The Key to Marie
I'll start with a confession. I like to watch porn. My friends don't know this, and they complain frequently about how their husbands and boyfriends watch it a lot. They worry it means they're not enough for their men sexually. I suspect they fear their men will see something they like better. Men are men and more likely to stray, while women are more committed and all that. And they all imply that they don't watch it themselves.
So not many women are like me. Or maybe women are just more secretive about it.
I started a long time ago, when I was single and horny all the time. Looking at pics of couples and sometimes videos. I liked the sexy bodies and the thrill of discovering all the things men and women can do together. My imagination was constantly on fire.
And then I came across a site with videos of two men and a woman.
What I saw rocked me. Not in the way you'd probably think--the two men doing things to the woman. That's intriguing but not a strong fantasy for me. This site was two men doing things to each other, and the woman was seated in a comfortable chair close by watching them, one hand holding a glass of wine and the other busy between her legs.
That went through me like a surge of electricity.
Maybe I was naïve at the time. Of course I knew that some men liked men and some women liked women, but that had been a kind of abstract awareness somewhere in the back of my mind.
But these images were real, and they were raw, and I suddenly wanted to be that woman.
It wasn't just that one naked man is good so two naked men is twice as good. It was like a secret world, an alternative sexual reality, where everything was recognizable but distorted somehow. A private, male-only realm, ordinarily off-limits to those like me. But somehow that woman had gained special access to it.
From that time on I wanted that. Not always, but frequently I went looking for those images. And when that mood was upon me I felt that if I had been born a guy, I'd totally be gay.
Yet that wasn't what I wanted either. We all joke about whether it's better to be a man or a woman. Everybody really knows it's better to be a woman. Ha ha. We don't have to have that argument now. I love being a woman, I love sex with men, and that will never change.
And yet ... sometimes the images take ahold of me, and for a few days I will be dominated by the fantasy of two men together. And somehow I am watching close by, perhaps through a hole in the wall or from a closet or, like that first woman, in a chair close by the bed.
I had those fantasies for years.
And then I met Steven.
* *
How can I describe him? We were instant chemistry together. To me he was like an ice cream shop where you want to try every flavor. Hot body, almost pretty face, tight ass--and big down there where it counts.
Super smart too. He'd almost graduated from medical school but quit because he had an idea for a new medical device. So he'd dropped out and worked like crazy to make his invention a reality. I'd met him just as he'd made it work and was deciding which big medical outfit to merge his small company with.
Three months later, we were engaged.
It was like a dream come true--he was handsome, fun in bed, successful in his work, and he adored me. And yet ... there was another something about him I sensed but couldn't quite put my finger on. Something tantalizing but hidden, not only from me but maybe even from Steven himself.
Arranged Date
Steven, now my fiancé, came home and told me in a perplexed way that the new guy at work, Bronn, had asked him out for a drink.
He'd mentioned the guy to me before. He was tall, he'd said, not exactly handsome and quite reserved. The women at work were all aflutter about him. Steven said he'd been surprised at that, but it turned out the man was gay. He'd learned that from one of the disappointed women. For some reason, women sort of melted when Bronn was around. Steven did grant that the man was somehow vigorous and masculine but hadn't responded to any of the subtle signals women send when they're interested in a man. Instead, when one had flirted outrageously with him, Bronn had told her bluntly that he only fucked men. That had shocked her into silence, but the gossip spread like wildfire.
"So what did you say?" I asked.
"I told him I was engaged to be married, of course."
"Well, it must have been nice to be asked on a date. When was the last time that happened?" I asked.
"He didn't say it was a date, just a drink. And the last time I was asked out on a date was a couple of ago, before I met you."
"So what if it was years ago?" I replied. "You're a good-looking man, and his asking you out proves it."
Suddenly a surprisingly clear image of my fiancé with a man took over my mind. They were having drinks at a bar, making small talk, sitting close, their heads together, maybe progressing to a table for some dinner, and ... since men are men and this one was gay ... even some flirting. It was turning me on! I was shocked at the direction my imagination was going, as it was clearly outside any committed-to-be-married norm.
"You're my fiancée," Steven said, "so of course you'll say that," but I could tell he was pleased to hear the words about his appearance.
"You should say Yes to him," I just blurted.
"What?! You want your fiancé to date other men?! Why?" A questioning look crossed his face. "Do you want to date other men--or women?"
