Elizabeth brought one knee up then the other, slipping off her burgundy panties, and tossing them onto a cushioned chair in the corner. She scratched her nose. The outline of her bare thigh gave off a subtle glow as she stepped towards Arman who had been undressing and was now also naked. Her eyes were steady but downcast, not from a sense of shame or self consciousness but to prevent her mind from disrupting her desire.
She would have preferred she and Arman were someplace else together, alone on a beach, a log fire at their feet, a blanket draped over their legs, a threatening wind inviting him to warm her by putting his arm around her shoulder before initiating a kiss.
She would have preferred too that her husband, William, was not there, watching from a chair in the corner on the other side of the king size bed.
She'd have preferred he was at home and she had the authority in their marriage to have made that happen. She was the decider. But she knew meeting Arman alone while William stayed home would have plunged William into an abyss of distress he'd need to continually talk about for the next three weeks.
She didn't really mind his presence all that much. He wanted to watch. They'd done this once before though not with Arman and she'd enjoyed turning on two men at once.
What she didn't like about her husband's presence was that it nullified the possibility of intimacy with Arman which was something she naturally expected to grow up between her and any man she fucked. William's presence made the encounter a scene, a play, as though she and Arman were on stage, in roles distant from their real feelings and thoughts.
And she had real feelings for Arman, at least she thought she did. She hadn't expected too but she'd been thinking about him every day since they'd met for dinner last week. He was a broad shouldered, square jawed man who wore boots, kept his dark hair in a ponytail, said very little and looked right at her with naked eyes. His reserve conveyed confidence.
She feared Arman was playing their game- that all he wanted was the sex. She'd explained her husband's desire, to be a cuckold. Arman seemed to understand though all he'd ever said was "okay."
For now she kept her eyes down to focus on the sex, and her concerns vanished.
William became a statuesque shadow blending into the low light. She glanced at his form there in the corner and for a moment felt a pang of affection for him, a mix of superiority and tenderness. He had freed her in some way she didn't expect but needed. And he wouldn't want what was about to happen if it was something he could have shaken off years ago. This was his compulsion -- the echo of his search for glory. What kind of man wanted what he was about to see? A man repulsed by his need to be his wife's hero? She never understood. It baffled her.
She turned and moved to Arman, her face flush, her nipples hard, her shoulders back pushing her breasts out. When they touched she didn't pull him close. She didn't wrap her arms around him as he did her. She didn't clasp his fleshy round butt, as he did hers, instead she reached, with a primitive assurance, for his cock. And when she grasped it her body went soft and she exhaled.
But she quickly moved from his shaft to his balls and squeezed, causing Arman to wince. She couldn't help herself. She'd done this to every male organ she'd ever handled. It was a compulsive response, needed to affirm his vulnerability and maybe to avert her own. Testicles had fascinated her since she first caught a glimpse of them as a young women when her uncle skinny dipped in their pool despite her mothers florid objections. She'd read up on them. She quivered with a rush of adrenaline when a college jock, Arnold, grimaced telling a story in the lunch room about how he got hit in the balls at a fraternity dodge ball game. She couldn't keep her hand off her first boyfriend's testicles, once kneeling as he stood naked in front of her, his nuts in her open palm, she beamed with joy she could barely contain. She loved the oblong roundness of a man's testicles ensheafed in their flimsy delicate ball bag.
After a confident smirk, she went back to holding Arman's lengthy shaft pulling him towards her as he brought his face to hers for a kiss. He had a soft kiss.
One dim lamp hardly lit the room. Though he was securely out of the picture, William leaned forward straining to watch, to notice everything.
Arman ran his hand down between Elizabeth's legs and cupped her sex and as he did she tipped him towards the bed and they fell together with a laugh on the king size mattress.
Within moments he brought his hips up, his hardness aimed between her parted her legs. She guided him into her and grabbed his butt pulling him inside her.
Arman hadn't put on a condom as Elizabeth had insisted the last time they spoke.
"I don't like condoms. They separate us. Makes me feel like a dildo," he had said.
Elizabeth had laughed. "Maybe after a while," aware she was suggesting a multiple meetings,"we won't need to use a condom."
Elizabeth's slender forearms grew taut as she pulled Arman's unprotected organ deep inside her. She seemed oblivious to the bare back state of his penis which would have mattered terribly to her several hours ago.
She had told William about their safe sex conversation with Arman, and that she'd been clear with him that he needed told to wear a condom. To excite William she added, "I want to feel him cum in me."
William appreciated that she had shared this information. He wanted to be involved in her relationship with Arman. Every little detail she shared stiffened him and triggered an urge to touch his wife.
Elizabeth's eyes were closed and from William's perspective she must have looked as if Arman had brushed a feather over her worries and lifted her into a dark disturbed air of mystery. He sighed with a kindness that floated lightly along side his wife's apparent ecstasy.
Arman grew animated and powerful, his coming orgasm undid his stiff persona causing the boy in him to come forward. He was excitable after all and there was also something more predatory in his physicality that she savored. He battered Elizabeth with his pelvis, harshly, as if trying to hurt her, his hips pounding down in short quick jabs. But she thrust right back at him. A frenzy of grunts and moans escaping their intermittent kisses until he stopped, arched his back, and with a deep push, pinned Elizabeth to the bed. She pulled him into her suspending them in a freeze frame before their mutual relief started to give way.
She wouldn't give him up. She clung. She grasped him as if she couldn't bear his withdrawal.
"Stay, stay. No. I never. No .... I love you," she whispered.
Her words sailed up a short ways into the dimly light room like a ship in search of a harbor.
They'd cum together- a rare phenomenon for her and Arman had not worn a condom. He'd cum inside her. She was ecstatic.
When he slipped out he moved up and laid next to her, put his hand on her thigh and said, "wow." Elizabeth turned and kissed him. She tugged at his hip and whispered, "I want you back inside me." She persisted in flipping his softening penis back and forth and grasping his balls, rolling them back and forth in her hand like a gambler does dice. She felt like a needy child about to throw a tantrum. She grasped his cock one last time then discarded it and sat up. She grew flush with anger at the emptiness that overcame her.
"Undress and come here," she said looking at William still sitting in the chair in the corner.
She turned and kissed Arman opening her legs wider to touch herself nudging Arman to scoot aside. She turned to William who crawled naked across the bed.
"Turn around... on your hands and knees," she said pushing his head away to direct him as he got close to her.
William turned so that his butt faced them.
