Chapter 9 – Mark and Carrie share a Woman
Please feel free to read the earlier chapters at no extra charge. In fact, you'll find reading the chapters in sequence adds context and depth as the story unfolds. Otherwise, feel free to find the juicy bits and wank.
And so, despite a fifty percent divorce rate, rest assured that in a world where it's safe to have unprotected sex, there is such a thing as...a good marriage.
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As time passed a pattern emerged, somewhat random, but a pattern nonetheless. Carrie was happy to find that she and Mark had daily sex, more sometimes, for weeks before he slowed down for a week or two. She often waited a day, two at times, for Mark to perk back up. Other times she couldn't stand it after a day or two and if Mark was unreceptive she would go out for awhile. And when she came back it was...good between them. It actually didn't happen that often, but still she wished it could be different.
She thought of her meeting other men, the eight or so men in her stable as she called it, her meeting her other men for sex, as an item on her to-do list. It was an errand she ran when she was out. Her fucking other men to satisfy her craving was simply an errand she ran before buying groceries.
In time, Mark made his adjustments. He didn't enjoy her leaving to fuck other men, but he was not wracked with conflicting emotions either. He tried to think of their overall goal; to share a life together. And so they agreed she could fuck certain other men because she craved sex every day, often multiple times a day. It was who she was and she couldn't help it.
They agreed she could suck certain other men's cocks because Mark could not at all meet her needs for prolonged periods. They agreed she could let certain other men make her come because Carrie and Mark were soulmates, deeply in love, and wanted to spend their lives together and were finding their way.
And so Mark compartmentalized, he put her fucking certain other men in a mental box. That her fucking the men in her stable was Carrie's preferred method of masturbating. It was simply assisted masturbation that held no emotional connection at all. And it was, therefore, essentially meaningless in the big picture, meaningless within the larger context of Carrie's love for Mark and their relationship with each other. And, as it happened, she had only gone out for awhile a few times. Carrie said it was with the same man and that she planned to keep it that way which, under the circumstances, gave Mark some small measure of relief.
Mark would prefer it to be different, that Carrie not need a stable of men, but it didn't gnaw at him anymore. Carrie helped with that. She was as loving and affectionate and attentive as ever. She never teased him about it or talked about it, though wondered if, as time progressed, they would introduce talk of her stable to their sex play as they had done with her past lovers. And Mark knew Carrie would tell him whatever he wanted to know, no matter how intimate the details, and maybe someday he would ask. But for now, while he was adjusting to their arrangement mentally and emotionally, it was better that her men remain anonymous, for her to see them offstage, as it were.
It was simple. It was complex.
Then February was upon them and they were at Carnival. They stayed in South Rio and on their second night in town they were in a club with a horde of people dancing to the loud, pulsating wall of sound, the deep bass notes relentlessly punching the gut. A mirror ball sprinkled the revelers with unending diamonds of light. Lasers sprayed lances of color across the vast room.
Mark swayed and moved with the beat. He watched Carrie and fell in love all over again. She was astonishingly beautiful, mesmerizing, electricity in motion. He rarely saw this side of her, utterly carefree and wild and gleeful. Carrie twirled and danced with athletic grace and effortless rhythm. She wore a skin tight tank top, no bra. Her skirt and hair swirled and flared. She twirled and looked at Mark, her eyes blazing with love and passion and mischief.
Carrie was both beacon and magnet. She danced and moved and radiated absolute sex and utter sensuality. She danced for Mark, circling him, brushing against him, arousing him, but her seductive power was like a tractor beam, luring others with the promise of eternal erotic bliss.
Mark and Carrie were near the edge of the dance floor and it seemed they stood fixed while a great wheel of dancers floated past them. Barely clothed women would come between Mark and Carrie and would dance with him, then turn and move with her for a moment before turning and drifting with sea of whirling dancers. Men would dance up and try to impress Carrie and she would spin and shoo them off, laughing when they feigned broken hearts forever as they were swept away by the relentless force of the great tide.
Spinning, swirling, the people danced. Pulsing and hypnotic, the music never ended but moved from disco to techno to club and beyond.
An exotic creature floated into Mark and Carrie's space. She looked Mark up and down and smiled and nodded in approval and shook her breasts at him and laughed when he mimicked her movements. She threw her arms in the air and whirled, looked back to make sure Mark was looking at her tight ass. She twirled again to dance with Carrie and when they looked at each other they squealed and hugged and jumped up and down.
Carrie grabbed the woman's hand and dragged her off the dance floor catching Mark's hand as she passed and pulling him along as well. They went into another part of the club where the music was at a level they didn't have to shout.
"Cathy!" Carrie said, holding her hands. Cathy noticed the rings. "I've wondered how you've been. It's so good to see you!" they embraced again.
Cathy put her hands on Carrie's shoulders and held her at arms length. "Me too, me too! My god, you look stunning, Carrie. You are positively glowing! Does it have anything to do with this handsome fellow you dragged off the dance floor?"
"Aye!" Carrie clapped her hands with glee and looked at each in turn and said, "Cathy, this is my husband, Mark. Mark, this is my old friend Cathy."
