On the Side

"She won't let us make love at all?"

Amy pressed her head to my chest as we embraced in her hotel room, her anguish sharp as my own.

"Katherine was okay with us!" Amy said. "She asked me to come with you to New York. Now she's changed her mind?"

"Maybe actually seeing us together makes what we're doing more real. But I don't know. We just got here. I'm going to find out."

Amy clung. "She hates me now, doesn't she? For sleeping with you."

"Kate doesn't hate you, Amy. She cares about you. Just like I do."

I leaned down and kissed her. She kissed me back hungrily.

We parted, and I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway," I said, we'll survive. We've been fucking non-stop for a week."

Amy looked down, nodding, then looked up hopefully. "Can we do a quickie now? Or later? Before you go to bed with her?" She guided my hand to her breast.

"You've gotten addicted to sex," I said, chuckling. "Go take your shower. Get dressed for the restaurant."

Amy gave me a naughty look, trying to pull me towards her bathroom. "Join me?"

Oh, how I wanted to—run my hands over her firm boobs, then pound her against the wall of the shower. But we had done that back home just before we left for the airport.

I marched her to her bathroom, gave her bum a playful swat, and left.

~~~~

When your wife of fifteen years says it's okay to fuck someone else, can she really mean it? Or, in her love, is she sacrificing her happiness for yours?

That's what I pondered at home one week before. I had just run for the phone, standing naked in our bedroom, and had admitted to Kate that I'd spent the night before fucking our nineteen-year-old house guest. Kate then gave her okay.

Well, not entirely. She was accepting. Understanding. Kate tried to sound lighthearted, but I heard the hurt in her voice. I knew her disappointment in not being able to satisfy my stupid, clawing, relentless sex drive.

When I hung up, I stumbled to our bed, stretched out beside Amy and stared at the ceiling.

Amy, who had been on the bed on hands and knees, eager for another round, saw my face and lay beside me.

"So is... is Kate okay? With us, I mean?"

"She says she is."

"I knew it!" Amy laughed and kissed me, eyes sparkling. "I knew she'd be okay. Oh, Ben... this is so great!"

Amy tried to pull me on top of her, but I guided her back. I burned with guilt and uncertainty about Kate, and questions about Amy returned.

When your homeless nineteen-year-old house guest says she's fantasized about you then offers herself, is she being honest, or is she desperate for a place to stay or someone to belong to?

I turned to her. "Amy, when you came to us, you said you had nowhere else to stay. Was that really true?"

She studied my face. "Why?"

"Just tell me."

Amy shrugged. "Well, okay. I kinda did."

"Kind of?"

"Okay!" she said. "I have friends. It wouldn't have been great, but there were people I can stay with."

"And now?"

"Same thing. I could stay with friends." Amy gasped. "Oh, god. Katherine's not okay? She told you to kick me out? Oh god. Oh, no..."

"No! It's okay." I gripped her arm. "She says we can keep sleeping together. She's not overjoyed, but says she understands. I just wanted to make sure about you."

Amy thought for a moment, then said, "Make sure I'm not whoring myself out for a place to stay."

"Ooh, that's harsh. I didn't think so, but there's something else. There's this thing: power imbalance. Bosses shouldn't sleep with employees. Landlords don't fuck tenants. That kind of thing. Our age difference is bad enough."

"So, if I didn't have anywhere else to go you'd have to kick me out? And since I do, I can stay?"

I laughed.

"Ben, you didn't coerce me, you know. I kinda did that to you. I'm not here because I had nowhere else to go. It's because there's nowhere else I want to be. I told you. I've dreamed of living here. With you. Sleeping with you." She grinned. "After what we did last night I really, really really want to sleep with you." She paused. "Next, you're going to ask if I'm on the pill, right?"

Grinning, I said, "Oh, I know you are. Last week, you left your current pack prominently displayed on the bathroom counter."

Amy winced. "Not very subtle, huh?"

I chuckled. "Not very. But even if you hadn't, I knew you'd never have sex unprotected. You'd never try to trap me."

"Because of mom, right?"

"Huh?"

Amy said, "I'd never trap you because that's what mom did to get my dad to stay. Everyone knows about that."

"Well, I didn't, Amy. What happened?"

"He vanished the second she told him she was pregnant with me."

"Oh, Amy," I said quietly, "That's awful. I had no idea."

She sighed, pursing her lips. "Great. Should've kept my mouth shut. Now you think I'm even more trailer trash than before."

I hugged her to me. "We have never, ever thought of you like that. You're not your mother, Amy. How you grew up and things your mom did don't reflect on you. Even if I'd known that about your mom, I knew you'd never trap me because you're you, Amy. Driven, smart, and so damn honest it hurts."

Amy smiled and pecked my cheek. She laid back, and we both admired the ceiling together. Then she said, "I'm not a child, you know."

"Of course not, Amy."

"Then stop treating me like one. I'm nineteen. I can make my own decisions."

I rolled to face her. "You're responsible for your decisions, Amy. Doesn't mean you're always good at making them. When I was nineteen, I was a fool."

"Yeah? Well, I've never had the luxury of being a fool. I've had to deal with my mom and keep our house since I was little. Pay the bills, deal with all lowlifes she had hanging around, deal with all the endless shit of having no money. I wasn't a little kid even when I was a little kid, you know?"

I put an arm around her.

"I get that you're trying to look out for me," Amy said. "Like you've always looked out for me. But I know what I'm doing, okay? If this is a mistake... staying here, making love with you... then it's my mistake to make, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay, Amy. Okay."

She lay back. "Good."

"I'm never going to stop looking out for you, though," I said.

Amy rolled on top of me and peppered me with light pecks. She reached between us to stroke me to hardness, running me between her moistening folds.

"You say the sexiest things," she smiled, then sank my dick into her snug passage.

We made love that Saturday morning less frantically than the night before, and enjoyed it more knowing that Kate had given us permission, at least on the surface.

I knew sometime Amy would tire of me and move on. She deserved to find someone her age, someone she could love without sharing and have a future with. As long as our affair continued, I was keeping her from that future.

