SHE
It's been a long night. The party was great but you don't party like you did in your younger years. He doesn't drink as much as he used to. Thank God. In the near darkness of your bedroom, you look at your nakedness in the mirror. Not too bad, you think, as you lift your breasts up. He notices (as he always does) and involuntarily nods approval. Nice, he says, we had a nice time tonight. You juggle your tits slightly. It's not over yet, you say.
HE
Of course you noticed her playing with her tits. You could see that through a wall if you had to. She purposely brushed her fingers over her nipples so you could see them harden. And you feel yourself harden (as she notices as she always does). I'm feeling a touch tipsy, you say. I need some naked cuddling. You know she never refuses you--all her life, through turmoil and pain, she has always made her body available to you. To your whims. To your desires. To your lusts. You can never worship her enough for that. She scoots under the covers and says, OK, lover boy. She feels uncommonly eager, even for her.
SHE
He slips his leg into a familiar, comfortable position between yours and you both grind slightly. It's a warm-up as natural as breathing in your intimacy. His hands scoop up your face and he brings your lips to his. Your lips moisten against each others'. Your tongues meet. You are breathing the same air. Connected, as you should be. He asks a random question that you didn't want to hear: who was that guy that all the women were hovering around? Oh, he's (as you haltingly say his name) and you've met him before. Some time ago.
HE
That doesn't sound like her, you think. A little hesitant. A little breathy perhaps. He asks, so you introduced us? How do you know him? There is a silence. You can sense her blushing in the darkness. Uh, I worked with him years ago, she says, barely answering the question, those women hanging around him? Maybe they noticed his package. His pants were a little tight. His package, you ask? All women notice that? Do men look at a woman's tits, she shoots back, a little defensively. It's not the same thing, you say. That's true, it's not as obvious, she says. Sometimes it's just a sense of arrogance displayed by a man with a set of big balls.
SHE
Do you really want to go there tonight, you think. He has that air, you say. And I saw you talking to him, he says. Well, I've known him for a while, you say. (Uh, oh) He pauses. Knowing you, he says slowly, that means something else... You disengage your legs and prop yourself on an elbow. You lean down to his ear and whisper: Lover boy, you've begged to hear about my past sex life. You've asked me to tell you that I've fucked other men. Yes, darling, I've loved fucking other men; sucking their cocks. And he is one of them. To make no mistake about it, you finish with--yes, I've sucked and fucked him. That's how I know that he has a big cock.
HE
You lose your breath for a moment and reach for your cock to begin slowly stroking it. She flicks your nipple with her tongue and continues: look, you've paraded your fond memories of your past girlfriends--it always seems to center about how you were friends with them, how sweet their hairy pussies were, how they had yummy tiny tits and their cunts were really tight--and it's never compared, saying that I'm the best lover, the most giving lover, the least demanding lover, you ever had. You're always trying to encourage me to go to a higher standard of lovemaking. As good as someone else? Really? I know that look on your face when you close your eyes as you are about to cum and don't dare say my, or any, name. Fantasizing about some whore and just using my body as a slut! Well, tonight, you saw one of my former lovers, no, I'll say it, a former fuck--one that I still fantasize about.
SHE
You see a strange look on his face, curious and furious. Or jealous. Or just full of lust. He says that you've always said that your lovers with big dicks were disappointing because they were a little too soft. You correct him saying that I said some of them were too soft but I still love your little guy. You give his cock a playful rub.
HE
Some lovers with big cocks, you think. Little guy? What's she saying? So you summon the courage to ask: was he good? He was always hard and aggressive, she says. He could never get enough of me. She smiles and says he appreciated my big titties, unlike some people I know. He loved having me hold up my girls for him so he could kiss and lick them. He had his hands all over me and fucked me in every position--including those that we can't because we, uh, don't fit quite right.
SHE
Now he is stroking his cock more furiously and you tell him to slow it down. He wants to confirm that you met him before you two got together. Yes, you say. And I was a naughty girl tonight. I brushed my ass across his crotch as I pretended to talk to another girl and when he asked me to turn around to talk to him, I confess, I tugged at my blouse and flashed him a nipple.
HE
You always had encouraged her to show off her lovely breasts--v-necked sweaters, see-through blouses, 'flouncy' bras--and your mouth grows dry at her confession. (You had delighted at parties when you knew guys were eyeing her tits and saying 'you are so lucky' and you feigned disbelief as though you didn't know what they were talking about. Now, you wonder: had they fucked her?) He made an excuse to talk to me outside, she says, and once there...he kissed me, a deep, wet kiss. It brought back memories and I could feel his hard cock pressing against my stomach. His hands roamed over my chest and he looked down my blouse and told me he had never seen prettier tits. I doubted that, of course, but it still made me wet.
SHE
