My boyfriend, Trey, had always been jealous of Tyler.
Before Trey and I got together, Tyler and I had been friends with benefits - hooking up whenever I visited NYC. It was always really fun and really casual. Tyler was a musician and a free spirit - long hair, crystal necklace, easy smile. For a couple years, Tyler was my first text every time I came to the city for work. I'd get out of the day's meetings, meet up with Tyler and his friends at a bar, and around midnight, we'd both get this look in our eye. I can't say what was behind that look for him, but for me, it was a familiar fizzy feeling in my clit. The thing is, for all of Tyler's gentle spirit and calm demeanor, I knew he was packing heat. His cock was a thing of beauty - eight inches at least, and thick as a beer can. We had this little routine: I'd catch his eye across the room, lift my drink and raise an eyebrow. He'd put his hands together and bow a little. An unspoken acknowledgement that we were catching an Uber back to his place once the tabs were closed.
I never wanted things to be serious with Tyler - a few hours clinking glasses and rolling around on his futon was perfect. No cock had ever filled me so completely - but I also didn't want to wake up on the floor of a warehouse loft full of musicians and question my life choices. I never stayed over after we fucked - we'd leave each other spent and gasping, and then I'd wriggle back into my slacks and blouse, call another Uber, and smile to myself as I rode back across the bridge to my hotel in Manhattan, the lingering taste of his cum still clinging to my lips. Tyler never complained - he knew I'd be back.
Trey, on the other hand, was husband material. I knew it as soon as I met him. He was almost everything I'd ever wanted - he asked a lot of questions, got along with all my friends, and was a wizard with his tongue. He was a TV producer, so he made good money and got invited to swanky parties. I moved to New York for good a few months after we met, and there were only two things we ever fought about.
The first was his stamina - though he was happy to eat me out for hours, he invariably came within sixty seconds once we started fucking. I didn't mention it for a while - and he loved to tell me that he couldn't help it, he was just so turned on by the sight of my body. Now don't get me wrong, a girl loves a compliment. But a girl also loves getting properly railed, and when I finally said something about it, Trey got upset. Which I understand - nobody likes to hear their partner express dissatisfaction. But for all of Trey's good qualities, there was a geyser of insecurity bubbling just below the surface. When I saw how mopey he got after my passing comment about wishing he could last a little longer, I realized I'd hit struck a vein. So I didn't say anything about it after that - which was mostly fine, except that more and more, I found myself fantasizing about those late-night marathons with Tyler.
Tyler, as you may have guessed, was the other thing Trey and I fought about. There was a bit of a dark side to Trey's ability to connect with people, which was that he could read me like a book. And it only took one meeting with Tyler for Trey to figure out that we had a history. A friend of mine threw a birthday party at her Brooklyn penthouse apartment, and Tyler showed up with his ragtag band of troubadour goofballs. As was so often the case, the party went from a seven to an eleven once Tyler showed up. Within a half-hour of his arrival, we were all singing along as he and his friends played music and made toasts. As the evening wound down, Tyler came over and gave me a very platonic hug. But as soon as I felt his arms around me, I shut my eyes, and saw myself with my palms against the wall, moaning like a wild animal as his hands clutched my hips and his throbbing dick throbbed against the walls of my pussy.
The memory only lasted a second, but Trey clearly saw something on my face. When we got home, he asked me what the deal was with Tyler. I told him we used to fool around, but it was nothing serious.
"It sure looked like you guys knew each other pretty well," he said.
"Oh come on, baby - that was all a million years ago," I protested.
"Did he last longer than me?"
"What?"
"Did he?"
"I mean...I don't know," I lied. "Maybe? I can't really remember - and besides, it's just you and me now, babe!"
"Sorry I can't fuck you like he did."
"Trey, come on! I love you - what is this?"
Trey stalked into the bedroom and went to sleep. I sat on the couch, feeling bewildered and resentful. About a half-hour later, my phone buzzed. A text from Tyler - totally innocuous: "Great to see you, pal."
I threw my phone across the room, poured myself a glass of wine, and slipped my finger into my underwear. I shut my eyes again, remembering the texture of the peeling paint on the walls of Tyler's loft under my palms. I bit my lip and started rubbing my clit. As a wave of pleasure began to build in my stomach, I forced my eyes open, and sat up straight. "You can't do this," I told myself. "It's not right." I swallowed the wine, crept into the bedroom, and curled up next to my boyfriend.
A month or so later, the same friend threw a New Year's party. When I told Trey I wanted to go, he asked if Tyler would be there again. I said I wasn't sure - which was true. It was hard to know when and where Tyler would show up, which was one of the reasons I never wanted to date him. Trey frowned, but grudgingly agreed to meet me at the party later on - he had a shoot that night, but assured me that he would be there before midnight. He didn't want to miss the chance to kiss me as the calendar flipped.
When I got to the party, Tyler was not only there, he was hammered. I'd barely hung up my coat when he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Prayer hands," he whispered in my ear. I felt his bulge against my ass and pulled away quickly. "And a very happy new year to you, pal," I said, spinning out of his grasp quickly. He winked at me, and I felt myself blush.
"Where's Pouty-pants?" he said, grinning devilishly.
"He's coming later," I said, straightening my dress and trying not to look him in the eye.
"That works out well," he replied.
I forced myself to turn away, and felt his eyes on me as I made my way to the bar. I poured myself some tequila and found some friends to say hello to. I threw myself into their conversation and did my best to avoid Tyler's gaze from across the living room. But as the first hour ticked by, and then the second, I couldn't ignore that familiar fizzy feeling. After my third tequila, I figured I should text Trey to reassure him, and headed towards the door where I'd hung my coat. But before I could get to the coatrack, Tyler intercepted me.
"Can I talk to you for a second?" he said, giggling.
"Ok," I replied, breathlessly. "But make it quick."
He took my hand and guided me down a hallway to the guest bedroom, where he shut the door.
