The Stroker

"I want you to write me a stroker."

WHAT?

"And then read it to me."

"What?" I said and blinked rapidly. "What, what?"

I'd never heard the term stroker, but I immediately knew what he meant, sort of.

I'm pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. Jordan and I were sitting in The Greasy Spoon diner. He was the only one who knew I wrote erotica. He hadn't read anything I'd written (at least that we know of) because I write and post under a pen name. I'd only been writing erotica for six months, but it seemed like it took up all my focus lately. Still, even though he was the only one who knew, we never mentioned it.

"Magaaah," I said.

He leaned forward over the table, his voice getting sexy. "Come on," he licked his lips. "Do it."

I shook my head.

"Then you can write about it the experience of writing about it. Think about what an explosive story that would be."

A story immediately popped to mind, of a sex club, and handcuffs, and a boy's first time.

I shook my head again. "I'm really quite shy, you know," I said.

"Yeah, I know, but Maryanne, you can do this."

"The question is, why would I?"

"I could pay you," he said.

I shook my head. I needed money badly, but not that badly.

"It's a paying job. You're a writer. Consider it a commission."

I pursed my lips at him.

He leaned over the table and made his voice sexy again. "Do it because I want you to. Do it to please me."

I closed my eyes. Oh God.

I nodded.

He laughed triumphantly.

We'd come to this diner twice a week for five months to work on writing exercises. He was trying to write the great American Novel. I was trying to write a screenplay. Usually the time at the diner was the only time I worked on it. And I valued his advice. And his company. And truth be told, I had a little crush on him.

"You realize, this would... ah, sort of bring us to a whole different level," I said.

"Not if we don't let it," he said.

I pursed my lips at him again. Bullshit.

"Well, I'll write you one if you write one. Just three pages, super short."

He seemed to consider.

I wanted to make my push on him harder. "And the one you write for me has to be a threesome."

He smiled.

"A gay threesome. Three guys. Totally doing every possible thing they can do, all the way."

He groaned.

"I'm not even sure I would know what that is," he said.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Then you'll have to do research."

Jordan stuck his hand out. "Deal."

Holy fuck.

I shook his hand, "Okay. Deal."

"By next Monday."

"Friday."

"Wednesday."

"Fine."

"And it has to be the hottest one you've ever written," he said.

"Oh, come on."

"Smoking. Absolutely the hottest."

"God, sometimes I hate you," I mumbled under my breath.

"I heard that," he said.

*

I paced when I got home. Hottest I've ever written. Stroker. What exactly did that mean? And read it to him? No way.

My house is small and I think I paced a worn path in the carpeting in my hallway. I'd need characters. And snapping sexual tension, yeah, what would make it good would be the tension. And a scenario. Some sort of set-up that put them in a situation. A time compression.

Nothing. More pacing. Still nada.

I was drawing a blank.

Then something came to me.

Think like a guy.

I had an idea. Not a great one, but what the heck.

Here goes nothing, I thought, and sat down at my computer.

My wife and I needed this night. After twelve years, our sex life had dwindled some, and I was hoping a romantic night on what I referred to as 'our little beach' would help.

I packed a basket with candles in big glass jars, and a blanket.

I held her hand in the car, and put soft classical music on the radio. We used to go to this beach once a month, on the anniversary of our first date, but then life got in the way. Tending the garden of our romance got pushed down the list behind business, and the dishes, and daily bullshit like the news. We used to bring little slips of paper and write down what we were grateful for about each other, read them to each other in whispers and then burn them in the candles, then kiss for hours, on our beach.

Tonight would be candlelight and romance.

But when we got to the parking lot for the beach, three kids were piling out of an old Honda. I recognized the two girls as the McInn twins, who used to live down the street from me. The boy, I didn't know. We naturally gravitated near each other as the parking lot only had room for three cars.

The twins were, 16 I think, when they moved away. They must be in college by now, or maybe the just finished, I didn't know.

"Hey Mr. and Mrs. J," one of the girls, I think Allison said. She had cut her blonde hair to chin length, Amy had left her hair waist length like it was when the moved away. "I'm Allison, that's Amy," she said. "I know it's probably hard to tell in the dim light."

"Thanks," I said, because it was.

"This is Josh," Amy said. The kid reached forward to shake our hands. He was tall, built like a swimmer, and wearing a dark T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap. He had a clean-cut, square looking jaw. I couldn't really see the rest of his face.

