Grace

I was always calm and relaxed around Grace, because she's married and the perfect woman. She's out of my league in eight different ways, maybe more. So I could enjoy her beauty, intelligence, bawdy sense of humor and lovely feminine smell because it was impossible.

And of course, her husband was a peach. Personable, a little athletic, smart. Her bawdy sense of humor put him off a little sometimes, but they were often the first to leave a party, if you know what I mean.

So imagine my surprise when she asks if we're friends. I say, of course. We know each other pretty well and we really enjoy each other's company. Just speaking for myself, I said.

I got a lovely smile for my efforts and she told me she thought she was just having one of those weeks where she wasn't sure of her footing. And I told her she could be sure of me. And my admiration for her just increased, because here was a little flaw, insecurity, and she just brought it out and dealt with it.

And things went on just like before, except I was a little more open about how I felt. The ups and downs you know, instead of being fine every day. She would listen to my stories about work and dating and add some of her own. Of course not about her marriage. I understand that's between them.

Months went by, and one day as we stood alone on her porch, she wanted to know my favorite thing about her.

I said, "Um-mm, your smile," trying to sound assured.

"Nope. You had to think too hard. What's your real favorite thing?"

She listened for a couple of minutes as I talked about her beauty, intelligence, bawdy sense of humor, lovely feminine smell and even her husband.

"My husband is your favorite thing about ME?"

"Can I ask if you're feeling a little unsure of your footing again, because I know I am."

"Oh, I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but I'm not feeling unsure about myself and I AM going to nail you down about this."

"Well, this does make me uncomfortable, because remember the first time we met? I saw you before you saw me. You were facing the other way and I focused in on your figure."

"So there you are, focused on my figure, and you're thinking what? Needs some meat on those bones? I've seen better? Kind of dumpy?"

"Grace, I'm really confused. I'm answering the best I can and for some reason, it's not good enough and it's making you seem agitated and I'm lost. Help me."

"Grrrrr... I don't know, I... You know, you always speak carefully. Usually, that's nice, but today it isn't. Speak plainly to me, Peter. Tell me the exact words that were going through your mind, good, bad, indifferent."

"But, Grace. I'm a guy. A nice guy. I think what I think and then I pretty it up to say it to other people, especially women."

"Can you take a break from that? Did it even make enough of an impression that you remember?"

"You're so wound up. I don't ever remember seeing you like this. I'm going to suggest something, and I'm praying I don't offend my married friend. Can I just give you a hug for a quick moment?"

A cloud passed over her eyes, as her suspicion of all things male came to the front. But it did pass. She shook herself, "Boy, this is gonna be awkward."

"Yep."

I held my arms out awkwardly, still really unsure if this was the end for us. She took a step toward me and met my eyes. We both looked away and then we were touching front to front. I could feel her breasts pushing into my upper abdomen because I'm a head taller than her. I folded my arms around her, barely touching her back and then started to release her.

"Don't," she said.

So I put my arms back where they had been. She pushed back the tiniest bit to look up into my face.

"Didn't you just say you were a guy?" I nodded. "Well, could you use the tiniest bit of that guy strength to actually hold me?"

So I ratcheted up the strength for just as long as she did and we were actually holding each other pretty tightly. She took a deep breath and relaxed and let go, but not before my dick started to get hard.

"I do have a bangin' body, don't I?" she teased. She knew I was defenseless. "You don't have to say anything. You've already expressed yourself."

"Oh my god, Grace. Can I just shoot myself now?"

She shrugged. "Your body betrayed you, buddy. You wouldn't say, so it spoke for you. Alright. Deep cleansing breath and start at the beginning. I get the feeling that your dick will pale in comparison to your verbatim recitation of your first thoughts about me."

"OK. You've got me in a corner. I have to tell you. But can I know why?"

"Um mm..."

"Alright, we'll hold on that. Let me just say... no, let me get started. SO, I notice you and I take a good, long look. The first thing I noticed was your bottom..."

"That is NOT what a guy calls it in his formerly private thoughts."

"I'm setting it up. So I'm looking and thinking... you sure you want to hear this?"

"God dammit, Peter!"

