Some Small Consolation

Reed and I were getting used to being alone.

Our son had left in August for school. We had driven him to Chicago like all good freshmen parents. We spent the weekend getting him settled in. We spent like a thousand dollars at Target. By Sunday night he wanted us gone and we started the long drive back to Denver.

Reed had wanted to make it in one shot. We weren't successful. After hours of driving in silence we pulled into Fort Collins for gas. I went pee as he filled the pickup. When I came out he said he had an idea.

We stopped at a dispensary across the street. It had been legal for a while but we weren't the type. We had been the type, years ago. Younger, hotter, with more energy we had been the type of couple that was up for anything. We smoked a little. We had been to Hedonism in Jamaica. We had even gone to a house party or two but those days were behind us.

At least that was what I thought until we were in bed in a truck stop hotel a couple of beers and a pre-rolled joint in us.

We fucked like the old days. He ate me out for like an hour and then we went for a 69 that lasted until I couldn't take it anymore and needed him inside of me.

The next morning we held hands as we drove home.

That was last fall. Over the winter we made a regular date of it. At first it was just Saturdays. We would wait until noon then he would open two beers and we would split an edible and crawl into bed for a few hours of touching, sucking, stroking, and humping. One weekend, snowed in, I suggested we follow up Saturday's debauchery with a wake and bake session. It might actually have been even better than Saturday. We were more awake. We talked. At least I talked. The whole time he was between my thighs I fantasized about the old days. I reminisced about taking on two cocks. I came like a rabid monkey.

Spring came, the hills turned green, we were overcome by the friskiness that comes with warmer weather. He wanted to get me what I wanted.

The first one was a neighbor. Reed invited him over for burgers and beers. After lunch I introduced my favorite chocolate bar. I sucked them both off as long as I could and then they took turns fucking me.

Yes, it was awesome.

No, it wasn't what I was looking for.

Stoned sex, the kind we had been having for the last few months, was a slow and tender affair. It was long repetitive orgasms that tickled. The aggressiveness of the double-teaming sobered me up. I had to work to keep up with them. I didn't not like it but it wasn't what I was after.

The second one was an older man I used to work with. We had always sort of flirted but just in that friendly kind of way coworkers flirt. He was stunned when I came onto him, more stunned when I pulled him into our bedroom, and flat out disturbed when Reed first watched and then subbed in.

Again, it wasn't bad but it wasn't... IT.

I had more or less decided I was out of the market; the fantasy was better than the reality, when I met Brandon.

He was younger than us. He was cute. He was in his mid thirties with a hipster beard and he re-introduced us to smoking it but bringing over a two-foot tall glass bong. We did a couple of bowls. It was a different sort of high. It was more immediate but less intense. I'm not really sure how exactly to describe it. You should try it for yourself really. Brandon suggested it was the strain. I was more alert, more excitable. I chattered away rather than retreating into silent contemplation and I took both men to my bed and told them precisely what to do to what and for how long.

As was typical Reed and I sort of passed out. For the life of me I thought the man had left. I was snuggled up to Reed until I wasn't. I probably snored. I was in the middle of a sort of dreamy fantasy of being in a writing pile of assorted body parts when I was startled awake.

"Dude! What the fuck! Stop that!" Reed said far too loudly.

I forced my eyes open and then had to gather the energy to roll over. Reed was still protesting. "Let go, man!"

It took a moment to process. Reed was on his back. Brandon was between Reed's legs. I watched my husband watch in terror until he couldn't watch anymore. I wondered a little about why he was letting it happen but resting had brought back my high and I just watched. Eventually the man made the sort of gagging swallowing sounds we women are all familiar with. When he was done I shook myself into action and threw him out. There was a little pushing and shoving but nothing overly physical, the man wanted Fat Ruby back but not knowing what the fuck he was talking about I got him out the door and threw the latch.

I found Reed rolled into the fetal position with the covers pulled up to his chin. I crawled in beside him and held him. Rape is rape, I know. I suppressed the fact that I found it fucking hilarious and tried to be supportive.

"We are done looking for a playmate for you." He said. I told him it was okay.

