After he had Billy safely off to bed, he spent the rest of the evening surfing for pictures of Karina, of women who looked like Karina, of women doing the things Karina was doing in her photos, of men doing the things that he had done for her -- and of men doing things to other men. He searched for articles on anal sex, on oral sex from the perspective of the provider. He went through cycles of exhilaration, repulsion, and terror. But never regret. Just the opposite. He was tempted to slip out of the house, to run back down the hill, to pound on Karina's door and to beg her -- for what? Only the image of her face, filled with amusement and contempt, held him in his bed. Only the vague realization that he would need all his resources for his wife's return held him back from emptying his balls onto the sheets.
He may have dozed. He may have only been day dreaming, letting his body sleep while his mind raced in a circuit, over and over, remembering what he had done, what he had seen, regretting what he had not done. He was awake enough to hear the limo pulling into the driveway. He opened the front door just as his wife was fumbling with the key.
"Hello," she stared at him, "I guess you're glad to see me." He had pulled on a robe, not bothering to close it. "Good thing I didn't let the driver carry up my bags. Don't kiss me," she shrugged him off. "I really need to brush my teeth. You too," she scowled. "What the hell have you been eating?" He realized, belatedly, that he had been preserving Karina's taste in his mouth. Like back in college, when he wouldn't wash his cock off after fucking, letting it get caked with the residue of desire, preserved, like a trophy
"Stop it." She pushed him away. "I really need the bathroom."
"How are you?" he asked belatedly. "How was your flight?"
"It sucked. We'll talk about it later." She was staring fixedly at his cock. "Look, dear, I need some time to unwind."
"Of course. I'm sorry." This wasn't going well. He remembered that one time in college, when he had come up to see her over the summer. She had still been living at home, out in Brooklyn, and she had come all the way back into his hotel on Sunday morning. She had knocked on the door of his hotel room, he had greeted her in pyjamas, and she had not been amused.
"Look!" She was getting really angry now. "I can see what you've been thinking about all night, but I've had a really lousy day, a really lousy flight. God, I'm going to have to go back out there again Monday, we didn't get things wrapped up -- I should have just stayed out there."
"Laurie, I'm sorry."
"I just want to go to sleep." She was staring at him defiantly. That look was enough to wilt him, at least temporarily.
"Sure," he said, "sure." He went into the front bathroom, Billy's bathroom, and found some kiddie toothpaste. He swirled it around his mouth for a while, peed, and lay down again, trying to relax. She was a long time in the bathroom, and he was almost asleep by the time she came in to lie down beside him.
"Oh," she said, "clean bathroom, clean sheets. How nice." She turned away so that he could rub her back.
Yes, he had prepared everything for the return of his love. Then he had gone out with Billy for trick or treat. Then he had seen Karina ...
"Tom," she felt him stiffening against her butt, "I thought we were just going to cuddle and sleep now."
"We are," he assured her.
"Well, I'm going to sleep. You can suit yourself. Rub there a little more. No, where your hand is." With that, she gave a sigh. Her breathing was slower, deeper, punctuated with little snores.
"Laurie, Laurie." He gave her a little kiss on the back of her neck, just behind her ear.
"Mmmph."
Suit yourself. That's what she'd told him She was warm, her skin soft above hard muscles. He started to rub against the crease between her cheeks. That was going to chafe her. That was the excuse he gave himself as he rolled over the other way to find the lube. He rolled back.
"Rub some more," she said. "right under the shoulder blade." He did that, but in the process he shifted so that his cock was in between her legs. She grunted a little, and rolled away, just a bit. If anything, that opened her up more to his intrusion.
"Don't wake me up," she said.
"Of course not." He stopped moving.
"You can rub more." She started to snore again. Rub what with what? She had not specified. In effect, she'd given him permission, hadn't she, more or less? As long as he didn't wake her up? He started to move his hips again. Stop it. She was going to say stop it, and he would stop. But she wasn't saying anything. The tip of his penis had found a place that was hotter, a little softer. He dared to put a finger there, and she squirmed. "You're scratching me," she protested, and he moved his hand back so that only the tip was touching her.
The brief touch with a finger had been enough to tell him that he had been a little off, a bit too far back. He adjusted his aim as best he could, without another finger touch, and he began to press in, very gently, very carefully. He could feel a tight ring of flesh slipping around him, just a little, then a little more. Half the tip was in her now, it seemed, hitting a point of resistance that frightened him.
"That's too hard," she said. "You're hurting me."
"Sorry." He backed off a little, concerned that he was in the wrong place after all, and she began to snore again.
It was time, past time, for him quit while he was ahead, to turn away and to go back to sleep. But he didn't. Well, he did turn away briefly, to apply more lube, and he was sure that she would shift position, roll over on her back. But she did not object as he manoeuvred back into place.
This time he was more patient, she more relaxed. There was no mistaking where the right spot was this time. When he hit it, the tip moved all the way inside her, just like that. She grunted a little, she shifted, just a bit, but he managed to shift with her, to maintain his penetration. God, he thought, what now? The tightness, the heat of her flesh, was intoxicating, driving him for more. He started to fuck her, with tiny little motions, very gently, very slowly, pushing just a little harder each time. Suddenly, one push went further. What his tongue had felt before, his cock was feeling now -- the smooth muscular tube wrapped tightly around it. He was, he confirmed gingerly, at least halfway in. He dared to press until he felt her cheeks against his thighs. That was too much. She grunted, and rolled over on her stomach, dislodging him.
Damn! He tried to tug her back on to her side.
"Stop that!" She shrugged his hand away. "That's enough rubbing. I want to go to sleep now."
Did she realize what he had been doing? Most likely not. He felt his penis -- it was coated with the lube and something more pungent -- spicy, aromatic. She must have been eating a lot of Mexican food on her trip. God, he had been so close, so close! He needed to come. But no amount of straining could push him over the edge. In the end, he fell asleep, next to her.
It seemed like Billy was looking for breakfast almost immediately. By the time his wife appeared, the football games had started. He had already popped open a beer. He kissed her, he was ready to do more than kiss her, but Billy had to go to soccer practice. By the time they got back, he was muddy, sweaty -- and she was raking leaves with a pointed fury.
"They just fell yesterday afternoon," he pretested, "I would have gotten them."
"I need to hit something!" She was attempting to move an enormous pile toward the street -- thrashing at it with all her might. "I hate this! I hate this!" She collapsed into his arms, weeping,
"Laurie," he said, "you don't have to do this. You can find another job. I can find a job." But he knew it was a lie. Everything they had depended on her. "Let's go for a walk." So they set off, just the two of them, leaving Billy to clean up on his own.
"We're in trouble," Laurie muttered
"You and me?" Had she figured that out already? So quickly? Had she realized what he had been doing to her the night before?
"No, not you and me. Well, maybe. I'm sorry I turned you down," she whispered, "I promise tonight will be better."
"And Sunday?"
"Sunday I'll be gone again." It was almost a wail. "Tom, you have to take me down to the airport tomorrow afternoon. I have to be out there for a meeting Monday morning. We have people out there working all weekend."
"You're in trouble."
"Yes, I'm in trouble. We're going to be at least two weeks late, half the stuff isn't working yet, the customer, our customer, is having trouble getting her boss to sign off -- Tom, there's a real good chance this thing is going to be cancelled."
"And then?"
"Well, I'll be around the house a lot more. Assuming we have a house."
"What time do you have to get to the airport?"
"One."
"One?" Tom was fretting now. "Billy has Sunday school."
"We'll leave from there. Damn! I wanted to get some sleep!"
