Three.
1027 Words
THREE.
Believe me, I actually did have a job and it wasn’t s*x work. I spent too much time at college doing computer coding but I never fit into the coding culture for a variety of reasons. There’s plenty of work for a freelance contractor for lots of companies, large and small, who need someone to come in for a day or a week or a month and work on a particular problem. For lazy me, that worked out great. I was able to make a decent living and spend a lot of time trolling the internet for soulless, meaningless, pointless hookups.
It was a good life.
Between Adrian and Gwen and occasional other casual assignation, I was getting laid and sucked off on a regular basis. It was making it difficult to meet some of my work deadlines so I actually had to push back a bit on Gwen. She wanted me two or three times a week. Adrian was happy with once a week. We had a regular time. He actually penciled me in as a client; even told me that he was accounting for my time in his office as charitable therapy as a tax write off.
Clever and illegal. I liked it.
Gwen was another matter. She was constantly texting and calling me trying to hook up whenever she had a free moment. I f****d her as often as I reasonably could, but I was at the end of a large project and that put a crimp in our hookups. When I was done however…
* * *
Gwen loved to come over to my place for a quick f**k whenever she had the need. I lived modestly in a small apartment, but that didn’t bother her. She wasn’t f*****g me for the thrill of having a sexy, exotic, handsome lover. She was f*****g me for the thrill and having dirty s*x without her husband knowing was part of the fun.
She loved it when I bent her over the counter of my small kitchen. She would grip the far edge of the breakfast bar while I stood behind her and rammed her as hard as I could against the countertop. I was slightly worried after the first time we did it that was because I left bruises on the skin over her hipbones but she just laughed it off, saying her husband would never notice.
That made me wonder if her husband was impotent or gay.
“Why aren’t you ever here Thursday afternoons?” she asked me when we were done f*****g and were relaxing on the couch. Depending of the mood and timing we might f**k once more before she had to leave.
“Who says I’m not?”
“I’ve stopped by a few times.” Gwen had the terrible habit of just showing up when she felt like it for a f**k. That was normally fine, but I was starting to worry that she would find me sometime with one of my other occasionals. That would be…awkward. “Are you f*****g someone behind my back?”
“Asks the woman who is f*****g someone behind her husband’s back,” I pointed out.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I do have a…uh…standing appointment Thursday afternoons,” I said just to see what type of reaction I could get out of her.
“What type of appointment?” she asked as she disentangled her limbs from mind and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. What type?”
“I see a therapist,” I half lied.
“Really? Mental, emotional, or physical?”
“Would you believe me if I said all three?”
“No.”
“Emotional. I had an extremely difficult childhood.”
“Who didn’t? Do you tell him about all the people you f**k and have f****d?” Denise wasn’t stupid. She knew she wasn’t the only one I was sleeping with.
“Who says my therapist is a man?”
“Do you tell her all your secrets?”
“Just the ones that deal with married women.”
She smirked at me. and sauntered back from the kitchen, her t**s bouncing pleasantly with each deliberate step. “Are you f*****g her?”
“No,” I said as neutrally as possible. It wasn’t really a lie, was it?
“Would you like to?”
“Maybe…” I suggested.
She fell onto the couch next to me and grabbed my c**k. I didn’t mind. “Would you like to f**k me in my bed?”
“Sure.” If she was up for dangerous games I was willing to play along.
“Would you be willing to f**k me while my husband was watching?” She licked her lips and started stroking my semi-flaccid flesh. The idea both excited and worried me. But I was willing to push the bounds of safety.
“Sure. Are you going to make a video for him or does he hid in the closet and jerk off while you bring strangers home.”
“Neither,” she said before lowering her head and licking me while maintaining eye contact. I didn’t know a lot about Denise, but she definitely had a slut streak in her past, and probably her present as well. Her mouth was full of c**k which gave me an opportunity to be in charge and ask the questions.
“When was the last time you f****d your husband?”
“It’s been a while,” she admitted between licks.
It was only a half answer, but it was good enough for me to humiliate and tease her a bit. “Does he know you screw around on him?”
“He suspects.” I was fully erect now and I could tell she was tasting my precum.
“So you’ve got a small-dicked husband who is pretty sure you screw around on him and now you want to f**k another guy in front of him.” I shook my head. “That’s f****d up.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she told me after taking my now hard c**k from her mouth and climbing up into my lap. Our conversation paused as she held my c**k steady as she inserted me into herself, lowering her body down on my length. She groaned with pleasure as I filled her up.
“I bet you and your husband are into some kinky s**t,” I said as I pinched her n*****s and made her work harder, bouncing up and down on my c**k.
“You might be right,” she admitted as she began to move faster and our conversation petered out. There was a time for talking and a time to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.
- Writer
