Halloween Sucks

This is my second entry for the 2026 Halloween Story Writing Contest. It's also my first attempt at a Loving Wives story (god help me). And yes, this is a Halloween-themed take-off on "February Sucks" by GeorgeAnderson.

I hope you'll read all the entries in this year's contest, vote for your favorites, and support this amazing community.

--ST

*

One night, several years ago, while I was suffering from insomnia, I stumbled onto "February Sucks" by GeorgeAnderson.

It filled me with rage.

There I was, lying in bed, trying to let my husband sleep, literally shaking with fury.

I fucking HATED Linda, Jim's wife. The way she lied to her husband straight to his face and then conspired with her friend to go off and sleep with football star Marc LaValliere was bad enough. But the way she humiliated him in front of all their friends, stripping him of his dignity, and then didn't even acknowledge his feelings afterward or seem all that upset or guilty about her actions filled me with a level of rage I had never felt towards anyone.

I hated her more than I hated Dolores Umbridge, which is saying something. I had to hand it to GeorgeAnderson for writing a piece of literature that could give me such a visceral reaction. I honestly don't know that I've ever read anything that affected me so strongly.

Why did it anger me so? No idea. I had never personally been cheated on. And reading about infidelity isn't normally a trigger for me. In fact, I love stories where characters are so filled with lust that they violate social norms, whether that's infidelity or incest or whatever.

But seeing the aftermath of that? Seeing how it ruined this poor guy's life absolutely unmoored me.

I was certain that I could never do that to my husband no matter fucking what.

Until I did.

This is my tale.

Two months after reading that story, my husband (who I'll call Jim) and I were getting ready for a Halloween party thrown by Guy Farrow, a childhood friend of my husband's and a big-time real-estate developer here in town. Guy lives in an enormous mansion on the other side of town, and he goes all out with the decorations and the food and drinks. It's such a fun party that we take a Lyft there and back because we always get too tipsy.

Every year, Jim and I love to get dressed up as our spouse's favorite fantasy. For me, Jim always gets dressed as a firefighter. I mean, I'm a simple gal, what can I say? It's either firefighters or cowboys, but he looks so hot as a firefighter that I ask him to wear that outfit every year. He keeps offering to dress up as a cowboy or even whoever the hot guy is at the moment, but I always say no. I don't have a crush on celebrities the way most people do. You know how couples often have hall passes? I don't. So, every year he asks me what he should be, and every year I say, "Light my fire, firefighter."

My husband does have a hall pass. Four of them, in fact: Scarlett Johansson, Anna Kournikova, Cate Blanchett, and Margot Robbie. He has had a crush on these women for years. I think it's cute.

So the previous year, I got dressed up as Black Widow, and he loved it.

This year, I was going as Hela, the super-sexy supervillain played by Cate Blanchett in that Thor movie.

The moment he saw me in that costume, his eyes lit up in a way they hadn't done in months, and he fucked me right there and then.

To put things into perspective: We're in our 40s. We've been married for twenty years. We still love each other, but we have two kids and busy lives, so we barely ever have the time or energy for sex. When we have it, it's great, but it's great for two people who have been married for twenty years great, not porn-movie great.

So for him to get that hot for me and need to have me right there and then was sexy as shit, and it made for an extra hot round of sex.

We got back into our costumes just in time for the babysitter to arrive. We kissed our kids goodnight, and then our cab picked us up.

I was still glowing from the sex when we arrived at the party.

Guy's house was done up even crazier than it had been in the past. Every year, this party seemed to grow in size, but Guy must have had an even more successful year in the real estate game, because this year's party was next level. There were twice as many people, and I didn't know most of them.

But we had our regular crowd, and we found them quickly.

We all said our hellos, complimented each other on our costumes, got drinks, and went outside.

I noticed that I was getting even more looks than I normally do at these things. I'm a blonde, but for the costume I dyed my hair black, wore black mascara and eyeshadow, and wore a skin-tight black-and-green bodysuit.

Now, I'm not especially pretty. I'm all right. If you saw me on the street, you wouldn't even look twice. But I do have a tight little body that I have gone to great lengths to keep in shape. I have curvy hips, taut abs, and decent tits that have treated me very well over the years. In this outfit, though? I looked fucking hot. Add to that the fact that I was feeling extra sexy, having been fucked by my husband, and the fact that I was leaning into playing the role of a sexy supervillain...? Yeah, I was turning a lot of heads, and it felt great.

Having said all of that, there were way hotter chicks at this party than me. This was a gathering of our town's elite, after all, so all these rich dudes were there with their trophy wives, plus I'm pretty sure there were a handful of escorts. One redhead who was dressed as Jessica Rabbit stood out to me as perhaps the hottest woman I had ever seen in my life.

Hell, I wasn't even the hottest woman at our table. That honor belonged to Kristine, a stunning brunette with clear blue eyes and Scandinavian cheekbones.

So, although I was feeling sexy, let's be real: I was not The Prize.

That's why it felt so electric to have him choose me.

Although people were free to roam throughout Guy's expansive house, the main festivities were held under a giant tent in his backyard. He set up two dozen tables to accommodate the nearly 250 guests. He had an open bar, an all-you-can-eat buffet, and a live band.

Think: Wedding but Halloween.

Our group of friends gathered around one table. We took turns grabbing drinks and food, then we hung out and shot this shit like we did every year.

Suddenly my friend Cindy gasped. "I can't believe it. He's actually here!"

"Who?"

She nodded towards the bar and said, "Curt Sherwood."

I looked where she was nodding and immediately knew who she meant. Not because I knew who Curt Sherwood was, but because in that crowd, there was only one guy who could have elicited such an excited remark from my friend. I asked who Curt Sherwood was, and everyone at the table laughed at my ignorance. Apparently, he was the third-ranked golfer in the world, and he had recently moved to our town.

Now, of course, "Curt Sherwood" is just a name I made up for the purposes of telling this story. But even if you don't follow golf, you would know this man's name if I said it.

When they said that he was a golfer, I have to admit that I snorted a little. I mean, whatever. I enjoy hitting the golf ball every now and again, but generally speaking, I have a hearty disdain for the "sport."

My husband likes to watch it, though, and suddenly it clicked. I had seen this guy on TV a few times. I never thought much of him because why would I? On TV, he was just another bland-looking dude in a visor getting way too excited about hitting a little white ball.

But seeing him in person was something else entirely.

He stood six feet four and had the confident swagger and lean, muscular body that only professional athletes have. He wasn't especially handsome, though he had all the classic traits of a handsome dude: Chiseled features, a strong jawline, piercing blue eyes, hair that looked messy, but you could tell he had spent a lot of time making it look messy... But none of them quite came together right. He looked like he might be the brother of a famous actor, if that makes sense.

But there was just something about his presence that drew every eye to him. In a party of rich, elite assholes who all think they are alphas, this guy stood above them all, and they all knew it.

He was King Shit of Alpha Male Mountain.

Having said that, I'm not the kind of person who goes ga-ga for alpha males. Frankly, they give me the ick.

The women at my table, though? They couldn't stop gushing about how hot he was. Kristine said he was her hall pass, which made her husband Rick blush. But then he laughed and said, "Well, here's your chance, honey. Go for it." He sat back with a big smile, feeling super progressive or whatever, but he said it with the confidence of a guy who may love his wife but also knows his wife isn't going to get the chance to sleep with Curt Sherwood. Not a party where there are babes like Jessica Rabbit.

Speaking of Jessica Rabbit, she was putting the moves on Curt as we spoke--and looking like she was going to seal the deal, too, from where I was sitting. How sweet for them. It's nice when hot people come together.

"How about you?" Cindy asked me.

"Huh?"

"What do you think of Curt Sherwood?"

I told them the truth. "He looks like an asshole."

The band struck up a tune, and I asked my husband to dance.

I have to think that's when he saw me. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I would give anything to go back in time and not have asked him to dance.

We danced for three songs. The last one being a slow dance.

"Mind if I cut in?" someone asked.

I said, "Thanks, but no thanks." I don't even know who asked. I was too busy looking at my husband, soaking in his desire for me. Besides, my husband and I didn't have that kind of relationship.

We sat back down and chatted with our friends. Then Kristine gasped. "He's coming!" She sat up straight in her chair.

I turned to look, and sure enough, Curt Sherwood was heading our way. I turned back, and I swear I saw Rick turn white.

I snorted. "Marc LaValliere," I said, recalling the name of the villain in "February Sucks." I couldn't believe I was living a version of that very same fucking story. I was eager to see what Kristine would say when Curt Sherwood asked her to--

"Care to dance?" said a voice behind me.

His voice was commanding, deep, and soothing. He sounded like someone who would narrate the hell out of an audiobook version of the Kama Sutra.

I looked at Kristine to see what she would say, but Kristine and everyone else at the table were looking at me.

"What?" I said, turning to look up in surprise.

It was like the whole room went blurry and all the sounds of the party got dialed down to two. All I could see or hear was Curt Sherwood as he smiled down at me, hand extended like he was rescuing me from a burning building, only I was in too much shock to know how badly injured I was. But it was okay. He was here, and I should come with him if I wanted to live.

And I know how it sounds--and anyone who has read "February Sucks" knows where I'm going with this--but having a powerfully charismatic person shine their laser-like focus on you and essentially say, "I could have any woman at this party--and probably a quarter of the men, let's face it--but I choose you"... is a mindfuck.

Thump-pump went my heart. Thump-pump. Thump-pump.

Every single cell in my body wanted me to say yes.

And somehow... I honestly don't know how... but I said, "No, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow; I'm guessing he was startled that anyone could say no to him. "Aw, come on, just one little number?" He winked one of those half-winks. "I'm very good."

The moment his wink hit me, I knew that it would most definitely not be just one little number. A few seconds in his arms and I would turn into Linda and steal him off to some corner of this mansion where he would give me the fuck of a lifetime.

"I prefer to dance with my husband," I said, though even I could hear my voice wavering. "Honey?" I said, turning to him. I gave him my shaking hand.

Thank god he took it. He nodded at Curt and helped me up.

I don't remember the next few seconds because everything was still blurry. Even my husband's face. I held onto him for dear life, and he pulled me in for another slow dance. I tried to force a smile on my face, but I could feel my cheeks fluttering from the strain.

"You okay?" he said with a laugh.

I nodded sharply. "The nerve of that guy."

"I know! You're right. He is an asshole. Cindy said there were rumors he preferred other guys' wives, but I thought they were just rumors. What a dick."

What a dick was the exact phrase that was running through my head at that moment, though probably not with the same meaning behind it.

We danced two more songs before my husband wanted to sit. Then we rejoined our friends, and the women all swarmed around me.

"Why did you say no?" Kristine asked. "I mean, if I can't dance with him, it would be nice to know someone who did."

I smiled and tried to change the subject, but all anyone at the table wanted to talk about was Curt Fucking Sherwood. All the women wanted to fuck him; all the men wanted to be him.

At some point, I watched Curt and Jessica Rabbit dancing. I saw how deftly he moved her around the dance floor. How people gave them room. How they applauded. How Jessica's eyes were begging for him to take her somewhere and fuck her silly. I could feel my face turn red as I realized I would have traded places with her in a heartbeat. Yes, I had turned him down, but only because my husband had been sitting next to me.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Cindy, I need to run to the ladies' room. Care to join me?"

"You okay?" she asked me once we were inside.

"No," I said with a laugh. I gave myself a cold, hard look in the mirror.

"I don't know that I could have said no."

"I honestly don't know how I did. But I knew if I had said yes, I would have been in trouble."

"I feel ya," she said, reapplying lipstick. "But I'm proud of you."

I nodded, not so sure. I told her I really did need to use the loo, and she said she'd see me out there.

Business done, I washed my hands, double-checked my makeup, and headed out...

... right, smack into Curt Sherwood.

"Steady now," he said with a laugh as he grabbed my elbows and righted my ship.

"Oh my god, I'm so--"

His eyes pierced my soul, and once again the room went blurry.

"You're fine," he said. "I don't fall that easily." He gave me another half-wink and then his eyes slid down to my lips before he added, "Normally."

His hands moved from my elbows to my hips before I even knew what was happening. He didn't so much as pull me forward as allow me the privilege of stepping closer to him.

"Now about that dance..."

He was moving my hips and staring into me, and all I wanted to do in this whole world was to have him rip off my clothes and fuck me senseless. I don't know how much time passed. Probably only a few seconds. But I could not tear my eyes from his.

"Shall we?" he said, clearly not asking me to dance.

And I was about to say yes when someone bumped into him. He took his eyes off me, smiled at the guy, then looked back at me. And I don't know. I guess the fog lifted for just that split second, but I saw my husband looking for me. And I remembered that I wasn't Linda from that story. I was someone who would never cheat. No matter who was asking me to.

"Another time," I said, foolishly, but I needed to say something.

And for the second time that night, I pried my vag from the jaws of death.

"You're quiet," Jim said on the ride home.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry, baby. I guess I had too much to drink." He bought it, but I was stone-cold sober.

I wanted to shout to the heavens, "That's how it's done, Linda! You simply say no! You put your marriage and your kids first and say no to all the Marc LaVallieres and Curt Sherwoods of the world."

But if I was being honest with myself, I was scared shitless. Because I wasn't any better than her. Not really. Yes, I had said no. Twice. But that second time? Fuuuck, that had been close.

And the thing is, as proud as I was trying to feel about my actions, I couldn't deny that a not-so-small part of me wished I had said yes.

As we got ready for bed, my heart raced at the memory of Curt choosing me, asking me to dance, putting his hands on my hips, effortlessly commanding me. Playing me like an instrument is how Linda had put it in the story. And that was an apt analogy. I only got as far as him tuning the first string, but I have no doubt he would have made my body sing.

"Can I undress you?" Jim asked.

He slid up behind me and ran his hands all over my body. I closed my eyes and willed myself back to the present.

"Mmm, that feels nice," I said. I rubbed my ass into his groin.

And felt like a total fucking fraud.

I was putting on a performance.

But perform I did.

I made love to him, or rather, let him make love to me while I tried to get my head in the game. I wasn't even fantasizing about Curt. I was just out of it. Wondering who I was anymore. How could I be THAT woman? One who could so easily be swept off her feet by Curt Fucking Sherwood.

And as my husband came inside me, I remembered how much he loved it when we came together, but there was no way in hell I was going to cum tonight.

So I fucking faked an orgasm.

The first time in my life... at least with him.

I felt like shit for doing it. But my husband hates it when I don't cum. We usually cum together, but sometimes he cums first. When that happens, he gets extra determined to make sure I do. He changes positions. He goes down on me. He fingers me. He gets out the vibrator. One of these tricks usually works. But sometimes nothing will work. I'm too tired or sore or whatever. It happens, and it's never a big deal. I enjoy sex no matter what. But he gets very insecure about it. So, I have to go out of my way to tell him that it's not him; it's me. And it's the truth. It never is him. It's always me. I just can't get out of my own head sometimes.

But he never believes me, and then I feel guilty, and he feels inadequate, and, well, it's not good.

So that night, as I heard him grunting and felt him shudder, I made a quick decision. One that I wish I hadn't done because it set up a pattern of deceit that nearly destroyed our marriage, but I just couldn't deal with him wanting to make me cum or have the same old conversation and have him feel depressed and insecure when I was already feeling so guilty. --Guilty for something I hadn't even done, but guilty for how I felt about it.

Because I felt like I had already betrayed him. I felt like a cheating fucking whore even though I had said no.

Things didn't improve over the next few weeks, either. I couldn't get Curt out of my head. I kept fantasizing about having sex with him. I tried not to, but how could I not? I mean, how crazy good sex with him must be, given that he made me wet with desire just from touching my hips?

"What's up?" Cindy said. I had asked her over for coffee. "You haven't been yourself since Halloween."

I sat down at my kitchen table and began sobbing.

"Oh my god, babe!" she said, wrapping me up in a hug. "What is it?"

Then she held me at arm's length. "Wait. You didn't, did you?"

I was still trying to get my crying under control when she whispered, "Did you fuck Curt Sherwood?"

I told her no, but I also told her everything that was going on with me. How desperate I had been to fuck the guy that night. How angry I was with myself. And how I couldn't get past it. I told her how I had faked an orgasm with Jim, though she said she had done that plenty of times with her husband. But I continued.

"Jim and I had sex the other night, and I was once again struggling to cum--not because of Jim, but because I'm so fucked up. And I didn't want to fake it again. So... I thought about Curt, and..." I snapped my fingers, "instantly. Hard, too.

"And I know I'm being ridiculous. But I can't stop beating myself up about it. Worse still? A growing part of me can't stop wishing I had just said yes to him."

I covered my mouth, shocked that I said the quiet part out loud, but there it was. Cindy didn't react. She just waited for me to continue. She's a good person to talk at.

"What if I had just let him take me and fuck me and given me one hell of a ride? Maybe I would have gotten it out of my system, you know? Yes, I would have been a lying, cheating whore. But at least then I could have walked away and said, 'Yeah, that was a lot of fun, but now I can get to my regularly scheduled program of living my life with my wonderful husband and beautiful kids.' But no! Here I am feeling like a whore but without having gotten laid!

"And he's not stupid. Jim. He knows something's wrong. He keeps asking me if I'm okay. If we're okay. And what am I supposed to do? I can't tell him! Right? It would shatter him. He's such a sensitive guy as it is. For him to know that I was absolutely undone by Curt Sherwood? That I've been having an existential crisis about it for the past two weeks now? Fuck!"

"What did your therapist say?"

"She's been on vacation. I have an appointment next week. I just don't know if I can keep up this terrible charade until then."

And I was right to worry, because that very night, after we put the kids to bed, Jim asked me if I was okay--only this time he wasn't going to let me just say yes, because clearly the answer was no.

"Is there someone else?" he said finally.

I burst into tears.

Which I know. Get a grip, right? I mean THAT is not the time to burst into tears. So, yeah, I had to calm him down.

"No. Sorry baby. No. I didn't sleep with anyone, I swear..."

"Why do I feel like there's a but?"

"But... I almost did. And it's been eating me alive."

I explained everything.

And he was devastated. Of course he was. I didn't even sleep with the guy, but my husband was already feeling like a cuck.

I made the mistake of mentioning Cindy, and that seemed to hurt him even more. I get it. He felt embarrassed and emasculated. I was trying to make things right, but I was doing everything wrong.

"Cindy knows? You told her? She knows you've been obsessing over fucking Curt Sherwood and that you faked an orgasm with me?"

"I had to talk to someone, and I was afraid to talk to you! I'm sorry! Look, Cindy won't tell anyone anything. She's not like that."

"I don't care! She knows!"

And, well, around and around we went. Finally, I apologized again and again and said, "Listen. I was wrong to talk to her. I should have told you right away. I'm sorry. I mishandled the situation and didn't give you enough credit. I promise I will tell you everything--absolutely everything--from now on."

He nodded, more from exhaustion than from feeling like we reconciled, but at least we weren't fighting. And at least I had unburdened myself. That did feel better. I had come clean. Yes, we had things to work through. Yes, I would need to make it up to him. But at least I was being honest.

And fucking hell did that feel good.

A few days later, we were at a restaurant. I work from home, but Jim has an office job, and I suggested we meet at his favorite burger joint for lunch. The TV was showing a golf tournament. And sure enough, the camera zoomed in on Curt Sherwood.

Jim rolled his eyes and sulked. But I didn't look away. If anything, I found myself squinting, studying the image.

"For real?" Jim asked. "You're gonna ogle the dude right in front of me?"