Amy was wearing a tank top and shorts both bearing the name of our local university.

"Going to the Merce?" I asked. That's what we always called it.

"Yeah," she said. "We both have one semester left. Thank God."

"You?" I said, looking at Josh.

"Just graduated. Got an internship at Jonowski & Sons."

"Good firm."

"No, no, no," I said out loud. "This is all wrong." It should be in the third person. With a different kind of tone and description. And not as much description about the three students. "Try again."

The full moon was bright and low in the sky. Ethan walked around to the passenger's side of the car to open the door for Nicole, something he hadn't done since they were dating. A crisp breeze blew up, lifting her flowy skirt away from her legs and molding her wrap-around top to her breasts briefly before letting go. Ethan touched her back as he helped her into the car.

"No, no." I said to myself. "Start the story later, at the beach." I growled a little in frustration. "Come on, Maryann. You can do it. Third time's a charm," I said. I even put the title on it immediately, to show myself I was serious.

THE STROKER

The anticipation of sex crackled hot between them. It was a sultry night, with smells of late-blooming jasmine mixed with the salt and sand making the air feel heavy and laden, lush and ripe. The very moonlight seemed seductive and wily, as if it were glowing just for them.

Ethan put his hand on Nicole's bare thigh, and she jumped as a surge from her charged up need crackled as a little jolt of static electricity between them. He turned into the parking lot.

A damper, like a cool washcloth to the forehead, or a slap of a cold hand, came quick, to both of them, when they saw the old, dark, Honda parked in the first spot.

"Fuck," Ethan whispered.

"We could turn around," Nicole said.

"No, no, of course not."

They saw three figures still walking at the end of the plank-like boardwalk that took people over the sand dunes and scraggly marsh grass and onto the beach. They were highlighted by the moonlight. A wind from the ocean blew up, taking the smell of salt water to Ethan and Nicole.

He held her hand and smiled at her. It had been a while.

"Better," I mumbled.

Ethan and Nicole walked slowly, and he took in every moment, how the breeze lifted her hair, how her hand felt perfect in his, how her sandals made a quiet flop, flop sound on the boardwalk. When they got to the beach, they'd obviously startled the other three, one of the girls jumped slightly, and the other let out a little squeal. They had just laid down their blanket and the boy was in the process of building a small fire near the shoreline.

The beach wasn't wide, maybe only 30 or 35 feet from one side to the other. Ethan and Nicole hesitated, because the middle where they were was the best and widest spot, the least craggy, with the least rocks. Ethan looked off to the left.

"We could move a little further away, if you'd like," Ethan said.

"No, it's cool," the boy said.

Ethan and Nicole spread their blanket out, about 10 feet away. The fire caught and crackled, the orange glow illuminating a tiny circle of sand, the occasional ember drifting up giving the night a magical feeling.

The twins told Ethan and Nicole about college. Josh told them about his plans with the local architecture firm.

The fire simmered down a little, the embers still radiating an intimate heat, a soft smoldering red, yellow, and orange through the wood. The stars twinkled, seeming to pop out more, one by one.

Ethan recognized something he saw in Josh's eye, a combination of resignation, frustration, hope. Ethan faked a huge yawn.

"Listen kids," Ethan said. "We're so beat. I don't mean to be rude, but Nicole and I are going to take a nap. You guys just do what you want, we're going to sleep for a while."

Ethan hoped he wasn't being too obvious, maybe he was, but he thought he struck just the right tone. He turned away from them, and rolled Nicole with him so she too was facing away, both of them lying on their right sides, her body spooned around his, her arm around his waist.

After about a minute Ethan began a fake snore, a slow, quiet-but-not-too-quiet soothing rhythm of a gurgling breath in and soft, but audible exhale out.

After years of listening to him sleep, Nicole knew this wasn't his usual sound, but she said nothing.

Between the sounds of his snores, Ethan listened vigilantly. His cells strained, reached, valiantly striving, magnifying everything in their desperate quest to perceive. He had superhero, supersonic hearing now, because he was concentrating so hard.

He could hear the waves lapping up on to the beach, and the embers popping as they died down. Then, so quietly a masculine 'sshh', and the sound of kissing. The sound of bodies moving, and of shirts maybe going over shoulders and heads, and being tossed aside. A soft giggle. More kissing.

