I tighten the knot of my black tie just as there’s a knock on my front door. Unsure of why anyone would be bothering me this early in the morning, I exit the bathroom, turning the light off on my way out.
The moment I open the door my mouth drops to the ground.
“Good morning,” Gwenny coos.
My eyes struggle with the decision whether to focus on her full glossy lips or the thigh high turquoise spring dress hugging all the right curves. Its lacy floral pattern across the shoulders and arms has my hands itching to hear the fabric rip as it’s being torn by my hands.
I rest my arm against the door frame. “Tell me you’re not going to work like this.”
She smirks. “And if I am?”
“Then Jason and I need to have a long talk about buying you a new office appropriate wardrobe.”
Gwenny moves in closer to let her body graze against mine. “How about you show me something else is long instead?”
A heated grumble barely leaves my lips before I’m crashing my mouth to hers. There’s no resistance in my tongue’s pursuit to punish her for teasing me with its words. She softly moans with every push, and my hand snakes down the curve of her ass to press her into my throbbing cock.
The noise from a neighbor’s door shutting causes me to break the kiss. However, the sound of Gwenny’s panting and her heaving chest repeatedly brushing mine has me tempted to fuck her right out in the open.
I suck the coffee flavor off my bottom lip at the same time I back up to allow her entrance into my apartment.
Once we’re both inside, I give her a moment to examine the place I call home. While her body doesn’t move far from the door, her attention soaks in the open kitchen directly to our right, the living room directly to our left, and the small hallway to the side of it that leads to my bedroom as well as the only bathroom.
When her mental tour is finished, she turns towards me and offers one of the cups of coffee she’s holding. “Brought you something hot this morning.”
“And coffee too.”
Gwenny’s cheeks noticeably heat, and I slide the drink into my grip with a cocky smile.
“Wanna tell me what Jason did to piss you off so early or finish your coffee first?”
She attempts to hide her guilt.
I stroll past her towards the beige couch. After dropping onto it and having a sip of the still hot latte, I state, “Come on, Gwenny. There’s only two reasons you’d be at my front door this fucking early with coffee and since I didn’t fuck your brains out last night, I’m rightfully assuming it’s the other.”
Not that I don’t wanna fuck her brains out. We just haven’t made it there yet. Oddly enough, I’m not sure whose fault it is exactly. It’s not like we’re strangers to rolling around together in front of and not in front of Jason. Same goes for the shit between him and I. Gwenny’s witnessed a couple rub and tugs between us, which left her begging to come herself. Hate to admit it, but I think I might be the reason my dick’s not paying proper homage to her pussy. A tiny part of me is still apprehensive about fucking someone else’s wife. Fucking someone else who I care abouts wife. Maybe if he got to screw her first, I would be less…hesitant, but if he was still able to fuck her we wouldn’t be in this situation. Despite having an expert coach in the art of expressing feelings, I actively avoid having to overthink shit by cancelling plans with the two of them to drown my thoughts in cheap beer at the corner bar. I would rather deal with the onset of a hangover than the obvious hang-ups about banging my girlfriend. Fuck, about having a married woman labeled as my girlfriend. Make that a double fuck about having a married man as my boyfriend. God, just letting my brain roam that direction right now has me contemplating on finding an excuse to banish her from the land of Hudson this morning. Which would be a goddamn waste…especially in that dress.
“What happened?”
Gwen crosses over to join me on the couch. “He’s just in a bad mood.”
My eyebrows lift in skepticism.
She places her cup of coffee and white wristlet purse on my tiny coffee table. “He has been since yesterday.”
“Why?” I have another sip. “Because I cancelled last night?”
“No, but that damn sure didn’t help.” Her glower deepens. “He probably could’ve really used a night with you to take his mind off of shit.”
“Off of what exactly? Something go wrong at therapy?”
“He…Well….He couldn’t perform one of the exercises.”
