Slipping Into Depravity Ch 15

KAYLEY

I checked my make-up in the rear view mirror as we parked.

"How do I look?" I asked Sam.

"Perfect," he said. "Breathtaking, absolutely gorgeous. Sexy and classy."

"Are you sure?" I asked. This wasn't some bar or nightclub, and I didn't want to look skanky. Holden's was an upscale restaurant, and I wanted to dress for it. I wore a black pencil skirt, just above the knee, with a slit, together with a red silk blouse and a loose black satin vest. Black stilettos, the strappy ones, with lambent earings completed the look. Casual, but high end, classy, sophisticated.

Sam had opted to go with a dress suit, black, with a matching red shirt. I'd just barely talked him out of wearing a tie.

"It is impossible for you," he said, "to be anything less than perfect. You would be gorgeous standing naked dripping covered head to toe in baby oil, standing in one of those little plastic kiddy pools."

"That," I told him, "is oddly specific."

"Is it?" he looked innocent. He shrugged. "Just a random example."

"I see. And how much would one of those little pools cost?"

"You mean a circular pool 59 inches diameter, with 11 inch depth, in a variety of colours, of which blue would really go with your complexion? Thirty two ninety nine."

"I see," I said carefully. "And how much baby oil would be needed?"

"Well," he said, "technically, olive oil would be preferable. But either way, you'd want a a minimum of three to five quarts. For maximum coverage. Plus, you'd want a foam padding for the floor of the pool, and slip ons for your feet to avoid slipping."

He smiled.

"I'll say again," I said, "this feels oddly specific."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied. "This is just random information commonly known to everyone."

"Uh huh," I said. "Sam... my love. By any chance do you have a fetish that you haven't mentioned to me?"

"Why hundreds!" He said. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh no reason," I said. "You're sure I look okay?"

He took my hand.

"You look gorgeous," he said. "Nervous?"

I looked out the windshield over the parking lot.

"Kind of," I said. "It feels like we're out on a date. I just want to make a good impression. For him, you know? Isn't that fucked up?"

We were going to have a date, the two of us, with a man we'd already had an epic threesome with, who had fingered me in public, fucked me repeatedly in sleazy bar's mens room, and who had played me like I was a guitar. He'd seen me naked.

But somehow, we were both dressing up for the occasion, nervous and desperate to make a good impression.

"We are out on a date," he said. "And yes, it's kind of weird. It's like we're doing it backwards. Normally, you go on a date, and then later on the sex. But I don't know, it feels right. Maybe we want to show him it's not just sex, we like him, we could be serious about him."

"We have a crush?" I suggested.

He laughed, I joined.

"This is silly," he said, he took my hand. "We're overthinking. Let's just relax, go with the flow. And have fun."

I nodded. He always said the right thing.

"Let's go."

We walked into the restaurant, and Sam was just calling up our reservation with the Maitre'd' when Leroy walked in. I gave a happy squeak.

"Hey kids," he grinned at us.

I glanced at Sam, he nodded, I rushed into Leroy's arms, and he kissed me passionately, so I literally melted. He broke the kiss, easing me back at arm's length. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Maitre'd' watching, reappraising us based on the kiss.

"Look at you," he smiled. "You're gorgeous. Miss me?"

I beamed.

"Totally!"

He spotted Sam, and spread his arms wide.

"Hermanos! Fratela!" he called. "Bring it in, my brother."

I watched them embrace warmly. For a moment, it almost looked like they were about to kiss, and I had a subliminal wet flash that shivered through me. The Maitre'd cleared her throat, and they had to part. We were lead to our table.

Sam had specified a half moon booth, with a deep table, so that we could have a degree of intimacy and privacy as we sat together. Sam's idea, he felt square table would divide us.

As we entered on either side, I sat in the middle, where I could casually put my hands on both their thighs. There was something about being able to do that, that just made me grin madly, I felt like glowing.

Leroy turned out to be relaxed and at home. The Sommelier came with a wine list, and he and Leroy had a long technical conversation that Sam and I only half understood, but ended up with a botttle of exquisite Chablis being brought.

I caught Leroy sneaking a look at us, and knew from his expression that he'd put on a show to impress us. It was like he was eight years old sometimes, but right then, it was so endearing.

We discussed the menu, we discussed food. We ordered, or technically, we let Leroy give the order for us, he had a knack for talking to the waiter. Then we talked, and talked. We laughed, told stories, joked, flirted.