He told me how when he first protested the man had bared his teeth. I guess that explained it. No one wants his little friend chomped off, that would suck.

After a while I had to ask. "Was it... good?"

He told me no, called me a few names, none of them all that bad, and I wisely chose not to point out he had gotten off. Sunday we treated his PTSD with repeated hits off of Fat Ruby. At least he had gotten something for his trouble.

As freaky-deaky as I am on the weekends when I am stoned and horny, I am equally prudish come Monday morning. Normally, I squash any sort of deviant thought during the week. Sex is still okay, since the rekindling of our physical relationship I found I wanted it more than I had in years but Tuesday is not about freaky stoned sex, it is just normal mommy/daddy appropriate missionary position shtuping. What I am getting to though is that I found myself in a very different sort of mood the week after the Brandon encounter. I felt badly for my poor husband and felt I needed to make it up to him. I tried to imagine what would be an appropriate gesture and ran all sorts of sexy options through my normally staid and rather un-creative brain.

Yes, I know, it seems like a simple solution but there is a reason they are called unicorns. Finding a single woman and tolerating a little girl on girl touching sounds easy enough but it isn't. Unicorns are called unicorns because they are so rare they are considered mythical. Even if I allowed myself to go bi for his amusement it wasn't like I could just call up one of my friends and she would run over to bang my husband. That only happens in porn and even then it seems false and contrived, although that might just be the level of acting.

Deciding a couple was going to be my best bet I went online. I was stunned when our profile from back in the day was still active and even more surprised when my computer logged me into it without me even needing to remember the password. It said we hadn't been online in 999 days and pestered me to clear out the 300 plus emails in our inbox. It was sort of tedious but I got through them. The last of them was an email about a meet and greet. It was Saturday. It was at a little brewpub Reed kind of liked. They had the patio reserved. It was supposed to be a nice weekend. The weather report said almost eighty. It was serendipitous. I RSVP'd and settled into the planning phase.

Reed pouted Saturday. I didn't let him have his chocolate as normal. He worked in the backyard instead. It was actually in need of some of some attention. Everything was blooming. When he was done it looked nice. About five I wandered out to make him come inside and get cleaned up. I'd told him we were meeting some people from my office and he was not looking forward to sitting around watching me talk to my friends. I didn't blame him. I pointed out that we were at least going to one of his favorite places. It helped. I told him we would take an Uber. He could have more than just one. That helped even more. By the time we were dressed and the car had picked him up he was in a better mood. I gave him one of our little gummies.

"Really?" he asked. I answered by popping one in my own mouth and swallowing it down whole. I don't like the taste.

He ate his and we made out way to the bar.

We snuck onto the patio before they set up the sign that reserved the patio for a private party. A little table was set up. Couples began to wander onto the patio. The men were dressed in a sort of casual Colorado kind of vibe, the women on the other hand wore dresses that were too short, too tight, too low cut, or too highly split up the thigh. I had forgotten the friendly sort of flirty vibe of these things. The edible hadn't kicked in yet but I found myself smiling gently and thinking sexy thoughts. There was a tall red headed man that looked like Conan O'Brian. I wanted him.

It had been a long time since we had been to one of these. At first I was a little unnerved. The last time we had been to anything like this we were on the younger end of the age range. Although we couldn't compete with the occasional twenty something that wandered around showing off I was always in the top two or three women when it came to the looks department. For a long while I sat thinking the crowd had gotten younger but eventually it struck me. We had just gotten older.

I pouted a little but stuck to my plan. I shopped the couples that wandered about talking in small groups. It would be nice to find a couple we would both be interested in but that wasn't what that night was about. I was shopping for Reed. I would take whatever I could get if the woman was right.

Reed has a type. Don't we all? He is not into skinny. It works for me nicely when you think about it. He never moans about me putting on a couple of pounds each winter that never seem to come off again when it warms up. He isn't necessarily into plump, but he likes soft. His nightmare is a gym rat. He doesn't understand the appeal of a woman with pec's rather than breasts. I sipped my beer and we sat quietly, the edible kicking in, as someone from the bar came by and lit the fireplace.

