Getting involved in other people's business is usually not a very good idea, I've learned, but sometimes you just can't help it. It can get you into all kinds of shit, there's no arguing that, but every once in a while, every once in a great rare while, it can turn out really good.
A week ago last Friday night, I dropped in on my friends, Gene and Torrie Parker to give Torrie a couple of Power Ball tickets for Saturday's drawing. She loves to play the lottery and I buy her tickets occasionally with the understanding that we split any winnings. Torrie's an old family friend whom I've known my whole life–Gene and I are merely friends by association. Torrie and I are close–always have been–even though she's twenty years older than me. She's one of those women who's really sexy looking, although not particularly pretty, like Rosanna Arquette, plus she has great tits and a killer body. She's hot. I've had a crush on her and secretly lusted after her for as long as I can remember.
Torrie answered the door with an empty wine glass in her hand. She was a little tipsy and I could tell she'd been crying. She gave me a hug, pressing her big tits against my chest, then took my hand and led me to the kitchen.
"Are you okay?' I asked.
"Yeah, me and Gene just had an argument, that's all. It's nothing. Nothing to worry about."
"If you say so. Want me to leave?"
"Hell no! Don't even think about it. I'm glad you're here. Maybe I won't have to listen to his shit for a while." She got me a Bud out of the fridge and poured herself a glass of Shiraz which she practically chugged, then poured herself another, leaving the bottle about half full. I figured she was on her second bottle.
Gene and Torrie have only been married a year and change, the second marriage for each. She married her first husband when she was very young, fifteen or so. They seemed really happy for about twenty-five years, then a couple of years ago he suddenly left her and moved out of town, apparently without warning, surprising everybody. Even more surprising to everyone, just a couple of weeks later she met Gene and started dating him. I know it shocked me. Nobody, not even me, knows what happened to her first marriage and she won't talk about it. Only thing I know for certain is that she didn't know Gene before the split and he didn't have anything to do with her marriage ending.
As we entered the den, I said, "Say, Gene."
"Sup?" he answered from his Barcalounger, seemingly engrossed in NCIS on TV. He had an almost empty fifth of Old Charter and a pitcher of water on the table next to him.
Torrie and I sat beside each other on the sofa. I rested my arm along the top of the back cushions and let my hand dangle down to touch her shoulder. I always loved touching her–she has the softest skin imaginable.
"NCIS got their man, yet?" I asked Gene.
"Not yet, but that funky gal on there with the tattoos could sure as hell get me, if you know what I mean," Gene said, slurring his words and cutting his eyes over at Torrie.
"Yeah, she's pretty hot," I answered.
"If I ever got her by the fucking ears I'd see just how fucking hot she is. Hell, I bet she'd love it. She wouldn't be telling me to cut it out or leave her alone or some shit like that," he said cutting Torrie another look, "she'd be on her fucking knees."
"Yeah, all us women like for you to grab us by the ears and fuck our face, Gene. It's what we live for, you're such a fucking stud," Torrie said, tears welling up.
"Women who aren't frigid like it."
"Well I don't. And I really don't like you expecting me to drop to my knees and suck your dick the minute you walk into the house or snap your fingers. I don't like being treated like that. It's all you ever want, you asshole and I don't like it at all."
"If you wasn't such a fucking frigid ice berg, you'd like it."
"I'm not frigid, Gene. Don't call me that. Don't call me that in front of Jimmy. I'm anything but frigid so don't you fucking call me that." Torrie was fighting back tears and beginning to shake. I slid over and hugged her, gently caressing her arm and shoulder. She snuggled up to me and I could feel her quivering slightly.
Gene pissed me off and I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I knew that he wasn't gonna like me butting in, but I didn't give a shit. He was being mean, hurting Torrie on purpose, and it made me mad enough to kick his skinny ass. "Gene, maybe some of how she acts just might be your fault. Ever think of that?"
"Bullshit! She's getting 'old and cold.' She don't never want sex no more. Hell, she can't get hot no more. Trust me. She turned forty and got fucking 'old and cold.'"
I pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek, then caressed her shoulder with one hand. "I don't believe that, Gene. She's beautiful and loving and besides, forty is young." She put her hand on my thigh and squeezed it, a silent 'thank you.'
"Yeah, she's a real firecracker," Gene said sarcastically. "Only trouble is her fuse don't work no more. She's a fucking dud. And she's forty-two. She's a fucking forty-two year old dud."
"Don't pay any attention to him," I whispered into her ear so that he couldn't hear, then kissed her on the side of the neck and turned her sideways on the sofa so that I could rub her back. I ran my hands up to her shoulders and gave them a little squeeze in close to her neck, causing her to scrunch her shoulders, then with my thumbs on each side of her spine and my fingers spreading out to the sides, I massaged her back.
I began at her shoulders and was slowly working my way down when she began to breathe harder and quiver a little, occasionally tensing up with a tiny jerk, like a mini spasm. Then I noticed she had her fists balled up, unobtrusively pressing them down against her crotch as she squeezed her legs together. It was barely noticeable, but I caught it and wondered about it for a second or two. Then it hit me–she was getting hot!