It was a little bit like that Thai restaurant, but that was more feeling each other out. This time, we were all really clicking, like we'd all been together for years. We had this easy luscious chemistry, where I moved smoothly between them.

There was a sexual tension of course, both men at different points had their hands on my thighs. I let mine rove under the tablecloth. We kissed. I tried to talk Leroy and Sam into kissing, well, I dared them. But they were shy and it would have been hard with me in the middle between them.

The funny thing was that while that sexual tension and interest was there, while it was never far away, it was amazing how it was only a part of it all. We enjoyed each other's company, we felt comfortable together.

At one point, Sam reached over and kissed me, and said, "I am so glad we found him."

I laughed with delight, it was the perfect thing to say.

The busboy collected our plates. We went on to desert. The conversation became sexual, filled with double entendres. We hadn't promised a threesome, but... Yeah, that was where it was headed.

Butter me top to bottom, I sang to myself, we're going to make a Kayley sandwich, beef on both sides and me in the middle.

"So," Leroy asked with fake casualness, "have you guys looked at the stuff I sent you?"

"The cuckold stories," Sam said. He shrugged. "Yeah, we took a look."

"Interesting," I said. "We went through it. Very much a lifestyle thing, with its own vocabulary. Hotwives. Cucks. Bulls."

"I prefer Hotty," Leroy said. "Hotwife seems possessive, dehumanizing. It's funny. The terms for male roles - cuck and bull, are very clear. But for women... vixen, hotwife, cuckoldress... it's all over."

"Hmm," I said. "You're right, I hadn't thought about it. But you're right."

I shrugged.

"And you're the bull?" I suggested.

Leroy faked a yawn. "I've played the role," he said, "when the occasion demanded. Played the cuck. Even been the hotty."

How would that work, I wondered. Never mind.

"The prosaic stuff," I continued. "That read like instruction manuals, that was informative. But unengaging. It kind of read a bit like swinging, a stylized version of swinging. Other pieces seemed to deal with the emotional aspect."

"I had trouble getting into some of it," Sam said, "particularly some of the male-written pieces, that dwelled on it, it was, some of it, flirting with humiliation. Some of them were hot. Others, I was just going 'this guy needs a therapist.'"

Leroy nodded.

"Some of what you sent us," I said, "was beautifully written, very sensual, every erotic. Complex and psychological."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Mostly those seemed to be female writers, or female perspective."

"I liked those. They were lyrical, and seemed to dive deep. The female experience seemed a lot more complex emotionally and sexually, like the characters, or the writers were navigating opposite experiences on both sides."

"They worked for you?" Leroy asked.

"Uhm..." I blushed. "I suppose so."

I didn't want to admit to him that I'd gotten off on some of it, either masturbated, or read while Sam was going down on me. Fair was fair, I'd sucked his cock when he'd been enjoying some of it. Some of it, I'd found literary and lyrical and erotically charged, and it had been exciting to read. I'm a sucker for deep psychological porn.

I was sure he'd sent it to get us off, and get us all hot and bothered so we'd jump in. Okay, fair enough.

But also fair enough that I could enjoy really well done porn and not feel the need to do a particular act. Reading hot cuckold lit was one thing, it didn't mean we were going t suddenly adopt the lifestyle.

"Some of it was hot," Sam agreed. "Very hot. But that's why you sent it to us, because it was hot."

"A lot of it," I said, "once you got past the instruction manual stuff... It seemed odd, very role play, very distorted."

Leroy's brows knit.

"Distorted?"

"Not necessarily in a bad way," I said. "But some of it felt really formal or ritualistic, almost doctrinaire, with particular set of rules... No, not rules. Perspectives? I don't know."

I chewed my lip.

"Help me out, Sam?" I said. "Swingers, I guess we've always seen these as free for all. Just two people in a relationship that fuck around outside. But..."

"This stuff seemed to be less swinging, less free for all, and more... relationship oriented. But odd relationships."

"Odd dynamics," I said, grateful to Sam. "Structured, but distorted and uneven. Sort of like Dali or Picasso sex... You see the relationships, the dynamics. But they're twisted."

"Interesting," Leroy said. "I've never heard it that way. But I can see it."

"Yeah," Sam said. "We admit it's hot... But..."

"We looked around a bit ourselves," I told him. "Some of the stuff out there seemed pretty... dark. Toxic."

