Who Decides?

Return and Reflection

Christine stepped through the front door of her apartment, the familiar feel of home wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. She held a small bag with the incense sticks she'd bought in NYC for her husband, Ryan. She had also bought another set for her lover, Laurits. Her mood was heavy. In the flight home she had started to feel that her adventure might have gone too far.

Ryan was in the living room, his expression unreadable as he looked up from his book. "Welcome back," he said, his voice flat, the warmth she expected absent.

"Thanks," Christine replied, her voice small. She handed him the incense, watching his face for any sign of the connection they'd always shared.

"Incense sticks?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I suppose Laurits got the same?"

Christine nodded, feeling a sting of guilt. "Yes, I thought--"

"Could've just gotten me an 'I love NYC' shirt," Ryan cut in, his disappointment clear. The scale of what had happened in New York, the intimacy she'd shared with Laurits, now seemed overwhelming in the context of their marriage.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Christine said earnestly. "I think I got carried away. I promise, it's you I love, you I want to be with. This was just an experience, not a new path."

Ryan's eyes softened slightly, but the tension lingered. They stood there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. Deciding to shift the focus, Christine suggested, "How about we make dinner together? It feels like ages since we've done that."

Ryan nodded, his gaze still distant but willing to try. He had after all encouraged this himself. They moved to the kitchen. Ryan began pulling out ingredients for a simple noodle dish, something comforting and familiar. Christine joined him, chopping vegetables, the rhythm of kitchen work providing a backdrop for their conversation.

As they worked, the topic inevitably circled back to New York. "I just didn't expect it to feel so..." Christine paused, searching for the right word, "so intense. I guess I lost perspective."

Ryan stirred the sauce, his movements deliberate. "I don't know, Christine. Something just felt wrong. Like I think I should be part of your world, not just an observer."

Christine considered his words, her heart aching. This too was the nagging feeling she had had on the plane ride home. She reached across the counter to touch his hand, stopping his stirring. "You are my world, Ryan. I need you to know that. Laurits was... he was a fantasy, but this," she gestured around the kitchen, "this is real. We are real."

They continued cooking in silence for a while, the only sounds the sizzle of garlic in the pan and the clink of cutlery. Dinner was served on their small dining table, the atmosphere still charged with the need for reconciliation.

As they ate, the conversation lightened, funny inconsequential stories about mutual friends were pushed in focus. Some random new Taylor Swift songs were discussed. But the undercurrent of their recent experiences was palpable. "We just need to move forward," Christine said, her eyes locked with Ryan's. "Maybe that's all there is to it, honey.."

Ryan looked at her, his expression softening. "Yes I think so, too," he admitted, and for a moment, the tension eased just a bit.

Later, as they prepared for bed, the tension was not gone, however. They slipped under the covers, each lost in their thoughts, a distance between them despite the physical closeness. The room was quiet, the only sound was the gentle hum of the climate control. Christine felt the gap, the need to bridge it. She turned to Ryan, her voice soft, almost pleading, "Come on, honey, you know I need you." She snuggled up to him, her body pressing against his, seeking warmth, connection, forgiveness.

Ryan, feeling her sincerity through her touch, responded. He reached around her and caressed her small boops, under her silk nightgown. Christine enjoyed it and felt every movement was a reminder of their closeness, her body responding to him in ways only he knew. She whispered encouragement, "It's you, Ryan, always you." as she arched herself back towards his slowly growing cock, nestling it against her ass. She slipped her underwear aside and started grinding her pussy on his cock. That made it grow even more, and now Ryan showed interest and moved back against her.

She gasped as he entered her, clutching his hands against her boops. Her body shuddered. It felt like home. And it felt comforting to have Ryan's cock inside her again. They moved slowly like this for a while, getting into a rhythm. Finally Ryan seemed to let go of his reservations and rolled her over on her stomach, and started fucking her in earnest, entering her from behind. She didn't come, that's not what she wanted. She just wanted to draw her husband back in again, and offer herself to him. Her small sounds of pleasure and arching of her back had exactly that effect. He came soon after, inside her warm pussy.

Afterwards, they lay there, breathing heavily, Christine nestled against Ryan, her guilt slowly ebbing away. But despite the reconnection, the shadow of her time with Laurits lingered, a silent question mark on their future. Christine herself realized that she didn't even fully know how she felt about this.

Unexpected Invitation

The days following Christine's return from New York were a delicate dance around trust with Ryan. Christine felt that every joke or slight remark carried weight, and she had to be very careful not to be accidentally misunderstood. Yet, there was progress, slow but tangible. Every day felt more normal.

Then came a message. Christine's phone pinged with a notification while she was at work. It was from Laurits, his words carrying the same charm and confidence she remembered from NYC. "How have you been? Such an amazing trip we had. How about dinner at your place this weekend? I'd love to reconnect. With both of you, also Ryan, obviously. I'm sure we have tons to share."

Christine's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't anticipated this from Laurits, especially not so soon. She knew she needed to cool things down, to focus on her marriage, but here was Laurits, suggesting a dinner in their home. She hesitated before replying, her fingers hovering over the screen. Finally, she typed back, "Let me check with Ryan."