"OK, OK. I don't ever want to hear this stuff coming back at me. I'm thinking what a nice apple-shaped ass. Has to quiver when you pat it. Looks like one cheek would just about fit my hand. But.. there's no way I'm getting my hands on that. And I was getting down about that, when you started to turn, then turned back, so I saw you in profile and thought about your flat belly and briefly touched on how a guy's hand can slide right down a belly like that and under a girl's pants and curl around her pussy. Goes without saying that I was horny that day and a walking wet dream didn't help matters any. And my gaze drifted up to your chest, and I thought what cute high-riding tits. Bet they're nice and firm. Though I'll never get to touch them. And, of course, your face, especially your lips at that distance. And then you turned around, caught me looking and smiled and John was right behind you, towering over you and he smiled too and I thought, friends, they could be my friends. And that was it."

There was a long and awkward silence, while I waited for her to slap me and she was lost in thought. So I said, "Is that about what you'd thought you'd hear?"

"Does 'cute' mean small?"

"Yep."

Another silence descended and stayed way longer than was comfortable.

"So why did you want to know that now?"

"Um mm, I...um mm thought that you would...um mm," poor Grace was sinking.

"That's OK. Maybe another time."

"You're going to be a nice guy and let me out of this, aren't you?" she was getting prickly again.

"It's my nature and I really hate to see you ..."

"I WISH YOU NICE GUYS COULD LEARN WHEN TO TURN IT OFF!"

"I think it's more built in than something..."

"That's pretty evident!"

"I think you should tell me what's going on."

"I don't. I'm tired of the whole deal!"

"You have embarrassed me. You talking about my erection has humiliated me and was cruel. You insisted I tell you things that I assumed I would take to the grave and still no word as to how you felt about them or why you had to hear it today. Please talk."

"Still the nice guy. Please and thank you. The modulated..."

"Talk." She looked at him funny. " TALK!"

She jumped a little, then held up a hand to stop me. "Peter, if you apologize for that, I'm walking out of here and I don't know what it would take to repair our friendship."

"I gotta tell you that I felt mad when I said that and what's making it worse is that I can't apologize, but I won't."

"Good! You just sit on that anger for a bit. You just got run over by somebody you care for and you should be mad and you should make me pay the price. I'm the one who should be sorry and I am. I'm sorry that I ambushed you with those questions and made fun of you for a reaction that I should appreciate. I like nice guys. God knows John's one. His nice guy makes you look like a motorcycle gang member. When we met, he seemed to have it all, height, humor, looks and he knew what he could do with his tongue. Sorry. I love him. I'll love him forever."

She started to cry, something I'd never seen before and I put my arms around her again and held tight. After a couple of minutes, she started to relax again.

"So now you're comforting me. No erection. Any thought of how you could turn this to your advantage?"

I looked down to tell her no and she kissed me.

"Maybe you're not the right one."

My anger had started to cool, but being rejected when I still didn't know what was going on was too much.

"I want you to start wherever you have to, to tell me what the fuck is going on with you!"

She looked at me funny again. "Maybe you are right. John is gentle and I'll bet you are too. There's always been quite a while between the meeting and the mating for him. He gave me a lot of pleasure...he still gives me a lot of pleasure...he's a good man..."

"You are off topic and I won't have it," I said quietly. "You will finish your thoughts, partly because you need to, but mostly because you owe me. You've got me thinking about the first thoughts I ever had of you and they're not welcome because they're not possible and that makes them painful. You understand, don't you?"

She had been looking into my eyes during my little speech, but she looked away when I finished and said, "John gives me lots of pleasure and I give him lots of pleasure, but he never takes pleasure from me. I think a man should ravish his woman sometimes, treat her like a whore, make her feel it. A hard slap on her ass maybe even to her face, putting his dick in her when she's not quite ready, looking deeply and romantically into her eyes and then gagging her with his fingers or his cock. And, oh god, I have said way too much. I want a take back."

"No way. Neither of us can unhear what's been said. We're both feeling vulnerable, you so much more than me but I've finished my piece for now and you've just started. You've done some strange flirting for a friend, like looking me in the eye and sticking your finger in your mouth. God knows what it means, so you've got to tell me."