Mark held out his hand and said, "Hello, Cathy," and was about to make small talk when Cathy interrupted him and said, "None of that here," and hugged him. "Carrie and I go way back and any husband of hers gets a hug from me." To Carrie's amusement Mark wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands for a moment before he responded with a warm hug.
Cathy pulled back, held Mark's shoulders at arms length and said to Carrie. "My god, he's a handsome one. You sure know how to pick them."
"I can't believe my luck, Cathy." Looking at Mark she said, "I'm so happy." Mark smiled. She looked back at Cathy, smiled and said, "What's up with the outfit? Or lack of one."
Cathy wore a sheer bra, a thong and three-inch heels. And a blue wig. "Oh my god, that. I lost a silly bet. And now my skirt and blouse are who knows where."
"Well, at least you're far from alone here," Mark said.
"And you still have a great figure," Carrie added.
"Why, thank you," she made a small, quick curtsy, pretending to hold out a skirt.
"I'll get us drinks and let you two catch up a minute." Mark smiled at them and walked off.
Cathy fanned her face and said, "Wow! I really mean it, Carrie, Mark is smoking hot. Where did you find him?"
"At a party thrown by a mutual friend. And he
is
awesome. Completely."
"Good in the sack?"
"Aye. Best I ever had," Carrie said and smiled.
Cathy let her eyes grow wide and said, "Now
that's
saying something."
Carrie nodded, said, "He knows."
"Holy shit! How'd he take it?"
"Rough at first. But we're makin' it." Carrie grabbed Cathy's hands and leaned toward her. "We love each other so much, Cathy. It's incredible. We've had some problems to sort out, but we're totally committed to growin' old together."
"I wish I could find that. I'm happy for you, Carrie." Cathy hugged her.
Mark returned with champagne and dispensed the glasses. They chatted, Cathy pumped Mark for the essentials and offered she had quit designing clothes and moved into jewelry at which point Carrie exclaimed she wanted to buy some, touting Cathy's exquisite taste to Mark.
It was getting late so Mark and Carrie decided to head back to the hotel. "I want to see more of you, where are you stayin'?" Carrie asked.
"Just down the block at the Hilton." She pointed one way, then the other.
"Us too! We can walk there together."
They toasted to friends old and new, killed the champagne then left the club. Carrie took Cathy's arm in hers and they walked. Mark fell behind and Carrie turned and glanced at Mark and laughed when he wriggled his eyebrows. The women talked and stole an occasional glance back at Mark and he wondered what they were up to.
Mark watched their moves, their walk. Both had spectacular asses, bodies. figures, faces. Cathy was a little shorter, slender, but fuller all around than Carrie. Mark couldn't discern what her heritage was. Cathy had fine features, dark almond eyes, and rich, dark mocha colored skin. She was an amalgam of countries and races and she was heart attack gorgeous.
Mark and Carrie were amused to see Cathy talking to the hotel clerk in nothing but a sheer bra, thong and heels. The clerk acted as if her attire were nothing but normal and didn't pay even the slightest attention. Standing several yards behind Cathy, it was clear to Mark and Carrie that she was agitated. She turned and fumed toward them.
"Shit! My assistant was supposed to get me a room, but they say because I didn't check in by eleven they gave my room to someone else. Fuck! What is going on here these days!" They were all a bit tipsy.
Carrie looked at Mark and he shrugged and nodded. "Nah, Cathy. We have a suite. You can stay with us tonight and sort it out tomorrow."
"Oh, that would be such a relief!" Mark went to the clerk and told him to have her bags sent to their room and to work on finding a suitable room for Ms. Westhoven for tomorrow and through the end of carnival.
He returned to the women, said, "All set," and held out his arms. Carrie and Cathy smiled, curtsied, took his arms and he escorted them to the elevators, then to the room beyond.
In the suite Cathy said, "You guys go first. I feel like a little more champagne. I'll pay you back."
"Don't worry about it," Mark said as he and Carrie entered the bathroom and closed the door. Carrie turned on the water in the spacious shower, they disrobed and got in.
Mark washed Carrie's thick, red shoulder length hair and after rinsing it said, "Look at this cutout," referring to a tall, wide inset, that in another part of a house would hold a large vase or bust or small statue.
Carrie hopped onto it and grabbed the handles that ran down the length of the inset. Mark stepped between her legs, their hips aligned, ran a soapy washcloth over her and said, "Those Hilton's think of everything don't they? We'll have to have our shower redone."
"Mmm, I'd like that," she said, closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of Mark's firm hands washing her. She became aroused at his touch.
"Do you think Cathy is pretty?"
"She'd do in a pinch."
Carrie smiled. "Are you attracted to her?"
"Trick question."
"No. It would be okay if you were. I'm not threatened. I know you love me and wouldn't hurt me."
"In that case, of course, I'd have to be dead not to be. She's beautiful. Funny, too."
Carrie smiled and said, "We go back."
"Old friends, huh."
"Mmm hmm. There's history between us, darlin'" she said, her voice far away.
Mark's cock thickened. "Don't tell me, one of your girls." Mark reached around to get Carrie's back.
