Jennifer Too

I was awake early and anticipated the woman's arrival with excitement. I showered and got dressed, nothing fancy. I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I made a fresh pot of coffee. I had loaded up on the light roast she had preferred and now had a fresh cup ready to go. I wandered about my front yard waiting for her to pass. It was always about eight. Sometimes a few minutes before, sometimes a few minutes after. At 8:30 she still wasn't there. I sat on a rock in the landscaping that was the only place to sit and waited.

At nine I went back in and went to work. I wasn't working very hard. I was torn between the fact that it had been close to midnight when I had walked her home the night before so she was probably sleeping and a conviction that in the few hours since I had seen her she had decided it was a terrible mistake. I am that way. It drives my wife insane. Given two possible outcomes I am always going to be certain the worst is what is most likely. It can be as simple a thing as approaching an intersection where I am notorious for cruising just a little slower as I approach a green light sure I will be forced to stop or as complex as when we made an offer on the house and I was sure they were going to go with one of the other offers they had been given. I consider myself cautious, a skeptic at worst. She calls it total global negativity. Anyway, I was certain I wouldn't see her and it surprised me when at nine-fifteen she knocked on the window to my office and I looked up to see her hunched beneath the tree, the golden retriever panting and drooling.

We drank our coffee and chatted. She suggested I walk with her. I wasn't going to say no. That afternoon I took on a project. Buying a cast iron set of two chairs and a small table that sat between them I had to then buy a half pallet of pavers and sand. I moved the rock that had been the ground cover in a small nook between the dining room and garage. I shoveled and raked sand, pulling it smooth and level with a 2x4 on a long piece of rope. I laid the pavers in a fancy pattern, locked them in place sweeping a thin layer of sand into the seams and then sat with a beer on my new front porch. When Jennifer got home she was impressed. She really liked it.

We sat together watching the neighbors come home from work. After some time I looked over at her and her pleasant smile had faded away. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." I anticipated this going on for two or three days.

"This is for her." She said.

I stopped the words after I had opened my mouth but before I had started speaking. I was going to say "Of course not." Instead I took her inside. I took her to the bedroom. I began to slowly undress her.

"I'm not really in the mood," she said. She was still scowling. I kept undressing her and she let me. Jennifer seldom wears panties and when I removed her bra, I was done. She stood naked and pouting in front of the mirror. I fetched panties for her. They were a cute little pair of boy shorts. I fished out a little tank top that was a size too small. Jennifer is not a satin and lace kind of girl, this was her sexy pajama combination. I took her to bed and laid her down. "I appreciate how sweet you are being," she said. "But it's really not necessary." Lying in bed I turned on the TV and put on a silly English BBC crime show we like. I used my phone to order her favorite Chinese. I rubbed her sore shoulder as we waited and when it arrived we ate in bed sharing a beer and then a second.

"This is going to be hard." She said.

"I get jealous too." I just went straight to the heart of the matter. "Yes. I am a pervert and watching you with another woman was one of the hottest things I have ever seen but I also keep thinking about Saturday morning and how you and she... Well... You were alone." It had crossed my mind from time to time but each time I had just chased the insecurity away, this was the first time I had put it into words. "I worry."

"You have nothing to worry about," she said smiling, as though I was being ridiculous.

"I do. I wouldn't be the first guy to loose his wife to another woman."

"'Friends' wasn't real." Again, the broad smile. It was working.

"Still. I get jealous."

"She's prettier than I am," she said. This, I had considered in some detail.

"She is pretty. She must be very pretty for you to be attracted to her, you aren't even into women." She nodded in agreement. "But she is generically pretty. It all comes together nicely, but she doesn't have your curves. Her face isn't as pretty as yours. With Jenny, you look at her and smile. With you, you look at you and think, Damn!" It was true. It was what I was thinking as I stared at her large chest and how her tits pressed out at the too think tank top.

"You are sweet. You know how I wasn't in the mood?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in the mood now," she teased. She pulled her tank top off. I moved the little cartons of Kung Pao to the floor beside the bed. She climbed on top of me.