He felt Nicole tense up behind him, a little jerk and a stiffening, like a shocking thought occurred to her. Ethan stroked her hand and waited.

For Ethan, it was a strange kind of work, forcing his body to relax completely, to melt into the sand like a loose bolt of cloth, when his mind was zapping roaring, primal chemicals to every nerve telling him to 'DO SOMETHING.'

A very specific something, as it happens.

But he kept up with the steady snoring, the steady petting of the back of Nicole's hand, and the listening.

A snap undoing, and fly being unzipped, the teeth separating from each other with a pft-tzm sound. Deep rustling. Denim? The tiniest subdued grunt, barely audible.

And then a sound, like a kissing sound, but not. Mwah-swack, Mwah-swack.

Sucking.

Quiet brushing of skin on skin. Maybe nothing. The sounds of the retreating waves, softer now, crashing into the surf.

The tiniest, pop-click, pop-click. Hooks unhooking. Thwfp. Small article of clothing falling on sand. Mirrored by the same sound again, its twin.

A kissing sound that sustained, while the sucking sound resumed.

The lightest twack, twack sound. A pat on skin?

Movement.

And then a female groan, soft but clear, and a quiet, desperate 'mmn', followed by a whispered 'oh yeah'.

Very, very slowly, without making any sound at all, without even disturbing the night air, Ethan moved Nicole's hand off him, and carefully rolled her so she was on her other side, facing them, and then turned, snuggling in tight behind her.

Moonlight shone down, spotlighting the three, throwing creamy milk on skin, and casting harsh shadows. There was so much beauty to see, almost too much.

Ethan's eyes bounced from place to place. His glance first caught on Amy's thighs, spread wide around Josh's jaw, and Josh's big hands running up and down smooth flesh and taught muscle; then quickly flew to see the pale golden glow of Angie's hair, bobbing up and down over Josh's hips.

It was a feast for the eyes, the two girls completely naked and Josh, still totally dressed, although the baseball cap had fallen back into the sand, and his jeans and boxers were pushed low on his hips.

Ethan brushed his hand up his wife's side, tucked her hair out of her face, so she could see better.

Ethan's breath pumped hard, the air sawing in and out of his lungs right into Nicole's ear. She ground her ass back against him once; Ethan was pretty sure it was involuntary. Ethan pushed her shirt up and inch, coasted along the strip of flesh now revealed.

"Delicious," Ethan mouthed with no sound, right into her ear, letting his hand ghost up under her shirt, and over her bra, and find her nipple. Ethan wanted to tell her, how hot it was to watch them, but that it wasn't as wonderful, as delectable as being able to caress her. But he didn't want to break the spell, or be heard.

They watched as the twins changed positions. Saw Josh grab himself and squeeze in an effort to calm down.

Ethan got under Nicole's bra, rubbed her nipple between his thumb and finger. Bit her neck. He kept biting her, small little love bites and kisses as he let go of her breast and brushed his hand up her thigh, under her panties, into her core.

Oh fuck,

Ethan thought, when his fingers slipped in.

You're an ocean yourself.

Ethan thought he'd have to put a hand over Nicole's mouth when she bucked against him, but he slowed his strokes, and she seemed to gain control over herself. He twisted her neck back around toward him. She looked into his steel-grey eyes and bit her lip. He could see emotions dance across her face: desire, excitement, uncertainty, want, need, fear. Desperation. He kissed her softly, so he could muffle any cries, and he increased the speed and pressure with his fingers a little bit.

Ethan let go of the kiss after a long moment, as much so that Nicole could see what he could, as to give her some relief from the awkward, twisted position. Ethan kept one hand on her neck, grasping her firmly from behind, and then easing up and rotating his hand around her throat and back, anchoring her to him, keeping her in place, so that she wouldn't feel adrift or overwhelmed amongst so much excitement and beauty.

Ethan felt for sure that if they made any noise, three pairs of eyes would slant their way. He had no idea if they would be horrified or turned on, but he was sure from the ferocity of the passion, they'd never stop.

Nicole grabbed his arm, hard, and they concentrated on what they saw. The twins changed position again, this time one girl sinking herself onto Josh's cock with a soft moan, the other riding his face reverse cowgirl, staring at her sister in the moonlight.