"A real emphasis on humiliation," Sam said. "Felt like a sort of S&M. Dom, sub, power and control. Borderline abusive really."

Leroy nodded. "That's definitely out there. There are toxic outliers in anything. But I don't think the extreme stuff describes cucking for most people who do it. It's not really about humiliation, it can seem like that, but I think that's superficial... an oversimplification."

I leaned back towards Sam.

"Oh yeah?" I was intrigued. "So why do most people do it?"

"Perhaps you an answer that question yourself," Leroy said. "You've sort of danced around it. What draws you?"

"No fair," Sam said. "We're asking you. Kayley and I, we're just having fun. You're the one that seems to see us this way. You're the one that's pushing."

Leroy held up his hands.

"I'm not pushing," he said. "I apologize if I gave that impre--"

"It's all right," I cut him off.

"Maybe I used the wrong term," Sam corrected himself. "But you seem knowledgable about this. And you seem to keep going there. Explain it to us, what's going on with it? If it's not S&M..."

"Okay," Leroy said. He held up his hand. "I see what you're doing, and that's fair. Let me try to figure out how to begin."

We nodded. He leaned his head back a bit, as if thinking.

"Cucking is really popular these days," Leroy said. "I don't think it's really about the dom/sub thing though. I mean, yeah, that's there. It's right in there. But I think what drives it is really something else."

"What?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Spectators," Leroy said.

"Spectators?" Sam asked. "What do you mean?"

"It's all spectators. Everybody watches. That's our whole civilization. We watch television. We watch movies. We got to stadiums and watch ball games. We go to the theatre and we watch stage plays. We listen to music. We go to concerts and sit and listen to music. We're a society of people, we don't do anything, we just watch and listen, that's how we've all been trained."

"I didn't take you for a culture critic," I said. I poured a bit of chablis from the snifter, not much, just enough to wet my palate.

I glanced at Sam. That sounded sarcastic, but actually, I was impressed. On the one hand, Leroy sometimes felt like a walking erection, a hard cock continually driving towards the next vagina. But he kept showing these new unexpected sides to him. It bowled me over that some charming sleaze I met in a bar would have these insightful observations and reflections. It drew us both to him, all these facets, these unexpected, unanticipated remarkables.

"That extends to sex," Leroy said. "Even sex. We watch porn. Everyone watches porn. You watch porn."

"I've watched porn," I admitted. Honestly, there was so much out there, it was just inevitable. I found my mileage varied. A lot of it just left me cold. But that's the thing with porn, there's so much of it, that something out there will press your buttons.

Sometimes in ways you would rather not admit to. Stranger sex. Nasty sex. Filthy language. Ugly guys. Kinky non-politically correct things. Of course, I'd done some of that with Sam and Leroy, so I guess they had an inkling.

But you know, you don't necessarily want to talk about it.

I realized that I'd made an awkward admission, and hoped he wouldn't ask embarrassing questions.

"So have I," Leroy said. "I like it. It's great. Totally okay with porn. Good porn, whatever that is. But the point is, we're watching all the time, that's what we do."

I smiled. He was invested in making his point, I was off the hook.

"Sam and I, we've done plenty of actual sex," I pointed out. "You've been in some of it."

Sam grinned. "She has a point."

"Sure, there's plenty of doing things out there. People play sports, they play music, games, they engage. But watching is a big part of everyone's life. We're trained into this passive experience, to sit and watch and enjoy. And that can extend to our sex lives."

"Cuckolding?" Sam asked.

"Right."

"So you're saying that cuckolding is really just the desire to watch our partners fuck someone else," Sam demanded. He shrugged thoughtfully.

"Yep."

"That's just voyeurism," I pointed out.

"No," Leroy said, "voyeurism is watching anyone. And exhibitionism is getting off on being watched by anyone. Cucking, is about that special person being watched, or doing the watching. Porn, voyeurism, exhibition, all that is generic."

"But cucking is personal?" Sam asked thoughtfully.

"Sure it is," Leroy said. "Because everything else is generic, it's all brands and branding and marketing and merchandising. You want to watch porn, you can watch ten thousand girls, all stemped out like a cookie cutter. But you'll never meet any of them, you'll never know any of them."

"You can go to the strip club and watch strippers all day long," he said, "but you'll never really know any of the. You'll never have a personal relationship, or anything meaningful. It's all just a generic mask."

