The Path

The clouds were suspended over the church as we found our car in the light spring rain. The cooler temperature matched Tara's mood. Her exit from the parking lot matched her anger.

"Please slow down," I calmly begged, knowing full well that Tara wouldn't. I'd given up hope after she ran the second red light in as many intersections. "Killing us both won't bring her back," I said as I watched her tighten her grip on the black leather steering wheel.

Tara and Stephanie had been best friends since college. Last week's bicycle accident was as unexpected a tragedy as any of us could have imagined. They'd ridden through those woods for 15 years with the occasional bumps and bruises, but the fall that took Stephanie's life was a shock to Tara's core.

As Tara pulled over to the side of the winding highway, I unbuckled my seat built. She was in no condition to drive after the funeral. For a week she was a rock for everyone because she was the closest person to Stephanie in the world. She executed everything from funeral arrangements to financial specifics. Tara was everybody's rock, but I wasn't sure if she had sustained her own head trauma during her wipeout. "Can you pull over more?" I asked as I looked over the back window at the traffic hurdling through the mist.

"Why the fuck didn't she listen?" Tara whispered, hands still fixed to the wheel. "She could have stopped. Why didn't she fucking stop?" She gripped the steering with all her might.

I just closed my eyes. Tara's pain was exploding while my guilt was eating away at me. Stephanie may have been Tara's college roommate and best friend, but three years ago Stephanie and I developed a closer relationship.

***********

Tara was in Montreal for a conference when Stephanie built up enough courage to make her move. For years it was obvious that Stephanie had a crush on me. She'd always deny it, but Tara and I knew that she was infatuated with me. It was a joke for five years.

And then it wasn't a joke. From practically the beginning of our relationship Tara and I weren't on the same page sexually. We were more than in love, but Tara grew less and less interested in sex as her career took off. My dick was a minor distraction in her world and she had no trouble telling me. "Please take care of that elsewhere," she'd tell me, but I didn't think that was what she really wanted. Every other week or month she'd apologize and we'd fumble through an intimate act that only frustrated both of us. We were making it work, somehow. The rest of our relationship was actually amazing, but the tension around our sex life made for some terrible fights. Truth be told, I found her career and personality both too intimidating and important to bother with my petty needs.

One particular week she practically laughed at my needs. "If your dick was in that much need," she sneered, "you'd have bent me over and simply fucked me." That was her special kiss goodbye as she got into the limousine on her way to yet another speaking engagement in Paris.

Humiliated and emasculated, I spent the better part of the week buried in work. I hit the gym at 6AM, at the office by 8AM and didn't get home until 10PM. Tara's apology texts went unanswered as I feared her return Saturday morning.

When I pulled into the garage Friday evening, I found Stephanie's car in the third section of the three car garage. I could hear the vacuum cleaner in the family room, but I chose to keep to the kitchen. As I made myself a sandwich I heard the vacuum turn off and the worst version of Sade's 'Smooth Operator' take it's place. Stephanie obviously had her headphones on and hadn't realized anyone else was in the house. As she danced into the family room, I was greeted by a Raiders t-shirt and an orange thong that was not quite the typical maid's uniform.

Tara and Stephanie were best friends in the same way that Tara and I were married. Tara made the rules and Stephanie willingly followed. From job choices to boyfriend breakups, Stephanie was dependent on Tara's advice. Their relationship was so close that I wondered if Tara's lack of sexual interest in me was related to her connection with Stephanie.

Of course I didn't have the courage to ask Tara so I brought it up to Stephanie. "Not our thing," Stephanie simply denied. I was kind of hoping it was, but that was the last of that conversation.

"Oh, Jesus!" Stephanie screamed as she finally realized I was behind the island watching her one woman show. "Why didn't you tell me that you were home, asshole?" she shouted as she caught her breath and fell to the couch.

"Didn't think I had to announce myself in my own house," I replied. I tried to focus on my turkey on whole wheat, but my dick was captivated by what that orange thong was trying unsuccessfully to contain.

"Tara asked me to straighten up the house before you she got home because she said you were MIA," Stephanie explained as she tried to wiggle her thighs into her t-shirt. "Where have you been?" she questioned accusingly.

"Working," I answered flatly.

"Working so hard you can't text your wife?" Stephanie barked back.

"At least I can wear pants,"

I snickered in return.

"Shut up!" Stephanie laughed. "They're in your wash," she said as she bounced up from the couch and scuttled up to the island so I couldn't see below her waist. "Barbecue stain," she sighed.

"I bet," I continued to snicker. Stephanie was an amazingly beautiful woman, but she never felt comfortable about her shapely curves. She hit the gym constantly to keep fit but no amount CrossFit could contain what God bestowed upon her. In contrast, Tara could eat anything and stay supermodel thin.

"Fuck you," Stephanie laughed. My not-so-subtle jab at her weight was clearly a reminder of what Tara had been punching since they were freshmen in college. "At least you'll have something new to think about when you're jacking off tomorrow night!"

"Why don't you give me a little show to remember?" I pushed back. "I don't get that much eye candy around here."