Ethan wished he were a painter, so he could capture this view exactly and preserve it forever. The midnight velvety ink of the background, the heavy, high, round, curves of their breasts in profile, moonlight white on the tops, and deep indigo in the shadows.

As he watched, words failed him, he took in their joy, their youth, their brazen disregard for anyone or anything but themselves.

The girls rising and lowering, synchronized with each other, and Ethan imagined, the ocean waves, the sand, the stars, and the whole world, as well as Josh's thrusting. The girls, heads thrown back now, and making very quiet moaning sounds made Ethan feel like his blood was boiling. It didn't seem like could get any hotter.

Ethan's hard-on throbbed to the point of pain. It begged to be let out. Ethan rolled lips in and pressed them together in a fierce grimace. His nostrils flared as Nicole bit his palm, and spasmed against him.

He had to be in her.

Had. To.

But he restrained himself.

The girls' breathing sounded loud, and Josh bucked up underneath them, and Ethan was sure Josh was going to blow any minute. Even though Ethan hadn't had any direct stimulation to his cock, other than Nicole occasionally rubbing her butt up against him through their clothes, he thought he might come too, the energy in the air was that charged.

Ethan was marveling at the situation, waiting for Josh to explode, when Josh tapped the thigh of the girl riding his face and pushed her off. Her sister followed suit, leaning off and away from Ethan and Nicole, so for one moment that got a clear view of Josh's cock, standing tall and proud, pointing at the stars.

"Stand up," Josh whispered in a voice so quiet it barely carried. "Face that way," he pointed away from Ethan and Nicole, and guided both girls until they were on their hands and feet, in downward dog position.

Josh slipped into the girl on the right and she moaned. He used his one hand to pleasure the other girl, and Ethan and Nicole watched as his hips and hand rocked in a similar motion.

It was all Ethan could take. And they were facing the other way, after all. The girls' soft moans and the hard sound of Josh's pelvis slapping up against a perfect backside disguised the very subtle sound of movent as Ethan gently and quietly guided Nicole onto her hands and knees.

Ethan simply pushed her panties to the side and slid home. He bit his lip so hard to keep from groaning that he thought he'd draw blood.

Then Ethan moved, in and out with fast, shallow, sharp thrusts, making sure not to bang his hips against her ass, for fear of making a sound. He wanted to make it last, but he knew he had to hurry.

Ethan reached around and pushed Nicole over the edge. She squeezed and shuddered around him, milking him, and he bit her shoulder as he exploded, feeling like he shattered into a thousand pieces and flew into the night sky.

Ethan waited only a second, and then was quick to pull out, fix Nicole's skirt, and quickly settle back down on his side. He pulled Nicole back into their first napping position, with her arm over his waist, and her body spooned around him.

He stroked her hand, and willed his heart, with its runaway thumping heartbeat, which thundered in his ears, to slow down.

They heard one sharp grunt from Josh. Then a pause.

They heard giggling.

"They're still sleeping," one girl whispered.

"Do you think they heard us?" the other sister whispered.

"Probably," Josh said. "Come on, let's go. I'll make sure the fire's out."

The kids packed up in record time, and Ethan and Nicole heard their footsteps, running away on the boardwalk, accompanied by more whispers and giggles.

Ethan rolled over and gathered Nicole in his arms.

"Well," was all she said.

Ethan smiled against the top of her head. "You know me, like to keep it fresh."

"You were fresh all right."

Then Nicole laughed, a joyous sound. Ethan rolled on top of her.

"You're a naughty girl," he said.

"Me? Me? I don't think so. I'm not the one who..." she trailed off, she wasn't even sure how to finish that sentence.

"Who what?"

"Who gets off on being a voyeur."

"No," Ethan said in a mocking grave tone, "Definitely not."

"Well, we'll have something to remember. We can play it over in our heads, leading us straight to the bedroom."

"Oh, no," Ethan deadpanned. "I can't see it. Definitely not."

He kissed her, slow and steady, the ultimate lover's kiss, putting all his gratitude and care into it.

"I love you," he said.

"You too," she said.

I finished typing, and felt heat rise to my face. I didn't know if it was any good. I certainly couldn't read it to Jordan. It was too... sensual. But I finished the assignment. I proofed it quickly, found only one error. I printed up a copy for Wednesday.

Jordan had a certain swagger when he came into the diner. Like he was a cocky man with a secret. He smiled at me, and it was actually like my heart fluttered for a second when he sat down.