Looking Right At It Ch. 03

[Yes, I know about such things as pregnancy and STDs. And no, I didn't mention them in this story. It's a story—a fantasy—and while in some stories I address those matters, in this one I didn't.]

ALAN'S STORY

One Saturday I ran into Denise in the gym, and she made a point of coming over to ask how I was doing. I was nearly finished my weight work, and asked if she could join me for lunch in a few minutes.

When we were eating our salads she said, smiling, "Well congratulations—I see that the ring is back on your finger."

She must have seen something in my face, because her smile disappeared. "What is it, Alan? I would have expected a happier look than that. It's not going so well?"

She and I had never talked in any detail about our marriages—I just knew that she was divorced, and she that I was separated. Now I took a deep breath and said, "Denise, would I be imposing if I talked to you about my situation?"

She smiled and said, "I'd be flattered!"

I filled her in on the whole story: Julie's cheating with Bobby, what they'd done together, how she'd never done those things with me, my throwing her out for two months. I told her about Julie's return and how impressed I was with her greater understanding. And I said that though Julie and I had rekindled our affection, I just couldn't get past my hurt and insecurity enough to be sexual with her again.

Denise listened patiently and sympathetically. She didn't speak much, but I could feel her support, and I thanked her for being such a good friend. I got us each one more cup of coffee, and we sat a while longer in a comfortable silence.

It began to feel like it was time to go. Impulsively, I spoke up. "Denise, I want to ask you a question, but I need to say something else first."

She nodded, looking interested.

"You have become a friend I really value and like, and I don't want to hurt you or ruin that in any way. So if what I ask you angers or offends you, I apologize in advance, and I'll never say anything like that again."

By now she had a curious smile on her face. "Alan, that's quite a preamble! I assure you I'm listening closely! And you are a good friend to me too—I won't be offended, whatever it is."

I felt kind of tongue-tied. "Denise, would you consider . . . well . . . Denise, I wonder if you would . . . Denise, I'd like to go to bed with you!"

It finally came out in a rush, and I hurried on. "I know this probably seems crazy, and maybe even horrible. I'm trying to reconcile with my wife, and I don't have any sort of continuing affair in mind. It's just that . . . I don't see any way to get over what's tormenting me. You are a very attractive woman, and if Julie and I had broken up I would have been hitting on you long before now."

She looked surprised and serious. Before she could speak I went on. "Denise, I can see from your face that I've offended you. I'm SO sorry—please forgive me. Let's just forget about it. I love being gym buddies, and I don't want to spoil that. Please tell me that I haven't."

Coming out of her silence, she smiled at me. "I'm not offended, Alan, believe me. Surprised. Flattered, and quite interested! You are an attractive man, and I've had the pleasure of watching you work out in those skimpy shorts for weeks now.

"I just need to sort through what this would mean for each of us. I've never had a one-time hookup with a man before, and I need to feel sure that I'd be okay with it. And I guess I have some reservations about screwing up your marriage, too. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

We talked some more about it. I was relieved that I hadn't angered Denise, and I managed to persuade her that sex with her felt like my only chance to get past the feelings I was struggling with. In the end we agreed not to decide anything right then. I was just happy not to have lost a friend!

On Monday I found a voice message at work, from Denise. "Alan, I've been thinking about our conversation on Saturday. I wonder if you're free Wednesday at about 1 o'clock for lunch . . . and the afternoon? Let me know. Here's my address and phone number."

I didn't hesitate to leave a return message, accepting her invitation. When Denise opened the door to me that Wednesday, she laughed to see a bottle of champagne in one arm and a bouquet of lilies in the other. "Thank you, Alan! But I've already got some champagne in the refrigerator myself—I guess great minds think alike."

We had a quick lunch—a little rushed because we were both quite eager—and then a long afternoon in her bedroom. I was very excited, and also a bit nervous about my performance. But Denise was excited too, and her obvious pleasure in touching and being touched let me relax a little and enjoy the whole experience.

After we kissed and stroked each other for a while, she wordlessly pulled me on top of her. I guess most couples use the missionary position the first time, don't they? I was a little distracted by thoughts of Julie, but Denise's body was delicious; and once we started to move together, her excitement was fantastically sexy.