The sudden self-realization was over-powering. The answer was Yes, I do want you to date other men, but I couldn't say it out loud. I could hardly admit it to myself, but my pussy was moistening at the image of them together, and that outweighed all else.
"No, I do not want to date other men, or women." That was 99% true. "You are more than man enough for me. That won't change if you going out for drinks with a guy."
He was silent, absorbing my words.
I considered my next words carefully, trying to express exactly what I felt.
"What I want is for you to be happy. I get pleasure when you're happy and ... satisfied. I know I've been working too much--it's the end-of-quarter rush--and not paying you proper attention. Why not go out and enjoy yourself?"
Steven was at a loss for words. I could see he was thinking. Finally he said, "No. I am still engaged and an engaged man does not do this."
I sensed his resistance and stopped pushing.
"Okay," I said. "Maybe just think of it as friendliness. Just two guys who happen to be colleagues going out for a drink. Not a big deal to just go and have some fun and get to know each other better. It doesn't have to be anything else."
"Hmmm," he said.
Aha. There was no "No." I let it drop.
* *
The next day I got a call from Steven at work. "Just wanted to let you know that I will be a little late getting home tonight," he said.
"Oh, what's going on?"
"I told Bronn I'd have a drink with him. He asked for tonight so I said Yes. I shouldn't be too late. Just one drink."
"No problem. I'll get some pizza and there'll be some for you when you get home," I said.
That evening as I waited for my fiancé to get home, images of the two of them together came in my mind--Steven and some unknown man. In my mind, the man was tall and dark and as yet faceless. I was still surprised at the images' power on me, and they weren't even explicitly sexual. Just the two of them together. My fiancé and another man. It was so hot that I was stunned, but continued playing with them in my mind.
As it turned out, Steven was several hours late getting home. He apologized, saying Bronn insisted on more than one drink. Bronn, it turned out, was reserved at work but quite outgoing and even forceful in private. They'd talked and talked and lost track of time.
"Wow," I said. I pressed him on what they'd talked about.
Bronn, he said, had somehow dominated the conversation while at the same time had gotten Steven to talk about everything in his own life. After the first drink, he felt he could not say No. After the second drink, he said, pausing for a moment, he felt he did not want to.
I felt a tingling in my stomach and a desire to tease him. "Yesterday you didn't even want to go out with him and now you can't stop talking about him."
"I know, I know," he said, a bit sheepishly.
"So tell me!" I insisted. "You say you talked about everything--what did you tell him about me?"
"I told him you were amazing and sweet. And that you were working a lot." He paused. "I also told him how you had said you get pleasure when I'm happy and, umm, satisfied."
"Ahh," I said, remembering that.
"He then said, 'So your fiancée didn't object to your going out with me for a drink?' 'No, I said, 'she encouraged me.'"
I nodded. Yes, I had.
Steven then said Bronn had asked how much you had encouraged me, and if you were okay with dating, for example. "I stopped him right there and told him that we were just two guys having drinks and making conversation, and not on a date with all that implies."
"'Well,'" Bronn had apparently said, "'what if we had a poker night, or went to parties or on camping trips, like guys do? Those wouldn't be dates, would they? Would you be fine with them?'"
Steven had said he didn't know. "Finally I just said, 'She just wants me to enjoy myself, so I don't think she'd object. But I am an engaged man so the line needs to be drawn somewhere."
In my mind and between my legs, the line was feeling very fluid to me. "What did he say to that?" I asked.
"He pointed out that this was something like a date and it was okay, wasn't it?"
Steven paused and looked at me. "I forgot to tell you. By this point he'd had his hand on my thigh for a while before he said those words."
I let that image sink in. "What did you say in response?" My voice was a little creaky.
Steven said, "I agree that it was date-like, sort of, but I told him it wasn't a real date and we were not in a dating relationship. Then he just smiled and told me to think about it."
* *
The next evening, I got a call at home. Steven was running some errands--clothing shopping, he'd said--and would be home later.
I was still working and absent-mindedly picked up the phone. "Hello, is this Steven's fiancée?" asked a strong voice, almost like one of those controlled command voice they talk about in the military.
"Yes, who is calling?"
"I'm Bronn, the man who took your fiancé out for drinks last night. I just wanted to call and thank you for letting your man go out with me."
