Mistaken Identity

It was clear he couldn't hold on much longer. Sliding my palms down Liz's long calves, I grasped her by the ankles. She straightened her legs into a wide V. "Come in me!" she begged, brushing her lips between Gary's nuts.

The growing pangs of bliss tingling in my balls needed no further prompting. I rocked forward and paused, buried to the hilt inside a woman I'd known less than an hour. She wrapped her glossy lips around her husband's knob and set her sparkling gaze on mine as euphoria overtook me. Locked in her emerald stare, felt my underside pulse in the ooze of her velvety inner tissues. Her eyes widened as my cock jolted inside her.

I moaned long and loud as the seed-laden splendor of my satisfaction pumped through my buried cock and sprayed into the recesses of her inner vessel. Liz tipped her pelvis and spread wider, pressing our pubic bones together in lustful acceptance of the heaving jets pooling in her hollow. My bulb bathed in a puddle of my own semen as my beats faded off. With my chest heaving, I reared back and flopped out of her sloppy slit.

Gary charged like a bull as I sat back on the floor. From my vantage point, I watched his cherry-red knob plow between her labial lips and disappear, followed by every inch of his bone-hard shaft—all the way to his swollen sac. "Ah," he exclaimed. "I feel his cum!"

"Slosh around in it!" she squealed. "Pack it into me and plunge it out! It's what I've always wanted!"

He pulled back and charged again, then again. "Damn, Sari!" he moaned. "I think you left a pint in her...and it's way the hell in."

As he started a slow stroke, a ring of white formed around his girth, spreading to his base and the circumference of her labial clasp. It grew as he pumped her, painting his balls and dribbling into the cleft of her ass cheeks. "Slide through his seed!" she begged, wiggling her legs. "Ream me with it!"

"I'm gonna come!" he wailed as the glossy underside of his cock started twitching.

Liz's thrashing legs went still as he sank to the hilt and locked his hips. She rested the heels of her cute shoes on the small of his back until his sac softened and his balls sagged again. He drew his glazed meat back slow until the head fell out, leaving a concoction of mixed genealogy pooled between the flesh of her gaping gates. "Push it out," he urged.

"It's mine now," she replied with a hum of satisfaction. "I'm keeping it in me as long as I can."

She had to know that wouldn't be long. Moments later it was dripping off her clit as I pounded her from behind and watched her suck her husband's staff back to life. We lasted until just before midnight, when a very content Gary finally tapped out. He thanked me as they dressed—a common irony across the theme of cuckoldry.

Liz shot me a daring sexy glance before they stepped through the gap in the hedges. I watched her hips sway as she followed Gary across their back yard, onto the deck, and into the house. Once I saw the lights go off, I hopped in the shower.

After a thorough washing, I shaved the stubble off my neck and jaw and sauntered into the bedroom with a towel to throw over the stained sheets. "I already changed the linen, Sari," Victoria's voice chimed.

I took a breath and sighed as her slender silhouette stepped out of the dark. She stood in short pink flannel pajamas, leaning on the door frame. "My stepdad left his E-reader out," she griped. "I saw your picture on the bio."

"Are you here to kill me?"

"I should. I'm scarred for life."

"Look...about that...I—"

"Not that. You boned my mom."

"Your dad...step dad brought her over!"

"I hope you washed off my scent before she honked you."

"I told her it was Krissi," I jested.

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Krissi was in on it, wasn't she?"

"Well, you did use her to get to me...or Tommy as the case may be."

"And you used both of us," she complained, giving my shoulder a soft punch. "Your dick's been wet since you got here."

"Hang on," I protested. "I never asked anyone to fuck me. Krissi was willing to put out for a grunge rocker, and you were willing to do whatever to get on that show. I'll tell you what I told her...if you beg a guy to inseminate you, that's kinda all he hears for the next hour. I'd have been a fool to say no."

"I was a whore," she lamented, bumping my shoulder with her forehead.

"We're all whores for something. Don't be hard-on Krissi. She—"

"I know...you're the first guy she let come in her. Big whoop."

"I wasn't the first for you, huh?"

"Number six. The first five bumped fists as they watched each other on Friday night."

I hugged her close and asked, "Mind telling me why you did that?"

"It was Angie's idea. She told me about how her cousin Lexi got a tryout on a show because she let Tommy Halverson and his buddies gangbang her."

"So, you decided to practice?"

"She convinced me it shouldn't be my first time because I might be overwhelmed."

"Were you?"

"Five guys, no condoms," she huffed, punching my arm harder. "You were a breeze."

"So, you did have fun...and having Krissi there—"

"You're pushing your luck."

After a long sigh, I kissed her forehead and confessed, "I'm spent."

"I know," she acknowledged. "You're gonna be the first guy to ever hold me in his arms while I sleep."

"Now that's a real honor," I replied, following her into the bedroom. "So, this Angie—"

"Shut up and hold me, Sari."

****

Part Four: Reconciliation

I remember awaking on my back during the night to find Victoria's arm slung over my ribs and her leg wrapped over mine. Her hair was splashed across my shoulders and neck and her soft cheek felt like a tiny piece of heaven resting on my chest.