~~~~

We spent the rest of that Saturday fucking: in the shower, in the kitchen—everywhere.

I had to close all the curtains because Amy refused to get dressed, preferring to strut naked all day.

"Why get dressed when you're just going to get me naked again?" she said, holding up her arms and swaying in a seductive shimmy. "Besides, I want to be available. So you can fuck me any time you want."

I didn't protest. I couldn't tire of seeing Amy naked, and she seemed to enjoy me watching her. She grinned each time she caught me fixated on her breasts that stood in youthful gravity-defying firmness, or on her wonderful ass.

She moved around the house happy and carefree—playful and joking, eyes gleaming, always with a little smile. What a change from the guarded, tightly wound girl who had first moved in with us.

My heart glowed seeing Amy's delight. I stopped worrying about the morals of the situation to bask in her joy and energy.

That night we readied for bed as if it was normal for a 40-year-old married man and his 19-year-old house guest to stand naked in the bathroom mirror brushing their teeth; that it was normal then to slip into bed together and fuck all night.

The next days were like a fantasy. We fucked each morning. We fucked at bedtime. During the night, one of us always woke then pulled the other to them for a languid half-awake mating.

I still had to go to work, and Amy had to go to her college, yet I came home to find she had rushed back to greet me wearing only one of my dress shirts or sheer panties and camisole—whatever she thought was most enticing.

We cooked together every night, though dinner progressed slowly with Amy half naked or wearing only an apron. She loved to tease, wiggling her ass or 'accidentally' dropping something on her boob for me to lick off. Too often, I had to bend her over the counter or table for a quickie from behind.

Kate remained busy in New York with her publisher and media events, though we talked and texted each day. We avoided discussing Amy. That would come later, we agreed, when Kate returned home and we could discuss the situation together.

Until then, Amy was my lovely, always willing live-in mistress. She was voracious, but her sexual tastes were simple—she just wanted to be fucked as often as possible. I wanted her to explore further.

Instead of letting her pull me onto her the moment we hopped into bed, I made her take time to talk, cuddle and explore. Amy loved being held from behind while I kissed her neck, playing with her pussy and breasts.

Amy discovered she adored having her breasts sucked and massaged. She held my head to her while laying back in a daze while I pleasured one firm boob then the other. After about ten minutes, though, Amy started squirming and urged me to fuck her.

At work, my busy period was still brutal, and I still had work to finish after dinner. One night, Amy stole into my study, naked and, with a sly grin, got under the desk and took me into her mouth.