“Doesn’t that happen? Isn’t that the point? To challenge his body?”
Gwenny rests against the arm of the couch. “It wasn’t a new exercise. It was a routine one. One he had done over and over again without trouble in the past.”
The information causes me to hum my grievances.
He probably feels like his body’s failing him. Probably feels like an even bigger failure than he did before. That’s most likely why he’s really pissed off. Can’t blame him, even if I hate the way he takes it out on Gwenny.
“He was awful after that. We didn’t even finish physical therapy. He quit the session. Demanded we get out of the pool and that I drive him home soaking wet. Every chance I tried to talk to him ended with him telling me to the shut the hell up.” Her brown eyes coat in pain. “He refused to shower when we got home. To eat dinner last night. He slept in his chair….I said good morning to him today, and he just started shouting until I was in tears.”
An urge to pummel him into the ground clashes with the one to protect him. This is the major problem with this…relationship. I get both sides of the equation. I understand his frustrations, his fears, and his…unresolved hatred for his life, while at the same time I get why Gwenny’s upset, why she’s hurt, and why she feels unloved. Originally, I never considered I might actually see both sides and not know which one to choose. I don’t want to pick whose pain gets my sympathy or whose irritations get my compassion.
“You gotta quit this shit, Gwenny.”
Her perplexed expression causes my heart to pound harshly.
“You can’t keep putting me in the middle.” I place my coffee cup beside hers. “You can’t keep crying on my shoulder and then expecting me to put him in his place for the shitty way he treats you.”
“I’m not!”
“You are,” I argue instantly. “Every time Jason’s a raging dick, I get the earful. And then because you’re my girlfriend, it’s fucking instinct to chew him out for being a jackass, but that’s not fucking right either because he’s my boyfriend.” The mixed commotion of my feelings grows more intense. “We’re supposed to be in this shit together, so I need you to stop making one of us the hero and the other the villain. I’m sure we trade off depending on who was an asshole that day, but you have to learn to be direct with whoever it is that’s pissing you off. That is the right thing to do. That is also what the Gwenny Jason raves about used to do. I’m sure at some point you taught yourself to avoid confrontation at home because it was easier for him. Because it hurts less. Because you felt obligated to. But you wanna know what Jason really misses about life in general? Being treated like a goddamn normal person. He loves the way I don’t sugar coat shit or walk on egg shells in fear of not being sensitive enough to his ‘situation’. He’s still a regular guy, Gwenny, and the sooner you start to treat him like one the better this relationship will be for all of us.”
Silence sways between the two of us during our long drawn out staring match.
Maybe I was too harsh. Probably could’ve phrased some of that shit better, but it is what it is. She’s gotta stop playing the victim, just like he’s gotta stop hating that sometimes he is.
Unexpectedly, Gwenny sits up straight, brushes her hair off her shoulder, scoots closer, and commands, “On your knees.”
Taken completely off guard, I bite, “What?”
“I taught myself to avoid certain confrontation as well as deny myself specific avenues of satisfaction. If I’m taking back control of one version of myself, why not both?”
My unhinged jaw bobs in speechlessness.
“You two need to understand I am not always at your mercy. That sometimes,” her hand winds around the edge of my tie and tugs me closer, “you’re at mine. Now on your knees, Hudson, before I make you watch instead of participate.”
What the fuck have I done? Did I just raise the badass Gwenny from the dead like some sort of Frankenstein shit?
Sliding off the couch and onto my knees, I keep my attention attached to her.
She pins me in place with a challenging expression as she inches up the edge of her dress and plants her feet on the couch. Her toned thighs spread wide exposing to me a much better option for breakfast than the coffee. I wet my lips in anticipation of tasting the cream already coating her pussy.
Gwenny drags her finger towards the spot my tongue is waiting to ravish. The digit slips through the slickness eliciting a deep feral moan from her. Jealous and enticed alike, I simply adjust my straining dick and continue waiting for my opportunity to prove I’ll do a better job than she is. The sound of her teasing her wet pussy bounces around the room as if it’s a mocking reminder of the distance between me and the place I will not be leaving until she comes twice.