"No, I'm not at all," I said. "Frankly, I can't see what I saw in him. Honestly, honey. I don't see it. He looks... kinda... I don't know. Weird. His nose is too big or something. And his grin is icky. And I hate how he pumps his fist like that."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey! I'm being honest. I don't get it. Maybe I just had too much to drink or something. I swear I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm over it."

And I was. I couldn't fucking believe it. I felt like the weight of a professional golfer had been lifted off my shoulders.

I exhaled the longest exhale of my life. Eyes closed. I mean, had you seen me, you might have thought someone had just blown me under the table.

Jim eyed me. "Well, that was something."

"Honey, I can't tell you how much this has been bothering me. I don't want to be one of those women. I hated myself for even contemplating it. But now I can tell it wasn't him." I laughed as I looked up at the screen. "I think with everyone talking him up, and having had too much to drink, I must have built him up into some sort of sex god or something."

"A sex god."

"Come on. We've been married for twenty years. Twenty wonderful years, and even though I love having sex with you, we don't have it very often, and it's gotten routine. Right? I mean, come on. I love making love with you, and I especially love feeling close to you afterward. But you know... I wouldn't blame you if you fantasized about having sex with Cate Blanchett."

"I don't want to fuck Cate Blanchett."

"Really? Because I'll fuck her if you won't."

That got a laugh. Finally. A laugh.

"Come on. I love you more than anything. I would never ever want to jeopardize that. And I didn't. I had my chance, and I said no. Twice. So... we good?"

He said yes, though I could tell he was still shaken by the whole thing.

But I felt fucking great. I was over Curt Sherwood. Truly. And slowly but surely, our relationship got back on target. We had more sex. Better sex. We watched porn together. We tried new things. It all felt weird at first, but then it stopped feeling weird and started feeling great.

One night, maybe two months into our new relationship, we were having especially hot sex, and out of nowhere, Jim suddenly turned into an animal, thrusting powerfully into me, and cumming with a deep, satisfied grunt. I was nowhere near ready, but I didn't care. I fucking LOVED that he was so hot for me that he couldn't restrain himself.

When he realized I hadn't cum, I braced myself for the usual round of having to assure him it was okay--something I hadn't had to do since this whole debacle began--but he just laughed and said, "Jesus, that came outta nowhere!"

I hugged him and told him how sexy it made me feel when he couldn't restrain himself with me. He said if I just gave him a minute, he'd be ready for round two, and I said, no baby, it's all good. And we just snuggled and gazed at each other.

And I relaxed.

There he was. My old confident husband. Just like when we had first married and were still figuring out each other's bodies. How far we'd come. How much we had healed. How much I loved him. How hard he had been for me that night and how quickly I had gotten him off, even now after twenty years and everything we'd been through.

As I thought all this, I got hotter and hotter. He trusted us enough to know that sex isn't going to be perfect every time and that when that happened it didn't mean something was wrong. And that freedom he gave me to let me relax made me even hotter for him.

He could feel my rising heat. I mean, it couldn't have been a mystery; I was rubbing my body against his and cooing and humming, but he was ready for round two within seconds after round one.

I climbed on top and started grinding into him with a hunger I hadn't had in months. I sat up and gripped his abs and went to fucking town on that man. I leaned back--something I never do because I always feel too naked or something, I don't know. But at that moment, I felt sexier than I had ever felt in my life. And I exploded. I felt it all the way to my toes. And when I calmed down enough, my husband took me from behind and finished us both off for our second incredible orgasm of the night.

And we wrapped each other up and couldn't stop saying how much we loved each other and missed each other. And it was perfect. It was magical. And that bliss carried us through the next several months.

It was like our marriage had been reborn.

Then came Halloween.

**

We got the invitation to Guy's party a month ahead of time, just like we did every year. My first reaction was excitement. I wasn't thinking about Curt Sherwood or any of that. I instantly knew what I was going to wear this year, and I couldn't wait to see how excited my husband would be.

Then I remembered. Oh. Right. And I sighed, thinking, well, I guess we can't ever go there again. That sucks.

"What's that?" my husband said as he saw me throwing the invite into the recycle bin. I showed him. "Oh." Pause.

I shrugged and hugged him and said, "We can stay home, and I can show you my costume here..." I added a musical tone to my voice, in case I wasn't being obvious enough that I was talking about sex.

He smiled, but it was a sad smile.

Fuck.

This asshole--and I, let's face it--had ruined one of our favorite nights.

"Do you not want to go because you're worried that you won't be able to resist him?"

"Huh? No." And I meant it, I think. I honestly hadn't thought about him since that night I saw him on TV all those months ago. "We can totally go if you want. I was just... I didn't want to worry about you worrying about me worrying about him."

He grabbed my hand. "I don't want this guy to have any power over us. I think we need to confront this head-on, rather than run from our problems."

I smiled, kissed him, and told him I loved him.

The night came, and I got dressed as Anna Kournikova--my husband's first crush. I'd purchased a tightly fitting white tennis dress--the kind where the skirt just barely covers my ass--and then I braided my hair in a ponytail like she used to do. I emerged from my closet, And his face. It was priceless. His mouth dropped as his eyes took in my every curve. I was about to say, "Tennis, anyone?" but he was on me in a flash. Seconds later, my shorts were on the floor, and my husband was ravishing me from behind, while still wearing his firefighter helmet.

Our car arrived. We said goodnight to the kids, and we headed off to the party.

Then I started to panic.

Not because I was worried, exactly--I really was over Curt. But everything felt too familiar. Like I was staring in a movie adaptation of last year's party. Guy greeting us in the same Skeletor costume he wore last year certainly didn't help matters.

Please don't be here, I said to myself. Please. Please. Please. Again, I really did think I was over him. I just didn't want to risk failing.

We met up with our friends and did the usual complimentary greetings, which only heightened my paranoia. We found a table, grabbed some drinks, and settled in.

I scanned the crowd. Every second that I didn't see him made my blood pressure lower, lower, lower.

Okay, whew. It's gonna be--

There he was, standing at the back of the tent, wearing a cowboy outfit and wearing the shit out of it.

The moment I saw him, I knew I was in trouble. My only hope was that he wouldn't see me or recognize me. It's possible he wouldn't. Last year I had dyed my hair black. Now I was a golden blonde. Also, I wasn't turning as many heads as I did last year. So maybe I could just hide behind my friends and my husband, and he wouldn't even notice me. Maybe I could use Kristine as a human shield! My stomach turned slightly at the thought of throwing my friend to that wolf and possibly ruining her marriage, but it was every woman for herself as far as I was concerned.

Cindy leaned in, placed a hand on my shoulder, and laughed as if I had just said something hilarious. "Oh my god, girl, you are rich!"

Then she leaned in and murmured, "You okay?"

"No." I smiled to keep up the pretense and said, "I wanna barf."

"I got you."

I nodded. God, I love her.

"Wanna dance, honey?" Jim asked.

Fuck. That's what got me into trouble last time. Thankfully, I was spared from having to say no by the arrival of Guy Farrow.

"Hey Jim, I--oh, I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all, Guy," I said.

He smiled. He crouched down next to us and pulled a box out from his Skeletor cape, giving only Jim a glimpse.

My husband's eye nearly popped out of his head.

"Holy shit!" he said in a hushed tone. "How did you get it? I heard a truck got knocked over by the mob."

"Exactly." He winked. "It helps to have friends in low places. You in?"

"Fuck yea--uh..." he looked over at me.

I laughed. "What is it?"

"Pappy Reserve Twenty-Three," he whispered.

"Ahhh..."

I wasn't much of a whiskey drinker, but even I knew this was something special. Jim had a nice little collection of bourbons in the house, but this was his dream bourbon. Last year, I had sold a novel, and when I got the advance, I wanted to buy Jim a bottle. I went to the store and asked for it, and the guy laughed, saying not only was it impossible to find, but was I prepared to spend four grand?

Four grand for a bottle of bourbon?

"Don't miss out on my account!" I said before I really understood the ramifications of what I was saying.

"No, but this is our night..."

"Honey. Go." I laughed. "When are you ever going to get another chance?"

He pulled me in for a kiss and looked at me like he was a tiger being freed from captivity. I laughed and watched him disappear.

I turned to tell Cindy what happened, only to find her gone.

What?

I scanned the dance floor. I had no qualms about cutting in on her and her husband's dance so I could latch myself onto her. But I didn't see her anywhere.

Fuck! Hell, I would have gone with Jim had I known my safety net wasn't going to be there. Where the hell was she? I scanned the bar, the buffet--

I heard Kristine's gasp from across the table. "Oh, my god. Here he comes! Look at him in that shirt!" I knew who she was talking about, of course.

I turned to look, not because I wanted to check him out, but because I wanted to know which way to run.

He smiled at me, still two tables away, and I was suddenly pinned in place. He pointed. "I remember you."

Suddenly he was standing over me. No, now he was sitting in Jim's chair.

"Last year... you were Hela, right? That was hot."

His eyes roamed down my body, and I was suddenly aware of how much of my thighs were showing.

"This is hotter."

I felt myself blush.

"Anna Kournikova, right?" He reached up and mussed with my ponytail. I somehow let him. "I know her. Lovely person." He leaned in. He smelled like victory. "But you're hotter."

And yeah, I know I'm not hotter than Anna Fucking Kournikova, all right? I'm not an idiot. But I fucking loved that he said it. I loved the way he said it. I loved believing it.

He rose and held out a hand, not asking, just allowing me to come with him, knowing I desperately wanted to.

Once again, the world went blurry.

Thump-pump, thump-pump...

And once again, I somehow managed to say, "Thanks, but no thanks." I couldn't believe the words as they fell out of my mouth, but I built on that momentum and somehow followed up with, "Excuse me, I have to go."

I stood and nearly fell over as my chair's hind legs got caught on the grass. He grabbed my elbow to save me, just like he did last year. Only this year, he was touching my actual flesh. And his powerful hands felt incredible.

"Steady now."

I didn't exactly run away, but I sure as hell scurried. I fumbled for my phone and texted Jim, though I knew he wouldn't be checking.

"Hi babe, where are you? Thought I'd join you."

I entered the house and looked back to make sure Curt wasn't following me.

Big mistake.

He hadn't been following me, but he had been watching me. And when I turned around, he took it as a signal to follow for a secret tryst.

Fuck.

I thought I heard Cindy's voice down the hall, so I wove between the crowd looking for my friend, but I couldn't find her.

Suddenly, my line to Cindy that I wanted to barf wasn't just a line anymore. It was coming.

I franticked my way through another crowd to the bathroom, but there was a line. There was a line at the next one, too.

Fuck!

I knew Guy had another bathroom all the way down at the end of the east wing, so I ran, literally sprinting down the hall, hoping that no one else knew about it.

I barely made it.

I unloaded into the toilet.

Afterward, I knelt on the floor, clutching my ponytail, gasping for breath and feeling like the pathetic, frightened little mouse that I was.

But whatever. I had said no to him. Again. Yay? All I had to do was hide out here in the bathroom for the rest of my life. I could do that. Right?

There was a knock on the door.

"Occupied!" I said, quickly reaching up to lock it.

I flushed the toilet and took stock of the situation. I was gonna be all right.

I opened the mirror and was relieved to see an unopened toothbrush and mouthwash. Thank the fucking gods. I brushed my teeth and near about drank the whole damn bottle of mouthwash. I sighed. Okay, babe. Calm down. Everything's cool. But as I closed the mirror, I half expected to see Curt standing behind me like in some horror movie.

Still no word from my husband. But it had only been maybe ten minutes since he left.

I looked at myself in the mirror and said, Okay, asshole. Don't be a fucking coward. You've turned this guy down three times already. He's not magical. He doesn't own you or your body, and you are not going to hide in a bathroom for the rest of the night. Besides, other people clearly need to use it. Get out there and go find your husband.

Well, I'm sure you know who was standing on the other side of the door when I opened it.

"You okay?" he asked. His hands slid up my cheeks as he scanned my face for signs of trauma.

I nodded, suddenly unable to remember how to speak.

"Good. I was worried about you. Were you sick?"

I nodded.

"Feeling better?"

I nodded.

He sighed. His thumb ran across my lips, sending tingles through my entire body. "I had that happen at a party once, only I wasn't nearly as graceful as you. It was..." He smiled and seemed to get distracted by my lips. He whispered, "... pretty embarrassing."

He leaned down and kissed me. I wish I could say I hesitated or fought him off, but I did not. I kissed him back like his lips held the secret to everlasting life.

I opened my mouth and whimpered as his long, nimble tongue slid inside, gifting me a preview of what was to come. And while his left hand caressed my face and throat, his right hand guided me into him, melting my body into his.

Our mouths came together and parted, and my thirst for him grew and grew and grew as he kissed my cheek, my jaw, my neck. My mouth opened to the heavens as I tilted my head back, surrendering to him and willing him to kiss me everywhere and then some.

He pulled up on my left thigh, and my leg latched onto his ass like it belonged there. I pressed my groin into his, desperate to get him inside me. He lifted me up by my ass, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, bucking my hips into him, trying to fuck him through our clothes.

He carried me next door into an office, closed the door, and planted me on the desk. He leaned me back and pulled my dress over my shoulders. I didn't even notice him unzipping me.

He kissed my shoulders and pressed his hard cock into my groin as he worked my dress down my chest and over my suddenly exposed tits.

I gasped and arched my back, offering them to him. He paused and caressed them, looking at them like Scrooge McDuck looking at a pile of gold.

"I have been dreaming about this for a whole year," he said. "I was so hoping you'd be here."

He dove in, his hungry mouth sucking and kissing and devouring my breasts while his hands once again returned to my dress. I raised my ass to make it easier for him to remove it, and when it was gone, he laid me back and kissed and sucked his way down my suddenly highly sensitive stomach.

I tossed his cowboy hat off his head and ran my fingers through his hair as he drove me wilder and wilder with his constant kisses and ceaseless tongue. I looked down over my tits to watch him work my body, and I found myself whispering yes, yes, yes, yes.

He pulled off my tight white shorts and eased them over my sneakers. Then he returned his attention to my body.

"Fuck," he said as he ran his powerful hands up and down my thighs. I bit my finger and blushed again. How could this god of a man want me so fiercely?

He kissed his way down my thigh, and I could feel my juices dripping from my pussy onto the desk. He plunged his lips down to my sex, moaning and sighing and getting more and more worked up as he ate me out.

He licked me like I was a crack sundae. His tongue sliding, gliding, savoring every millimeter of my sex. He encircled me, dipped inside me, teased me, stimulated... honestly, I don't even know what he was doing; I only know that my orgasm was building at a frantic pace.

I don't ever cum from oral stimulation. I like it, but I view it as more of a nice entrée before the main dish. But this? This was a five-course meal all on its own. His mad hunger for me, his panting, his moaning, his intense stimulation, was bringing me higher and higher and higher, and I was about to fucking burst when he lifted me off the table. He just scooped his hands under my ass and stood up.

I let out a whoop as I rose into the air, suddenly finding my head only a foot away from the tall ceiling.

My legs tightened around him, and my hands gripped his hair, but not even for a second did I think he was going to drop me. I may not have been safe, but I was fucking secure.

And his hands pressed into my ass and pulled my pussy into his face as he licked and sucked and shook his head between my thighs, getting faster and faster and faster and faster, desperate to get at the secret treasures inside. I opened my mouth and unleashed the deepest silent scream of my life. Every muscle in my body clenched. My mouth opened wider and wider and wider, and then my teeth pressed against my lower lip. I held out as long as I could until I couldn't hold out any longer, and then I howled the word "Fuck" like I was shouting "Freedom!" to an army of angry Scots.

My hands flew up to the ceiling to find purchase as my very foundations were shaken to the ground. It felt like an out-of-control subway was rumbling under me, causing my dishes to shatter, my windows to smash, and my walls to come crumbling down. And although I had no control over my body, I was in no danger of falling, for his hands gripped my ass and held me tightly against his face while his tongue continued its ceaseless endeavor.

I don't know how long my orgasm lasted. It seemed like eons. But when I finally finished, when his tongue finally stopped destroying me, I sighed and caressed his hair and whimpered and gazed at him in wonder.

The thought that kept running through my brain was "Oh my god, is that what that's supposed to feel like?" And I know how shitty that sounds, but I'm just being honest. I didn't know an orgasm could destroy me like that.

I kept gazing at him and cooing and feeling myself slowly disappear into his eyes. And suddenly, whoop! He slid me halfway down his body so that my sneakers were resting on his broad shoulders, my legs pressed against his muscular chest, my hands gripping his neck and playing with his hair, and I just kept staring at him, thinking, Why me? Why me? Why me? You could have anyone in the world. Why did you choose me?

And the thing is: He was looking at me like that, too, like he couldn't believe I had finally said yes, which only made me want him more.

"Jesus Christ, you're so fucking sexy," he whispered as he took in my features and looked at me like he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

And my mouth flew open as his massive cock head pressed against my opening. I don't even know when or how he had unbuttoned his pants, but there it was. And of course it was massive. Of course this guy was hung like a horse. Of course he was.

And I should have been scared. Or at least had even a moment's hesitation. I'd had a boyfriend in college who had a massive cock. And I hated it. It was so painful we couldn't have sex. It was too bad. He seemed like a nice guy. And although I couldn't see Curt's cock, I could tell just from the size of his head that his was just as big. But I didn't worry for even one second. I knew that not only was it going to be fine, but that he was about to gift me with the fucking of the century.

I bit my lip and sucked in air and looked at him like a woman knowing her boyfriend of ten years was finally about to drop to one knee and reveal a giant diamond ring.

My mouth pried open as he lowered me, entering me, filling me slowly, carefully, assuredly. I felt my mind expanding with my sex. I had no idea. No Idea. I just didn't realize it could feel this earth-shatteringly powerful. I let out whimper after whimper, each one a semitone higher than the last as he completed me. He slid me down his enormous, girthy cock until his tip juuust barely touched my cervix. He paused. Relax, he seemed to say. You're in good hands.

I didn't doubt it for a second.

He raised me up as though I weighed nothing. Then he slid me down, and his mouth opened as my walls massaged his cock. And he worked me like that for several overwhelmingly wonderful minutes, raising me and lowering me like I was a human fleshlight. An eager, willing human fleshlight.

I settled into the pleasure. My cries modulated from the high-pitched tones of disbelief to the lower, throaty sounds of someone getting a deep tissue massage.

I had no idea. No idea it could be like this.

And he kept saying how sexy I was. "You're so fucking sexy, oh my god." And I believed him. "You're a fucking goddess. A beautiful fucking goddess. Oh my god." His mouth and eyes opened and closed as he struggled to comprehend how great this felt, and that only plunged me deeper and deeper into ecstasy.

He moved me up and down and above and beyond, and I distantly heard my phone buzz, but I didn't care. How could I care about anything but this?

And he started grunting and building up speed, and I was so desperate for my pussy to please him so that he could gift me with his seed.

The moment that horrible truth hit me, I gasped a quiet, "Oh fuck." Because it was the fucking truth. I craved this man's cum. I fucking wanted him to fill me with his seed more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. I wanted it deep, deep inside me where no one's seed but my husband's should ever go, but I wanted his to go There.

I wanted this man to fucking breed me.

I know. I'm a lying, cheating, despicable cunt. But that knowledge? That I was a cunt who was cheating on her husband and who desperately wanted another man to fill her with his seed? That unlocked the door to my next, even more powerful orgasm.