I love the part before fucking. Call it foreplay or whatever, but it's my favorite part. I like the touching and the anticipation. I was still in my shorts but she moved on top of me dry humping my cock like we were kids. Her large breasts swayed and I alternated between them placing one and then the other in my mouth. When she was ready she climbed off and standing at the side of the bed pulled me free of my shorts and boxers and dropped her panties. She rubbed lubricant onto my cock and resumed her position.

It wasn't anything earth shattering. It was just two married people getting off on a Monday night. We kissed. When things really got going her tits slapped at my face. I cleared all the things I had thought about all day from my mind and just let her ride me.

It took some time for me to come. She had finished already and humped me furiously trying to get me there. Eventually I held her hips slowing her down. I had to roll her over so that I was on top. I moved slowly inside of her enjoying each stroke, letting my cock catch up. It was the sensation of her soft flesh surrounding me that did it for me and looking down on her face, her eyes closed, her lips in a small smile, I came. I moved even slower still enjoying being inside of her.

She was asleep before eight thirty. I sat up for a while longer watching the detective come to his conclusion. A second episode started but I only remember them discovering the body before the rest of it seceded into nothingness.

Jenny liked the patio and she liked the thermos. We shared a nice conversation discussing foreign policy. I don't know if I am weird or what but I liked talking to the new woman almost as much as I enjoyed our playtime. Over the coming weeks I wondered how they were connected. Did I like talking to her because I was sleeping with her or did I want to sleep with her so much because I so enjoyed just getting to know her? I probably was putting too much thought into the whole thing but that was the fun of it.

I hadn't had much to think of lately. I have done what I do professionally long enough that I don't really think as I do it. I was on autopilot most of the time. I told the same stories, made the same pitch; I was basically a marketing video. Jennifer and I had the same married people conversations over and over, we just swapped out discussing the color to paint the bedroom with the color to paint the living room. Jenny brought all new things to talk about. She was shockingly conservative politically considering she had almost married another woman. She was into old movies and we compared our favorites. She turned me onto new music and I reminded her of oldies she had forgotten.

She was a photographer. I went on one of her shoots with her. She had teased me with it. She was using me as an assistant. She said I could carry her equipment and swap out lenses for her. She shot with a Canon so I was familiar with what she used, I had a Canon. Hers was a significantly better model than mine. When we arrived at the small ranch she laughed at me. Two women, younger, prettier, and nakeder than should be allowed posed with horses or leaned sensually over the most innocuous of objects. She loved an old bicycle that had just been lying in the dust.

"You could do either one of them, you know. Maybe both." She said when the shoot was over.

"You're crazy."

"Oh come on. Models are the biggest sluts. They are all modeling so that they can break into acting, your whole casual elegant look, all you have to do is say you are producing a new vehicle for pick-a-star and they will be on their knees before you can drop your shorts."

"Casual elegant? I didn't now I had a look."

"Liar. You pretend it is whimsical beach bum but the shorts and linen shirt are both designer, I noticed right away. The Jaguar? You are kind of Yummy you know. I keep my eye on you when we are out."

"You are crazy." I told her.

"Oh, you know exactly what you are doing." She had a look herself. She was right out of a National Geographic special. Her shorts were short but functional. They were one of those out-doorsy brands. She had on a thin denim shirt rolled up to the elbows and open low enough that a lace bra would reveal itself from time to time. "Wanna do it in a barn?" she asked. What do you think I answered?

Jenny isn't shy. She didn't do anything half way. I expected to sneak in for a quicky but in the barn in front of a dusty work bench covered with real, functional ranch tools, she stripped out of all of her clothes, not just dropping her shorts for a quick bump and grind. I joined her.

It was dirty. There was dust and the smell of oil, grease and horses. It made sense. There were two horses right there. I think they watched us.

We groped and kissed. She gripped my ass firmly. I sampled her like one samples bisque as it simmers, dipping a finger into her and then tasting it before seasoning. She moaned as I did, thrusting her hips at me.

