Page 63 of Two Friends in Marriage
“Someone else.”She slides off my underwear and leisurely strokes my cock while I hold myself above her.“Could you wear it while you fuck me?”
In addition to multisyllabic words, curse words are also really doing it for me right now, as long as they fall from her lips.
“I could.”I’ve done it before, but not in a long time.
“You like how it makes you feel nice and full?”
I hiss out a breath.“Yeah.”
Her lips curve into a smile, and I like that she’s enjoying my reaction.I push into her hand.The fingertips of her other hand dig into my ass as I rut against her.
When she slides out from underneath me and grabs the plug that I’ve set on the bedside table, I tense in anticipation.She takes her time slicking it with lube.I focus on my breathing as she eases the tip of the plug inside.
“Like this?”she asks.
“Yeah.”I exhale roughly.
Gently, she works the tip in and out before pushing the fattest part inside me.When I groan, she spanks me.Then she rolls me onto my back; I bend my legs.She plays with my ass for a little longer before turning her attention to my cock.After a few strokes, I’m rock hard.As she slowly jerks me off, she leans forward, her breasts swinging above my chest, and kisses me on the mouth.Again, her kisses feel a little different from when she’s really turned on, but then she slides her hand lower, and I forget about what we’re not doing; I’m focused on what she’s doing to me.
I put my hand on top of hers and show her the exact rhythm I like.When she replicates it, it’s way better than anything I could do by myself.Her warmth, her concentration, her legs on either side of my chest… She’s looking after me, and I let her.She tugs my hair, pulling my head back to gain access to my neck, nibbling and licking my sensitive skin.
“I…not long,” I bite out.
She rolls onto her side and picks up her pace.
“That’s it,” she says.“Yes, Evan…”
I hardly need encouragement, but I like it all the same.
I grunt as I spend on my stomach, and we lie there for a minute before she starts cleaning me up, taking a break every few seconds to press a kiss in one place or another.
“That was okay?”she asks me.
“More than okay,” I tell her.“What about for you?”
“It was fun,” she says, and I believe her.I can’t imagine she’d lie about such things.At least not to me, not now.
Maybe I shouldn’t feel special, but I do.
Jane falls asleep in my bed, but when I wake up at 6:45 the next morning—without the help of my alarm—I bolt up, feeling like something’s not right.Instinctively, I look next to me.
I’m alone.
Terror seizes me, even as I tell myself to calm down.She’s probably elsewhere in the house.It’s not a big deal.
But even the idea of Jane being in her own bed fills me with worry.Did I do something wrong, and is that why she didn’t want to sleep next to me?
I pad down the hall to her room.The door is ajar, and I carefully push it open.She’s curled up on her side, the sheets around her waist.
I release the breath I was holding, then climb into bed behind her—her alarm will go off in a few minutes anyway.I wrap my arms around her, and she settles against me with a soft moan.
I love how she relaxes into me.How she looked so fucking studious while jerking me off last night.How she murmured to Watson when his bowtie wouldn’t stay put.
I’m good at finding things to love about a person, but I’m not good at endings.With every breakup, I felt like I lost a little part of myself, no matter how hard I tried to paste a smile on my face and move forward.
With this marriage, I was supposed to put that behind me, all the ups and downs of falling in and out of love.It was supposed to be a steady relationship with a friend, someone whose quirks I already knew.But once again, I was wrong about a relationship.
Because I love my wife, and I’m too chickenshit to tell her.