I was used to Julie, who enjoyed sex but was pretty passive. She didn't move much, mostly letting me thrust into her; and she would pant a little but not talk or make much noise. But Denise rolled her hips, urging me on with each thrust. And her breathing gradually turned into little groans each time I pushed into her, groans that got louder and deeper as we went on.

Despite my fears, I neither lost my erection nor came too fast. We moved together for more than ten minutes, and just as I knew my orgasm was close I felt her gasp and clutch me tightly, forcing her hips up at me to take me as deep as possible. Her pussy spasmed around me, and within a few more thrusts I was coming frantically inside her, groaning loudly with the pleasure.

We lay side by side, catching our breath. As I turned to her, preparing to say, "Wow!", she spoke first.

"Thank you Alan—that was wonderful. It's been a while for me and I was nervous, but you got me so excited I forgot to worry about it! And you knew just when to be gentle and when to be forceful. It was great!"

I laughed with pleasure at her compliments—I felt like a blushing teenager! "Thank you Denise—it was just fantastic for me too!"

We relaxed for a few minutes, kissing occasionally. Then she said, "I hope there's going to be more?"

I smiled and nodded. I quickly ran back to the kitchen for the champagne and some fruit, enjoying the feeling of being naked in her house.

We lay together, sipping champagne and feeding each other grapes and strawberries, giggling when we spilled. Then I put the things aside and we began to neck again, sliding together and caressing.

Denise got a look in her eye and gently pushed me down on my back. "I know this is one of the things on your mind, Alan," she said, "and I like doing this." Then she kissed her way down my chest, through my pubic hair, and took me into her mouth. I was already a little erect, and the pleasure of her lips and tongue had me hard within a minute or so.

Again, I couldn't avoid thinking of Julie. It was weird—Denise was giving me such wonderful pleasure, yet I wished it was Julie's mouth performing the magic. However, it couldn't be helped, and I pulled my thoughts back to the moment.

Denise worked on me skillfully and lovingly, bringing me closer and closer to coming. I groaned, and said, "Denise . . ." She pulled off for a second, smiling, and said, "finish you?"

"It feels incredible, Denise—but that might do me in for today. Could we—"

"Do it from behind?" she said, laughing. "Yes, let's."

In no time her beautiful tight ass was up in the air, her shoulders and head down on the bed, and I was kneeling behind her, gently stroking my cock all around her lips and through her blonde pubic hair.

"Are you teasing me?" she said in a tight voice. "Come on back there, let's go!"

But I kept on stroking a few moments longer, then slowly guided myself into her, sliding smoothly until my hips met her ass. It was my first doggy-style fuck in more than two decades, since before I met Julie.

We did it slowly, then faster and harder. I had all the control I needed, and I just lost myself in how fantastic her pussy felt from this angle. Again Denise was very responsive, pushing back against me, wiggling her ass, gasping out her own pleasure. I stroked her back with my hands, then held her breasts and caressed the nipples, then held her by the hips and pulled her back onto me.

It felt like the best fuck I had ever had in my life (though who can make comparisons at a time like that?), and it ended finally with faster and faster strokes, loud shouting from me, and an orgasm so intense it felt like my whole body was going to shoot out the end of my cock.

When it was over I felt I had just swum the English channel. I held Denise tight in my arms, kissing her face and lips and neck and murmuring, "thank you, thank you" in her ear.

She pulled away, giggling, and smiled at me. "You're welcome. You know, that wasn't exactly a charity fuck or anything, Alan. It was terrific. I haven't been with anyone in a while—and not with anyone as good as you in a really long time."

When we'd showered, and I'd helped Denise clean up the bedroom and the lunch things, we said goodbye in a kind of bittersweet mood. We both knew it had been wonderful—and felt that it could be again—but we both also knew that I was still hoping my marriage would survive, which would mean that this lovely afternoon would be a one-time thing. Without much talking we kissed lightly, and I headed out the door.

JULIE'S STORY

Something had happened. Something had changed, though I didn't know what. Alan's face that evening at dinner was just different—it was softer, like the muscles were more relaxed than usual—and he was quiet and contemplative. A little withdrawn, maybe.