I could tell from his animalistic grunts that he was about to cum too. And the sound of his impending orgasm was like dumping a truckload of gasoline onto my burning desire.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! FUCKING YES!

Once again, the sounds of my passion rose in pitch as he built up a faster and faster tempo and his body began to spasm.

"Holy shit!" he said, "Holy Shit! Holy Shit! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

His cock pulsed with power as he brought me down for one final impalement. I could feel his head graze my cervix as he geysered his seed into me. And I howled like a cock-fueled cum-guzzling girl gone wild.

I know.

I'm a fucking cheating bitch.

I'm just telling you what happened and how I felt.

In "February Sucks," Linda told Jim that she felt like she had no control over her body. That she was helpless in Marc's arms.

That was not the case with me. I had control. I was in full command of my senses. I knew exactly what I was doing and exactly what I wanted.

And what I wanted was for this man to fuck the everloving hell out of me.

I thought it the moment we met. I confirmed it the second he first touched me. And I acted on it the instant he slid his hands up to my face.

I had previously said no. I had chosen my husband. But right here, right now, I was choosing Curt. And I was thrilled with the decision.

I not only wanted him, I wanted him to do whatever he wanted with me. I gave myself over to him completely. I was tired of fighting my simmering desire. I wanted him to consume me, and I was desperate or him to swallow me whole.

When we finished, we gazed into each other's eyes with, I don't know: Sated desire? Shared victory? Hopeless infatuation? Whatever it was, it was fucking powerful.

As much as I loved sex with my husband, I always loved sharing our bond over what we had done more. And that's exactly what was happening here between Curt and me. And while we certainly weren't bathing in our love for each other--this was more primal. We had just brought each other to the top of Peak Pleasure, and we were reveling in it. He caressed my face, and we kissed each other hungrily, each of us desperate to tell the other how fucking grateful we were.

My phone buzzed. I heard it. I ignored it. He smiled, knowing I was choosing him again. It wasn't a victory smile. It was one of gratitude.

And then he maneuvered me so that my legs were wrapped around him rather than resting on his shoulders. And he hugged me tightly. And I hugged him back. And I kissed him and started grinding on him, desperate to get his cock inside me again. And again. And again.

My phone buzzed again. I paused, and he understood the mission. He grabbed my phone and flung it across the room.

I heard it bounce harmlessly off the couch. Good job. Now fuck the shit out of me.

He laid me down on the plush carpet and sank into me again. He caressed my raised right leg and began his slow, deep, sensual thrusts, and the world and all my worries floated away.

Suddenly I was sitting on him. My phone buzzed as I rode on his giant cock. I leaned back the way I never like to do, except now I laughed at how free and open and how wonderfully naked I was.

I rode him like a champ, working his shaft like I was trying to qualify for the Sex Olympics, and my body was filled with the mounting pleasure of knowing I was going to fucking win.

And then suddenly I was lying on him, my back on his stomach. I loved how he effortlessly and smoothly maneuvered me around his body.

His left hand pinched my nipple, and his right hand worked my clit as he thrust in and out of me. Every motion thrilled my G-spot.

My third and final orgasm began to tear me apart as I howled yes after unbridled yes.

Then his hands grabbed my hips, and he began pushing me up and down, using me as his eager little sex toy.

My orgasm was so overwhelmingly powerful that I saw sounds, heard colors, and tasted thoughts. My toes curled. My thighs shivered. And I howled like a fucking werewolf.

When we finished, I collapsed. I had nothing left to give him. I giggled like the cum-drunk cunt that I was.

Then my phone buzzed again.

And reality came crashing down.

Jim.

What. The Living Fuck. Did I Just Do?

I had become everything I hated.

Eagerly.

I scrambled off Curt and crawled over to my phone.

"Hey, baby. Sorry. I wasn't feeling well. No, I'm all right. I think I ate something that didn't agree with me. Yeah, no. I'm good, though you know how much I hate throwing up. Be right there, okay? Love you."

Curt handed me my clothes, which I frantically pulled on. He zipped me up and made sure I was presentable. Thank god my hair was still braided.

"Please. Please," I said to him as I took his face in my hands. "Please leave. You have to go, and you have to go now. Out the side entrance. Please. If my husband sees you here, he'll know what I've done. I can't embarrass him like that. Not here in front of his friends. I can't. Please. If you respect me at all, please do this for me."

He nodded. I'm sure this dude had made plenty of quick getaways before that night.

"Come with me."

"Not an option. Not ever. Please."

He ran a thumb over my lips again, and I leaned into his hand and closed my eyes. But he nodded and said okay, and I watched him exit the office and turn right. I heard the side door open and shut.

And I collapsed.

Holy shit, what had I done? It was like I had turned into someone else. And I don't mean that as an excuse. I had willed the transformation on. I just couldn't believe I did it.

And now I had to suffer the consequences.

It's not like I didn't realize there would be consequences at the time. I knew it the moment I kissed him back. I just decided I didn't care.

But now, here I was. My husband was waiting for me, I had just fucked someone else, and it was time to face the music.

I just needed to get home. I could figure everything else out after that, but I needed us to get home before anyone else knew what happened. Unlike Linda in that fucking story, I was not going to make a public cuck of my husband. I was not going to add humiliation to my list of crimes. I'm not saying this makes me a saint. I'm just saying that if I could get us home, then the chips could fall where they may. And even though I may have completely and thoroughly destroyed his life, at least no one else had to know about it until he was ready for them to.

Okay, man up, bitch. I smacked my cheeks a few times and jumped up and down to psych myself up for the performance of a lifetime.

I stepped out into the hallway.

Thankfully, no one else was around. I don't know if anyone heard us have sex, but at least no one was watching me take my walk of shame. As I walked closer to the action, though, I felt like everyone was staring at me. Why? What could they see? Did I have a giant cum stain on me or something? Were my clothes on inside out?

"Hey, you okay?" Jim said, snapping me out of my paranoid delirium.

I gave him a curt nod. "Can we go?"

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just really need to go. You can stay if you want..."

"No. no. Let's go."

He took my arm and guided me to the entrance. I was trembling, terrified that he was going to feel or smell Curt Sherwood on me. But we said our goodbyes to the randoms, and then we were out in the brisk October air.

"You feel like you're gonna throw up again?" he asked as the car pulled up.

I shook my head and got in.

Then a whole new panic set in. What am I gonna do? Do I tell him? If I do, our marriage is over. In an instant. Everything we had built over the past twenty years: our friendship, our love, our kids, our house, our life together... everything would be destroyed in one second flat.

And I know. I know I should have thought of that before I slept with Curt. I know that. But I didn't. Or maybe I did, but I decided I didn't care. I don't know. But yeah, I get it. I suck.

"How was your bourbon?" I asked, needing to break the awkward silence.

"Delicious. Was it worth four grand? Not even close."

"Tell me more," I said, and off he went, eager to discuss the experience.

I nodded and smiled and laughed and said the things I thought I was supposed to say even though I was cursing myself out in my head.

We finally made it home, and I rushed inside and ran upstairs to our bathroom, once again, barely making it to the toilet in time. And yes, I fucking hate throwing up, but honestly, I was thankful for this. Thankful for the excuse it gave me to be by myself and regroup. But also, I relished the punishment. And yes, I know that vomiting isn't punishment enough for the evil shit I pulled that night. But it was a start. It gave me a physical outlet for how much I hated myself.

Jim came up to see how I was, asked if I needed anything, and then he left me alone.

I showered and washed the hell out of my body, trying desperately to erase any evidence of my infidelity. I made a note to hit the pharmacy in the morning to get the morning-after pill and to make an appointment to get checked for STDs. And then I crouched down in the corner of the shower and bawled my eyes out.

Once I had cried out all my tears, I dried off and crawled into bed. Jim joined me soon after, and I wrapped myself around him and told him I was sorry.

He said I had nothing to be sorry about. He kissed my forehead. And held me tight.

I spent the next day desperately trying to hide the fact that I was shaking. I ran to the pharmacy, got my blood drawn for STDs, and gulped down some Plan B. I shuddered, remembering how desperately I had wanted Curt to breed me last night.

Who the fuck was I?

I ran errands so I could stay out of the house as long as possible.

My phone buzzed, causing me to jump as it reminded me of last night.

"You okay?" Cindy asked. "I'm so sorry I bailed on you. We had to rush home. Our water heater broke. Are you all right?"

I so desperately wanted to tell her. I was bursting at the seams and needed an outlet.

But I couldn't. Not because I thought she would tell anyone. Not because I thought she'd berate me or stop wanting to be my friend. But because I didn't want Jim to be the second person to find out.

I was a cunt. I knew that. A lying, cheating cunt. But I would not humiliate my husband.

I'm not saying this so you'll think better of me. That's not gonna happen. I'm just telling you what I did and why.

So I told her I was fine. Everything was cool. My stomach had been a bit upset, but we had a nice time. I said I hoped she was able to fix the water heater. And then I hung up.

I somehow managed to keep it together through the rest of Saturday, all day Sunday, and even Monday without arousing suspicion. I don't really know how.

Jim did hint that he wanted sex Sunday night, but I lied and said my stomach was still a little shaky.

I arrived at my therapist's office on Tuesday morning, still keeping my shit together. And I continued to hold it together in her waiting room. And I kept it together until I entered her office and closed the door.

"How are you doing--"

She stopped talking because instead of walking over to the comfy chair, I stood over her. I swear she thought I was going to stab her or something. But then I burst into tears and collapsed to my knees in front of her and planted my face into her lap.

"I cheated on my husband!" I said between sobs. "I'm a fucking lying, cheating bitch, and I don't know what to do!"

I mean, it was pathetic. True, but pathetic. But fuck, that outburst felt good. I had finally gotten it off my chest.

After I calmed down, I apologized and crawled over to the chair. I sat there, panting and feeling embarrassed.

"Start from the beginning," she said.

When I had finished, she nodded, still taking notes. Then she folded her hands and asked me what I was going to do.

"I can't tell him."

"Why?"

"It would destroy his life! I would permanently shatter his self-esteem. He would never get over it. Ever. He would hate me, of course, but I can take it because I fucking deserve it. But that's not the problem. The problem is, he would never--ever--recover. He would always feel inadequate. Always. And how could he ever trust anyone again? I'm his wife. We've been married twenty years, and I did that to him."

"But this secret is clearly eating you alive. You think keeping this from him is healthy?"

"Of course not! I hate myself! I will never forgive myself! Ever! But I can stand hating myself. I can even stand him hating me. But I can't..." I started weeping and could barely get the words out. "I can't hurt him like that. Right now he doesn't know. No one knows except you, me, and Curt. And I intend to keep it that way.

"And yes, I know I'm a shitty actor. He's called me out on this before. And yes, it would mean putting on a performance and lying to him for the rest of my life and never being fully present in our marriage again. But what choice do I have? Run away? We have kids."

"If you saw this golf guy again, would you sleep with him?"

"I don't know! I don't fucking know! I didn't think I would the first time! And then suddenly we were fucking, and it was amazing. It was the greatest sex of my life by a country mile. I hate that it was so good. But now I know. I know that sex like that exists. And I will never forget.

"If I saw him in the supermarket, I am 100% sure I'd instantly get wet, and my body would say fuck him, fuck him now. But I am also 98% sure I wouldn't do it--only because we would be in a crowded place. But. If we were at another party? Or if I ran into him outside of my hotel room? I don't know. I honestly don't know. I think my body would just take over and let him have me. And it would be fucking amazing. And I would fucking hate myself all over again. I would never seek him out. But if he pursued me? I don't know what I would do."

I pause to catch my breath. "I have to tell him, don't I?"

She doesn't say anything.

"But fuck! It's going to ruin his life. It's going to shatter him."

"You're not giving him much credit. You didn't give him credit last time you kept a secret from him. And even though things were rough, you worked through it."

"Because I hadn't actually fucked the guy!"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can only give you food for thought. What I do know is that lying about something this big for as long as you're intending to? That's not healthy. Not for you. Not for him. Not for your marriage or your kids. It's going to eat you alive."

I drove home with every intention of telling him. But I kept finding reasons not to. And I was so distracted by my internal strife that he immediately sensed something was wrong. That night he asked me if I was all right.

And what did I say...?

"Hey, you know that thing you've always wanted to do?"

"Play Pebble Beach?"

"No... the other thing."

He looked at me like, really? "What brought this on?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

I told him I saw a video, and it got me hot.

"Will you dress as Anna Kournikova?"

I almost fainted. Fuck. I never wanted to see that outfit again. I had been this close to throwing it out the moment I got home from the party. But I recovered and said yes.

I got dressed, braided my hair... the whole bit.

And then I let my husband take my ass.

It was... well, I have since come to like it, but that was certainly not how I felt as it was happening. Or after. But that was the point, of course. I had truly never wanted to go there. I frankly didn't get the impulse. So letting my husband do that to me felt like I was letting him mete out some sort of punishment.

I also wanted to do it because I wanted him to have something that Curt hadn't.

Would I have let Curt do that to me that Halloween night? Absofuckinglutely. And I'm sure I would have enjoyed the living shit out of it. And I would have hated myself that much more afterward.

But thankfully he didn't. And I was glad Jim did.

Anyway, he finished inside me, having clearly fucking loved it, and he asked me how it was, and I lied and said it was amazing and that I couldn't wait to do it again. I mean, it wasn't a total lie. I liked that he liked it so much.

And then I spent the next month pleasuring the shit out of my husband.

I tried not to be obvious. I didn't want to love-bomb him. He would have seen through that in a second. I just became Wife-Plus.

I spent every waking moment trying to make his day better. It was often little things. I would pick up treats for him whenever I went to the grocery store: Twinkies, Yoo-hoo, those little swirly pecan thingies he loves so much.

I touched him more frequently, randomly tickling his back the way he loves, kissing his neck, stroking his arms, giving him scalp massages... that kind of thing. Stuff I had been doing before, but I just cranked it up a notch. I did it more frequently and with deeper, sensual intent.

When I sold another book, I celebrated by going to the liquor store. I showed the clerk a picture of Jim's bourbon collection and asked what he would recommend. He sold me a bottle of Old Weller, which didn't mean anything to me, but when I gave it to Jim, he nearly fainted. He said it was his favorite, but he hadn't been able to buy a bottle in years because it was always sold out. Guess I got lucky.

And then, a month into this, I arranged a stay-home weekend getaway. I took the kids to my parents' house. I made Jim his favorite dish: lasagna. I bought us a nice bottle of red. And we spent the entire day in each other's arms: caressing, dancing, snuggling. That night we made love. Later that night he fucked my ass and fucked me with such enthusiasm I had an explosive orgasm. We slept, wrapped up in each other's arms.

The next morning, I woke before my husband did, and saw that he was semi-hard. So, I slid down to the bottom of the bed and stared at his beautiful cock, gently stroking it with my fingertips, then my nails. And as he got harder and harder and started groaning, I took him into my mouth. And I licked and kissed and sucked until he was rock hard. I took his cock in hand and rubbed my cheeks against it. I made love to his dick in a way that I hadn't since before we were married. And he awoke with a "Holy shit," and then, after he came, he reached down and caressed my face and told me how much he loved me.

And I fucking bawled my eyes out.

He was understandably confused. "What? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" Which only made me cry harder.

I was lying between his legs, sobbing hysterically, unable to say anything.

He sat up, scooped me into his arms, and asked what was wrong. "Please just tell me, baby. What's wrong? What's wrong?"

It took forever for me to calm down. Then I sat up and moved to the foot of the bed. I needed distance. I didn't deserve his sympathy, and he wouldn't want to be touching me when I told him. Hell, he would never want to touch me again.

I sat there trying to organize my thoughts for a second. I hadn't planned on ever telling him, so I didn't even know how to start. But I could tell by the look on his face that he was starting to guess what I was about to say, so I just launched into it. I held up my hand so he would let me speak until I was finished.

"I slept with Curt Sherwood. Halloween night. I didn't go there looking for it. I actively tried to avoid him. But I did it. And then I lied to you about it. And I've been lying to you ever since. I am so, so, so, so, so sorry for what I've done. I will never forgive myself, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't either. I love you so fucking much, Jim, and I know that sounds hollow, but it's the truth. Sleeping with that guy didn't change how I feel about you, but it changed everything about how I feel about me. I fucking hate myself."

I dropped my hand. It was all I could do not to burst into another round of tears, but I didn't want him to feel sorry for me. I wanted him to vent: scream, cry, howl... whatever he needed to do. So I sat at the foot of the bed, naked and shaking, panting, trying to bring my eyes up to meet his.

We looked at each other for a few very long seconds. I wanted to say, "Say something," but twenty years of marital disagreement told me to let him process everything I had said. I could see him replaying events.

"Who else knows?" he said finally.

"My therapist. She wanted me to tell you a month ago, but I was too much of a coward."

"Cindy?"

"No. No one."

"No one except him."

I nodded.

"Is that why you set up this 'romantic weekend?' So you could butter me up and then let me down?"

"No. I was never going to tell you. I was going to carry that secret to my grave."

"So why did you?"

I closed my eyes to keep the tears from shooting out, but I couldn't hold them back any longer. "Because I love you so much and I fucking hate myself. I thought not telling you would spare you, but really, I was just terrified I would have to face the consequences for what I did. And you're so fucking kind and sweet and loving, and I can't believe I did that to you."

He sat there, still thinking, still discovering the depth of my betrayal.

"You let me fuck you up the ass because you felt guilty."

I nodded.

"Did you let him do that?"

"No."

"How many orgasms have you faked since then?"

I was not expecting that. "None."

"None."

I shook my head. "No, none."

He sighed. "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know. I didn't want to. I literally ran away from the guy. I threw up, I was so terrified of him. But I still did it."

"You told me you were over him."

"I truly thought I was. I hadn't thought about him for even a second since that time we saw him on TV. Honestly. And then I saw him at the party, and I knew I was in trouble. He asked me to dance; I said no. I ran away. I tried to find you. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. And then..."

"And then you fucked him."

I nodded.

"Where?"

"In an office at the end of the east wing."

"And?"

"And then you called me and--"

"No. The sex."

I nodded. Here we go.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"I had just thrown up. Then I cleaned myself up. My plan was to hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night--"

"What is it about this guy that he affects you like this?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I truly don't."

"Whatever. Then what?"

"I left the bathroom because I figured other people needed it. But when I opened the door, there he was. And he asked if I was all right and I said yes and then he kissed me." I paused. "And I kissed him back. And... it was like I turned into another version of myself. He carried me into that office. He started kissing me everywhere. He went down on me. He fucked me. And then he fucked me again, and that's when I answered the phone."

"Does he have a giant dick?"

"Yes."

"You told me you hated big dicks."

"I did."

"But not his."

"Not his."

He shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what he thought he knew about me and what he was just now learning.

"And I guess it was fucking great? The sex? Best sex of your life? Better than with me?"

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no."

I nodded. "It was different. It was thrilling, partly because it was dangerous and taboo, and it brought out a side of me that I didn't know I had. And I think I found it thrilling because I had been craving it for an entire year, even if I didn't realize I'd been wanting it. So finally giving in to that impulse was exciting. And it was very intense. I had the most intense orgasms of my life."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, clearly wounded to the core.

"But it was not better than sex with you."

"It sure as shit sounds like it was."

"Yeah, I know. It was exciting and intense, but I never want to do it again. Truly. But I love having sex with you. I love it. You not only give me incredibly powerful orgasms, but you make me feel loved. I love feeling closer to you than ever. I could never have that with anyone else."

"Uh-huh."