After work, she approached Ryan with caution. "Laurits wants to come over for dinner," she said, watching Ryan's reaction closely.

Ryan looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Why?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.

"He says he wants to reconnect with us. Both. As a couple. But I told him I'd check with you first," Christine replied, her voice steady but soft.

Ryan sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting hers again. "Ok, if you really think that's a good idea," he said, his agreement tinged with reluctance.

Christine nodded, feeling the weight of the decision. "I'll tell him it's fine, but... I think we should use this as an opportunity to set some boundaries." she said. "Also, it's not like we have other plans for the weekend - maybe it can give us some clarity".

The day of the dinner arrived with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Christine had set the table with care, and made sure their home looked its best. She herself was wearing a small skirt, that probably was not really sending the right signals, but she told herself that since it was a NYC buy, it'd be fitting enough. Ryan was in the kitchen, his movements focused as he prepared a complex multi dish Chinese meal, Sichuan spices filling the air. His focus was probably both from his experience with cooking, but also just a way to manage his emotions about the evening.

Laurits arrived with punctuality as charming as ever, his smile brightening the room, his presence filling it with an energy that was hard to ignore. He brought a bottle of wine, his eyes meeting Christine's in a way that sparked memories of their time together.

"This is a Californian wine I often enjoy, I thought it'd be just the thing for you two," Laurits announced, presenting the wine with a flourish. "I thought this would be for dinner, but maybe that food is a bit too spicy to open it already, or what do you think.".

Ryan, from the kitchen, gave a small nod of acknowledgment, he had already set the table with a few tsingtao beer, and was anyway busy cooking. Christine felt the pull of Laurits's gaze, the unspoken questions. Their chemistry did not seem to have diminished despite her intentions. Where will this go, she couldn't stop wondering.

The Heat of the Kitchen

The dinner was an elaborate affair, an array of dishes that Ryan had meticulously prepared. The table was a colorful mosaic of flavors, from spicy Mapo Tofu to the delicate balance of Kung Pao Chicken. Particularly a dish called 'Ants crawl up the tree", which actually had nothing to do with ants, but everything to do with chili, was a big hit. The scent of spicyness filled the room, showing Ryan's effort to impress or perhaps to distract from the underlying tension.

As the meal began, the conversation was light, focused on mundane topics like work and recent news. The Statue of Liberty is nice to see, but there is a limit to how excitedly it can be described to others, while ignoring the elephant in the room which was that their trip had not in fact been for tourism at all. Laurits complimented the food, his eyes occasionally lingering on Christine. Ryan, ever the host, would slip into the kitchen to fetch various dips and spices, or more beer, leaving Christine and Laurits alone at the table.

Each time Ryan left, the air seemed to thicken. Laurits's compliments to Christine became more personal, his voice lowering to a seductive murmur. "You have no idea how much I have been thinking of you since," he said, his gaze intense.

Christine felt her resolve waver. Her mind screamed to maintain the distance, to remember her commitment to Ryan, but her body betrayed her, responding to Laurits's charm. They started with playful banter, then moved to holding hands under the table, their fingers interlacing in secret.

As Ryan returned with another plate of food, they quickly disengaged, but the heat of their connection lingered. The next time Ryan left to get the dessert, Laurits took the opportunity to go further. His hand found its way to Christine's thigh, the touch electric through the fabric of her skirt. She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting towards the kitchen to ensure Ryan was still out of sight.

"You look so hot tonight," Laurits whispered, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin, inching higher with each breath. Christine's heart raced, her mind a battle of want and will. She shifted closer, and spread her legs more, the intimacy of their touch hidden beneath the tablecloth.

Laurits's hand moved with confidence, slipping under her skirt, his fingers finding their target with ease. Christine bit her lip, her body tensing with anticipation as his fingers began to explore, teasing her, but not quite letting her fall over. She gripped the edge of the table, her nails digging into the wood.

On Ryan's return, Laurits immediately withdrew, leaving Christine flushed, her breath shallow, the tension between desire and decorum palpable. Laurits was composed, engaging in the conversation once again, but the undercurrent of what had just transpired was undeniable.

Ryan, perhaps sensing something, began to watch more closely, his eyes flicking between them with a mixture of suspicion and resignation. Yet, he said nothing, his focus returning to the meal, to the act of hosting, perhaps hoping to ignore the chemistry he felt brewing.

The Wine and the Couch

With the meal concluded, the trio moved from the dining table to the living room, where the ambiance shifted from formal to intimate. Ryan lit the incense sticks Christine had brought back from New York, the aromatic smoke adding a layer of exotic mystique to the air. Laurits produced the bottle of Napa wine, an upscale brand based on Pinot Noir grapes, his earlier promise now becoming the main focus.

"I thought this wouldn't pair well with the spicy food, but it's perfect for now," Laurits explained, his voice smooth as he uncorked the wine. Ryan set out three wine glasses, his movements deliberate, perhaps his way of maintaining control in a situation that seemed to be slipping away.