The thought of her becoming aroused so easily stunned me at first, then in an instant everything became crystal clear–everything. The proverbial light bulb flashed on like an LED flood lamp. It was like an epiphany or something–like what I imagine happens when a savant instantly knows the number of jelly beans in a big jar. Torrie is a sex addict who can't say no! She's one of those rare female sex addicts who gets so aroused when a man touches her that she loses control and will fuck him on the spot no matter who he is or where they are–like those women you hear about who've fucked strangers standing up on the subway or on a park bench in the daytime.
It all made sense. Torrie's first husband was probably the first man ever to put his hands on her in a sexual way and she immediately fell in love with him. They subsequently stayed together for twenty some years. Then, one day something happened–another man got to her or her psychosis was discovered, or whatever–her husband found out, couldn't deal with it, was afraid to deal with it, or didn't want to deal with it, so he left. A couple of weeks later, she met Gene who went after her sexually, she couldn't resist his advances, then fell for him, maybe on the rebound, but nevertheless she fell for him and they married a year later.
And Gene doesn't really like sex, only a small part of it. He likes to come and he likes to come from blow jobs, but that's about it. Blow jobs satisfy his ego. He likes having a woman on her knees sucking his dick–it gives him a feeling of power. He's always performed whatever foreplay was necessary to get a woman to blow him, including fucking her, but he never really enjoyed it and he never cared if she enjoyed it or got satisfied.
Torrie's responsiveness and submissiveness inflated his ego to the point he thought she found him irresistible. He stupidly thought he didn't need to indulge in any foreplay with her to get his blow jobs. His ego couldn't resist walking into the house and ordering her to suck his dick which she usually complied with. He apparently never understood her at all and finally pushed his luck too far, hence tonight's fight.
Getting what you want is often just having the nerve to risk going for it. Risk potential, however, needs to be weighed carefully against the reward potential. If you judge the odds correctly, you usually know what to do. I wanted to fuck Torrie and knew that there was a possibility that I could pull it off, but there was huge risk involved, not the least of which was losing her friendship and being branded some sort of pervert by my family. 'Fuck it,' I thought, 'roll the dice.'
I worked my fingers in circles on the tiny bits of flab behind her armpits, then my fingers slid farther around her ribs to skim the sides or her breasts where they bulged out a tiny bit under her arms. She stiffened, but didn't move or say anything and I continued the massage on down her back to her waist.
"I think she just wants a little loving and affection, that's all," I said.
"Bullshit!" Gene exclaimed.
"Well, I think that's all it would take." I kissed her neck again and she began to quiver ever so slightly.
"Oh really, Mr. Smart Ass? You got a lot to learn, Jimmy."
"Maybe so, but Torrie ain't frigid. She'll warm up real good if you treat her right," I said to Gene, then pulled Torrie close and whispered into her hair where Gene couldn't see my mouth or hear me, "Won't you, baby." Her body twitched slightly and she started to speak, but her voice caught. She remained silent.
"It's sure as hell gonna take more than a back rub, Hoss, I can tell you that," Gene said with a snicker.
"Maybe so," I said and ran my arms around her waist, gave her a tight squeeze and kissed her on the neck a couple more times. She shivered and squeezed my hands as they slowly caressed her stomach and abdomen. "Maybe so, but not a hell of a lot more. "
"Oh, so you know how to do it, huh? Well, smart ass, if you think you can get in that ice box's pants, then let's see you do it. Be my fucking guest. I'll sit here and watch and won't say a fucking word."
"Maybe I will, Gene. Maybe I will."
Realizing what had just been said, Torrie froze for a moment, then turned ever so slightly as if trying to get away from my embrace. I kissed her on the neck again and she scrunched her shoulders but I didn't stop. I kissed her neck two more times, with my arms tightly around her waist, then ran my hands up to her breasts. They were soft and full and filled my hands. "Oh God," she said and twisted from side to side a little, as if trying to get away from my hands, but I squeezed her tits and she quit squirming.
"Nice. So nice," I whispered into her ear, then kissed her neck again. She leaned back against me, sticking her chest out. Her nipples were firm and erect–I could feel them all the way through her blouse and bra. I kissed her neck some more and her chest began rising and falling as her breathing became more labored.
I ran one hand down between her legs and cupped her mound with my palm while teasing her pussy with my fingers. She clamped her legs together and twisted trying to get away from my hand, but I cupped her mound more firmly and gave it a couple of jerks. A little gasp escaped her lips and she relaxed her legs, then turned her head to the side to kiss me. As our lips met, she gave me her tongue. I knew that she might be using me to make Gene jealous, or to get back at him, but I really didn't care–she was getting hot. Sex addict or not, soon she was going to be too far gone to stop and I was gonna fuck her right there in front of her dumb-ass husband. He'd asked for it.
She quit moving and I began unbuttoning her blouse. She tried to twist away again, but I squeezed her tits with both hands and pulled her back against me. She relaxed and I finished unbuttoning her top.
With her blouse open, I cupped her bra encased breasts and teased her nipples, then unfastened her bra. She twisted slightly, as if needing to offer at least token resistance, maybe for Gene's sake, but when my hands found her bare tits, she leaned back against me once more and again I slid my hand down between her legs.