I nod. After a few seconds, I say, "You know how you love my lasagna?"

He squinted at me. "Your lasagna?"

"Yeah. Every time I make it, you get so excited. You do a fist pump. And then you moan and groan throughout the meal. I'm not even sure if you know you're doing it until the kids start making fun of you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm saying you love my lasagna with unbridled passion. You never order it at restaurants because you always tell me it will never be as good as mine. But. There was that time when you went to Naples with your roommate, right?"

"Are you really comparing sex with lasagna?"

"And you went to his grandmother's house, and she made you the fucking best lasagna of your entire life. Right? You've told me this story five or six times."

"Enjoying my friend's grandmother's lasagna before I had ever met you is not the same as you fucking Curt Sherwood."

"I know. I'm trying to explain something. You ate the shit out of this lasagna, right? You said it did something to your brain. Your synapses started firing on all cylinders--"

"That's what Curt Sherwood's cock did to you?"

"--and you couldn't stop shoveling that lasagna into your mouth. You said you were eating like a man possessed--"

"--Like you sucked Curt Sherwood's cock?"

"I didn't suck his cock. You ate so much, so quickly, and your roommate was telling you to stop. But you couldn't. You finished eating that lasagna. And what happened?"

"She gave me another slice. Like Curt Sherwood gave you another fucking?"

"And you ate that. And then you were full. Achingly full. And then what?"

He sighed. "Then I realized that lasagna was only the first course. Where are you going with this?"

"And you were practically crying throughout the rest of the meal, and you were sick for two days."

He shrugged. "Okay?"

"My point is this: knowing that lasagna can be that good doesn't change how you feel about my lasagna, does it?"

"Stop saying the word lasagna. You're ruining it for me."

"Does it?"

He thinks for a second. "No."

"No. You love my lasagna."

"Frankly, I don't think I ever want to eat lasagna again after this."

"I'm sure if I gave you a ticket to fly to Naples so you could have that woman's lasagna, you would take it."

"In a fucking heartbeat."

"But you would still love my lasagna."

"I don't think this analogy is working the way you want it to. Plus, you've ruined my favorite food. So, thanks for that."

I shrug. He massages his temples and sighs.

"If I gave you a ticket to go have some lasagna with Curt Sherwood, would you go take it?"

"I really did ruin that food for you, didn't I?"

"Would you?"

"No."

"But you said you were over him last time."

"I did. I truly thought I was. If I saw him at a party again... I would do what I did last time, which was to go looking for you. I don't want to fuck him."

"But you did."

"I did."

"So... it could happen."

I shrug. "I'd like to think not."

"But it could."

"It could."

"How often have you thought about him since?"

"What do you mean? Fantasized about him? Not at all," I said truthfully. "But I have fantasized about you."

"Because you felt guilty."

"At first. But the longer I've been trying to make it up to you, the more I've been loving it. I love pleasing you. I love fucking you. I love letting you claim my ass. I kind of hated it the first time, but last night was fucking intense. I love treating you like you are god's gift to me because you are, Jim. I love you so, so much. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove it to you if you'll let me."

He sighed and spent a few minutes sorting through his feelings. Finally, he looked up and said, "Have you ever read a story called 'February Sucks?'"

My eyebrows shot up. "On Literotica?"

"Yeah."

I nodded.

"I hated that fucking bitch," he said.

"Me too."

He studied me for a second, trying to suss out if I understood the irony of my response. But then he said, "I don't know that I hate you."

My emotions got the best of me, and I covered my face and started to cry. This wonderful man. I had wronged him. Betrayed him. Lied to him. And he still didn't hate me. I didn't deserve him. I'm not sure I ever would, but at least I knew he was giving me a chance to.

After a few seconds, I finally managed to mutter a meek, "I'll take it."

**

It was weeks before he let me touch him again. Months before we had sex. And nearly a year before I felt him relax. I spent every day of that year trying to earn his trust, trying to win him back, trying to prove how much I loved him. I didn't know that he would ever love me again, but that was okay. Just as long as he let me show him that I loved him, I felt like I was getting far more than I deserved.

Halloween rolled around, and I tossed the invite into the recycle bin without a moment's thought. No sooner did I do that than I got a call from my agent. My latest romance novel was doing quite well, and I was invited to present at a writer's conference in Vegas. When was it? Halloween. Perfect.

I told Jim. I said, let's make a week of it. We'll send the kids to my parents' and rekindle our romance.

He was not on board.

I was taken aback. I asked him why he was reluctant when I thought we were doing so well.

He took a second to formulate his thoughts, and then said, "I don't hate you. But I don't love you. And frankly, I'm not sure I ever will again. It's not that I see him every time I look at you, but knowing that you could fall into his arms at any second sickens me to my core. I've been trying to overcome this. There have been times when I thought I had. But then I see that asshole on TV and know what a hold he has over you--"

"He doesn't! I never want to see him again."

"Only because you know you'll fall under his spell. I'm sorry. I've been trying. And I'm still willing to try for the kids' sake. But right now? A romantic getaway with you sounds like torture."

I would have rather he had kicked me in the teeth. Or that he had met someone else and fallen in love with her. But this. After all the effort I had put in. All the progress I thought I had made. I was still at ground zero.

And I'm not saying I blamed him. I didn't. I knew the moment I had committed adultery that I had jeopardized our marriage. The fact that he hadn't kicked me to the curb, taken the kids, and emptied our bank account was a miracle.

It's just that I thought we were getting past it. And now I wasn't sure we ever would. And yes, that's 100% on me. I didn't deserve to feel defeated. But that's how I felt.

I nodded. Said I understood. And felt a chill run down my spine.

Our marriage was over.

I could feel it plain as day.

I kept it together, though my body was shaking. I made up an excuse that I needed to go get some milk. I held it together until I got in the car. I kept it together as I pulled out of the driveway. And then, after I drove down the street and parked on the curb, I lost my shit.

I cried. I screamed. I howled. I punched the roof of the car. I fucking lost it. I wasn't just depressed. I was furious: at him, at me, at the world. But above all else: I was terrified.

My therapist snuck me into her busy schedule that afternoon, and I had yet another emotional breakdown.

"He didn't say your marriage was over. He said he was still trying. It hasn't even been a year. Give the guy a break. What do you expect? You tore his heart out and smashed it to pieces with another man's cock."

I raised my eyebrows at this.

"Sorry," she said with a slight shake of the head. "I've been reading your books, and your descriptive language has infiltrated my mind."

She continued. "Don't give up. You said it yourself that you would spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to him. Well, you're only eleven months in, kiddo. People don't heal in a linear fashion. Not when they've been betrayed. Some days they get better. Some days they get worse. Plus, I'm sure that the fact that you're coming up on the one-year anniversary of your brutal betrayal--"

"Okay! I get it! I'm a cunt. A little less judgment from my therapist, please."

But she was right, of course. I knew she was right.

But that didn't make things better.

I knew I needed to keep fighting for our marriage. But I have to confess, I felt the wind go out of my sails. All the effort I had put into being Wife-Plus for the past eleven months had been for naught. And yes, I know it was all my fault, but I can't help it. I was bitter. I started to see my adultery in a different light. I hadn't wanted to sleep with that guy. I had done everything I could to avoid it. And yes, I failed. And not only did I fail, but I failed fucking hard. But I tried, goddamn it. I fucking tried. And not only that, I tried to fix it afterward. I tried to make things right. I had been fighting for our marriage, but it seemed like I was the only one who was.

Was I doomed to infinite punishment for a finite crime?

And for him to use the word torture like that?

So, yeah. The month leading up to my trip to Vegas was not spent being Wife-Plus. It was being Wife-Bitter-and-Defeated. I'm not saying I was right to feel this way, but I'm only human.

Things were chilly as I packed for my trip. Jim was going to go to the Halloween party by himself. Guy had gotten another illegal bottle of bourbon, and Jim was very much looking forward to tasting it.

"Plus, I won't have to worry about my wife cheating on me."

My shoulders sank. Where was all this bitterness coming from all of a sudden?

I was filled with rage, though I kept it together. I just looked at him coldly.

"Okay, Jim. When I get back, we can file for divorce. I'm sorry I hurt you."

And I left.

He followed me through the house. "I don't want a divorce. I don't want to do that to the children."

"Okay, Jim."

I walked through the kitchen.

"You did this, not me!"

"I know."

I exited the house. He followed.

"You broke my heart."

"I know."

I unlocked the car.

"You don't get to walk out of here and act like I'm being unreasonable."

"I know."

I threw my suitcase in and closed the trunk. He blocked my way to the driver's seat.

"How dare you take the high road!"

"I'm not. I'm just tired, and I have a long trip ahead of me. I'll do whatever you want, Jim. You want a divorce; I'll sign the papers. If you want me to stay and keep fighting, I'll do that. But I've been fighting for a year now. I know I fucked up. I know I did this to us. But Jesus fucking Christ. You're telling me I'm right back where I started? I haven't made any progress? None? After all of this effort? If that's true, then I don't know what to say. I'm sorry I hurt you. I truly am. But I'm tired of fucking groveling about it with no end in sight."

And that's where we left things. He said some things, none of which were pleasant, but I kind of shut down at that point, so it all just washed over me.

I think I had mentally checked out at that point. I don't know that that's fair, but I was just fucking tired.

I flew to Vegas, and after checking into my room, I texted Jim that I arrived. No response.

I'm not a big Vegas gal. It's okay, I don't hate it, but it doesn't exactly rev my engines. I went out for a quiet dinner, went back to the room and wrote for a while, checked in with my agent, and called my husband.

No answer.

I texted him: I just want to say goodnight to the kids.

No response.

I checked our bank account. I had my own business bank account, so I was fine money-wise, but I got paranoid. Not scared, exactly; I was just trying to see where Jim's head was at. Was he going to take the kids, change the locks, and kick me out of the house? It didn't seem like it. Or, at least, he hadn't emptied the bank account. He was just angry. I did think him keeping me from talking to my kids was petty bullshit, which made me mad. But weirdly, I wasn't scared any longer. I mean, I was worried about the kids, but I wasn't scared that my husband would kick me out of the house. If he did, then I'd figure it out.

And honestly? That realization that I would be all right was liberating.

I shut the computer, got dressed up, and went for a night on the town.

I went to a bar and got flirted with. I went to a club and danced my ass off. Three different dudes tried to pick me up. Two of them were pretty fucking hot, too. Young and hot, so that was flattering. But I turned them down. I wasn't here to cheat on my husband or to even have a "fuck it, he's gonna leave me, so I might as well get fucked" fling. I was just letting off some steam. And it was a fucking blast. The most fun I had had in... well, shit. Two? Three years?

I tipsied my way back to my room, kicked off my shoes, and opened my computer only to see a text from Jim. It was late, but he'd just texted me.

Jim: Tell Curt I said hi.

Me:???

I saw the blinking three dots, then nothing.

Me: What are you even talking about?

Jim: Uh-huh

Me: I'm in fucking Vegas, Jim. Look!

I sent him a photo from my room. You could see the MGM Grand across the street.

Me: Thanks for letting me talk to my children, btw

Nothing.

Me: Asshole

Nothing.

I screamed into my pillow.

Is that how our marriage was going to end?

I raided the minibar and cracked open an expensive whiskey. This'll cost me, I thought. I don't even fucking like whiskey, but I'm drinking this because fuck you, Jim.

It tasted like ass.

Once again, I was suffering from insomnia. I hadn't really had much trouble this past year, which is weird with all the suffering I'd been through, but now, with me and Jim fighting? There was no fucking way I was going to sleep.

I tried my usual tricks, but no dice. Then I tried my old friend masturbation. I even tried fantasizing about Curt, thinking that might get me off.

Nope.

Ugh.

I opened Literotica. I couldn't find anything arousing, so I gave up on getting off, gave up on sleep, and decided I might as well put my energy into writing.

Only I couldn't make any headway with my latest novel.

So I started a new story. I called it "I'm All Yours." It's about an aunt who suddenly finds herself infatuated with her nephew. Her smoking-hot, alpha-male nephew who, yes, is based on Curt. And yes, the sex scene was based on our real-life fuck-fest.

And goddamn did I get off.

I passed out soon after.

My alarm woke me up. Even though I didn't get much sleep, my eyes popped wide open, and I started typing. I finished the story--it was only 8,000 words or so--and did a quick round of editing. It was rough. It was waaaaaay more erotic than anything I had ever published. But I loved it. I felt like I captured something real. Instead of sending it to my agent, I created a Literotica account, choosing the pen name SecretTreasures out of nowhere, and posted it.

The conference was packed. I was one of dozens of authors, so I wasn't sure what to expect for attendance at my presentation, seeing as I was still an up-and-coming author and not a heavy-hitter like some of the other featured authors. But I had a nice turnout, and my presentation went well. I got a nice standing ovation and everything.

The line for my book signing was long. Man, I had only ever done local events, so this was something else entirely.

Anyway, I sat there, signing books, chatting with fans, getting my picture taken, and suddenly who walks up but Curt Fucking Sherwood.

I near about fainted.

But what I didn't do was run.

I guess this whole time I had been under the assumption that he didn't know who I was. Maybe I just wanted to think that. But who was I kidding? We live in a pretty small town. One word to Guy would have told him everything.

He approached the table with a big smile. Not wolfish. Not a victory smile, like, "Oh yeah, I own your pussy" or any of that shit. Just a nice, friendly, handsome smile. I felt my agent sitting next to me go rigid.

"Curt," I said with a fluttering smile. Christ, that man had such power over me.

He looked relieved. "I gotta tell you, Anna. I absolutely loved this book. I'm dead serious." He handed me my lyrical romance. "It is totally not my bag--I'm more of a Jack Reacher fan--But holy hell, can you write."

Him calling me Anna made my cheeks instantly turn red.

"I mean, I knew you were talented, but this? Damn. Seriously, Anna. It moved me."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it."

He looked at my agent and introduced himself, shaking her shaking hand.

"How do you two know each other?" my agent asked.

"Oh," Curt said with a country smile. "We're old friends." He gave her one of his patented half-winks.

"What brings you to town?" I asked, taking the book from him.

"Golf tournie. My agent is furious that I'm not out there on the course practicing right now, but, hey, you're more important."

If I was flushed before, now my face burned. No wonder Jim thought I was hanging out with Curt. Jim follows the PGA Tour. He knew where Curt would be.

That also explained his hostility.

Fuck, this was exhausting.

"Am I making it out to you?"

"Mm." He reached down and flipped the page. "Right there, if you would."

He pointed at a message he wrote me: "Dinner. Yardbird. 8 PM. Please. I just want to talk."

I looked up at him pointedly and crossed out his message. He looked deflated, but he nodded.

Then I wrote my own message: "Bellagio. 3447. 8 PM. I'm done talking. Anna."

I closed the book and handed it back to him. He nodded, not having read my message, and said, "Good seeing you again. Sorry for everything." He said goodbye to my agent and left.

I watched him walk away as my agent grabbed my arm. "You are telling me everything."

About six paces away, I saw him open the book. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to give me that killer wink of his.

I told my agent, "No. I don't think I will."

The next few fans asked how I knew Curt Sherwood, and I worried someone had snapped a photo of us. But then I shook it off and got back to signing.

That afternoon I went dress shopping. It had been a while since I shopped for a Fuck-Me dress, and goddamn did it feel good. The sales assistant helped me, and we settled on a tight red number that hugged my curves and made my ass pop. I added some nylons and some stilettos, and as I gazed at myself in the mirror, I felt like a fucking queen.

I wasn't just going to fuck Curt Sherwood. I was gonna claim his ass.

Besides. I had me a plan. It was risky. Probably wouldn't work. (When had any of my plans worked?) But fuck it.

Go big or go home, as they say.

Well, tonight I was going big.

Tomorrow I was going home.

**

Curt showed up at eight on the dot. Gotta love punctuality.

I opened the door with a flourish and posed like I was some kinda supermodel. His roaming eyes, his open mouth, his flabbergasted expression told me everything I needed to know. But then he muttered a gobsmacked, "Fuck me," and that unleashed my inner demon.

I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him inside, and neither one of us came up for air for several minutes.

Mouths roamed, tongues explored, hands stimulated... we worshipped each other's bodies and unleashed each other's passion. As good as my dress looked on me, it looked even better on the floor. And his mouth and tongue worked their magic on my tits, my stomach, my cunt. He looked up at the ceiling and cursed how short it was. I said, no problem, stud, and I shoved him onto the bed and rode his face off into the sunset. He thumbed my asshole as he ate me, and my orgasm caused the upstairs neighbors to complain.

"Holy fuck!" I said when I could find my breath. I straddled his beautiful face and stroked his hair and gazed down in wonder at this oral artist.

"My turn," I said.

I took my time undressing him. Unbuttoning a button and kissing his revealed flesh. Soaking in his figure before moving on to the next one. I bit and teased his nipples, which caused him to jump out of his skin.

I bit my way down his ripped stomach. Jesus, what a body this guy had. I got lost in his muscles for a second before getting back on track.

I pulled off his designer jeans and yanked off his boxers.

"Good God Almighty," I said, taking in the sight of his cock. For all the sex we had last year, I hadn't actually seen his dick. But here it was. How the hell did this thing fit inside me?

I ran my hands up and down his shaft, taking in every inch, every vein, every little imperfection that made this thing so fucking perfect. And he sighed and caressed my face as I appreciated his masterpiece. Then I started kissing. I planted desperate kiss after desperate kiss, wanting each one to impart my growing desire. I tilted my head this way and that. My hair tickled his stomach while my lips tickled his sex. He brushed the hair out of my face, said how beautiful I was, and then I opened my lips and let my tongue do the talking.

Big, long licks. His dick was so big I would run out of saliva three-quarters of the way up.

Finally, I took him in my mouth. As best I could anyway. I could only maybe get halfway down before the back of my throat began to protest. The angle wasn't the best for deepthroating. But I stroked him with two eager hands and sucked on that thing like I was trying to pull a tapioca pearl through a mixing straw. I could have worshiped that man's cock for three days if he would have let me, but I could tell that as much as he was loving my enthusiasm, he wasn't going to get off.

I pulled up with a naughty smile.

"You're incredible," he said, ready to move on to the next activity.

"Oh, honey. I ain't even begun to fight. Let me tell you a little secret I discovered when I was rushing a sorority, but haven't had a chance to put to good use."

"What's that?" he said with a laugh.

"I don't have a gag reflex."

"Is that right?"

"It is." I bit my finger and looked up at him. "Can you think of any way for me to show off that talent?"

"One or two."

"Mm." I lay on the bed and dangled my head off the edge. I ran my hands up my body and played with my tits. "Imma lie right here while you ponder your options."

He scrambled off the bed and took the back of my head in his hands. "You sure about this?"

I rubbed my legs together and pinched my nipples.

"Claim my throat, stud."

I swear he nearly came right there and then.

He took his cock in hand and gently ran it along my lips. I moaned and writhed on the bed and kissed and licked that massive head of his. Then I opened my mouth and unfurled my tongue. He eased into me, and I moaned once again as his cock filled my mouth. Deeper he slid. Deeper. Deeper still.

I slid a hand down to my pussy and started to rub.

He reached the back of my throat and paused. I took my left hand and grabbed his firm ass and pulled him in. Come on, baby. Go where no man has gone before.

I started to squeal with glee as my throat expanded. He told me later he could see the outline of his cock in my neck and that was the sexiest thing he ever saw in his life. His dick slid down, down, down, only stopping when his balls hit my nose.