"You're mad at me."

"You wish. You sound like you want to be on the other end of someone's strong emotions. But right now, I'm just frustrated. So you tell me, what does this have to do with me?"

"John can't take from me. We've tried. He was raised to put his woman on a pedestal and keep her there. If I told him to lick me for an hour, he'd be right there. But if I commanded him to slap me in the face, he'd just curl up in a ball until I told him he could come out. I know, we did that. He can't even slap my ass. Stroke and gently pinch is it."

She looked at me and realized she was still just at the beginning.

"I know. I know. What about you? I know some guys who are real assholes. If I was talking to them, my ankles would already be on their shoulders and I'd be thinking 'too much, too fast but I asked for it and now I'm getting it.' I wouldn't have to consent, because I'm pretty sure they don't care about that. And it would be scary and awful. That's where you come in. Ever slapped a girl's ass?"

"Yep"

"Stuck your hand down her pants unbidden?"

"Yep

"Ever gotten slapped for your trouble?"

"Yep

"Did you stop?"

"Of course."

"Of course...of course. Because you felt she didn't want it. Did you apologize?"

"Of course"

"Of course. And how did that go?"

"Roughly half the time, she wanted to go home. Most of the rest said they were just surprised and told me to slow down a little."

"And the other one?"

"She said it was instinct to slap me. She'd always been told to do that and SHE was sorry but that my hand was nice and warm and welcome on her pussy. Aaand I took her home and we fucked like bunnies. Jesus. I'm so sorry. I am so sorry."

"Peter, STOP being nice. I put this talk where it is. I told you my beloved husband isn't getting me what I need. I told HIM that. And I told him I would never leave him but I had to think about how to fix it. I just didn't tell him who I would think about it with." She smiled her pretty smile and stopped.

"So if I understand you...you mean..."

"Stop right there. If you summarize what I've said and I consent, I may as well go back to my husband and get licked into a frenzy. Get it? I'm going to hug you one more time, because we're 'friends' (air quotes) and then you'll have to 'feel' your way from there."

We hugged again, her arms around me and her hands reaching up to my shoulder, like girls who are not friends do. I had one arm around her upper back, pushing her tits into me again and the other at her waist, not completely unintentionally pushing my boner into her belly.

Very quietly she asked, "What's that?"

"Don't worry about it"

At a whisper "OK"

"There's a few things I need to do."

No sound, but a nod against my chest. I stood back and took hold of her chin with my fingers.

"Close your mouth. I'm not mad at you."

Hoping it was just hard enough to be felt and make a noise, I slapped her cheek with my fingers.

"I'm not mad."

"Then why..."

I slapped her again, just like before. Her hand flew to her cheek and she looked up to see me smiling.

She smiled back, "It's on then."

"It's on."

I was just dropping my hand to my side when John drove up. I came inside for a beer and some chat. I felt lucky that guys don't usually check out each other's packages. Grace was not observing the niceties, so when she looked my way, I made a little spinning motion with my finger. She gave me a look like 'You're not the boss of me.' And I raised my eyebrow like 'Really?' So she looked away briefly, then looked back to see me holding up a finger for 'That's once'. I only stayed for a short time longer. I needed some direction in this new world and I wasn't getting it from either of them. And I needed not to be answering questions about the way we all were relating from John. Upon further reflection, I realized I had no idea what was going on. Grace has needs. I have desires that I've been stepping on for years. And I immediately challenged her to completely change our ground rules, presumably while keeping John in the dark. Not going to get much sleep tonight.

***

The next morning, I called in sick. Not only am I no good on no sleep, I couldn't even decide whether to have some coffee and try to salvage the day or abstain and maybe catch some sleep later.

Then Grace knocked on the door. "I called in sick."

"Come on in. I don't even know where to start."

I made some tea and we had many brief shared looks, but no conversation.

"Film noir?" I suggested and moved to the living room.

Put in the film and had my first actual idea since I slapped her. I laid down on the couch and when she walked in the room, patted the couch in front of me. What was that look, amused maybe? I know nothing about my friend now. But she said OK and became the receiving half of the spooning.

"What's that?" she asked again, with a little butt wiggle to clear up any possible misunderstanding.