I think I sat with an empty beer for a long time when he suddenly spoke up and suggested we get another. I ordered him to sit, stay! I would make the run. I moseyed up to the bar and stood for what felt like a frustratingly long time. I'm not sure if I said something or not but the woman sitting in a barstool beside me spoke up.

"There is only one bartender out here. It takes a while."

"I was fine while I was sitting down but now that I am here I am parched."

"Dry mouth," the woman stated in a matter of fact way. I turned to look at her. She was too young and too weird for what I was shopping for. Her hair was black, her tit had a tattoo on it, she was not what Reed went for. Still, we bonded in that way stoned people do, relaxed, amused, and more or less indifferent to the people moving around them. As I waited on my beers we discussed dry mouth and how hard it made giving head. We laughed. She said it was why she preferred eating pussy.

"I wouldn't know." I said. "Not my thing." My herbally enhanced thinking did not process it as the pickup it was intended to be. For her part, the woman I now knew to be Tanya did not take it as the rejection she might have but instead a challenge. I had no way to know the game was afoot but it was and I had gone from chess master to pawn in a matter of moments.

We talked and I drank both my beer and half of Reeds. We discussed Reed and turned to look at him. She said he was cute. I told her we needed to save him. A sixty something couple had settled into the chair beside him. I imagined him being talked into something I didn't want to have to go through with. I replaced his beer, it came more quickly after I had tipped well on the last round and with my new friend I headed off to rescue my husband.

It was a confusing sort of exchange as I went about chasing off the older couple. They were nice but I just couldn't go through with it. Reed, having realized what was going on confronted me about having drug him to a meet and greet. He wasn't mad, just sort of not interested.

"Naw, I get it, I get what you were trying to do. I just, I don't think we should do something like that as consolation. You know what I mean?"

My focus had been on the old people, on my husband, and I had completely forgotten my new friend. As she stepped forward she was like a showgirl lowered out of the ceiling on a trapeze and all attention was pulled her way in an almost mystical sort of way. She took his drink out of my hand. I had forgotten it was there. She settled into his lap. She handed him his beer and touched his cheek.

"Well, hello?" he said in a sing-songy sort of way right out of a sixties musical. "And who might you be?" He sounded like Henry Higgins or the creepy old guy from the Music Man. I found myself lost in thought contemplating why they always used such old men in those movies when she brought me back to reality by laying a long deep soulful kiss on my husband.

"I've never been a consolation prize before, I like to think of myself as more of a blue ribbon sort of girl."

We talked a while. I watched them. Reed sat smiling, his hand on her thick thigh. I was sort of proud of myself. I never would have expected him to go for someone like Tanya but when I saw him kiss the ornate rose tattoo on her chest I knew it was time to go. She had to round up her husband. He had found a TV to watch a basketball game on. He wasn't bad looking. He was a little heavy but he carried it in a way that suggested someone who had once been all muscle but no longer had the time to live in the gym. I could do him. At least he was tall.

They lived closer than we did. He wasn't high. He drove us. We settled onto their back porch. She fixed a bowl and set it into a three foot tall ornate bong. We smoked, at least three of us did. Trevor sat quietly but affably watching the three of us deviants. There wasn't much talking after a bit. It was serious shit. I found myself staring at the odd woman and after a while realized it was because she had raised her skirt and was gently running her fingers over white cotton panties with little cherries on them.

Fucked up high is so much better than wasted. Younger, it would have taken tequila shots to get me to the same sort of altered state of mind. The downside of tequila is that it wipes out everything that happened and you wake up sore, confused, and remorseful. Stoned as I was though, I remember the rest of the night. Maybe I remember it more like a movie I once watched than something I did but at least I remember it. It makes it a lot easier to tell my story.

Their master bedroom was a weird mixture of conflicting styles. At first glance I was overtaken by the gothic ambiance. There was a black wall and little gray statues of goblins or whatever you call those things perched on the corners of old office buildings with bulldog faces and bat wings. The darkness of it was tempered by a hippie vibe, scarves had been hung as curtains, a lava lamp cast an orange glow over the room and a beaded curtain separated the en-suite bath. Just to top off the hyper sexualized sensibility there was a chain over the headboard. Leather cuffs hung from either end. A weird sort of trapeze bar was propped in the corner. As I lay naked being pleasured by Trevor I noticed industrial grade hooks in the ceiling. I know I asked what they were for but everyone was occupied by that point and I don't recall ever getting an answer.