Unfortunately, she went at it like an industrial milking machine, bobbing frantically. I encouraged her to slow down and play, guiding her to what I liked. She eagerly learned to nurse and lick, drawing me deep while caressing my balls, teasing playfully, all while looking up at me like a groupie worshiping a rock star.

Just before I lost control, Amy sat back, gave the head a loving lick, then crawled from under the desk and walked out, swaying her hips.

I leaped up and caught her in the hallway. She giggled when I spun her to face me.

"You little tease," I growled. "I was ready to come. How can I get any work done when you leave me like that?"

"I was just getting you warmed up. You work too much. Come fuck me."

Gripping her arm, I trotted her to her bedroom and pushed her backwards onto her bed. Amy watched eagerly as I stripped, spreading her legs in anticipation.

"I can tease too," I said, and slid down between her thighs.

She tried to pull me back up. "Don't do that," she said, "It's gross. Just fuck me. That doesn't do anything for me, anyway."

Other guys had tried it, she said, but from her description it sounded like only minimal foreplay before rushing to the main event.

"I'm not fucking you until I get you off with my mouth," I said. "Even if it takes all night."

Amy groaned in frustration but agreed and laid back to let me explore. I encouraged her to tell me what felt best as I teased and played with lips, tongue and fingers. Ignoring the powerful urge to just fuck her, I took my time. Soon Amy was thrusting her hips, holding my head, twisting and mewling until she built to a massive, gasping orgasm.

When I slid up to hold her as she recovered, she avoided my eyes, her lips tight with a shy smile.

"Was that okay?" I asked.

"That was volcanic! Holy shit. But... it's so embarrassing."

"What is?"

"Having your face down there. You making me come that way."

"Amy, I've fucked you over the table with your tits in the mashed potatoes. I've watched you come so hard it looked like you were entering a coma. You're embarrassed about me licking you?"

"It's just so... I feel so exposed."

"Mmm. Yes. It's intimate. That's why I like it."