"You okay?" he asked.

I gave him a thumbs-up. I resumed rubbing myself.

He leaned forward and caressed my tits. Then he started thrusting.

Jee-zuz.

Of all the powerful orgasms he or my husband ever gave me--or would ever give me--nothing ever fucking turned me on like this. Having that powerful stud of a man leaving over me, pinching my nipples, saying how sexy I was while he expanded my throat with his massive cock? Fuck me, I'm getting wet just writing about it. You know how much I loved being used like a sex toy by this man, but this was so fucking transgressive, degrading, and yet somehow empowering and thrilling at the same time. I wanted to make this man cum harder than he ever had in his life.

Frankly, I was just getting settled in when he erupted inside me. And the feeling of his cock pulsing in my throat as he spasmed jet after jet of his delicious fucking semen straight down into my stomach was so ridiculously satisfying it made me cum. And I hadn't even been close. But fuuuuuck I fucking loved it. I swallowed and swallowed--not to down his jizz but to have my throat muscles work his shaft. And work they did, because he would shudder each time I swallowed.

I grabbed his ass and held him in place until he was finished. And then I held him there some more. He laughed as his cock slowly deflated and millimetered its way out of my throat.

Finally, I had had enough and let him go. He hopped on the bed and took me into his arms.

"Good Lord, woman. I have had that a few times before, but that was fucking epic."

I hummed and stroked his hair. "I can't believe how much I loved that." I climbed on top of him and kissed him. "Can't wait for you to do it again."

"Oh. There's an again, is there?"

"Mm... if all goes according to plan, there is."

"And what plan is that?"

"Don't you worry your pretty giant cock about it. Now. I figure there are still a few things for us to try before I let you take my ass. How's that sound to you?"

He got serious all of a sudden. He brushed the hair away from my face.

"I'm sorry for causing you any trouble. Truly. I don't know what came over me. But when I get near you... I lose my damn mind."

"Oh, come on. I mean, listen: I love me a compliment, but there's no need--"

"No, I'm serious. I haven't had a connection like this with anyone in, well, maybe ever. Look, I'm sure my reputation precedes me, but I'm not a homewrecker. Not since I was eighteen and stupid, anyway."

"Well, you didn't wreck my home. I did a good job of that on my own."

"So you're no longer married?"

"Probably not after I get home. But we'll see. I got a plan."

"You want to stay married."

"Yeah. I know lying here with you is not exactly a ringing endorsement of my marriage, but we had a really good run for twenty years before I fucked up. I aim to patch things up and take our marriage to the next level. But..." I slide down and place my pussy lips on his growing length. "I would love to keep you on the side. If you'll have me."

"On the side, over the side, under the side. I'll take whatever I can get."

I slid him inside me, and we spent the rest of the night fucking each other into oblivion.

Curt had to split before dawn to get ready for his last day of practice. He kissed me goodbye and gave me his number. He said he hoped he wouldn't have to wait another year to see me again.

I got up a few hours later and checked on the Literotica story. Well, look at that. Thousands of views, a dozen comments, and a 4.74 rating. Not bad for my first story. Guess I found a new talent.

I called Jim. To my surprise, he answered.

"How's Curt?" he said bitterly.

I sighed. "I was calling to ask you how the party was and maybe chat with the kids?"

"The party was great. I hit it off with that Jessica Rabbit chick. Remember her?"

"I do. Did you have a nice night together? No judgment here."

He pauses. "I didn't fuck her, if that's what you're asking. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. I'm just saying if that's what it would take to get us back on track, then bone away."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Deadly."

"I don't get you."

"Can I talk to the kids?"

He handed the phone over to Jacob, and I spent a few minutes catching up with my children. They were excited to go trick-or-treating tonight, and I promised I'd be home in time.

Then I texted Cindy, calling in a favor.

I made it home in time and scooped my kids up into my arms. Jacob was dressed as the Hulk, and Sarah was a princess. Jim got home from work. He grunted a greeting at me, and then we took the kids around the neighborhood. They collected way more candy than they'd ever eat, just like they did every year. That night I snuggled in with them, and we read another chapter from Mathilda. I kissed them goodnight.

I found Jim nursing a rather large glass of whiskey in the living room. I sat across from him.

"Well?" he asked.

"What do you want to know, Jim?"

"Did you fuck Curt Sherwood again?"

"Yes."

Even though he suspected as much, he was still astonished--maybe more by my casual tone than the answer itself.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Jim, I didn't go to Vegas to hook up with Curt. I didn't even know he was there until he showed up at my presentation."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you suggesting I'm lying about that?"

"Yes. You're a lying cunt."

"That's not entirely unfair, but no. It was a coincidence."

"And I suppose you ran away through the streets of Vegas trying to get away from his irrepressible charm? Are you seriously checking your phone right now? Is that asshole texting you?"

"No, someone else. I have a surprise for you. I hope you like it."

"I don't want anything from you. I want you out of the fucking house."

"Okay, yeah, I get that. Tell you what. If you still feel the same way tomorrow, I'll go, and I'll stay with my parents, and I'll sign whatever divorce papers you want. I'm done trying to save our old marriage."

"What does that mean?"

"I want to create something new. With you. I still love you, Jim--I'm serious. But I can see there's no going back to the way things were. You'll never forgive me. And that's fine. I don't want your forgiveness. I never have. But I do want you to know that you are loved. And I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I refuse to fucking grovel at your feet anymore. I did that for a year, and it got me nowhere--"

"And then you went and fucked that guy again!"

"I did, yeah. Because I want something different from now on. If you don't want that, like I said, I'll sign whatever divorce papers you want."

"What do you want?"

"A more open relationship."

He snorted. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take a nope relationship."

He thought that was pretty funny.

My phone buzzed.

I said I'd be back, but he was too curious to see what I was up to. He asked me if Curt Sherwood was standing on the other side of the door. I said, no, not him. Then I opened the door, revealing Jessica Rabbit.

She wasn't wearing her costume, but she was dressed to the nines. She wore a lacy black dress that barely contained her voluptuous figure. Her bare shoulders were marvels of human engineering. And her shapely legs were beautifully set off by sheer black nylons and sexy heels. Her shiny red hair was still done up like the cartoon character, though, and her luscious lips with their glossy cherry lipstick were calling to me.

I got an instant lady boner.

I introduced myself and asked her to come inside. She took my hand, and her skin was so soft, and her eyes were so green, I felt like a prize pig standing next to her.

I'd asked Curt if he had hooked up with her--I remember them dancing so beautifully two years ago. He laughed and said no. She was a high-priced escort who had accompanied one of the other men at the party. So when my husband said he hit it off with her, well, I gave her a ring.

"Hi Jim," she said. "It's nice to see you again." Her voice was silky. Her words seemed to wrap around your mind.

"What's going on?" Jim asked, suddenly defensive. "I told you I didn't do anything with her last night."

"I know. But you're going to do something with her tonight. Or rather, we are going to do something to you. Isn't that right, Jessica?"

"Mm," she purred. "I think it's wonderful what your wife is doing for you, Jim."

"Yeah, she's a real peach. Can I talk to you?"

He pulled me to the living room. "I don't want whatever this is."

"Yes, you do."

"No. I don't. I want a normal marriage to one woman."

"Yeah, that ship has sailed, Jim."

"Because of you."

"So, we can either be mad at each other and not have any fun until the divorce is finalized. Or you can live out your number one fantasy." I turned him so he was facing Jessica. "Imagine me and her pleasuring you all night long. Me licking one side of your cock. Her licking the other. Our lips coming together at the tip of your dick. Her wrapping those luscious lips around you and slurping you inside her. You and I could suck on her succulent breasts... You could fuck her and fuck me. Hell, you could line us up and have fun slipping your cock from one pussy to the other. Whatever you want to do to her and/or me is on the table."

I leaned in and whispered, "Even anal. I paid extra for that."

I patted him on the back, smiling as he was processing all of this.

"And listen, if you don't want me to be involved, that's cool. I'll skedaddle. Fuck her three ways from Sunday and tell me about it tomorrow. Or not. This is your night to go hog-fucking-wild."

"And you think this makes everything all right?"

"I'm not looking to make them all right, Jim." Once again, I whisper. "I'm looking to make them better."

I take a step toward the kitchen. "So, like I said, this is your night. But if you're not interested, I definitely am. So I'm gonna escort this stunning escort upstairs and lick the living fuck out of her pussy. Feel free to watch, join in, tell me to amscray, whatever you want. Right?" I addressed this last part to Jessica, who heard my little spiel.

"Lick the living fuck out of my pussy?" she said with a sexy giggle. "I would very much like that. Then I can return the favor."

She gracefully guided me into her and draped her long sensuous arms around my shoulders. She played with my hair and stared into my eyes. Suddenly, she was swaying her hips, and mine seemed to sway along, and we were slow dancing in the kitchen.

She leaned in and whispered, her lips lightly grazing my ear, "Once we start making out, he'll come around." She planted the gentlest kiss on my earlobe, and I found my knees buckling.

That sounded like a plan to me.

Still dancing with me, she lifted my chin and pulled my lips into hers.

My good gay fucking god.

And I thought Curt was a good kisser. This woman had me wrapped around her tongue in two seconds flat. Her lips were so soft and plush and sensuous; their rhythmic motions kissed the world away. I found myself sinking into her. If she had asked me, I would have invaded Mexico.

She started kissing down my neck, and my mouth opened wide as whimper after whimper escaped my lips. I reached behind me and found Jim's hand. I pulled him towards us and turned Jessica around so that she was sandwiched between us.

She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, her long, red hair dangling over her breasts. She reached up and pulled his head into her. He seemed reluctant to engage, though I could see him getting hotter and hotter.

She spun around and turned her full attention to him. Wrapping her arms around him, playing with his hair, staring into his eyes. "I really enjoyed talking to you last night, Jim." She started gyrating, writhing her body against his, back him up to the wall. Her movements were mesmerizing. "I wished I hadn't been there with a client; otherwise, I would have stolen you off and fucked you senseless."

She kissed him and pulled his arms around her, guiding them to her ample ass. Fuck, what a body this woman had. She was built like she was illegal in 38 states.

She kissed her way up to his ear and whispered while working his body. Whatever she was saying was clearly turning him on. I saw his hands finally engage as he grabbed her ass and pulled her into him. Then she must have said something about me, for his eyes pointed at mine. His expression turned determined. He broke off their embrace and took her hand. He turned and escorted her out of the room. Neither one of them looked at me.

Well, okay. That was fine. I would have preferred to watch, but I get it. I laid down on the couch and started rubbing myself, thinking of her embrace, her soft hands, her hair, her scent, the way she seduced my reluctant, worried husband so effortlessly, and it was only a few seconds before I gave myself a tight little orgasm.

I lay there, listening for any clue of what those two might be doing but heard nothing. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I saw Jessica descend the stairs, shoes in hand. She didn't give me even so much as a wave. She just stole off into the night with a whiff of guilt.

I wasn't feeling any kind of way about that. Again, I had offered this to Jim. If anything, I found it kind of hot that I could give him this.

I tiptoed my way upstairs and turned the doorknob, only to find it locked. I turned it again, thinking I just wasn't awake enough or something. Nope. It was locked. I sighed. Welp. I guess yet another plan backfired on me. I traced sad fingertips along the surface of the door for a few seconds, wondering where all of this was heading, and then I went to sleep in the guest room.

The next morning, I got the kids off to school. Then Jim and I had it out. It wasn't easy. I had to pry him out of his shell.

"How was it?" I asked as he got ready for work.

No response.

"Jim. Please. I'm trying--"

"Oh, you're trying? You're trying to make up for being a cheating slut? And I'm supposed to reward you with, what, gratitude? I'm supposed to be thankful that my wife took pity on me a hired a sex worker? You want to know how it was? It was fucking great. The best sex of my life. I didn't know sex could be so good. It was so much better than sex with you had ever been or ever could be. That woman made me see god."

He kept advancing on me as he growled at me.

"What's more, that woman? That sex worker? She has more class is her asshole than you have in your whole fucking lying, cheating, deceiving, backstabbing body. I HATE you with a fiery fucking passion. I never want to see you again and I never want you anywhere near the children. You disgust me, you filthy fucking piece of shit! That's how it went!"

He was towering over me, seething with rage. Shoulders heaving, eyes burning, finger stabbing toward at my eye. I thought he might hit me. I think I kind of wanted him to, just so he could release all of this pent-up fury.

I didn't cry. I was too startled, too horrified, too defeated. I mean, I don't know what kind of reaction I expected from him but I certainly didn't expect that.

"I want you to get the fuck out of my house and my life forever, you goddamn fucking cunt!"

That word seemed to echo around and around our kitchen. I nodded. Said okay. And I turned to go pack my things.

I turned to look at my husband one last time, his face crimson with anger.

"For whatever it's worth, Jim. I didn't hire her as a pity fuck. You're a handsome, charming, sexy man. You don't need my help getting laid. I'm sorry I wounded you so horribly--"

"Don't flatter yourself, bitch. You can't hurt me! Now that I know that real women like Jessica exist? Who fucking needs you?"

I nodded and went upstairs. I pulled my suitcase out of the closet and started packing. It was difficult to see through the tears or to make things fit with my shaking hands. I'm not even sure I knew what I was packing; I was too bewildered and overwhelmed by the level of hatred he was unloading on me.

"Where are you going?" he said. I hadn't heard him come into the room.

"You told me to leave."

"Yeah, where are you going? To Curt?"

"Curt? No. I don't want Curt, I want you, Jim! But fine! I can't have you. I get it. I'll leave and you'll never see me again. I'm going to my parents."

"What will you tell them?"

"What do you want me to tell them?"

"That you're a lying, cheating fucking slut."

"Okay, I'll tell them that."

"Say it. Say it like you're going to say it to your mom."

"Mom, I cheated on my wonderful husband. I am a lying, cheating, backstabbing slut."

"Who doesn't deserve to live!"

That statement hung in the air like a dagger dangling over my head.

I stared at him. He knew he'd crossed a line. However shaky I'd been up to that moment, my hands were suddenly rock steady. I turned my attention back to packing, everything suddenly coming into focus. This goes there. That goes over there...

"I didn't mean that."

This dress goes here...

"I'm sorry."

I paused, still looking at my suitcase.

"I didn't fuck Jessica last night."

I looked at him. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I wanted to, obviously. Who wouldn't? But I was so furious with you for having cheated on me AGAIN and then having ambushed me with her that I couldn't do it. I wanted to hate-fuck her into next week so I could experience what you had with Curt, but I was so mad I couldn't even fucking get it up."

He starts sobbing.

I place a hand on his shoulder. He tenses but doesn't pull away.

"I just felt like the world's biggest schmuck. A giant, impotent cuck. Here was I with the hottest chick I've ever seen in my life begging me to fuck her, and I couldn't fucking do it. I cried like the little bitch that I am."

I lose my shit. I collapse to my knees and burst into tears.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I keep trying to make things better, and I just keep making them worse. I shouldn't have ambushed you like that. And you're not a cuck, Jim. You're perfect. I'm an asshole. Nothing that I do can change who you are. I just wanted us to move forward. To try to evolve our marriage so we can start fresh. So that Curt isn't in your head anymore."

"But you just fucked the guy! Again!"

"And I'm glad I did."

That catches him off guard.

"Because he doesn't have power over me anymore. If I saw him tomorrow, naked in a hotel room, I wouldn't suddenly swoon and fall onto his cock. I'm past that. Fucking him the other day demystified him. I mean, I still think he's attractive. But he's just a guy now. He's not some magical being. Yes, I enjoy having sex with him. But not at the expense of losing you. I just wanted you to experience what I had. To have a super-hot person shine their light on you so you can experience how thrilling it is. And you've told me your number one fantasy was to have a threesome, and then you mentioned Jessica to me and well, I thought I could force the issue.

"Well, obviously that was stupid of me. You're not some impotent chump just because you can't get an instant hate-hard-on. That's not who you are. You're a sensitive, sweet guy. I just thought if we were doing it together, it could be fun. And maybe we could turn the corner and start to enjoy things and maybe create a new marriage.

"Look, if you tell me you never want me to see Curt Sherwood again... fine. I'll throw away his number and never look back. I can do that. I'm not going to fall apart the next time I bump into him. But, Jim, we've been there before. I've spent this entire year trying to convince you I didn't want him, but he was still in your head, causing problems. If you want this to be a monogamous relationship like it was, you need to meet me halfway. Because I've been doing all the work."

"You broke it in the first place."

"I did. And it sucks that you should have to do anything at all, but that's how relationships work. They're never one way. I personally think our best way forward is to stop trying to fix our old marriage. I think that ship has sailed, and yes, I'm the one who piloted it out to sea. But it's out there. I fucked up, but the damage is done. So you need to decide whether you want anything to do with me at all. And if so, then we need to find a way forward."

"So what's your plan? We're gonna start having threesomes? You're gonna go fuck Curt whenever you want while I, what, sleep with someone else?"

"I don't know the exact formula. I just don't see us being able to recreate our old marriage. So what if instead we just tried instead to make each other as happy as possible? We listen to each other's wants and needs, then give each other space and the means to explore those desires. Maybe it's stupid. Maybe I'm being naïve. I just don't see us putting the genie back in the bottle."

"The genie in this analogy is Curt's cock?"

I couldn't help but snort. "Actually, I was thinking about Jessica's ass. Did you get a load of that thing? Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

He didn't laugh, but the tension lowered. He sat there trying to process all of this.

"It is a fucking marvel," he said.

"Right?"

"She has really soft skin."

"Yeah? Can I tell you something? Watching her seduce you got me so fucking hot I came in about three seconds after you two went upstairs."

"You're a sick fuck, aren't you?"

I smiled. "A naughty fuck, maybe."

I placed a hand on his thigh. "I'm sorry. About everything. I love you, Jim. More than anything. I'm sorry I keep fucking things up. But I love you."

He nodded. A few tears escaped his closed eyes, and I wiped them away. I caressed his face and brushed his hair.

"We can survive this, Jim. And I think when we do, we'll be stronger than ever."

"But you want to keep sleeping with Curt."

"Actually, I can't stop thinking about Jessica. Her tits, Jim! Did you see her fucking tits! I think we need to give that another shot. Only this time it'll be that threesome you're always going on about."

"I mentioned it once, ten years ago."

"Mmm... and I've been thinking about it ever since. What do you say? I'll give her a ring... See what she's up to this weekend...?"

"What was that about the two of you sucking my cock?"

I smiled. I pushed his knees together and straddled him. I draped my arms over his shoulders.

"Let me set the scene for you." I started drawing on his chest with my nail, occasionally tickling his abs the way he likes. "You're lying down on this here bed, buck naked. Your beautiful cock standing at attention the way I love. Me on your left. Jessica on your right, her boobs boobing majestically in the moonlight..."

He laughed. "They are pretty majestic."

I bit my lip and whispered, "Fuck yeah, they are." I sucked in air through my teeth. And I could feel heat start to emanate from him. I started grinding on his lap and stroking his hair. "And we'll know all about her majestic tits because you and I will have just sucked on them, licking them until her beautiful nipples are hard and she's writhing under us, her pussy so wet it's dripping, eager for your cock to slip inside."

"You've clearly given this some thought."

I smiled and kissed him. "Mmm... New idea. You're lying down, Jessica is lying on top, her back on your chest, her firm-but-supple ass on your hips. Your cock is pleasuring her. Every stroke is hitting her front wall, stimulating her G-spot. You've got one hand on her tit, pinching her nipple--wait, no, two hands, both nipples. And meanwhile, I'm licking her clit. My tongue occasionally dipping down to lick your cock as you ram it home."

