"Let's make it a date day," Cassie said, grabbing Mike's hand.
It wasn't the weirdest request in the world, except that she was cuddling up to a man who was very much not her husband. That man, Jack, was standing with my wife, Emily. Meanwhile I was positioned next to Mike's wife, Allison. The six of us, ostensibly three married couples, had all been testing the boundaries of our vows the last two days. And now, it seemed, we were poised to make alterations once again.
We were standing in EPCOT, sheltering from the merciless morning sun under the shadow of the giant golf ball. Crowds strode past us at a steady rate, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. As if the six of us weren't about to step onto something for more precipitous than any roller coaster could offer.
It was the third day of what was very quickly turning into an unexpectedly debaucherous trip to Disney World. We'd spent the first day at the pool, playing around. Sharing flirty kisses and showing a little skin. Nothing too crazy.
Then, the previous evening, we tumbled even further down the rabbit hole. It ended with my wife getting fingered to completion by Jack in front of the whole group. The older man had gotten Emily off, hard. And suddenly it all became very real what we were playing with. This wasn't some warm, fuzzy thing we could pass around with impunity. It was
fire
. And all of us were in position to get seriously burned.
After that evening's events, Emily, Allison, Mike, and I had left the bungalow feeling shell shocked. Stupid between regret of what we'd done and desire for what we didn't do. Our thirst for exploration was slaked. Our hunger to go further was rumbling ever louder.
The four of us had slunk back to our hotel room that night in a shared walk of shame. The Polynesian resort was oddly quiet. I didn't realize how much I'd gotten used to the constant noise of Disney. The music and the crowds. Now, I could hear crickets in the distance. The light of the nearby tiki torches flickered in the reflections on the wet ground. Golden and warm.
Mike and Allison were holding hands, walking in front of us and whispering quietly. I couldn't help but stare at the tall, athletic blonde woman a few feet in front of me. Images of her naked body flashed in my mind. The feel of her mouth on my dick (through my boxers, but still). The look in her deep brown eyes when I'd cupped her tiny tits.
Emily stayed by my side. We also walked hand-in-hand. I tried not to think about how those same digits had been wrapped around Jack's dick not long before. My wife looked so pretty, as always -- even moreso post-orgasm. Her brown hair was in a mussed bun, her cute face was flushed.
"Are you mad at me?" Emily asked, "I can never tell when you're mad at me."
"I'm not mad," I said, reflexively. "Do you want me to be?"
"Kind of," Emily said.
Jack had pushed her over the edge. I couldn't decide if I was impressed or jealous. Turned on by what I'd seen or ticked off because of what he'd done to my wife. Emily still seemed dopey from the experience. Like the high had yet to leave her entirely.
"Was it good?" I couldn't keep the question from my lips, though I didn't want to know the answer.
"Really good," Emily breathed out. Then caught herself. "I mean, it was an orgasm."
"A big one," I said.
"Yeah," she said, dreamy. "Not like when you and I... I mean, with you it's so much more. There's, like, a whole other layer of meaningful emotions. Our connection. This was different. More exposed and raw. That's all."
I nodded, as if I understood. I wasn't sure that I did. But then, I also found that I wasn't upset, either. I thought I ought to be, but when I searched myself, I couldn't find that emotion. It was more like the rush of jumping out of a plane (which I'd done as a teenager) -- scary, yes, but also thrilling.
"Are you angry?" I asked, mirroring my wife's question. I kept my voice low, as if the couple in front of us couldn't tell what we were talking about. As if Allison and Mike weren't currently having a similar conversation.
"I'm fine," Emily said, far too final.
I grabbed her shoulder and stopped her. Gave her the steadiest stare I could muster after a little too much alcohol and another overlong evening. Mike and Allison continued walking on ahead.
"We agreed that this was OK," I said.
"We did," Emily said. She let out a deep sigh. "It's hard for me. Harder than I thought it would be. I didn't think about what it would feel like when you touched Allison. When she touched you. She's my best friend. You're my husband. It's all strange and twisty. There's something incredible about it, but incredible good or incredible bad, I don't know."
"You liked it," I said, "With Jack."
"I mean, yeah," Emily said, tucking her brown hair behind her ear. "But it was also weird. Being seen like that. Felt like that. All swept up in front of everyone. I don't know."
I shrugged. I wasn't being obstinate. I legitimately didn't know where to go next. "Do you want to stop?"
"We need to be careful," Emily said, after a beat.
"Fun, but not too much fun," I said.
"For both of us, Emily said. She paused. "I love you. Really and truly. Don't ever doubt that. Please."
She stood on her tip toes to kiss me on the lips. Stretching her little body to reach mine. It was quick -- the way a wife kisses her husband. Reassuring yet dispassionate. Casual yet complete.
We fell asleep that night the way we always did, each of us facing the other end of the bed. Like pretending we had the space all to ourselves.
*
The next morning, I got the biggest shock of the trip so far: Allison let us sleep in.
The four of us woke up slowly, the sun leaking through the nearby window. My body ached. My head throbbed. I'd slept in my outfit from the night before, I'm pretty sure we all had, and my clothes felt sticky and tight.
The four of us roused at around the same time, rolling and groaning. I looked over at the other bed, and saw Allison was staring my way. Her eyes unfocused with sleep.
"Well, that was interesting," Mike said.
"You mean last night?" Emily asked, tentatively. I think her experience had left her feeling particularly exposed. If she could have kept the memory while making the rest of us forget what had happened, I think she'd have taken that deal in a heartbeat.
"No, my dreams," Mike said, "I was flying a giraffe over Bolivia."
"Sounds exciting," Emily said.