Christine and Laurits settled onto the couch, their proximity closer than necessary, the tension from dinner following them. Ryan, choosing a spot in the armchair, fiddled with his phone to select some soft jazz on Spotify, the music inadvertently adding to the night's seductive undertone.

As Ryan was distracted with the music, Laurits's hand found Christine's, their fingers entwining, a silent continuation of their earlier touch. Every time Ryan looked away, their touches grew bolder. Laurits's hand would caress Christine's thigh, moving upwards, making her pulse quicken, her body responding with a warmth that was hard to hide.

Christine was aware of her own arousal, feeling the warmth between her legs. Perhaps it was also the alcohol, but she tried to maintain conversation, her voice slightly breathless, her mind torn between the thrill of the moment and the guilt of it.

As Ryan grabbed his phone to look for another song, Laurits whispered something in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, causing her to shiver. His hand moved with more intent, grazing over her, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her. She realized she was dripping wet, her body betraying her even as she tried to resist.

Ryan looked back up, settling back into his seat, his eyes slightly narrowed as if trying to read the room. Sensing the shift, Laurits excused himself, "I forgot the wine opener," he said with a feigned innocence, standing up smoothly, leaving the already opened wine on the table.

Once he was out of the room, Ryan leaned towards Christine, his voice hushed, his eyes searching hers, "What are you doing, Christine? I saw you touching him."

Christine's heart sank, her face flushed with a mix of arousal and guilt. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by Laurits's return, an unneeded wine opener in hand. "The glasses need to be held at just the right angle when pouring this wine. Christine, could you help me?"

Christine stood, and walked to him, her legs shaky with desire, then turned around facing the small table. He leaned in, his body close, his hands guiding hers but also taking the opportunity to subtly caress her. The room felt charged, the air thick with the scent of incense. And lust.

Unveiling

The moment was electric, the air thick with anticipation as Laurits stood behind Christine, his hands guiding the wine pouring but also moving with deliberate intent over her body. He slightly raised her skirt, revealing more than just her legs. Christine felt his touch, her body reacting with a shiver, her mind lost to the sensations he was igniting.

Laurits's voice was a low murmur in her ear, "I think you both know and expects what comes next." His words were a prelude to his actions; with one motion, he slid Christine's thong down her thighs, the fabric pooling at her feet, leaving her exposed in front of Ryan.

Ryan, from his seat, watched in stunned silence, his eyes wide with a mix of betrayal and arousal as Laurits unzipped his pants. His erection was unmistakable, prominent, and ready, a sight that Ryan had never seen in such detail before. Laurits's gaze locked with Ryan's, a silent challenge, an assertion of dominance.

Christine, caught between her desires and her love for Ryan, felt the heat of Laurits against her. She bent forward, her hands bracing against the low couch table, her body arching in a way that unmistakably offered herself to Laurits. As he positioned himself, slowly entering her with confidence, Christine gasped, her breath catching in her throat.

Her eyes met Ryan's across the table, her hand reaching out to grasp his, a silent plea for understanding or perhaps forgiveness. "I'm sorry, I just can't resist honey," she said, her voice thick with pleasure and guilt, her body clearly enjoying the sensation of Laurits inside her.

Laurits began to move, each thrust deliberate, showcasing his control, his eyes never leaving Ryan's. "This is how it should be" he said, his voice steady, filled with authority. "You share her, we share her." Ryan felt a tumult of emotions - jealousy, anger, but also an undeniable arousal at the sight of his wife with another, at the way she responded to Laurits. His grip on Christine's hand tightened, a complex mix of support and submission to this new reality.

Christine's moans filled the room, her body moving in rhythm with Laurits, each movement a testament to her surrender to the moment. She looked into the eyes of her husband, but was lost in the pleasure, her body betraying any reservations, her mind caught between the two men she cared for in different ways.

As Laurits continued, his pace slowly increasing, he said, "This. Is what. Your wife. Wants. Ryan. My cock. In her." His words were punctuated by Christine's cries, her climax building, her body tensing with the pleasure of being taken in such an overt display.

The scene was raw. As Christine reached her peak, she gripped her husband's hands harder and harder, dragging him towards her, meeting him in an embrace across the small table, Laurits pumping in her from behind. Deliberately. Skillfully. In control. Her body started shuddering with the intensity of her orgasm, a deep moan escaped her lips. Laurits followed, coming inside her in the aftershocks of her orgasm, while she held her husband in an embrace across the table.

The room was silent for a moment, only the heavy breathing of the trio filling the space. Laurits, slowly retracted his cock from her, savoring the feeling. Christine rolled forward towards her husband, smiling, curving her body like a satisfied cat. Laurits rose and zipped up his pants with a satisfied grin.

And Ryan - he knew that he had just seen the most beautiful sight of his wife offering her hot body to satisfy her lover. And he realized was happy with that, tightening his embrace of his half naked wife, another man's fluids dripping from her. "Ok, you were right Christine, and I love you still", he whispered silently "this is how it should be".