"Jesus."

I pushed him back and lay on top. I kissed his chin, his cheeks, his forehead, and kept spelling out my fantasy, grinding into his now-rock-hard cock as I do.

"And when you cum, your jizz fills her and spills out of her pussy. And guess who's there to clean up your mess?"

I slipped my tongue in his mouth, and he pulled off my shirt and began caressing my back.

"Can we get back to the dual-tongue action on my cock?"

"You mean your rock-hard cock?"

"The very one."

"It's feeling pretty rock hard now. Shall I demonstrate?"

He smiled. "Only if your boobs will boob majestically?"

I sat up. "You mean these little puppies? They do a lot of cool things, but they definitely don't boob majestically."

He sat up. "I love your tits."

"Yeah?" I guided his head down to my chest. "Prove it."

We fucked with a passion we hadn't had in over a year. He fucked me the way I was telling him how to fuck Jessica, and we came together with a satisfied grunt. After lying in each other's arms and apologizing and promising to be good to each other, I begged him to fuck my ass.

He complied. And god almighty did I love it.

The next morning was magical. We snuggled and kissed and caressed each other, taking our sweet time getting up despite our kids pleading for pancakes.

I finally had my husband back.

I asked him if he still wanted a threesome, and he said yes. I think I was more excited than he was.

Jessica wasn't sure at first. She said she didn't want to step into the middle of any marital problems, but we assured her we were okay.

She arrived at 9:30, after our kids were well asleep.

After greeting her, we both took her upstairs. She took off her jacket, revealing yet another strapless wonder of a dress.

"Now these," I said, talking to Jim but gesturing to Jessica's tits like they were the grand prize in a TV game show, "boob majestically."

"Yes, they do," Jim said.

We practically assaulted that poor woman.

And yes, Jim got to live his fantasy of having two chicks slurping all over his cock. It was pretty thrilling licking up his shaft with Jessica's stunning face inches from mine, licking the other side. I almost got off just from her penetrating eye contact. Then our tongues would touch and frolic for a second before going back to work on Jim's dick. I kissed her shoulders and let her do the honors of finishing him off. Watching her plush lips work his shaft got me so hot I started rubbing myself. And when Jim exploded in her mouth and a little bit of jizz trickled down her lips, I had my own little orgasm.

And yes, I got to lick the living hell out of her delicious pussy, which was such a fucking thrill, I can't even tell you. I still think about it. My tongue flickering over her clit while my fingers probed her insides... It also didn't hurt that my husband was railing her ass at the time. Anyway, the sound of her squealing orgasm--even muffled by a pillow--well, that has lived in my fantasies ever since.

Finally, Jim got to live out his other threesome fantasy whereby I was lying on top of Jessica, making out with her while he stood at the foot of the bed, sliding his cock from one pussy to the next. The fact that he finished in me instead of her gave me such a wonderful orgasm--made especially nice because I had that vision of a woman looking up at me, caressing my face as I finished.

"You have a great O face," she told me afterward, which got me hot all over again.

Even though I only hired her for the night, she asked if she could stay over, which was fine by us. She slept between us and gently stroked Jim's face until he fell asleep. Which took all of one minute. The poor dude was spent. Then she slowly, carefully turned to face me, and we gazed into each other's eyes, occasionally kissing, often stroking each other's faces and bodies. Then she propped herself on one elbow and leaned over me. Her red hair cascaded over my face, and she whispered, "That was really nice, thank you. Maybe we can do it again."

Jim and I awoke before she did. I caught him gazing at her voluptuous body. She was lying on her stomach. Her ass was assing assily, and Jim was mesmerized by it. When he realized I was awake, I think I caught a brief glimpse of guilt on his face, but I pointed at Jessica's ass and mouthed, "Look at that ass!" which made him laugh. Then I mouthed, "I love you," and he returned the sentiment.

That was the first time in a year.

Our sexcapade with Jessica definitely eased whatever tension was still remaining between us.

"Who next?" I asked him a couple of days later. "I mean, I'd love to just keep fucking Jessica, but we can't afford that. So I was thinking we might try a non sex worker for a change of pace."

"Women," he said to clarify.

"Yeah, just women. Who do you have the hots for?"

He was reluctant to tell me at first, but I kept offering suggestions, and he knew he was in a safe space, so he finally gave me two. The first was Miss Logan, our son's eighth-grade teacher.

My jaw dropped. "Holy shit, yes. She's so fucking fine. Oh my god. She's rocking that librarian thing... Fuck yeah."

He laughed. I could see him getting turned on just by how eager I was to do this. "Might be problematic, her being our son's teacher and all, so maybe we need to table that until summertime. But I am definitely in. Who else? Come on, I know you've got someone juicy. I can feel it."

He was really embarrassed to say.

"Is it my mom? I mean, no judgment, though I might not join you for that."

"No.

"Your mom? Because if so, then yeah, I'm all in."

"Kristine."

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh...? Look at you, lusting after your friend's wife."

He turned red.

"Well, welcome to the party, pal. That's definitely a go."

"Really?

"Are you fucking kidding me? She's hot as balls."

"What about Rick?"

"He's a'ight." Jim rolls his eyes. "Tell you what," I said, already grabbing my phone. "Lemme talk to Kristine and suss out the sitch."

I made a coffee date the next morning. After chatting for a while--it had been a bit since we last caught up--I took the plunge.

"Let me ask you a super embarrassing question."

"You want to do a three-way. I'm in."

My eyebrows flew off my head.

"Sorry, just a little joke. What is it?"

I turned red.

"No," she said in disbelief.

I nodded.

"For real?"

Another nod.

"You, me, your husband?"

Another one.

Now it was her turn to turn red.

"Not a four-way?"

I shook my head.

She bit her lip.

"Would you ever consider having sex with my husband?"

"Rick? No, why?"

She shrugged. "You're his hall pass."

I blushed. "Me?"

"Well, he has like five, but yeah, you."

"I don't really want to sleep with another guy."

"That's not what I've heard."

I went cold. She leaned in. "Rumor has it that you and Curt Sherwood..."

She could tell from my expression that it was true.

"You bitch!" she said with utter jealousy. "Tell me everything!"

"Only if you agree to a threesome."

She thought about it for a moment. "Would you hate me if I told you I had the hots for your husband?"

I grinned. "Not in the slightest. Tell me what you like about him."

She wasn't sure how serious I was, but once I got her talking, it was clear she had been harboring a deep-seated desire for Jim for years. The more she talked, the hotter I got.

"So you're in?" I said finally.

"I mean, I'll do it... but if I can be honest? I'd rather it just be a twosome."

I bit my lip and stared at hers. I told her that was fine by me, and we set a date.

Jim wasn't so sure at first. He thought our marriage wasn't ready for that, but I assured him I'd be fine, and no, I wasn't going to spend the night with Curt.

"Jim. This woman thirsts for your dick."

He blushed.

I met her outside our house on the appointed night. I asked about Rick; she said Rick didn't need to know. He was probably off having his own affair. I guess their marriage had been on the rocks for some time.

"How free am I?" she asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"How unhinged do you want me to be?"

Ahhh... I grabbed her by the shoulders. "Kristine, I mean this with all my heart. I want you to go in there with every intention of trying to steal my husband away from me. I want you to unleash your inner whore and go to fucking town on that man."

She seemed more turned on than weirded out by my request. "Nothing's off the table?"

I shook my head. "Bring your A-game."

"And if you come home tomorrow and Jim tells you he's leaving you for me?"

"It's a chance I'm willing to take."

"Why? So you can go off with Curt, guilt-free?"

I shook my head. "This has nothing to do with him. I just want Jim to experience a deep, emotional, thrilling fuck-fest, unburdened by my presence."

"Okay... Careful what you wish for."

I gestured like I was a priest giving her a blessing and said, "Go forth and procreate."

She nodded, opened the door, and entered my kitchen. "Jim?"

I took a few steps toward the car where my kids were waiting. Then I heard Jim saying hello, so I turned around, eager to see what kind of reception she would get. From where I'm standing, they couldn't see me.

Nor did they even look.

"Hey, Jim. I don't want this to be awk--"

He scooped her in his arms so quickly and with such passion, I couldn't help but gasp. They pressed their faces together, arms roving over each other's bodies, legs pressing between thighs. He backed her up against the wall and started kissing her neck like she was a holy relic. She thrust her head back and frantically tore at his shirt.

I stumbled back like I'd been stabbed.

What the hell did I just unleash? How long had these two been pining for each other?

I walked to the car in a daze, and it wasn't until Jacob asked me what Aunt Kristine was doing with Daddy that I snapped out of it.

"Oh, just helping him with a few things," I said as I stared at my shaking hands on the steering wheel.

This was what I wanted, right?

Careful what I wished for, indeed.

Once I got to my folk's I had enough distractions to take my mind off of what Jim and Kristine were doing. And I resisted the urge to text him that night.

Curt texted me, asking me if I was available next weekend. It was one of the few weekends he wasn't playing in a tournament, and he was going to be home.

I said maybe. I'd need to check.

I hadn't been completely honest with Kristine about this having nothing to do with Curt. I really did want Jim to have a fantastic and emotionally charged sexcapade with Kristine, so that maybe she could be his Curt. But I still wanted to stay married.

I wasn't especially present that weekend. Thankfully, my parents were there to take up the slack.

My hands were trembling as I drove us home. I nearly got into an accident.

Jim came out to greet the kids, and they spent a few minutes telling him all about the fun they had.

"How was it?" I asked, moving in for a kiss.

"Nice," he said, giving me a cheek.

He didn't really want to talk about it. I kept pressing, trying to feign how sexually aroused I was by this so I could get the deets, but they were not forthcoming.

A few nights later, I was feeling randy, so after the kids were asleep, I put on some lingerie and went to find my husband in his office. He was texting.

"Who's that?" I asked, tracing a finger along his desk.

"Hm? Oh, Guy. He got a new bourbon."

He was lying to me. I could tell. He only ever lied to me once before, and that was on account of a surprise birthday party he threw me. But I could see by the way he shifted his eyes that he was lying.

And my heart shattered into a million pieces.

His phone buzzed. He didn't look at it.

"Jim, if it's Kristine, you can just tell me. I'd rather you rip the band-aid off than do a whole--"

"It's Kristine.

I nodded. "You two have a connection."

"What do you want? You even told her you wanted her to steal me from you, which is fucking weird."

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd actually leave me. I just wanted-- You know what? Forget it. I wish you two the best. Truly."

I turned to go upstairs, struggling--and failing--to keep it together.

"You can't have it both ways! You don't get to manipulate people and have them behave according to your whims--"

I hold up my hand. "I'm not mad at you, Jim. I did this to myself. But I am allowed to be sad about it. I've been fighting for two years to save our marriage, and now suddenly you're telling me it's over."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of fighting. With Kristine, I can finally relax and be myself."

Talk about a gut-punch.

I cried in the shower until the hot water ran out. When I was done, Jim decided he still needed to lecture me about how it was all my fault. And I was like, yeah, I know, stop yelling at me. You win. You've got the girl of your dreams, and I'm getting kicked to the curb. But that didn't stop him. I guess he was just feeling guilty, and then mad about feeling guilty, because he felt like he still had the moral high ground.

I texted Curt that I was definitely available if he'd still have me. He said Awesome, let's go to my beach house.

Of all the time-tested cures for a broken heart, having a hot, rich boyfriend is definitely the way to go.

I arrived at his beach house, which was two hours from mine, and he literally swept me off my feet and carried me to the bedroom. We emerged an hour later, and I needed a cool drink to calm down my throat.

He asked me if I was all right. I said absolutely. He said: "Hey. Come on now. We have all weekend. Obviously you're not all right. If you were all right, you'd only have one night. So tell me what's going on with your marriage that you are suddenly able to spend two nights with me."

"You're surprisingly introspective for a jock."

"I'm a man of many talents. Well, three. Golf, sex, and listening. So come on. Let's have it."

I told him everything.

"I mean, how fucking cocky of me to tell my friend to steal my husband. Who do I think I am, god's gift to men?"

"It actually sounds like it worked out for the best. I mean, let's say you had a threesome. If they're as into each other as you say they are, you would have felt their passion and felt awkward about it the entire time. Then there would have been this simmering tension for months before it finally escalated into full-on infidelity. As you said before: it's better to rip off that band-aid straightaway."

He was right, of course, though it still hurt. And I spent a few minutes crying on his shoulder about it. Then I apologized for crying about my marriage when I should be spending the weekend fully invested in him.

"You're fine. Divorce is tough, believe me. I've done it twice. Now. If you're good, let's go have some revenge sex. I love revenge sex."

It was an amazing night. And waking up in his arms the next morning when neither of us had anywhere to rush off to was a little slice of heaven.

Seeing as I seemed to be on the verge of being available, he spent the next day giving me the full-court press. So he wined and dined me--mostly dining on my pussy--and by the time I was getting ready to leave on Sunday, I confess I was falling for him.

I mean, how could I not?

Only problem was that he was a professional athlete, so he was on the road for 30 weeks of the year. He wouldn't be home for another month. He invited me to join him, though that was impossible. I couldn't be away from my kids for even just one week.

No problem, he said, and we made a date for next month.

In the meantime, I was stuck at home with a husband who was already moving on to his next relationship and angry with me for everything I did or didn't do. I still wasn't sure why he was so mad at me, but again, I chalked it up to him feeling guilty.

A week after my weekend with Curt, Jim handed me divorce papers. I cried, and we got into another fight. He said how dare I make him feel bad about divorcing me, since I was the reason for our divorce in the first place. I told him to fuck off, and well, it escalated from there.

A week later, I was sitting at a café, writing, when a familiar voice said my name. It was Jessica. She joined me and asked if I was okay. I said yes, not wanting to burden her, but then she pressed me. She'd seen Jim and Kristine out on the town with my kids, looking for all the world like a loving couple. So, once again, I told someone my sad tale.

She listened, studying me as I spoke. She said she was sorry to hear all this, though I could tell she wasn't all that surprised, given how Jim had acted during her first visit.

"But you said you're with someone else as well?"

I nodded and told her about Curt. Her eyes lit up.

"For real? Curt Sherwood?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess as far as sad tales go, this one's no country song, but, you know, I still love my husband."

She asked me the typical questions about Curt: how good he was in the sack, how big his dick was, etc.

I said I was surprised she had never hooked up with him, given how it looked like they were hitting it off at that Halloween party. She said they hadn't. She had desperately wanted to, but she was with a client at the time, and he was too interested in someone else. She pointed at me when she said that. I still couldn't believe Curt was that into me, given that he could have someone like Jessica.

"Well, uh, if you ever want me to join you and Curt for a threesome, just let me know," she said with a laugh. "No charge!"

I said I would, though I was done messing around. The last thing I needed was for her to steal Curt from me.

A few nights later, I went to a club. This was not something I typically did, and in fact, I had never set foot in our town's only nightclub this entire time I'd lived here. But it was Jim's night to be with the kids, and Cindy had invited me, wanting to catch up. We drank, danced, and generally had a good time. It felt good to let off a little steam. Anyway, who did I see on the dance floor but Jessica.

She was surrounded by a group of guys, and they had their hands all over her. I mean all over. Groping her tits, her ass, grinding into her. She was acting pretty wild. Something about those guys made me go over there and check on her.

"Jessica! Good to see you again!" I said, inserting myself into the midst of the veritable gangbang.

"Heeyyyy!" she said, pulling me in and kissing me. And while I appreciated the sentiment, her eyes were glossy as shit.

I grabbed her hand and started guiding her away from those guys, when one of them called me a bitch and grabbed my arm.

I didn't even hesitate. I spun around and shoved the heel of my palm into his nose, sending him reeling. Blood gushed from his nose. His friends were ready to murder me when Cindy showed up, pepper spray canister in hand, and said, "Try me, bitches!"

We took Jessica out to get some fresh air. I don't know what they slipped her, but good god was she blitzed. She kept trying to make out with me. I asked her where she lived, but she was pretty incoherent, so I grabbed her purse and found her license. I said goodnight to Cindy, thanking her for her help, and then drove Jessica home.

I put her to bed and tucked her in. I felt like I should stay with her, just in case. She only had a one-bedroom apartment, so I just slept on the other side of her bed on top of her comforter. I kept waking up to check that she was still alive.

The next morning, she had no memory of the night before. She remembered going to the club and ordering a drink, and that was it. She thanked me profusely for saving her. Then she burst into tears.

"I just fucking hate having to be on guard all the fucking time. It's just so fucking tedious. I'm tired of not being able to trust anyone."

I hugged her, and she cried into my shoulder.

"And I mean, woe is me. I'm hot. How bad can life be? But fucking hell, it's just a constant onslaught of creeps and assholes."

She finally calmed down. "And women are the worst." She wipes her tears away. "You'd think they'd be allies, but they fucking hate me. They're so goddamn judgy. They say that's what I get for being a sex worker. And I'm like..." She gestured, struggling to find the words.

"You're getting it from all sides."

"Yes! Exactly!" She looked at me. "Sorry to trauma dump all over you. I'm just trying to say, it really means so much to me to have one decent human being look out for me."

"Yeah, of course." I shrugged my shoulders like it was no big deal, but she looked at me like I hadn't properly acknowledged her pain, so I held her face in my hands and stared into her eyes. "Hey. I've got your back, okay? You ever need someone to rescue you or just be a friend, you call me."

She smiled and nodded. And then burst into tears again and fell into my arms.

Once I felt like she was emotionally stable, I told her I needed to get back to kid duty before my husband lost his shit.

She texted me the next day, asking if she could take me out for a drink to thank me. I said she didn't need to, but she insisted. "Wear something nice," she said.

She took me to Henry's, this fancy cocktail club over on High Street. Given her recent experience, though, we both ordered bottles of beer. We toasted and started chatting. It was nice getting to know her. She was smart and interesting. Plus, it was a relief to talk about something other than my love life. We had a great laugh making fun of the other patrons, and we spent a good half hour leaning into each other, making snide comments, and generally feeling superior.

"Thanks for coming out with me," she said after a while. She looked up at me, embarrassed. "I, uh, I don't really have any friends, so it's been nice to just relax and have fun."

"Here's to new friends."

We clinked our beers together. Then she asked me to dance.

It's not really a bar for dancing. In fact, we were the only ones doing it. But fucking hell, when she started dancing, all eyes turned to her. She threw her arms up in the air and moved her body like a wave in a way that made everyone in the entire establishment horny.

She wasn't trying to seduce me--I've seen her when she turns that on, and boy, is that something--but it was still hard not to fall for her. She's one of those people who make you want to please them, and when you do, you feel like you're special. Like you're the only one who could have elicited that smile or caused that blushing laugh.

Back at the table, we had another beer and shot the shit. Then she asked me if I wanted to get a little wild tonight.

"How wild?" I said with a laugh.

"See those two college boys over there? I say we bring them to my place and teach them a thing or two about pleasing women."

I snuck a glance. Boy, did they look young. Young and cocksure. I did the math. Yes, I could have been their mom. And when I caught them sneaking a peek not just at Jessica but at me, well, that definitely revved my engine.

"Yeah, I thought so," she said. "Man, I haven't had sex that wasn't paid for in a while. This is gonna be fun."

I followed her lead. Their jaws dropped when we--well, when she--approached their table.

"You boys want to settle a bet for us?"

"What's that?" the boy who I would later learn was named Fernando said.