I plucked up my courage, fearing the worst, and finally asked about it while we were doing the dishes.

"Anything going on I should know about?"

He gazed at me, and then said quietly, "just some things I need to work through before I talk about them. Sorry, I don't mean to be mysterious. Give me a day or so.

"Listen," he said, suddenly more energetic, "want to do something fun? I know it's a weekday, but we could go see a movie or something."

Very relieved that no axe had fallen, I agreed. We looked through the listings in the paper and settled on a chick-flick—not Alan's cup of tea but he readily agreed to it.

We held hands for most of the movie, occasionally feeding each other popcorn. When the weepy part came just before the happy ending and I started to sniffle, Alan put his arm around me and gently pulled my head onto his shoulder. I was so thrilled that I forgot to cry about the sad scene!

When we got home I wondered if that tenderness at the movie would translate to sex, or at least to more contact, but Alan said good night in the usual way, with a smile and a peck, and we disappeared into our separate bedrooms. It was more disappointing that night than ever. His actions at the movie had gotten my hopes up that we could start making love again. I cried into the pillow for a long time that night.

The next couple of days Alan seemed pretty normal, but I was very tense. I knew that some shoe was soon to drop, and it scared me not knowing what it would be. Finally on Friday night he turned off the TV, on which we'd been watching a fairly pointless sitcom, and said, "can we talk for a bit?"

I nodded, my heart suddenly pumping fast.

"Julie, let me just tell you all of this at once—then we can talk about it." I nodded.

"I slept with someone else the other day."

I just closed my eyes tight. It felt like a hard blow to the chest—not exactly painful, but as though I'd been pushed back hard into the couch. I opened my eyes, managed to take a deep breath, but didn't speak. I'd promised Alan to let him tell it all first.

"It was mostly on impulse. There's a woman I got to know in the gym over the past few months. We'd see each other working out, and we've had a casual lunch at the snack bar there a few times. Her name is Denise, and she's divorced. In her mid-30s. Attractive.

"It's always been casual. I could tell she was interested in me, but she knew I was separated and not sure what would happen. Then she saw me wearing my ring again and was happy for me. I found myself telling her about our—about my sexual problem. About how thinking of what you did with Bobby kept getting in my way.

"Well, to make a long story short I asked her to go to bed with me. And we did—on Wednesday."

Alan was watching me. I was trying hard just to breathe in and out—it felt like I had six broken ribs.

He leaned forward. "Listen, Julie. This wasn't to hurt you—it wasn't about revenge. Though I guess it must feel like that to you right now. But to me it was the only way to break the logjam, to get through my paralyzed feelings. I couldn't make love to you—I couldn't even imagine it without so much anger, such hurt feelings and insecurity . . .

"The . . . things you did with Bobby kept getting in the way. And now—well, I've done them too. With someone else. And I think they won't be in the way anymore, or at least not as much."

There was silence. My head was spinning a little.

"How was it?" I blurted out the words suddenly, without being aware I was going to.

He looked at me seriously. "It was great. It was weird, of course—touching and holding someone besides you. Having you in my mind—and Bobby—while . . . being with someone else.

"But it was very exciting. And it gave me some confidence back. Somehow I wasn't sure I . . it sounds stupid, but I wasn't sure I could ever . . perform again. And I was fine."

"Did you do it six times? All over the house? In all sorts of wild positions? Did she scream and scratch your back while she had her orgasms?" I was starting to cry, and the pain was obvious in my voice.

"No. We did it twice. The second time doggy-style. And she gave me a blowjob in between, though I didn't come. There wasn't any screaming, but it was exciting for both of us."

His voice grew harder. "Listen, Julie—some things neither of us can do anything about. You fucked a 26 year-old, a guy you'd previously described to me as 'gorgeous'. He turned you on like crazy, and that's something I'll always have to live with.

"I fucked a woman in her mid-30s, with a fantastic body, and I had a great time. That's something you'll have to live with.

"Like I said, this wasn't something I did to get even with you. I did it in the hope of getting past what you did. To me it seemed like the only chance for me to be able to come into your bed ever again. I may be wrong, it may just make things worse, but I don't feel bad for trying it."