A tear of empathy ran over my cheek. To whatever degree she compromised any moral standards or norms of society, she did so for hopes and dreams only she could place a value on. As she lay with me, I realized her integrity was intact. Sleeping beside me offered her reconciliation, however eclectic her path to redemption was.

I caught only a brief glimpse of her as she glided out the door at sunrise. After a bowl of cereal, I tidied up a few things and made the three-hour drive home. On the way, I remembered my last class reunion, when Betsy Callahan made a presentation on behalf of people who couldn't attend. She read a message from Tommy Halverson, who vowed that he would always answer his phone for one of his classmates. The moment I got home, I searched my email for the class list Betsy had sent.

Seeing Tommy's number with a California area code, I scrunched my cheek in doubt, but called the number anyway. It was Sunday, so I thought sure the call would go to voicemail, but something told me I owed Victoria that much. To my surprise, the line clicked and a woman's voice answered, "Production...Mr. Halverson's office."

"Uh, yeah," I fumbled. "Please tell him it's Sari Shepard."

After a few seconds, a jovial male voice boomed, "Sari Shepard! Ya' know, I still have an image in my mind of you looking like a praying potato."

"Believe it or not, Tommy, that's why I called."

"I'm all ears. Say, did yours ever stop swelling?"

"I'm doing okay, and uh, congratulations on Incognito. I understand you're in charge of scouting talent."

"I let everyone think it's harder than it is. I watch a little video and—what's this about, Sari?"

"You owe me one bro. My ears are still ringing from what happened and—"

"Is she a relative or girlfriend?"

****

One thing after another kept me busy for the next few months. At least that's what I told myself to avoid a growing sense of urgency—one I trusted when I was younger, but had been conditioned to avoid. As incredible as Krissi and Victoria were, the thought of holding their hand on a long stroll didn't thrill me. Liz, on the other hand, meandered through my dreams each night.

By the time I made it back to Karma Lake, Victoria was in Europe filming the season opener of Incognito. Liz came over with hubby number three—a cuckold named Jeff who never mustered enough gumption to join in. He sat watching with his cock in his hand while Liz and I made passionate love—all but professing our feelings for one another. Her eyes told me what I longed to hear from her lips, but Jeff stroking himself in the background did little to enhance the ambiance. I planted my seed in her and called it a night. Liz's eyes watered as she kissed my cheek on the way out the door.

The next night, Krissi came by with Angie—a mocha-skinned beauty with dark brown eyes and streaks of violet in her long dark hair. Angie was between dates, so she was gone before midnight. After she left, Krissi and I dragged the hammock down to the shore of the lake and slept together.

Victoria came in third on Incognito that year, but she wound up capturing the hearts of the viewership. Her long, slender legs landed her a string of television commercials modeling stylish clothes and chic footwear, and her beautiful green eyes showed off a pair of designer eyeglasses on a billboard in Times Square that New Year's Eve.

Selling the cabin seemed like the wrong thing to do, considering its intrinsic value. I decided to renovate it and rent it out for weeks at a time, but I reserved a week for myself each summer.

Victoria gave me the gift of her divine intimacy one more time. She claimed it was for old time's sake, but knowing the schemer she was, I soon discovered her motives. Her mom was single again, if such a term could be attached to such an unbolted spirit. Victoria knew I saw them as a duality—separate yet one and the same. Her lean, slender form sparked my memory of that first weekend. She offered it knowing the outcome would be the same.

I shrugged it off at first, figuring Liz only wanted some new cuck to torture. But when she showed up alone in a satin night gown with a bottle of wine in her hand, I kicked Angie out and showed her in. She never left.

The first few blessed nights spent sleeping with her in my arms showed me she wanted an alpha—a lover who wasn't afraid to love her, but never took the back seat. She wanted a man like I'd characterized in my books, but had relegated to the realm of fiction. Gary wasn't my big fan, she was. We never married. We didn't need to. She just moved in with me and sold her chalet to Victoria.

We cut way back on the swinging—enough to assure each other who the apple of their eye was. But Victoria threw parties every Fourth of July and New Year's Eve. Classy young models and producers attended. Many were looking for their big break, and a few were just loose enough to give us older folks a run if they thought it would do them any good. Liz had a celestial experience when we had a threesome with Tommy Halverson.

Krissi got to meet Mako Brahm, much to her disappointment. He played piano at one of Victoria's shindigs. Turns out he was on the straight and narrow all along. His first love was the cello, but he couldn't make a career of it, so he went for the money by beating up guitars and screaming along with the Slag Sharks.

Another two years down the road, Liz and I saw Krissi at the supermarket. She had a ring on her finger and was holding the hand of a handsome guy with a lantern jaw. Her belly was the size of a beach ball, but I could still see the dimple of her navel jewel through her maternity wear.

There's a lesson to be learned somewhere in the mess of emotions that defined those years—some cliché or witty colloquialism. Whatever it is, someone else can figure it out. My niche is sexuality—a subject best undertaken in raw, unabated, and reckless abandon. What I took away was simple—never admit to anything that spoils the fun. Karma tends to make things work out for the best.