Another loud moan seeps free.
Fine. Three times.
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip at the sight of one finger becoming two. My cock knocks against my dress pants in protest yet I continue to restrain myself from taking over this moment.
She’s absolutely fucking right. If this relationship is going to work, we can’t always be the ones calling the shots any more than we can always be the good guy or bad guy. Each one of us is going to cycle through all three. The hero, the villain, and the master.
Her efforts in making herself come increase. She frantically pushes her fingers in deeper, applying pressure to her clit in the process. Gwenny whimpers so profusely at the impending orgasm, that I find myself whimpering at it too. The way her fingers continuously disappear again and again threatens to have me blow my load without ever being fucking touched. Fuck, acknowledged. All of a sudden, her body bows, her toes curl, and her lips part to release the softest sigh.
Having witnessed this moment numerous times, in various places, I know exactly what is. It’s impossible to keep the sexual sternness out of my tone. “You just came on my couch.”
Gwenny’s eyes meet mine. “And you’re gonna clean it up.”
My mouth lunges for her pussy before the words have time to truly register. She moans my name loudly though it falls on deaf ears. Overwhelmed by sexual frustration from not being the first one to make her come in my apartment, I let resentment free with every lash of my tongue. I thrust it deep between the tense walls and curl it upwards. Gwenny tries to pry herself away from the pleasure yet my fingers flex to keep her pinned in place. Relentlessly, I rock her body against my voracious mouth, fucking her incessantly with my tongue, the way my aching cock is dying too.
She cries my name fiercely as she comes, “Hudson!”
Hearing her scream only spurs my savage movements to continue. I reposition my mouth to latch onto her clit and give the sensitive nub the harshest suck possible. In spite of her protests about not being able to handle anymore, I roll my tongue languorously around and around until her entire body shakes. Until her choked voice is practically weeping. Until her thighs tremble uncontrollably in my clutches. I lick and tug in such a ceaseless, covetous cycle that I almost can’t stop myself from coming when she does.
The breathless sobbing of my name is what finally breaks the salacious spell I’ve fallen under.
My mouth reluctantly detaches itself, and I beam up at the beautiful woman I can hardly believe I get to call mine.
Gwenny doesn’t bother saying anything. She yanks me up by the tie and bereaves us both from the breath we desperately need.
Lesson. Fucking. Learned. We all want and need to be pushed. We’re all craving for a bit of fight and most importantly, craving a person not only willing to withstand the blows, but to strike back.
I stroll into Gwenny and Jason’s living room with a small black bag in my hand.
Jason eyes dart my direction, but he doesn’t muster up a greeting.
“Key works.” After flashing him the new accessory our girl gave me, I shove it in my pocket. “Gwenny dropped it off this morning.”
“You mean when she ran to you to bitch about me?”
The clipped tone is expected. “Yeah.”
Jason huffs and diverts his attention back to the Animal Planet show he’s watching. “Surprise. Fucking. Surprise.”
I scan his unpleasant disposition from a distance. His entire body is stiff. Arms folded defensively across his chest. Jaw locked and ticking. It’s obvious the last thing he wants to do is talk, which is going to make the victory of getting him to do it just a tab bit sweeter.
“Why the fuck are you here?” He grumps. “Shouldn’t you be out shoving papers in people’s faces or whatever it is you do when you’re not eating pizza?”
His jab isn’t a full punch yet enough to inform me of his desire for solitude. “Playing hookie today.”
