn’t have thought you had time.”
She laughed. “I cannot tell a lie, senator. I’ve been looking for another boyfriend, with Warren’s encouragement. I was planning on meeting a man tonight, I’ve met him before but we haven’t done anything yet.”
“And you broke the date for me?”
“You needed someone to talk to, so I texted him and told him I couldn’t make it.”
“That was nice,” I said. “And if you had met him tonight, would you . . . ?”
“I really don’t know if I would have, or not. He’s okay, but not great. Not like you are.”
While we talked, our hands hadn’t been idle, we’d been roaming each other’s body, gently, earnestly. I’d found Carol liked to be stroked, from the back of her neck to her very ample derriere. And her flicks were almost as pleasant as her kisses, they provoked the masculine response she hoped for once more. We snuggled, embraced, our lips searched for the classic erogenous zones. I thought she hesitated when my lips passed her navel, I asked, “You don’t want me to go down there?”
“Oh, no, I’d love it. Please.” As I sucked on her clit, bringing her elation, I thought I knew why she’d balked - she wondered if I’d want to taste the atmosphere inside her, filled with my own dampness. Other women I’d been with had that concern, in fact Mary had been disgusted with the juices rampant within her after the deed. But it didn’t bother me, as I tongued deep inside Carol I enjoyed the velvety texture my seed had left. And it impacted Carol as well, her moans filled the bedroom. After a bit, she shifted again, kneeling beside me, took me into her mouth. As she licked and sucked energetically, I was able to view her arse. Before, when she wore a bikini at the pool, I’d always appreciated how full, how rounded it was. And now, I was able to fondle it! As my hand roamed it, I felt her move so my digit was forced to approach the crack in her backside. At the same time, I felt one of her fingers mildly touch my own anus. Understanding what she wanted, I took the advantage and boldly penetrated her rectum, she pushed back.
As I thumbed her, I marveled at how I was with this woman, who I’d craved from afar, never knowing she was so available. I watched her breasts sway, her hips swerve to gain pleasure, her cheeks hollow as she sucked on me, and the lust within me amplified. Carol perceived my imminent explosion, released me from her lips, and asked, “What do you want now? In my mouth, inside me, or . . .?”
I didn’t stop to consider what I was being offered, simply requested, “Missionary?” and we rearranged ourselves, her back to the mattress, I kneeled between her legs, thrusted into the waiting and willing shrine of her body. As we incited each other, we cooed compliments and amazement. I felt her bosom compress against my chest, her mouth besieged mine, her calves stroked the small of my back, her arms drew me close. Once again she entered the accident of nirvana, she bucked below me and groaned as I helped her to a state of elation, soon the aura brought me to the peak, we shrieked together as her womb greedily accepted the fluid I invested deeply.
The pinnacle passed, I leaned on my elbows and we kissed ardently between gasps for oxygen. Thinking I was crushing her, I began to dismount only to hear her beg, “Stay there, let me feel you inside.” And so I hovered in position with strokes of hair and face until my staff lost it’s resolve and slipped from it’s vessel, with giggles from both of us.
I laid back, Carol covered us with a quilt and snuggled to me. I considered asking more questions, curious about what this would mean to the relationship, but the closeness of the bed and the warmth of her body soon led both of us into a trance. Sometime later, it felt like years but the bedside clock intimated only minutes, I heard her complain, “You can’t sleep here.”
“No?” A complaint, an appeal. “But Warren . . .”
“He wouldn’t mind,” she sleepily allowed, “but the neighbors. They’d talk, I’m sure.”
It took us half an hour to extricate ourselves from the lasciviousness we’d entered, stroking bodies as we cleaned and dressed, kissing as we retrieved clothing and zipped, laughing as I slipped into my shoes. At last I was ready, if unwilling, to leave.
“Stay for one more drink,” she begged, and she poured us a liquer, we sat on a sofa, emotionally close, physically separated. “I want to see you again,” she admitted, “badly.”
“I want it, too. Are you sure about Warren?”
“Oh, that’s not a problem. This weekend he’s not at a conference, he’s with an old friend of his. She’s married, I’m not sure her husband knows, but she was able to sneak off so he booked a room at a resort.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“There’s not a jealous bone in either of our bodies,” she proclaimed. “In fact, if anything, our desire for other people to join us in the bedroom brings us closer together. I know, it seems strange, but there it is. And it certainly keeps the boredom away! So, will you let me see you again?”
Moments later, I drove off into the midnight, wondering at the fork in the road I’d taken, and where the path would lead me.
Thanks to Sorseress for the assistance.
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