Stephanie stepped back from the granite island with a stubborn defiance. Her muscular frame held up her round dimensions and my eyes recorded every inch.

"Is this what you'd like to see?" Stephanie softly spoke, her typically high pitched voice turning sultry.

In that moment the joke was over. We were no longer mimicking Tara's cruel treatment of our faults. We were two adults alone with a clear need for a connection. A connection that involved positive vibes.

"You know that your body is what Tara wishes she had," I said I stared with an appreciation and sincerity typically reserved for exquisite works of beautiful art.

"I don't think I care what Tara wants right now," Stephanie responded as she shyly pulled her black & silver t-shirt over her head. Her near naked body was something I'd imagined for years as a simple curiosity. As she walked toward the kitchen I forgot about all of the mean jokes we'd told each other over the years. Those jokes that amplified Tara's dominance of us were what kept us from noticing each other. Those jokes kept my dick from throbbing in Stephanie's majestic presence. But Stephanie traded those shallow swipes at my dignity for a validation of her womanly beauty. There were no more mean words in Stephanie's mouth that evening. Just my dick.

*********

"You're driving isn't that much better," Tara sneered as I turned our SUV into our serene neighborhood. I slowed the truck as I navigated the puddles before turning into our driveway. While I waited for the garage door to open, Tara unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the truck in the pouring rain. She couldn't spend another second in my presence and she needed to cool off.

A week ago she watched her best friend fall 1000 feet and she hadn't said a word about it. I didn't know what to do. So I sat in the truck. In the rain. In the driveway. With the garage door up.

*********

For two years Stephanie and I took quiet advantage of Tara's frequent business trips. Our foreplay consisted of mean-spirited daggers at our personal insecurities in Tara's presence and then radio silence until the last day of Tara's trip.

The tension of openly sparring in front of Tara and potentially getting busted made for an amazing two years of happiness. Even Tara seemed content knowing her two closest people were twistedly enjoying each other's company and I was a lot less horny when she got home. Of course I faked it a little, but I was less cranky when her answer to my requests was 'handle it yourself, pervert'.

Then, as expected, everything changed.

For two years Stephanie and I had kept our encounters playful. Oral and handjob were the menu's only choices. We were naughty but the thrill was easy and freeing. My face between her thighs or her hands in my boxers were therapeutic releases. No condoms or lube or preparation. What was clearly planned had the feeling of spontaneity. We had a secret instead of an affair. We were like teenagers full of nervous energy and bound hormones.

Unfortunately that playfulness ended when Stephanie showed up at our house one day into Tara's weeklong trip to Sydney. I was working on my laptop on the back porch when I heard the garage door open. I was in my boxers because it was a warm evening and our backyard faced the dense woods. As I kept working an hour passed and I assumed that Stephanie was just in the neighborhood and needed a place to crash. She was the only other person with a key to our house. Maybe she was watching TV and enjoying a free meal.

As the sun dropped into the crowd of trees behind our house, I heard the patio door slide open. Before I saw Stephanie's naked body I smelled the wine. I was thoroughly confused.

Without a word or eye contact she took me by the hand and led me to the couch placed in the middle of the deck. There was no witty banter or laughter on her lips - just a tinge of red wine. This was heavy because I realized my face had never been this close to hers. While her hands were clearly wrapped around my growing dick, her mouth was someplace new - my neck. Soft kisses were piling onto my clavicle as I questioned where to put my hands. They'd only ever been in her afro, in her pussy or on her breasts. But they remained to my side because the only obvious choice was wrapped around her waist as she began to straddle me.

This was no longer playful. This was intimacy. She never kissed my lips but I knew what was next. The taste of the red wine couldn't mask the sense of passion that accompanied her wet kiss. I could feel her easing my growing dick into her warm pussy, but I was too engulfed in her quiet kiss to really notice. I sat like a statue trying not to place my hands on her waist as her teeth gently bit my upper lip.

As Stephanie rested her hands on my shoulders I realized that she no longer saw me as a fun release but rather a partner in joy. Her hips barely moved but I could feel her pussy squeezing my dick with gentle hugs. And with each passing minute, the hugs got tighter and the pressure of her biting intensified. For two years we laughed at the guttural moans we shared under each other's stimulation, but this was thunderously silent.

As her thighs tightened around my waist I fought the urge to wrap my hands around her waist the way the dark sky clinched our scene. A slow tremble melted over my nervous dick as her legs shivered and her nipples pierced my chest. The exaggerated writhing of her hips and boisterous swearing of her mouth that accompanied my tongue between her legs had been replaced by a blissful silence that brought focus to the rhythmic contraction of her pussy that slowly drew the life out of me. And lastly I could feel her nails gracefully trace into my back shoulders with the precision of a caligrapher's pen. The sting I felt from those intense scratches as the humid air rested within the shallow wound woke me from my trance.

We had shared more than 100 moments of cum soaked laughter over the previous 700 days, but our math was inverted that warm evening. And before I could make rhyme or reason of our situation, she had exited as quietly as she entered. I could have held her there to stay. But in truth I never held her.

