Dominik looked at me and said, "Just do it." He fluttered his hand and giggled.
We were having lunch in Laguna Beach. It was the Saturday before I headed to Vegas for the convention. I shook my head. "I can't, sweetheart. I just can't."
"You can, honey. You just don't want to admit it."
Dom was the one male friend I'd kept since getting married. He was gay and Mike didn't consider him a threat. It wasn't that Mike forced me to get rid of my male friends after we married, it was just clear he wasn't happy about them. I was involved with several of them sexually (Mike knew this) and I wanted to be faithful. He was fucking at least three women when we met and while it wasn't my preference, we knew where we stood; we were seeing other people, and dating left some doors open. When he popped the question, however, we became exclusive in the bedroom. We were Even-Steven.
But a lot had happened since we'd wed and while we enjoyed an active sex life for most of the past seven years, our physical relationship had cooled over the last two and we often resorted to fighting or simply ignoring each other over making any attempt to rekindle what we'd once had. We were both busy parents with full-time jobs. In the effort to be superheros to our kids, we had grown distant intimately.
"Gwen, honey, he filmed another man fucking you and jerked off in the process." Dom made the universal jack-off sign with his hand and the guy at the next table gave him a look.
I crossed my arms and pouted. "Don't forget, I agreed to it."
"Yes, and if I recall, you didn't hate it." Dom was right, I had enjoyed the experience immensely. The stranger had awoken a part of me I thought was dead and had helped get things back on track for me and my husband in the bedroom. He said, "If you want to see what's happening on some hookup sites, I say you have a God-given right to check it out." He sipped his white wine spritzer and eye-fucked the guy, smiled and twinkled his fingers at him. "Your hubby has all but given you permission." Not too long ago, I told Dom about what happened on our anniversary weekend last month. Most of it, anyway.
Nodding at the guy, Dom stood and said, "I'll be right back, baby cakes. This strong young man is going to give me a blow job in the men's room. Want to watch? You can see how real men use their cocks."
I shooed him away with a flick of my hand. "Have fun. I'll be here."
As Dom introduced himself and strolled away, I envied his freedom. His life, particularly his sex life, seemed so carefree and fun. I thought it probably bordered on whimsical. Although I knew that it often looked greener on the other side of the fence and he'd shared with me his inability to find a long-term partner, which made me sad. He would make someone happy, someday. But today he'd get a blow job from a stranger and that would be enough.
The waiter came, dropping some more bread and asking if I wanted another glass of wine. I did. He was in his mid-20s and looked great. Briefly thinking about a summer fling I'd had with a waiter shortly after my 19th birthday, I turned my attention from his drum-tight butt to a couple dining a few tables away.
They appeared to be in their early 30s and seemed completely in love. Her wedding band twinkled with diamonds as she brushed some hair away from his face. They were sitting across from each other and she'd removed her flip flop. With her foot resting between his thighs, she massaged his crotch with her toes over his linen pants. The woman's eyes flicked to mine and she grinned. She was completely unashamed of her public display of affection for her suitor. I wanted to return her smile but couldn't.
Watching her toes wrap around his noticeably hard cock, I thought about how deceptive people can be and how hard we all try to hide our true selves from others. For all I knew, she was cheating on her husband with this man. Or maybe he was cheating on his wife. Maybe he liked it when she wore a strap on and fucked him in the ass, or perhaps she enjoyed being slapped as he roughly fucked her. And then the night my husband proposed his idea came rushing back.
A few weeks prior to our anniversary, Mike turned off the TV and we made our way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was a Sunday evening and the kids were down for the night. We were exhausted from another breakneck weekend around their activities and homework, my mother's birthday and dinner out with friends.
Throughout the afternoon as we laid on the couch watching football, I had managed to nurse down a bottle of wine while Mike drank beers. We were enjoying a night of ignoring each other which was better than a night of bickering or outright screaming.
Stripping naked as he walked into the bathroom, Mike dropped his clothes into the hamper and started brushing his teeth. Watching me in the mirror as I undressed down to my panties (I haven't felt comfortable sleeping naked since having children), he mumbled around the brush, "I wan choo wah anthoo maw wuck woo."
"Don't be an idiot," I said. "Take the brush out of your mouth." I was too tired for games.
He spit in the sink and glared at me. This was how it started: one of us would say a thing to intentionally provoke the other. But then his face went flat and a ripple of resentment passed into his eyes. He said, "I want to watch another man fuck you." Furrowing his brow, he corrected himself. "I'm going to let another man fuck you while I watch." He spit foamy toothpaste into the sink. "Was that clear enough?"
I was stunned. Utterly confused, I just looked at him.
Gathering his courage, he asked, "Did you hear me?"
"You're crazy." I squirted a line of paste on my toothbrush, jammed it into my mouth and brushed vigorously. He watched me, paying close attention to my jiggling breasts.
I had developed early and had been busty since hitting puberty. In high school I was rail thin but easily filled a D-cup and had been utterly ashamed of my top heavy-figure. Girls bullied me about them and boys couldn't pull their eyes away from them. It wasn't until college that I became confident in my appearance and learned to love my breasts. But that was a long time ago and gravity, along with feeding two suckling babies took its toll. Their appearance depressed me and a few years ago I'd had some work done.
They are now a size C and the doctor was talented; he had managed to turn back time. Today, my breasts ride buoyantly high on my chest, my nipples - ringed by small strawberry-hued coronas - point upward like firm, pink gumdrops. They are soft and full and move naturally with my body. There are no visible scars, and I love them. I can go braless again, and often do around the house. Mike loves them, too, even when it was bad between us.
"I mean it, Gwen," Glancing at his sex, I saw it thickening; getting fuller. It was obvious the topic was turning him on. When he slowly started stroking it, I rolled my eyes.
"Fuck off." It came out as incredulously as I'd intended and it hid my surprise. He just looked at me; the silence growing like a distant thunder storm. Cocking my hips, I said, "You can't be serious."
"One hundred percent," he said. "And I am not really interested in your thoughts on it."
Now he was scaring me. He had always been an incredibly honest person and it was obvious he wasn't joking. The idea wasn't without some merit. I had masturbated many times to the fantasy of cheating on Mike; meeting a stranger at a convention or seducing the guy who cleans our pool. But this was an entirely different proposal. My husband was willing to sanction my infidelity. This was way out of the norm for him and I was taken aback. "Is that what you really want," I asked.
"Yep."
"Another guy's dick stuffed in my pussy?" He knows I don't care for the "P" word and I used it for effect.
"Yes," he said. "In fact, I plan to take a video of it. Maybe catch his come oozing from your pussy." He used the word for effect. He was standing a little taller now; growing more comfortable with the idea.