"My friend says you two wouldn't be able to double-penetrate her, but I say you can."

I could feel my face turn about four shades of red. Double-penetration? Jesus, that sounded painful.

It also sounded hot.

"Only if we can DP you, too," said the other guy, whose name I never did quite catch, but let's call him Derek.

"That'll be your reward for getting her off. Up for the challenge? Of course you are. Look at her. I'm just sad I don't have a dick so we can fill every hole. But... maybe I have something that will work. Let's go."

The four of us walked back to Jessica's apartment, which was only a few blocks away. They were definitely more interested in her than me. And I don't blame them. But Fernando did pry me with questions. So, bonus points for him.

Once upstairs, we quickly shed our clothes. Well, three of us did. Jessica kept hers on, acting more like the activities director than a participant. She bossed them around like they were movie extras. "You: take off her clothes. You: suck on her right tit. You: left tit." That kind of thing.

It only took maybe two minutes before I had two guys licking my tits and making me feel like the second sexiest woman in the world.

She told Fernando, who was the bigger specimen, to lie down on the bed. Then she had me lie on top with my back on his chest. He fucked me for a minute, nearly bringing me to orgasm, when she interrupted us.

"Okay. Time to claim her ass, stud. Be gentle."

He was only the second person to fuck my ass. He was larger than my husband (though not quite as big as Curt), so it was quite an experience. But after some doing, I managed to swallow his entire length. Then Jessica sent Derek in. He slipped between my thighs and slid his girthy cock into my pussy.

I yelled, "Oh my fucking god," which nearly made Derek shoot his load inside me before he could even begin to enjoy it.

I think I enjoyed the transgressive nature of the experience more than the actual fuck itself. There was too much trying to figure out logistics than fucking for my taste. But I did like being used by two sexy young studs.

Jessica could sense that this wasn't going to get me off, so she stripped down and climbed onto her massive king-sized bed and lay down next to me. She inserted a strapless dildo into her pussy and ordered me to get on top. The boys were eager to watch the two of us fuck, especially after seeing how aroused I got just from making out with her. Fuck, I loved kissing that woman. The way her lips worked mine, her hands sliding all over my back, her soft moans... I started cumming even before she slipped her dildo into me. She began thrusting but then told me to grind, and soon, the two of us were cumming together.

Once we had calmed down, she ordered Fernando to straddle me and claim my ass again. That fucking felt amazing, made all the better because I could stare into Jessica's beautiful face. She seemed to get off watching me cum, which only made me cum harder.

Then she tilted my head up and to the side, and sure enough, there was Derek, who quickly inserted his cock into my mouth. I can't say I delivered the world's greatest blowjob--the fact that I was getting tossed around by Fernando made it hard to do anything well. He didn't seem too bothered by my poor technique, though. He filled my mouth the moment Fernando and Jessica came.

I'm just glad I didn't accidentally bite poor Derek's dick off in the process.

Fernando and I showered, while Jessica fucked Derek. I say she fucked him and not the other way around because I could see her turn into her professional self as she took over, shoving the guy onto the bed and blowing him until he was hard again. Then she climbed aboard and started working him with practiced, efficient movements. I came back from the shower just as he was cumming in her.

Fernando was hard again watching this queen get his friend off, so she grabbed him and finished him off, too. Then she handed them their clothes and ushered them out the door.

She turned to face me, hunger in her eyes.

"I thought they'd never leave," she said, immediately switching off her sex worker persona and transforming back into Jessica. She took my face into her soft hands and made out with me for several seconds before asking me if I could give her head the way I had done that night with my husband, saying it was the best orgasm she'd had in months.

It was amazing the difference now that she was no longer in sex worker mode. She had fucked the hell out of those two guys without so much as a groan on her part. She told me she normally just shuts down when she's working. It's the only way to make the job bearable. There are exceptions, she said. And that night with my husband was one of them, mostly because of how eager I'd been to please her. And so the moment I crawled down to her pussy and gently traced my fingers around her vulva and planted soft kisses on her thighs, she instantly reacted, settling down, cooing softly, and letting go.

Unlike last time, when I was so turned on at the thought of licking her pussy that I practically assaulted her, this time I wanted to take things slow and savor the experience. I let my tongue encircle her whole pussy. I delivered long, slow licks up and down her opening, relishing the powerful flavor of her juices mixed with the jizz of those two college boys. I stroked her with my fingertips, tracing little images on her lips, her vulva, her clit.

She was writhing under me, her fingers clutching her sheet, her moans slowly ascending in pitch. I was so hot for her, I could feel my own juices dripping from me. I so wanted to rub myself, and it probably would have taken but ten seconds to get off, but I was more interested in pleasuring her. I wanted to give her the greatest orgasm of her life. That was my holy mission. I used both hands, sending my fingertips all over, in, and around her sex. Then I took my middle finger, now fully coated with her juices, and eased it into her ass, slowly thrusting in and out and rubbing around and around her insides. She uttered a quiet "Oh my god," that was so sensuous and satisfying to my ears that it literally made me cum.

I could sense she was ready. While that one finger was probing her ass, I send in my middle and ring fingers to start applying steady, tender stimulation to her g-spot, and then I made sweet love to her clit with my eager tongue.

She rose and rose and rose until her thighs started to shudder and clamp around my head, and she once again uttered that secret squeal of hers, only this time she didn't have to muffle herself, and once again I came just from the sounds of her ecstasy.

When she finally came down, she was shivering under my touch as my right hand gently glazed over her skin while my left middle finger stayed inside her asshole, gently making its presence known until she finally, finally, finally floated back down to earth.

She sat up, swept over me, kissed me, caressed me, and told me how amazing I was, how powerful that had been for her, how close she felt to me, and that it had been years since she had allowed herself to open up like this. And she slid her dildo back inside her and began making sweet, sweet love to me until we both came with towering, emotionally charged orgasms, and she stared into my eyes, telling me she was in love with me without saying it, and I said me too, me too, me too.

She woke me the next morning with gentle kisses, and we made plans to see each other again.

We saw each other as often as we could. It was tough having to work around her work schedule and Jim's and my kid's duties, but we made it work.

I sold another book--the first of a four-book series--so I took the enormous advance and bought myself a little two-bedroom apartment downtown, only a few blocks away from Jessica's place. I spent the weekend moving in. Then on Monday, when I went back for one last box, I was stunned to find Kristine had moved in.

Things were still pretty icy between the three of us. They still seemed determined to be angry with me for feeling guilty about their relationship. But whatever, I had two people I was falling pretty hard for, so I just let it roll off my back.

Maybe it was all for the best.

Speaking of my two love interests, I introduced the kids to Jessica. Jacob's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he met her. I can only imagine being a fourteen-year-old boy and shaking hands with that voluptuous babe. Even twelve-year-old Lisa was smitten. And she was good with them. We had a wonderful evening watching an action movie, snuggling with the kids, and then, after putting the kids to bed, she and I pleasured each other all night long.

As for Curt, I began texting him regularly, keeping him up to date with my love life, wishing him well on the tour, and making plans to see him when he came home.

It was kind of perfect.

For about three weeks.

I picked him up from the airport and leapt into his arms. It wasn't just that missed him, but I felt like I was unleashed, able to be with him in public and show the world how much I cared for this man. He held me in his big, strong arms and we made quite the spectacle of ourselves in baggage claim.

"Oh my god, I've missed you," he said. He couldn't stop kissing my neck. I wanted him to tear my clothes off right there and then, but we did manage to make it to his house before doing anything indecent.

We spent that entire night exploring each other's bodies and trying new things. I finally let him take my ass, which was... well, I think he may have rearranged my insides with that one. Afterward, I worshipped that man's body, washing him down in the shower, lathering up his skin, massaging his scalp, and finishing him with a nice, sensuous blowjob. Feeling his cock pulsing in my throat as he unloaded into me almost made me high.

He carried me to bed, and we got lost in each other's eyes, arms, and legs, until he pinned my legs behind my head and fucked me senseless.

He asked me if there was any way for me to come on this next trip with him, even though he knew it was impossible. Still, we had a week together, and we were determined to make every second count.

I had the kids the next night, and I invited him over, thinking he would say no, but he eagerly accepted. Turns out he loves kids. He was twelve years younger than me, so he was still hoping to have some of his own, though the moment he said that, he felt kind of bad about it. But I smiled and told him the truth.

"Hey, listen, I consider every moment I get to spend with you a precious gift. But I'm under no illusion you're going to settle down with me, Curt. Let's just have fun and not worry about where this is all leading, okay?"

That sounded good to him.

My kids loved him, though Lisa told him that she thought golf was stupid.

"Well, you're not wrong," he said, "though I make a lot of money doing it, so it's my kind of stupid."

He took me out to dinner the next night, and who should walk by Jessica.

She was with a client who was all gaga over Curt. Then she asked her date if he could give her a second. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Once he was gone, she stood behind me and slid her hands down my arms, wrapping me up in a sensuous hug.

"You know, Curt, it's bad enough you rejected me, but to steal my girlfriend from me is beyond the pale."

He laughed and said he didn't reject her. He just had his sights set on someone else.

"You mean this sexy thing right here?" she said, tilting my head up to her. She bent down and gave me the kind of kiss little girls dream about: a penetrating stare followed by pillowy lips, and finishing with a flourish of tongue. I felt a piece of my soul leave my body when she pulled away. She smiled at my lips, bit her own, then her eyes drifted up to mine.

"Don't fall in love with him," she purred, "or I'll be cross." She whispered in my ear, "Come home to me soon, okay, baby?"

A teensy tiny kiss on my earlobe...

and she was gone, taking the air out of the room with her.

It took a second to remember where I was. I glanced at Curt, whose jaw was on the table.

"Check, please!"

Good lord, did that man ravish me that night. We no sooner entered his house than he tore off my clothes. Next thing I knew, I was airborne. He sat me on his shoulders and held me aloft while his tongue lavished my pussy with praise, just like he had that very first time we were together. I came with a squeal, and he then slid me back down and impaled me with his cock. Unlike last time, when he used me like a fleshlight, raising and lowering me on his cock, this time he was too turned on. He backed me up against the wall and went to fucking town until we both came with animalistic grunts.

I came so hard I started giggling like a high-school stoner.

Back in his bed, I teased him.

"You were so turned on by Jessica and me you couldn't restrain yourself."

"I can neither confirm nor deny these true allegations."

"Wanna do a threesome for your last night here?"

"I mean, you know, whatever. If that's something you wanna do, who am I to say no?"

I climbed on top and started kissing him. Fucking hell. The thought of fucking these two beautiful people at the same time got me instantly wet.

"Just do me a favor. Don't fall in love with her. I couldn't handle it."

Once again, I had a gorgeous human being stare into my eyes that night. "How can I fall in love with her when I'm head over heels for you?"

His tongue slipped into my mouth, which made me long for something else to replace it.

"Can I ask another favor?"

"I like doing you favors because they usually end up with me having the deepest orgasms of my life."

I smiled. "Well, I was just kind of hoping you'd shoot some of your white-hot semen straight down my throat. You know, if you're not doing anything in the next half hour or so."

His cock slipped into my pussy.

"Can I coat it in your pussy juices first? You know, for extra lubrication."

"You just give and give, don't you?"

**

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" I asked Jessica. I was painting my toenails while we FaceTimed. We didn't usually call each other, but I wanted to see her excitement when I told her.

"I have a client. A repeat customer. Gotta keep those guys happy. Why? Aren't you spending it with what's his name?"

"Ahh, too bad. What's his name wanted to do a threesome with us, but, uh, I guess--"

"I'm suddenly wide open," she said. I could see her texting her client as we spoke.

"Oh, you'll be wide open, all right, baby."

"You know, I'm free right now, too..." she said.

Half an hour later, she was sliding her strapless dildo inside me. Afterward, as we snuggled together, I said, "Please don't fall in love with him."

"Why would I fall in love with him when I'm already in love with you?"

"Well, he's got a giant cock, and he's great at sex."

"Those are pretty compelling reasons."

She saw that I was genuinely concerned, though.

"Hey, look at me." She took my face in her hands. "I know you've been burned before. I'm not a bitch. I don't want to steal your man. You know what I do want? I want the three of us to have a great time. Then I want him to go on tour, and you and I continue our love fest. And then we will deign to allow him to pleasure the shit out of us when he returns. Doesn't that sound like a way better plan?"

I nodded. And she went to town on my pussy, making me feel seen and loved.

The next night, she and I rang Curt's doorbell.

"Ladies," he said, taking us both in. "Can I ask a small favor before we start? Would you two make out? That turned me on so fucking much."

Jessica was only too happy to oblige, swooping me into her arms, her hands stroking my hair. "Shall we give him a show?"

"Seems like the least we can do," I said, pulling her down to me. And once again she managed to make me forget that I was a mortal being on this here Earth.

Curt was on us in a heartbeat, wrapping us in his arms, kissing her, kissing me, his lips ranging down my neck to my chest before he turned to kiss up from hers.

"Shall we take this inside?" he said, coming up for air.

"Prude," Jessica said.

Even though I had been terrified that the two of them would immediately fall in love and quickly abandon me, that was not what happened.

At first.

Curt had hired a chef to make us a fancy meal, and the three of us ate like royalty. There was lots of teasing and hinting about what activities we'd be up to later on that evening, but in general, we just had a chill dinner, filled with drinks and laughter. I thought, boy, I could get used to this.

Dinner finished, he escorted us upstairs to his bedroom--one of six in his enormous house.

He stood before us, looking like a kid who had just come downstairs on Christmas morning. He clapped his hands together and said, "Where do we start?"

"You. Off with your clothes," I said, deciding to take charge.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. Seconds later, he stood before us, buck-ass naked and looking fine as could be. Jessica's eyes roamed all over his body, but of course she was drawn to his cock, which, even limp, was still quite the specimen.

"This," I said, kneeling before him and taking his cock in my hand, "is what I like to refer to as Mr. Happy." I gestured for her to join me on the floor. When she did, I said, "Although he looks rather sad at the moment, doesn't he?"

"What do you recommend, doctor?" Jessica asked me. She traced her fingertips along his abs, causing him to suck in air.

"Teamwork," I said. I leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the left side of his cock. It moved ever so slightly. "See?"

She kissed the other side and smiled as it moved some more. Then she smiled at me. "I seem to remember doing this with you once before," meaning when we pleasured my soon-to-be ex-husband. "Though this is going to take a little more effort on our part."

Then we began to work his shaft. Even now, knowing where this was all leading, I still get hot picturing her face, her lips, her tongue as she and I worked Curt up to full mast. We kissed him, then kissed each other, then licked him, then licked each other, until I told her to wrap her lips around his head. Her soft moan when she accepted him into her got me so wet, not to mention his whispering, "Holy fuck," as he gazed down at the redheaded beauty sucking his cock like the pro she is. He was getting hotter and hotter.

I whisked off my clothes. "Want to see my favorite thing ever?"

She smiled and paused her ministrations. "Show me."

I climbed onto his bed, dangling my head off the edge. He laughed and said, "How lucky am I?" He slid his cock into my mouth and eased it down my throat.

"Oh myyyy," Jessica whispered. She crawled over and kissed my neck as his cock slid in and out of me. I could see her rubbing her pussy as Curt started pumping into me faster and faster until he came with a grunt. Then I heard her moan to completion. She climbed onto the bed and started licking my pussy, only needing a few seconds before I joined them in ecstasy.

She pulled me onto the bed and kept kissing my sex, whispering how that may have been the hottest thing she had ever seen. And then her eyes went wide as Curt entered her. Her face was pressed into my pussy, and her moans quickly turned to squeals. I could tell she wanted to pleasure me while he was fucking her, but she gave up on that plan as he was just too much for her. That was okay by me as the look on her face and the sound of her squeals gave me my own orgasm.

When he completed inside her, she collapsed on my stomach. It took several seconds for them both to recover.

"Holy shit," she said to me finally. "You weren't kidding."

We spent the rest of the evening trying various positions, each of us getting the rock star treatment of having two of us pleasuring the third. We fell asleep with Curt in the middle of the bed surrounded by the two of us. And as I drifted off, I had a big old smile on my face. I had been worried about nothing. Everything was perfect. This was the start of a new and beautiful relationship.

I fell asleep warm and happy.

I awoke cold and alone.

It took me a second to realize where I was, and a little longer to realize that something was off.

Then I heard her. She was upstairs, having yet another one of her squealy orgasms, the kind that still get me wet. She and Curt had left me to go fuck. I tried not to be too upset about it, but the longer I lay there, the more paranoid, hurt, and mad I got. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I got up and padded upstairs. I found them in the last guest room on the right. He was fucking her the way he had first fucked me: her heels on his shoulders, her ass in his hands, her pussy riding his enormous cock. And she was looking at him the same way I did, with a look of wonder, awe, and pure ecstasy. And he was looking at her the same way.

I could tell. This wasn't just sex for them. This was a revelation.

When he came in her, she moaned, "Yeah, baby, yeah. Fill me. Fill me. Fill me."

They gazed at each other with such love; I knew that was it for me. I had once again brought two people together only for them to realize they were soulmates.

"Very nice," I said.

They near about jumped out of their skin. The guilt emanating from them was palpable.

"Heyyy," Jessica said, her face turning red. "Sorry! We didn't want to wake you."

"No worries," I said, trying to play it cool. Maybe I was just being paranoid. "You know, since we're up..." I stepped in behind Jessica, tickled her back, and planted kisses on her shoulder. "Maybe we could try something else..."

They laughed, and Curt let her down. And, yeah, it was clear. They weren't interested. They were too tired, they said. And we went back to Curt's room and climbed into bed. He apologized for waking me, and before long, they were asleep.

I lay tucked under his right arm, my mind racing with jealousy and pain. I briefly thought about slipping out of the house and running away in defeat. It was hours before I feel back to sleep.

When I awoke, I wasn't alone, but they weren't with me. He was lying facing her, his hands caressing her face, her fingers playing through his hair. They were in their own little world, and I felt like the biggest chump in the world.

"Morning," I said, and once again, they jumped.

"Hey," he said, turning around, trying to work a smile onto his face. "How long have you been up?"

"Long enough to know that I should leave."

"What do you mean?" he asked, though it was pretty fucking clear what I meant. And I could see it plain as day on his face. He had chosen her.

I got up and started getting dressed, trying not to cry.

"Why couldn't you have just fucking left with her at that first Halloween party instead of ruining my marriage first?"

"Hey, don't be like that."

"And you," I said, turning to her. She could barely look me in the eye. "Have you just been playing me this whole time?"

"What? No, of course not!"

I honestly couldn't tell from her reaction if she had, in fact, love-bombed me just so she could work her way into his arms. There are days when it all seems so clear. That she had played me like a chump, and then there are days when I think, "No, she was really into me. These things just happen."

I left, grabbing my things throughout the house.

"Hey, come on, don't leave mad," Curt said. He was naked and trying to make things right.

"Did you ask her to go with you on tour?"

His face froze.

"Wow."

And I left.

Then the dam burst. I had to pull over at one point because I was crying so hard I couldn't see the road.

I had lost everything.

Curt later texted me an apology, saying how sorry he was that they had done the very thing I had been so terrified they would do. Jessica messaged me saying the same thing, and that she had never planned for that to happen.

I didn't respond to either message.

I spent a week in shambles.

Two Sundays later, I went to my former house to collect the kids. Jim was watching the end of the US Open, and I caught Curt sinking a putt on the eighteenth green at Pebble Beach. The crowd went wild, and he stood on the green pumping his fists in victory. And who fucking runs up and leaps into his arms but Jessica.