Amy pulled me onto her, desperate hunger in her eyes. "Now for fuck's sake, will you fuck me now? Hard!"

~~~~

By Thursday, my busy period at work had wound down enough that I didn't need to bring work home. I rushed home, eager to have the entire night to spend with Amy.

She greeted me at the door dressed in her old 'professional uniform' of golf shirt and khakis.

"The Petersons called," she said. "Her dad just went into the hospital. They need me to babysit tonight."

I felt crestfallen. "You gave up babysitting when you started at the college. Don't they have anyone else?"

"They called everyone. I'm their last resort." Amy pecked my cheek. "I might not be long."

For the first time in months, I had the house to myself. Without Amy to cook with, dinner seemed pointless. I heated something dismal that slithered out of a can.

Sitting alone at the empty table, restless angst filled me. I had become used to missing Kate, but never expected to miss Amy so profoundly. The Petersons only lived four blocks away. Maybe I could stop by and see how she was doing.

I tried watching a movie. All I thought of were the times we fell asleep together on the couch and the magical delight of waking up holding her that first time.

Similar distractions filled the evening. I thought of Amy constantly, unable to focus, missing her laugh, wanting to hear about her day and to tell her about mine.

The yearning, the emptiness, unable to think of anything but her: I knew what it was. I'd felt that way only once before—with Kate.

Amy returned around ten and I rushed to meet her at the door like a puppy overjoyed at his master's return.

"Her dad had chest pains," she said. "They don't think it's serious, but they're keeping him overnight."

"That's a relief. I like the Petersons. They're always canvassing for some charity or other."

"I know. I took their boys door-to-door some nights when I sat for them before. Ben, they're so sweet! Hadn't seen them since last year. They're six and eight now and total scamps."

Amy gushed about the boys and their house and how glad she was not to clean their pool anymore, all while dragging me to her bedroom.

"It's only been a few hours, but I really missed you," she said. "I kept wanting to call and have you come over. That would have looked really weird, though."

Amy insisted I strip her and gazed at me while I removed one item at a time, kissing each part of her as it became exposed.

Finally naked, she stood flushed and breathing hard. I stripped in a flash and Amy pulled me on top of her as she lay back on her sheets. From her needy expression and how her hips were squirming, I could tell she needed me as much as I needed her.

Amy gave a short, joyful gasp when I sunk into her, eyes flying open then after a few blinks becoming lidded. The tension in her body dissolved as we mated, kissing and stroking each other's faces, gasping, groaning, sometimes laughing. Around mid-point, we slowed, just gazing at each other, and Amy asked to get on top.

She rode me wonderfully, arms braced on my chest, head back, eyes closed with her lovely breasts jutting.

When Amy came, she planted herself desperately then gave a long, primal growl, eyes closed with an angelic expression, head drooping between her shoulders.

The exquisite beauty of her orgasm as contractions milked me inside sent me over the edge. I grabbed her hips and bucked, emptying into her forcefully.

We lay cuddling, recovering and basking in the glow of our mating. Amy absently ground her hips against my side.

I said, "That was a powerful one for you, wasn't it?"

Amy ran her fingers over my chest. "I was imagining we were... doing it for real. Unprotected. That you were breeding me. Giving me your baby."

I stroked her hair. "You don't want a baby at nineteen, Amy. And certainly not with me. I'm old enough to be a grandfather."

Amy shrugged. "Not really. I told you I used to dream about having babies with you."

"You also dreamed about Kate being abducted by aliens. Reality isn't so rosy. You'd never be able to launch your jewelry business if you had a kid to take care of."

"Oh, I could if I had help," Amy mused. She fixed me with a gaze. "Is that why you and Kate never had kids? So you could concentrate on your careers?"

"Oh, no," I said. "We tried. Lots. But Kate was already 36 when we got married, then she had an ectopic pregnancy in our first year together. It was awful. She was in so much pain. We didn't know what the hell it was. Anyway, that little episode did some damage. Nothing we tried after that took hold. Now she's 51. It's too late."

"I'm really sorry," said Amy.

"It's for the best," I said. "We'd have been awful parents."

"What? No! You'd be great. So in love. So caring."

I said, "Well, that's the problem. We had a dog once, you know. Long before you started coming around to mow the lawn."

"Oh?" said Amy.

"A big black lab. Super sweet and dumb as a rock. But we loved her."

"Ever drop a cake on her?"

"Oh, ha ha," I said, giving her a playful swat. "We pampered that mutt, worried about her all the time. Every time Kate thought sometime was off, we rushed her to the vet. Later on, she did get something. When she died, Kate wanted to die too. So did I. It still hurts to think about, even after all this time. Now imagine if it was a kid! It'd be ten times worse. We'd be destroyed if anything ever happened. We'd worried about every little thing... the ultimate smothering helicopter parents."

"No," said Amy firmly. "I was like that when I first started babysitting. Then I learned better. You will to."

~~~~

Kate called around midnight.

"Book three is hitting the stores Monday," she said.

"Your publisher isn't great at planning, are they?" I said. "They said it would be weeks."

"I know. They're small. Anyway, they want me to stay another week. I've got an interview on NPR Monday and more signings in the area. There's a reading and panel discussion at CUNY Thursday."

"So we won't see you for a whole other week?"

"Can you come? There are still seats on some flights for Friday afternoon. I checked. Amy can come too. The adjoining room next door is free. I could book it for her. She'd have some privacy and you two could... well, you know."

"Kate, are you sure you want that?"

"Of course. It'll be fun showing her the city. And my editor says she can arrange backroom tours of some of the bespoke jewelry shops here. Amy could learn a lot for her business."

~~~~

"But I've never even been in an airplane!" Amy protested. "And it's so expensive. I don't want you two spending so much money on me."

"We knew you'd say that," I grinned. "Think of it as an early birthday present."

"My birthday isn't for two months."

"We know. We've always given you a little something for your birthday since you were what? Fourteen?"

Amy's crossed her arms. "Are you sure Katherine is... I mean, what do I even say to her?"

Taking her into my arms, I said, "Relax. You're still friends. She cares about you. And she really wants you to go. I made sure. We'll have to talk about how our new situation will work, but we'll do it together."

Amy just clung.

"Look," I said, "you'll have your own room... it's adjoining. That means there's a door between your room and our suite. You can be alone any time you want."

"Alone with you?"

I laughed. "I mean by yourself. But yes, we can be alone together too. But you realize it won't be all the time. Kate and I haven't seen each other for two weeks."

"Okay," Amy sighed. "But I still feel like I'm going to an execution."

~~~~

Amy placated, I shut the communicating door of her hotel room behind me and entered our suite. The hotel was reasonably priced by New York standards, and close to Kate's publisher.