The subpoena I planned to serve this morning has to wait thanks to a little impromptu decision for the dick bag to go to Fiji. Normally, I would complain, but spending the day drinking whiskey and watching ‘80s action movies with the man I like, is a phenomenal alternative. His pathetic effort to evade getting one since he knows it’s coming is allowing me to enjoy my day rather than stalk his. While I have other clients whose lives I could be combing through for routes to deliver their inevitable ‘The Jig is Up’ papers, I think my time will be better spent continuing to rile up the people I care about, so they can face their fucking issues. Besides, I rarely take a day. The Dornans can deal.
I toss the plastic bag on the loveseat and shove my hands into my pockets. “Wanna talk about what’s got you so pissy?”
“Wanna brush my hair into pigtails when we’re done?”
“Handle bars do make it easier to keep you in place when you’re sucking my cock.”
“I’m not sucking your fucking cock,” he growls, this time meeting my eyes.
“Why not?” My body moves closer to his. “Because you can’t get yours touched?”
Like I expected, he balls his fist and hauls it towards my open chest.
It’s immediately caught before it can make contact. “You wouldn’t hit Gwenny, you don’t fucking hit me.”
The remark causes him to snatch his hand away.
“You don’t hit the ones you love.” My choice of phrasing has my mouth rushing to add, “Or care about.”
Because this isn’t love. We are nowhere near that fucking department. At least, as far as I’m aware. Never really been in that general direction. Just thinking about being that direction has me tossing around the idea of faking an emergency to get my ass away from dealing with the semantics of the subject.
“Sorry,” Jason apologizes to my surprise.
Almost positive I misheard him, I lean forward. “What’s that now?”
He grinds out the word an additional time. “Sorry.”
A triumphant smirk crosses my lips. Rather than rub it further in his face, I state, “I’d never take a swing at you.”
His green eyes fill with guilt.
“Wanna talk about what happened at therapy?”
“No.”
“Wanna talk about why you’re taking it out on Gwenny?”
“No.”
“Wanna talk about how she swung by my apartment this morning and came on my face?” The drop of information lowers his brow at the same time I plant both my hands firmly on the arms of his chair. “Or do you wanna talk about how I can’t wait to come on yours?
He tries to hide his excitement over the idea. “Move.”
“Or what?”
Jason’s eyes narrow.
“You know what I think your problem is?”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“I think you have a problem with control.”
“This from the asshole holding me fucking hostage in my own house?”
A smirk appears effortlessly. “I think because you can’t force your body to do the shit you want it to do, you won’t let it enjoy the shit it likes to do.”
He begins to glower, which prompts my fingers to give his nipple a tug. Jason moans against his volition.
“Just because your dick won’t join the fun doesn’t mean you can’t have any at all.”
His mouth twitches to argue, but stops to groan when I repeat the action on the other side. My smile expands as I watch his body tense for a new reason. He makes an effort to pull himself away just like Gwenny did earlier, and I swiftly relocate my free hand to stop the attempted flee.
“Take. It.”
A rugged moan rumbles in the back of his throat while his green eyes become slightly hooded.
“You don’t let Gwenny touch you, do you?”
The hesitation to answer causes me to apply more pressure until he does.
“No.”
“Why not?” My hand guides itself across his chest back to the original victim. “Not any good at it?”
“You know that’s not true,” he hisses and pushes his body into my touch.
I continue my exploration of his taut chest, hypnotized by the heat. The hardness. The harsh edges. Torn between being envious of its impeccable size and turned on by the changes in his breathing, I find myself staring down the barrel of conflicting feelings once more.
Never in my life did I think I’d do the things I’ve done with this man. I’ve never considered myself gay or even next-door neighbors with being attracted to men, but it’s like my body barely registers Jason as a guy. Whenever shit gets sexual, he stops being the dude I watch basketball with and becomes the person I can’t wait to get me off. The reaction to his touch is identical to the one I get with Gwenny, yet completely different. I crave the roughness of his calloused hands and the intoxicating smell of his woodsy deodorant. I love the way he groans and grinds his body just as much as I love the way Gwenny moans and rocks hers. The logical part of my mind wants to tack on labels and explore possible past moments that could’ve hinted being into men was always a possibility, while the other part wants it to just shut the fuck up and enjoy it. What’s the big fucking deal if we’re all consenting, happy adults? Can’t I just wanna blow one male without wanting to blow them all?