I felt Kristine's and Jim's eyes rove over to me. Goddamn, but I wanted to smack the smirk off of Kristine's face.

"I guess things are over between you and Curt," he said finally.

"Guess so."

"Was it worth it?"

I looked at him. Then I shouted for the kids to hurry up and get ready.

"Well?" he asked.

"What do you want me to say, Jim? Why are you still so bitter? You won! You've got everything, and I've got nothing. And yet you're still so angry with me. Why can't you just enjoy being in a loving relationship? Why do you feel the need to kick me while I'm down?"

"Because you brought it upon yourself."

"And I paid the fucking price! I hope neither of you ever makes a fucking mistake."

"Well, at least I don't have to worry that she is going to cheat on me."

"I'm sure Rick felt the same way."

Well, that was definitely fighting words, and Kristine was quick to anger. "What's that supposed to mean, bitch?"

"I'm just saying, you two are acting all superior, but you cheated on and left your husband to be with him. But somehow it's different for you than for me."

Well, they weren't happy with any of that, and they were busy yelling at me when the kids came downstairs. I ignored them and ushered the kids outside, where they had a lot of questions.

I vowed never to talk to Kristine or my husband again. I couldn't wait for our divorce to finalize.

Speaking of Rick, I ran into him at the coffee shop a few days later, and he went off on me, yelling at the top of his lungs about how I was a homewrecker. He got so loud the manager kicked us both out. I was all, WTF, dude, I'm just sitting here, but the manager didn't give a shit.

I sat in my car and cried my eyes out. I just wanted to drive and keep on driving till I ran out of road.

**

And... that was the end of my story--or at least it was when I started writing it down.

It was a tale of a woman who wanted everything and ended up with nothing. I mean, yes, I still had my kids, but even they had grown distant--especially Lisa, who, although she never actually said anything, definitely resented my not being around all the time.

And that was that. I had become what I loathed. And it had destroyed me.

But I hated that ending. Even though I did spend several months at rock bottom, a shell of my former self, sinking into a deep depression, I just couldn't bear to publish my story because that would mean I was resigning myself to a shitty ending. I felt like, if I held off publishing this, then maybe a better ending would reveal itself to me.

And then it happened.

Even though my personal life was in shambles, my writing career had never been better. I guess all that angst and heartbreak was good for something.

Anyway, I was invited to a writer's conference in Asheville. It was quite fun. I hosted a workshop and participated in a few panels. Then I had a book signing for my latest novel, which was shooting up the charts. The line was out the door. And suddenly Curt and Jessica walked up, book in hand.

He was in town for another golf tournament, and she was positively glowing. I immediately knew she was pregnant, though she wasn't showing yet. Once I got over the shock of seeing them, they gushed over my latest novel and invited me out for dinner. I wasn't going to go, but Jessica begged me until I said yes.

It was nice, actually. As hurt as I had been at the time, time gave me a little perspective. I had never had any illusion that I was going to marry Curt. I certainly couldn't give him what he wanted in terms of being someone who could go on tour with him, and I certainly wasn't about to have any more kids. Jessica's betrayal or whatever it was had been the real blow. But watching the two of them at dinner, it was clear they were madly in love with each other, so it was hard for me to carry a grudge about it. Either way, they seemed genuinely sorry things had ended the way they did, and I believed them. They asked if I was going to Guy's Halloween party this year, but I said no. But they begged for me to join them until I relented.

I didn't really know why I was going. I didn't want to run into Jim and Kristine, and I wasn't sure what kind of reception I'd get from our friends or anyone else in town who knew my scandalous story. (I had been surprised to even get an invite from Guy in the first place, but Curt said that with my newfound fame, I would probably be the most famous person at the party, so of course Guy invited me.)

It had been two years since I'd last been to the party, and it was an even grander affair than I could have imagined. It seemed like half the town was there.

Curt and Jessica's limo picked me up. He was once again dressed as a cowboy and she, of course, came dressed as Jessica Rabbit, looking even more radiant than ever. I could just barely make out the beginnings of a baby bump.

It felt weird arriving at the party with the two of them--especially since this event had been the source of such Curt-related drama for me. But whatever misgivings I may have had quickly evaporated the moment we stepped out of the limo and Guy came over to fawn all over us. He complimented Jessica and Curt, of course, but when he saw me, he gasped.

"Oh my dear, you have outdone yourself," he said, taking my hands and spreading them out so he could take in my costume. This year I went as Margot Robbie's character in The Wolf of Wall Street. I had bought the dress a few years ago, keeping it as a surprise for my husband, but I never got around to wearing it. Jessica loved the idea and even helped me get my hair just right.

It had been months since I last felt sexy, and so getting dolled up like one of the sexiest characters in movie history made me feel like I had recovered some of my old mojo. Guy continued to marvel at me. "I feel like I now understand the phrase bi-curious," he said.

If that didn't make me feel good, having every single person at the party watch the three of us as we walked through the house and then out to the tent certainly did. And they weren't just looking at my friends, either. I could feel eyes--men's and women's--pawing at me. It felt creepy and also fucking hot.

Curt led us to the table where he had been hanging out the past few years, and he introduced me to his friends. They were a bunch of alpha male douchebags who all gave me the ick, but whatever. I wasn't there for them. I just wanted to hang out with my companions and try to enjoy myself for the first time since everything fell apart.

I knew I wouldn't be welcome among my old friends, and I saw them casting furtive glances my way.

Jim and Kristine were especially displeased to see me. I knew this not just from the nasty looks they gave me, but also from the comments they hurled at me when I went up to get my food.

"I can't believe you had the gall to come here," Kristine said. "Clearly you have no shame."

I told her to suck my dick. She called me a whore. Loudly.

"I see you're back with your fuckbuddies," Jim murmured after she left. He scooped some macaroni and cheese onto his plate.

"Nice to see you, too, Jim, although, I gotta say..." I gave him the once-over. "You are looking pretty tight in that firefighter's outfit."

He blushed. "I didn't wear this for you, you know."

"Yeah. I know. You hate me. You've told me that several times. I'm just trying to be cordial."

"Uh-huh, well go fuck yourself."

He was so mad that he left before he finished getting his food.

I gestured to my friends like, what the fuck. They smiled knowingly at each other.

"What?"

They were being coy. Clearly, they didn't want to tell me until we got back to our seats.

"It all makes so much sense now," Jessica said, sitting next to me.

"What does?"

"You've been saying what a dick he's been since you moved out. Now I understand why."

"Mind telling me?"

She shook her head slowly. "You know, for someone so smart, you're often pretty dumb."

I turned to Curt. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

He laughed. "Yeah, your husband is in love with you."

"Head over heels."

"Get the fuck out."

The two of them. Their eyes lit up, and they started laughing at me.

"You're bright red!" Curt said.

"Shut up! I am not," I said, but I could feel my cheeks burning.

"You love your husband," Jessica sang teasingly.

My cheeks only turned redder.

"Aww, I think it's cute," Jessica said.

"Yeah, well, even if that were so, he definitely does not love me."

"He's been checking you out ever since you got here," Jessica said with a laugh. "I mean, no wonder; you're hot as shit. But yeah, that's why he's been so mean."

"I'm guessing he really did have a thing for what's-her-face over there," Curt said, nodding at Kristine. "And I'm sure it was thrilling to finally give in to his long-simmering desire." When he said that, I couldn't help but think about the first time I had sex with Curt. "But then, once you moved out and she moved in, I'm sure reality set in, and he realized he blew it."

"I don't know. Seems very middle school." But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I thought back to all the times I went over there to get the kids, and I noticed the complete lack of joy in that household. I'd just assumed they were mad at me for some reason.

"I mean, look at them," Jessica said. "Those two are not in love."

Now that it was pointed out to me, it was as clear as day. They weren't touching or even talking to each other. In fact, they looked like the most miserable people here.

To think, all this time, my husband had been mean to me because he wanted me back in his life. Once again, my cheeks roared to life.

"So the question you need to ask yourself, Margot Robbie from Wolf of Wall Street," Curt said, "is what do you want?"

"I want everything," I said with a smile. "I want my husband back, and... I'd love to keep y'all on the side."

I had meant that last bit as a joke, but Jessica twirled her straw in her drink and said, "I mean... it's not outside the realm of possibilities..."

"But only if you promise to dress like that," Curt said.

I shook my head with a laugh.

"Well, at any rate, fat chance that I'm gonna win Jim back. Hell, I just got the final divorce papers this morning."

"Did you sign them?" Curt asked.

"No."

"Well, there you go!"

"You thinking what I'm thinking, babe?" Jessica said.

"Yeah, let's help a girl out."

They stood, walked over, and both held out their hands to me, inviting me to dance. I took them up on it and followed them onto the dance floor.

We were the first ones out there. Curt left Jessica and me and gave the band leader a word and some cash. The guy winked at him, stopped the song they were playing--which caught everyone's attention. The band then started up a groovy, sultry little number. I think it was that tune in From Dusk till Dawn when Salma Hayek does her sexy dance.

Jessica draped her arms around me and gave me the full-court press. She gazed longingly into my eyes, played with my hair, and writhed her voluptuous body against mine. I laughed. But then her eyes fell to my lips. I stopped laughing and started dancing. Once again, I found myself willing to do anything for this stunning woman.

Hands grabbed my hips, and then Curt slid in behind me. He pulled me into him and started grinding into my ass. Jessica tilted my head back and began kissing my neck. Then she kissed her husband and spun me around. Suddenly I was staring into Curt's deep blue eyes as his wife slid her hands up my body, wrapping them around my tits, and then pinching my nipples.

I mouthed the word fuck. Curt caressed my face.

"We missed you a little bit," he said.

"We could just go back to your place," I said. Then I gasped as Jessica worked my tits some more.

"Tell you what," she said. "If this doesn't work, you come home with us, and we fuck you senseless."

I laughed. "What exactly is the plan here?"

Jessica raised my arms up above my head, then dragged the back of her nails down them, sending shivers through my body.

"Everyone in the entire party is watching us," Curt whispered. He bent down and kissed my neck.

"Mmm," Jessica said as she slid her hands down my hips and towards my inner thighs, causing me to yelp. "And your husband is bright fucking red with jealousy." She began kissing the other side of my neck. Then she looked up. "Go."

She spun me around and shoved me towards Jim's table.

I felt every eye in the party follow me as I cat-walked toward my husband. I had no idea what I was going to say to him, but I was so flushed with excitement, I could feel my juices soaking my panties.

Although he was desperately trying not to show me how turned on he was, he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming down my body.

I stepped into his space and gazed down at him, showering him with wanton lust.

Only then did I realize Curt was standing next to me.

"Care to dance?" he asked Kristine.

She flew out of her seat and into his arms with the determined passion of a kid chasing an ice cream truck.

I expected Jim to get mad, but I'm not even sure he noticed. He was too busy looking up at me.

I decided to take a page out of Curt's book: no asking, just giving permission to follow your desires.

"Come on, baby," I whispered. "Enough's enough." I reached down, took his hand, and eased him out of his seat. I turned so he could get a good look at my barely-covered ass in this tight pink dress. My high heels clicked, clicked, clicked on the dance floor as I led him to the opposite corner from Curt and Kristine. I could see Curt smiling down at her, making casual conversation while she stared up at him, awestruck the same way I must have been three years ago.

I spun around and draped my arms around Jim's shoulders. My hands instinctively stroked his hair and my body sunk into his like it belonged there.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I writhed into him the way Jessica had moved with me. My eyes drifted from his to his lips and back.

"Seducing my husband," I whispered.

I guided his hands to my ass. They latched on tighter than a rock climber's. I pressed my groin into him and could feel him growing.

I bit my lip and sucked in air. Oh, fuck how I'd missed this.

"But Kristine," he said.

I spun us around. "I think she's okay."

His eyes roamed to his right, where he could see her dancing with Curt, her eyes willing him to fuck her. He grew pale, but then I guided his attention back to me, and he remembered his mission.

"Come."

I led him off the dance floor, through the crowd, into the house. I could feel his eyes on my ass as I led him past the one bathroom, past the next, and down the hall to what was thankfully an empty office. I closed and locked the door.

"But--"

I pulled him into me and moaned at the familiar feel and taste of his mouth, his lips, his sweet, sweet tongue. His hands pulled up my dress and slid into my panties. He started massaging my ass, pulling me into him with a hunger I hadn't felt from him in years. I hopped up and wrapped my legs around him and began grinding into him. He backed me up against the wall and reached down and unbuckled his belt. His firefighter's pants fell to the ground. He slid my panties to one side and slid his cock into me with a quiet, "Oh fuck."

I ground the shit out of that man, growling a series of yeahs, each one a semitone higher, until I came. And came hard.

Hearing me squeal, hitting a pitch he had never heard me hit before, made him explode inside me, and feeling his cock pulsing with release kept my orgasm going until we finally settled down.

"Oh fuck," he said, gazing at me as if for the first time. "Oh fuck."

"I know, baby. I know."

We kissed and stared at each other, basking in our rekindled love, relishing how good we had made each other feel.

I kept grinding on him--his cock never fully deflating--and whispered, "I missed you. I missed you so much. I missed you so much."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine, baby. You're fine."

We cooed and apologized and whimpered and gushed and loved, rebuilding everything we'd destroyed.

"Can I confess something?" he said.

I smiled. I could feel him hardening in me.

"Kristine makes terrible lasagna."

The two of us burst into laughter. "Are we talking food or sex?"

"Mostly food."

I started grinding on him again. "I'll make you all the lasagna you want, baby."

"That's good," he started thrusting, "because I want a lot."

His face turned serious. "You think Kristine's fucking Curt?"

My face fell a little. Even now, Curt was still in his head?

"I doubt it, baby."

"Oh. That's too bad. She would probably love it."

Tears flooded my eyes. I brought him in for a deep kiss. My hunger for my husband was insatiable. I told him I loved him over and over and over again, and he began thrusting. Deeper and harder into me like we were nineteen again. My second orgasm began to build, but I wanted something else.

"Hey. You know that thing you've always wanted to do?"

"Play Pebble Beach?"

"Oh, I'm definitely taking you to Pebble Beach, but I was thinking about that other thing."

He smiled. "You want me to claim your ass?"

"Yes."

"Right here?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"Light my fire, firefighter."

**

EPILOGUE

Jim looked around, struggling to take in his surroundings. "How in the hell did you get us on here? There's like a two-year wait list."

"I know the guy who won the US Open..."

"Oh," he said with a laugh. "Right."

"Speaking of whom..."

Jim blanched and turned around. Curt and Jessica approached us on the driving range at Pebble Beach. They hugged me. Then Curt offered Jim a hand.

"Hey Jim, I'm Curt. Can I just say how sorry I am for everything? I am an asshole. The love of a good woman is slowly curing me of that, but I've left a path of destruction in my wake, and it's going to take years for me to make it up to everyone."

"Huh? Yeah, no, it's all good..."

"Well, it's not, but I'm hoping I can start to make it up to you on the course, if you'll let me."

"Are you, Curt Sherwood, offering me a golf lesson?"

"Only if you want."

"I think I'd be a fool to say no."

Curt told Jim to take a swing.

"Dang, all right. Man, you're gonna make my job easy. You've got the mechanics. You just need to work on your tempo."

I left them and joined Jessica. The two of us laughed our asses off at our terrible attempts to hit the ball.

Finally, it was our turn to tee off. We were a little late getting out because everyone wanted a picture and an autograph with Curt, but then we were up. I stood next to Jim, who had tears in his eyes as he gazed down hole number one.

"You all right?"

He nodded. "It's always been my dream to be right here right now." He wiped away a tear and apologized.

"Hey, man, I feel ya," Curt said. "I still get chills being here." He held up an arm, and sure enough, he had goosebumps.

We played a few holes, and Curt offered Jim all sorts of tips about the course and even told some hilarious stories about playing here over the years. He gave Jim the royal treatment.

Jim was embarrassed at how poorly he was playing. He was too nervous, not only to be playing his dream course, but to be playing with the reigning champ was just beyond anything he could have ever imagined. But slowly, Curt got him to focus on his tempo, whatever that meant.

"Wanna know my secret for keeping my tempo? It's super embarrassing, and if you tell anyone I'll deny it."

Jim laughed and crossed his heart.

"I say, 'Braaad Pitt' every time I swing the club." He laughed and demonstrated, swinging the club and muttering, "Braaad Pitt."

Jim cracked up. But then he tried it a few times before stepping up to the ball. He said, "Here goes nothing." Then he swung the club and said, "Braaad Pitt," and sure enough, that ball flew out of the rough and landed just shy of the green.

"Fuck yeah!" Curt said, high-fiving my husband. "The student has become the master."

We arrived at the last hole, which I guess is famous, for Jim took a second to take it in. Even to me, someone who knows nothing about the sport, I got it. It was a beautiful hole that hugged the rugged Monterey coastline.

Curt, being a pro, hit the ball from the back tees. And he hit the shit out of it. The sound he made when swinging that driver was unreal. Jim laughed, shook his head, and muttered, "Jesus Christ. It's like he's playing a different sport."

Then he stepped up at the white tees. I could tell he was nervous.

"Brad Pitt, motherfucker," Curt said.

"Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt."

That seemed to settle him down. He took a few swings and found his tempo. Then he hit, and the ball soared into the air, landing safely in the middle of the fairway. Two well-hit shots later, Jim was on the green, putting for birdie. He hadn't been anywhere near par all day long, so this was something truly momentous for him.

His hands were shaking as he crouched down, trying to line up his putt. Curt had missed his birdie putt and tapped it in for par. Then he went over and helped Jim line it up. They discussed this and that. I don't know. I heard the words slope and grain. It was all Greek to me.

A crowd gathered around the green, but Curt kept Jim focused. "Trust the putter," he said. "You got this, brother."

He smacked him on the shoulder and stepped back. I thought it was endearing how invested Curt was in Jim's game. He even had his fingers crossed and was muttering, "Come on, come on, come on."

Jim putted the ball, taking a nice, even stroke. Curt gasped. "You got it you got it you got it you got it you got it you got it, YOU GOT IT..." Then he roared a booming YEAH, pumping his fist just like he did the day he won the Open. The crowd erupted with cheers, and Curt ran up to Jim. The two men embraced. "Fuck yeah!" Curt said. "You fucking birdied eighteen at Pebble!!"

Jim was shaking as he walked off the green. Then he wrapped me up in his arms and burst into tears.

**

"I think that may have been the greatest day of my life," Jim said as we were getting ready to meet Jessica and Curt for dinner.

I laughed and wrapped him up in my arms. "Yeah? Not our wedding... not the kids being born..."

"I mean, those were cool and all, but I birdied eighteen at Pebble."

"Yeah, you did."

"He's a cool guy, Curt," Jim admitted quietly.

"You're a cool guy."

A smile crept over his face. "You think they'd be up for a foursome?"

I laughed. "Golf or sex?"

"Mostly sex."

"Well, I would have said no, but the way you and Curt carried on at the golf course. That was pretty hot."

He laughed.

"Hey, you know that thing I've always wanted to do?"

"Play Pebble Beach?"

"No, that other thing...? How cool would it be to do that AT Pebble Beach?"

"Oh, you want anal sex now, too? Man, it's a good thing your wife loves you."

He wrapped me up in his loving arms. "Good thing I love her back."

"Wait... you love me back, or you love my back?"

"Both," he said, unzipping my dress. "But mostly you."

We were quite late for dinner.