"Your new best friend."

She giggled and we watched quietly. I awoke to lovely scented hair and stomach dropping fear. I tried to fish my phone out of my pocket without waking her, but failed.

"What time is it?"

Phone. On. "10:44"

"Thank God. The thing I'm most worried about is hurting John. Or him finding out. Hell, I'm not even sure about that. Peter, I've made a fine mess of things and I'm sorry. Where's my friend."

"Hiding. You know, Grace, I don't think we can undo this. Not that I really want to. I just don't want to face all the decisions. And I'm not a good liar."

"I didn't think this through. But not having been caught sleeping in your arms clears up the first priority, doesn't it?"

I lay there, with my face about 4 inches from her, smelling her, feeling her warmth. It had been years. I kissed her neck feather soft and she groaned. I rested my teeth just below the first spot then gently closed. Groan and hum. Kissed again.

She added, "Or not" She shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"Not even"

Goose bumps. "Then are these tiny little erections all over your body?"

"Peter, I'm really easy... That's not right. When I like a guy, it's really easy for him to get me going."

"Grace, I know what's going on between your legs. I can smell you."

"Oh, Jeez. Listen, Peter. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm so not telling you what to do. 'Cause you're the boss of me. And if you bite me again..."

She stopped because I was biting her again, on her shoulder this time.

"Ohhhh," she said. "Please fuck me now...no, don't listen to me. What I was trying to say is we don't have to do this all right now. You decide though. If you want me to spread my legs, I will. But I'd like to just talk for a minute."

"Spread your legs."

She looked at me, appalled, but with her eyes fixed on mine, slowly spread her legs. Her hand reached for mine, and started pulling me toward her pussy. Her look turned into a smile that said 'C'mon. Take it.'

"Grace, Grace. Hold on. Stop. I just had an idiot idea to test you. You pass, OK? I kind of failed, but my motivation was pure. Pure lust, actually. We should definitely talk this out. I feel sorry for testing you."

"You shouldn't feel sorry. Testing me is part of what this is about. Testing me, pushing me, stretching my limits so that I'm not doing what we want as a couple, but what you want as a man. But this is real life and there will be consequences, whatever we do, even if we stop right now."

"But I'm the boss o' you, right?"

"Right."

"Well, we're not stopping. I'm going to have you and it will be for my pleasure and your pleasure will come from being taken and having pleasure taken from you. We'll talk about the thinking things, but for the rest, you'll follow my lead, OK?"

"Mm hmm"

So I rolled over and around her to get off the couch and knelt in front of her as she lay there, looking at me. I kissed her, a long soft kiss and smelled her and listened to her breathing get a little faster. I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, saying, "Nice." And kissed her again. I gradually moved over and mostly on top of her. God, the feeling of her taking my kiss and slowly writhing under me. Almost like junior high, when it was all new, except now I had a very clear idea where I was going. I explored all the places I could without touching any of the bases, her back, arms, neck, face, scalp. She did the same, but added my chest and found out how sensitive my nipples are.

Then it was time for her to go, so I asked where John was least likely to look. She wanted to ask why, but could tell there would be no answer, so she rolled over onto her stomach and pointed to the small of her back.

"Does her never turn you over?"

Head shake.

"A shame. Then he's never kissed you here."

I pulled her shirt up and her pants down a little, so I could kiss, then nibble, then suck at that spot to leave a mark, while she wiggled and laughed.

She was blushing when I turned her back and told her, "Home you go."

***

We next met up a couple of days later, at her house. We had arranged this meeting to match John's every Saturday racquetball game, after setting our phones to silent and pass-wording them, like the backstabbing shits we are. Grace had worn jeans and a T-shirt to my place, but now she worn jean Daisy Duke and a sheer, delicate blouse. Today was supposed to be a "business" meeting to iron out our expectations of each other and this, what: dalliance, affair, relationship, hookup? Maybe even to define it without seeking consent of course. A kiss seemed the right way to start, so we folded into each other's arms and I for one enjoyed her warmth through the thin fabric and the feel of her slender frame and back muscles. I was considering sweeping a hand down over her ass when I felt her lean back to pull us down onto her couch.