Jason’s groans get louder, shutting down the engine on the runaway train. He swiftly relocates his hands to the hem of his shirt and begins to lift. His newly exposed chest receives all my attention. I trace the sharply cut display with my eyes before promptly doing it with my tongue.
The minute my mouth connects to his skin he shudders, “Damn….”
Peering up, I watch for his response as I capture one of his hard nipples between my teeth.
Jason’s entire body rocks towards mine. “Fuck….”
“That’s my word,” I playfully scold between pulls.
His fingers abandon their posts to anchor themselves into my hair.
The unsolicited command yanks a hungry groan out of me, and I suck harder. My tongue whirls around and around taking my mind with it. I bounce between his pecs, nipping and teasing, licking and flicking until he’s grumbling my name in an endless succession. At that point my mouth lunges for his, anxious to lap up the sounds seeping free. Our mouths collide with so much force it knocks us both unsteady. Jason quickly grabs me by the tie to keep us locked together and his tongue violently knocks into mine. Each bump exchanged is brutal and bodacious. Each crash is accompanied with whines and whimpers. Each impact is designed to devour and destroy.
My hand slides down his gym shorts covered lap, straight for his balls. I give them a good cup and enjoy the way it falters his actions.
He slightly pulls back showing me the perplexity and enthusiasm coursing through his eyes.
“You like that?” The pressure increases stealing another groan from him. “Want me to teach Gwenny to touch you like this?” I roll around his heavy sac the same I do when I’m jerking myself off. “To fuck you without fucking you?”
Jason’s breath shortens and his eyes threaten to fall shut.
Regardless of the fact his dick hasn’t even twitched, I know he’s close to getting off.
The idea of making them both come in one day has me dragging his bottom lip between my teeth.
He groans and grips my tie tighter. “Do it.”
I give his bottom lip a graze with my tongue unsure of what he’s demanding. “Do what?”
“Come on my face.”
This time it’s my actions that waver. “Seriously?”
Our movements cease, and we exchange a silent moment that eradicates my uncertainty.
I give Jason’s balls one last good squeeze before completely removing my touch. Our eyes stay locked as I drop my pants and boxer briefs. With one hand gripping my shaft, I allow the other to slip through the back of his blonde tangles. He groans, but doesn’t inch his face forward in an attempt to touch or taste me. He simply remains paralyzed in place, focused on watching my hand ferociously pump. It doesn’t take long before my stroking begins to sync up with the yanking of Jason’s head. Each pull parts his lips wider, and all I wanna do is bury my dick between them. The idea melds with our mutual moans, and the orgasm I was denied unleashing early returns with a vengeance.
“Fuck!” I shout and jerk his face closer to my cock.
Hot rush after rush of cum races towards his gaping mouth. His tongue snakes out to catch a taste, and my body almost collapses underneath me. The thick cream makes a wide mess from the corner of his lips down to the cut of his jaw. Seeing his stoic appearance soaking in my satisfaction tempts my dick to start stirring again.
Jason wets his lips slowly, collecting the droplets that landed there. “Now I definitely need a fucking shower.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t ask for that shit.”
A snicker is snatched from both of us.
“You need to learn to fucking aim….”
I begin the process of pulling my clothes back up. “We’ll practice again later.”
We laugh loudly, and it’s crystal clear the great wall of Jason has fallen once more.
Yeah. This is definitely a better way to spend my day than working. Obviously, they both need me for themselves and to help reach each other. Isn’t it alright to occasionally put your significant others above work? If it’s not, fuck it. It’s what I’m doing. And whether or not it’s what the world thinks is “right”, doesn’t fucking matter. I’m happy like this. Really happy. So fucking happy it terrifies me….