************

I finally entered our house with the sole intent of taking care of my wife in her time of need. My steps were calculated and my breath was deliberate. I knew she was cold and wet in the living room, but I stopped in the kitchen to make her favorite tea. The house could feel the unbalance as Tara was losing control and I was looking to steady the ship.

"She wasn't supposed to..." Tara tearfully started as I placed her Brazilian tea on the table in front of her crossed legs. I patiently waited for her to finish her thought because in the last week she only spoke in cold facts about how she'd lost her best friend. She was being her usual strong and controlling self around friends and family, but from the time we left the cemetery I could feel her beginning to unravel.

Then Tara broke down in sobbing tears.

I was as frozen as I was when Stephanie decided to join me on the back patio a year prior. I clearly sucked at these situations, but I had to be better this go round. After that evening on the back patio, Stephanie and I never connected again. We only saw each other in the presence of Tara. Our time alone during Tara's trips were never discussed. Even our ongoing jabs that acted as foreplay in front Tara ceased. We had nothing.

"She couldn't stay on the fucking path!" Tara grunted as she reached for her tea. "I told her ass to stay focused, but she didn't listen. Stupid girl!"

I'd heard her explain the accident 20 times over that last week. To the police. To Stephanie's parents. To everyone. I could retell every moment as if I'd been there. In vivid detail I could describe beautiful morning air that sung with spring lyrics. I knew the dewy green grass that lined the path below the three evergreen trees. I could see the spokes cave as Stephanie's tire hit a patch of rocks scattered on the right edge of the path. I could hear Stephanie's nervous laughter shift to frightened swearing as she lost control of her front wheel near the sharp turn at the bottom of the path along the hill. I felt the momentum that carried Stephanie over the edge of the rocky terrain. I could identify every thorny shrub that scarred Tara's legs as she climbed down the hill to find the remains of her closest friend. I could hear Tara dialing 911 while she held Stephanie in her arms as the sun glowed bright.

Tara needed a 911 call now. For herself. I could see the hurt in her eyes, so I kissed her on her forehead and ran upstairs to run her a warm bath. Warm tea and warm bath were the best answers I could think of to drown her tears.

As I ran the water and took off my tie I could feel her presence enter our bathroom. She'd heard the water and disrobed. Inside I might have been confused as to what to do, but on the outside I was becoming her rock. "I don't deserve you," Tara spoke softly as she walked up to me. I gently placed my hands upon her waists.

With a slow focus she helped me removed my clothes until we both stood naked under the sunlight that began to break through the clouds outside of our window. Her thin brown frame then began to lean into my chest as she steadied herself with my arms. Only one part of my body was prepared for her eventual position as my eyes fixated on her ass moving further from me as her mouth wrapped itself onto my dick. She sucked me with an intensity that was as pointed as her neglect had been awash in our marriage.

I found myself frozen again, but this time I held on to my instigator with a love that felt rewarded for enduring the unrequited passion that coated my every inch. And in an instant I released every ounce of love that I had on reserve into Tara's welcoming mouth.

As I slowly regained my composure, she led me to the tub. We carefully climbed in and I sat behind her while she sank into my chest. The hot water cooled to the perfect temperature. For ten minutes we sat in silence until I asked if she was "going to be okay?"

Tara arched her head backward toward me and grabbed my hand, gently resting my palm against her neck. I could still feel the tears falling onto my wrists when I felt her tense up. Then with a subtle nod I could feel her swallow. Swallow me.

As my brain processed her actions I couldn't control my smile. And I could feel her smile as well. Relaxed.

Then with a ballerina's deft Tara stood up and turned toward me. The warm water trickled down from her hardened nipples onto my bald head. She then threw her legs over my shoulders and leaned back. Her hands gripped the sides of the tub while her pussy began to grind the smile off of my face. With my tongue I wrote 'I love you' over and over. Her hips thrashed as her ass splashed heaps of water onto our bathroom floor.

I gripped Tara's waists like I planned to hold her there until the end of time. I wasn't going to ever let go. Her wet pussy was engorged and she began to convulse as though she was about to cum.

Tara released her death grip from the tub and leaned on my knees while her pelvis worked her pussy onto my face. Worried that she might fall I reached behind me and gripped her ankles to anchor the intense whipping her pussy was dishing out.

"Oh fuck!" Tara shouted as I tightened my grip on her ankles. I could feel the scars from the shrubs. Most of the scabs had fallen away, but I could feel the patterns. "Fuck!!" Tara shouted as her thighs nearly squeezed the life out of me. She was fucking my face with too much enthusiasm to realize my mind was now focused on the scratches on her legs. The deep scratches on her legs that felt as though they were written by a skilled caligrapher. As though the signature included the pain of an unrequited love.

"Fuck!!" Tara gasped as she held one last squeeze against my face.

As her ass sank into the water and she collapsed onto my legs, she saw the look of understanding in my eyes.

"Stupid girl," Tara snarled at me as she closed her eyes to hold back the tears or to enjoy the afterglow. "I told her to stay on the path."