I took her from behind. Her long legs extended to their limit she stood on tip toes.

I grunted as I thrust myself into her.

"Yes," she whispered. God, yes." I gripped her hips. "God I love your cock. I need your cock. I think about it all night." She whispered still but there was emphasis on each word. "Oh shit." She said, pressing her chest down throwing her head back. "Ah. Ah. Ah," she repeated each time my hips slapped against her ass. Dust was covering us both. As I moved my hands over her sweaty lower back I left marks, trails of bare skin in the film of thin mud that clung to her skin. "Ah. Ah. Ah."

The second time she was on her back in the dirt. At some point she had acquired a giant smear of muck across her cheek. We kissed as I moved in and out of her and she tasted like grime and filth and I fucked her harder. She moaned. She was done talking. She pressed thin fingers between our hips and spread her legs, extending them up and out on each side of me working her clit as I filled her, pulsing and exploding inside of her. I was spent but I stayed there. I wanted to be inside of her as long as I could. She continued to rub herself, her orgasm still pulsing inside of her. I could feel it.

When I got off of her she stayed there on the ground, her legs parted, her tits covered in mud, sweat, and fingerprints.

She'd still had her camera around her neck and I took advantage, shooting a series of shots of her on the ground. She posed. She was spectacular. Despite taking almost 100 shots with her in all different positions from different angles and even some with the horse, the first few were the best. They were beautiful and vulgar at the same time. Her long lean body exposed she looked vulnerable in the dirt. I have four prints framed in my den. You can look at them one time and she looks like a victim, innocent and scared, The next time I look up and see them, she isn't the innocent but the guilty, a seductress prepared to take advantage of your needs for her own purposes.

We dressed and drove back to her house where we showered, washing each other clean and bringing one another as far as we could standing in the hot water until we had to pile together into the bed fucking and laughing.

The hot months of May and June were spent by the pool. I laid in the sun a good part of each morning pretending to the outside world I was working. Jenny would join me some days sunbathing nude beside me until I took her inside to make love to her. On weekend I would do the same with my Jennifer. We met our friends on Friday nights and giggled and laughed and pretended we were normal people. When my brain chemistry is balanced or when I have just gotten laid this is the way I remember those first months. It is the erotic tale of the Polyamorous Married Suburban Couple.

I am not always so self-aware. As I mentioned, Jennifer calls it total global negativity. She had discovered the term years ago when during a difficult time in our relationship my depression sent us both to therapy. Though I am more or less out of any kind of bipolar swings I still get down. The summer is a different story when I am in a mood.

There was the blowup at the Italian restaurant. We had all had too much to drink and Jennifer had been feeling vulnerable to begin with. As Jenny and I split a desert feeding one another molten chocolate whatever cake Jennifer exploded. We were sluts. We were an embarrassment. She threw a glass of water. We don't eat there anymore.

There was also the breakup. It was a tearful night when Jenny told us she couldn't do it anymore. She had to have a normal life. After being unable to console her we let her go and neither saw her nor heard from her for three days until she asked Jennifer to lunch. She had been guilted into the break-up by her ex. A jealous angry Lesbian can be dangerous. She came back because she missed us. It was the first time the L word was used. Not that L word. I mean Love. Jenny loved us. Not one of us or the other, but the both of us and she needed both of us in her life. Jennifer and I resolved solemnly to let her but to not let her interfere with us. I think we were both scared.

God, sitting here thinking about it the good times are a blur of partial memories like that shoe box your mother keeps in the closet of your childhood. The rough patches, the arguments, the crying, can be played back in high resolution like a DVD of a Glen Close movie, each time a little bit more painful than the last. There was the Friday night when Jenny in full on flirt mode resolved to make friends with Tommy's wife. We advised against it. She still tried. The result was a spiteful attack on Jenny's character including a full account of her Lesbian affair and partnership, an outing of our relationship among our friends, and an oddly detailed account of a supposed tryst, a brief adulterous affair between my wife and her husband.