To his credit, her somewhat shy and distant husband turned out to be a more than adequate lover. He was patient as her performed cunnilingus and worked his way around my orgasm so that when it finally came it rolled over me like a Mozart crescendo, the familiar melody repeating several times through my body. Although disappointing, the humping didn't leave me unsatisfied either. Really, had he not excused himself and scurried away to watch television immediately afterward I would have considered him worth a repeat performance. Instead, he left me feeling a little sad and lonely and although I lay jealously beside my husband and his consolation prize I pouted a little that he didn't hang around. I wanted more. I had to remind myself though, that night was not about me.

I rolled onto my side and for the first time in all of our adventures I just watched.

So I think I mentioned it earlier but it bears pointing out again. When it comes to the making of the love, I am all about the fucking. Sure, I like the other stuff okay when I am in the right sort of a mood but it isn't like I ever NEED it. Reed, on the other hand, he is all about the condiments. Seriously, even if we are just talking sandwiches. All I need is bread with a couple hunks of meat and a slice of cheese. Reed makes his with mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato in thin slices, onions, and if possible, ham, turkey, something special like salami, and at least two different colors of cheese. While I had gotten what I came for, he and his new lover had settled into a 69 that was still going on. They moaned and hummed, their mouths full of each other and they seemed perfectly content to keep going on that way until the sun came up and maybe even after that.

I was bored.

"Honey, fuck her."

"Hmmm?" he moaned into her pussy.

"I want to watch you fuck her. Fuck her good. I want to see her come."

I am not sure if he heard me. He did have a pair of plump pale thighs sandwiched about his ears and a twat smothering his face. She was on top. I like that position better on the bottom. I am kind of lazy, I know.

She heard me though. She sort of popped right up.

"You want to watch me come, baby?" she asked. "I'll try! I'm already on like number four!" she said. For a sort of heavy lady she moved with a graceful ease, like a dancer. I watched her move about as she got off of him, rolled a rubber down his cock, and climbed on more or less the same way she had been before, just reversed around the other way. She began to rock slowly on his junk, her face a pleasant relaxed smile.

Like I said, I had never really watched my husband fucked before. I looked slowly back and forth from his face to hers. I watched their bodies move together in a slow rhythm and I found myself completely consumed by the sensuality of it.

Either that or I was just that stoned. I figure they went together - opposite sides of the same piece of paper.

Now this is hard to admit but in the past, the talk of group sex and the ever-present acceptance of female bi-sexuality had led me to contemplate just what sort of woman might, one day, maybe seduce me. Unlike Reed I had determined she would be hard as a rock, lean and muscular, not entirely butch but not overly feminine either. Tanya was not that woman and yet as I watched her full breasts, thick belly, and chunky thighs work over my husband I found her almost irresistible. She was like one of those African fertility goddesses, hyper feminine in her appeal. Reed would later call her a crumpet and I would have to agree, it was an appropriate word to describe her. She inspired a sort of craving just like I would feel when faced with a particularly appealing dessert.

She noticed me watching her and stared back at me for so long our eyes locked and I couldn't look away.

"Give me your hand." She said finally. They had been fucking for fucking ever. The paralysis that had gripped me went away, cured instantly by her command, and I raised my hand. She took it and placed it on her breast. I held it firmly in my palm for a moment but then found myself toying with her nipple. I pinched and squeezed it delicately. "Harder." She commanded. I did as she asked.

Her face contorted in pain and delight and knowing it was because of me I felt a gushing sort of sensation between my legs. "Fuck," I muttered reflexively. She smiled. I made her pay for that smile and twisted her nipple between my thumb and finger. The smile was wiped away as if it had been written in dry erase and was replaced by an excited kind of anguish that made me jealous of her central role in the current action.