"But there's something about the personal," he said. "You watch someone you know play a sport or an instrument, you feel something, it matters."

"Authenticity," Sam and I both said at the same time. For a moment, Leroy looked startled. Then we all laughed.

"Authenticity. That's exactly it. Same with sex," he concluded. "You can watch porn. Or you can watch someone you know, your girlfriend, your boyfriend, someone who matters to you, fuck, and that makes it special. Makes it hot."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said. "But we're just having fun. This whole cuckold lifestyle, just feels icky. It's got like a lot of creepy baggage."

"Yeah," Leroy said. "But you told me about your fun, like before I started tapping Kayley here. You were getting off on watching her flirt in bars."

I squirmed a little uncomfortably. It's one thing to talk in abstract about sexual politics and what drove people. Relating it on a personal level, that's awkward. For Sam and I, it was about having fun, pressing boundaries.

Sometimes you just don't want to overthink things.

"Not the same thing," Sam said. "I wasn't jerking off over it."

"It's not," I said. "We're just playing a game together. It's not really what you're talking about."

"What were you getting out of it?" Leroy asked Sam.

I looked to Sam.

"It was fun," Sam was obviously uncomfortable. "Special. She looked beautiful, charming. She sparkled."

I smiled and put my hand on Sam's.

"Special."

"Yeah."

"Because it was her, because it was her expressing herself, being herself."

"Yeah. It wasn't sex."

"But it was cucking," Leroy insisted. "It wasn't sex, but it was sexy. And you loved seeing this person you knew, that you loved, getting their sexy on. It was about being a spectator, like we all are, but for someone you had a connection to."

Leroy turned to me. Oh no, I was on the hot seat. I was happier just watching Leroy and Sam spar.

"Kayley," he asked, "what was it like for you, flirting with guys. Knowing that Sam was watching."

I knew what he was going for. I didn't really want to give it to him though.

"I didn't mind," I said carefully.

"Is that all. You just didn't mind?"

Oh geez, he wasn't going to let it go. I paused, and thought about it.

"Well," I said. "I like flirting sometimes. But I can be nervous. Having Sam watch... it's hard to explain, I had more confidence. It's like he was my safety net. I wouldn't do it at all if it bothered him. I'd never hurt him."

"Did you enjoy him watching you flirt?" he demanded.

I chewed my lip.

"I.... guess?"

I was blushing. I definitely liked Sam watching me flirt. But was that me showing off, some exhibitionist urge. Or was it that Sam really liked it and I enjoyed pleasing him. Okay, so maybe one of us was definitely voyeuristic, or one of us was definitely exhibitionistic. Or maybe we both had a bit.

But whatever. It was mild, it was just having fun together without all the actual weird baggage. This whole cuckold thing seemed a little much.

It's like this, you're in a schoolyard, you have a ball, you all start playing with it, and everyone has fun. We're just messing around. But then someone shows up, there's a ball-playing manual, there's all these rules and regulations, a full book of them.

Maybe a formal game with rules is good, maybe it's better. But you can't help but pine for when you were just messing about in the schoolyard with a ball.

I suppose what it was, was that what Sam and I were doing, on some level, felt really innocent.

"What about when you fucked in the men's room?"

I sucked air in through my teeth.

"I was so fucking nervous," I said. "It was unbelievable."

"Did you get off on Sam listening."

I thought about it.

"I don't think so," I said carefully. It was actually a decent question, and even if Leroy clearly had his own ideas, there was room here to explore other things.

"I was so nervous," I admitted, "I mean, Sam made it possible. He supported, he was my lifeline, he gave permission and made it safe. That was what was important to me in the moment."

I could tell they were watching me. I looked at the wine glass.

"But when I was with you, or that other guy, I was mainly right there in the moment. It was hard to think of Sam and how he might be feeling when some total stranger has their hands on your ass and are slamming you with a big cock. You know?"

Sam nodded. My hand twisted in his, our fingers entwined. God, I loved him so much.

"You talked a lot though," Leroy pointed out.

"What?" I asked.

"You were really verbal each time," Leroy said. "You talked. Derek, when he was bragging, said you were practically doing colour commentary."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess."

"Why?" Leroy persisted.

"For Sam, I suppose," I said thoughtfully. "To make sure he knew what was going on. Just in case."

"And because he liked it," Leroy said. "You were talking because it turned him on to hear."

"I guess," I said uncomfortably. "That might be part of it."