"Should we talk about it, Jennifer asked me late that night. Jenny had been over and I had walked her home as usual and Jennifer met me not in the living room but was instead sitting in my den. Whatever she had wanted to talk about had driven her to dig out our wedding album. I told her to come to bed instead and held her in my arms like a Boa Constrictor. There are times when you can no longer deny knowing. It is hard but you can force your way through it. I replaced the rotors on my truck once. You have to jack up the truck, remove the wheels, remove the breaks, and secure the vehicle. Removing the nut requires a special wrench with a four-foot extension to get the leverage necessary. It is hard but it can be done. You can get a new rotor installed, a new nut in place. You can tell the difference when you drive it afterward. It is better.

The night Jennifer didn't come home was worse. I knew where she was. I don't know why it bothered me like it did. At some point, it went beyond my cuckold perversion and became just jealousy, the evil green monster that in the end is the end of all relationships in one way or another. I didn't sleep all night or talk to either one of them the next morning.

There isn't any real source of information or counsel on how to deal with two women at the same time. There are websites. If you ever find yourself in this kind of a situation, avoid them. They get creepy fast and you find yourself awake at night with the realization that it isn't the websites themselves that are creepy it is your perverse love life that has crossed over the line.

Each and every night, whether I had just made love to one of the Jennifer', the other, or both, I was certain it was over. When Jenny arrived one morning her face a combination of fear and pain I of course knew this was the day. She needed to talk. We sat in the iron chairs.

"I won a trip," she began. She went on to explain she had won an award for some photos she had taken for a Wall Street Journal piece on immigration. Once a year, News Corp. took anyone who won an award on a trip to Costa Rica. She could bring a guest. There would be events and dinners. She had to choose. It wasn't what I expected. I told her to talk to Jennifer. Terror had turned to relief when she had told me of the trip. The next words out of her mouth left me looking for a word worse than terror.

"Jennifer can't always be in charge," she said.

Of course Jennifer was in charge. I had never considered there might be another option. We could talk about things, we could debate or negotiate but in the end it was up to Jennifer to decide. It was Jennifer that had to allow us, meaning all three of us, to be us. "She is though." I said resigned to my fate. "Just ask her. One, she wont want to fly, she hates to fly. She has to take pills washed down with vodka just to get on a plane. Two, if you tell her you want to take me she won't have a problem with it. She cares about you too, you know."

"Do you care about me?" she asked.

"Of course." I said, too flippantly. "If I was allowed..." It was all I got out before she stopped me.

"Exactly," she said quietly. "You do what you are allowed to do. I don't want you to be allowed to be with me. I want you to want to be with me. I will take her on the trip, if that's what it comes down to. Jesus, they would all have heart attacks if I showed up with a man anyway. I can take her and we can continue what we are for a while - for as long as we are allowed. But at some point you are going to have to chose."

Chose what? I thought. I only thought it though.

"You can choose her. This is fun. I'm sure we will keep having fun until we aren't anymore. You can choose me. Fuck. I can't believe I am even saying it. You can though, you know. Part of me is a bitch that wants you to. I love you. You can chose me and we can run off and live happily ever after. We can even make babies. Jesus. Somebody shut me up." She was quiet for a while. She was breathing heavily. I had seen her do this before. She was building up to something.

"If you want both of us. I think you can have both of us. We have our private talks too you know, J and I. It might even fucking work, but you are going to have to choose to make it work. Fuck. I've said this in my head and it sounds good but it scares me. I guess I am just going to say it."

"What?"

"Be a man, Peter. We are already one vagina over our limit."

She walked away forgetting Roscoe. I didn't mind. We were gonna have a boy day. We would toss the ball and eat red meat and man the hell up.

"You know, you might be better off being fixed, you know that?" I don't think he agreed with me.

When Jennifer came home I was as prepared as I could be. I was going to be casual about it but in reality I was "freaked out." Middle-aged white guys don't get freaked out. I could come up with some word that expressed it or I could combine three or four three-syllable adjectives to cover it but I don't need to. I was "freaked out."