All of a sudden I had nothing to say. I just nodded; tears were streaming down my face. Without another word, Alan moved over next to me on the couch and put his arms around me, letting me cry against his chest.

ALAN'S STORY

The night I told Julie about going to bed with Denise was pretty emotional—especially for her, but for me too. I felt bad for the pain she was in. But I really hadn't done it to hurt her; I'd done it as a way to find my own sexual confidence again. God knows nothing else was happening to bring it back!

After I held Julie for a while and let her cry, she just gave me a sad look, a kiss on the cheek, and went up to bed—in the guest room as always.

The next morning I was up making breakfast for us when she came downstairs with an overnight bag. I gave her a raised eyebrow.

She said, in a tired voice, "I'm going to stay at my sister's house for a day or two. I know I don't have the right to blame you for what you did, Alan—but it hurts, a lot. I just feel like I need a little time away, and my sister said she doesn't mind."

The time apart was strange. After two months alone, it should have been easy—but it wasn't. Julie and I had gotten back into our rhythm as husband and wife, in every way but sexually; and I missed her a lot.

I had gotten used to the quiet in the house when I was alone; now it bothered me. When I made dinner that night and the next, it wasn't much fun just cooking for one person.

I thought about calling her sister's house and asking her to come back, but I decided to let her make the choice in her own time. I certainly knew what it felt like to learn that your spouse had fucked somebody else! It hurt, and even though the circumstances weren't the same for Julie, I knew that she must be suffering.

On Tuesday when I came home from work, the house was full of good smells: Julie was in the kitchen making dinner. She'd been gone three days.

She gave me a big smile when I came into the kitchen, and I went right to her, saying "Hi" and giving her a warm hug, which she answered in kind. We held each other, silently, for a long time, until she broke away with a little laugh, saying, "don't let me burn the sauce!"

I knew right away that things were okay between us. I just sat at the kitchen table and we chatted as she cooked, talking about nothing but getting back into our closeness again.

I set the table and got us some wine, and we enjoyed the dinner together, neither of us in a hurry to talk about anything serious.

As we were clearing the table I told her I had missed her, and I was very glad she'd come back. Taking my hand, Julie gave me a serious look and led me to the living room couch, where we sat together side by side.

"Alan, listen. What I did with Bobby—that was totally my fault. It might have destroyed our marriage--I guess it still might, and I am to blame. I understand that.

"What you did with Denise—in a way I guess that's my fault, too, at least in part. Because my cheating made it impossible for you to make love to me. And even though it hurts a lot, I understand why you did it.

"But baby—I just couldn't stand a repeat. If you're going to keep going to bed with her, tell me and I'll leave. I want our marriage more than anything, but I just . . ."

I stopped her, seeing her eyes fill with tears. "That's over, Julie. That was a one-time thing. As long as we are together, you are the only woman I will be with."

She tried to smile, but her eyes were wet. "Then could you take me upstairs and make love to me, Alan?"

It had been quite a while since I picked her up—but then, I had been working out! I scooped her up in my arms and headed straight for the master bedroom. Not the guest room, where she'd been staying—we were going to make love just where she had cheated on me with Bobby.

I could tell you that the first time was marvelous, the greatest, hottest sex I'd ever had, but it wouldn't be true. It was sweet, and careful, and very emotional for both of us. For a while I took the lead, gently undressing Julie and caressing and kissing her, while she pretty much just held me.

Then all of a sudden she grabbed me and pulled me on top of her, demanding me inside her. Our fucking was almost desperate, especially on Julie's part. She clutched me to her and humped her hips up at me more frantically than ever before, as though she were trying to prove something to me, or to herself. It was really exciting, and I came pretty quickly.

The whole time her eyes had been tightly closed, and her cheeks were wet with her tears. When it was over I held her very close, just kissing her hair, her neck, her ear. We didn't speak. In my mind I could still see her with Bobby; I could even see her on her knees with his cock in her mouth; but it didn't stab me with pain anymore. It was just a scene from the past.

Julie got up and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came back, she had a warm washcloth, and she lovingly cleaned off my cock and pubic hair. Then, putting the cloth aside, she bent to take me into her mouth.