Eight days until Halloween
Jude
I love mornings.
Of course, I don’t decide that when I’m groaning as my alarm goes off, or as I’m getting dressed in the dark with bleary eyes, or when I’m sucking down quick gulps of coffee to wake up.
No, I decide that as I’m jogging down my front steps with my dog by my side, as the cold breeze hits my face and I enjoy the silence. It feels like I’m the only man in the world as I stride down the sidewalk out of the subdivision and through the park to the running trails.
The silence is golden.
It feels so good every morning to not have to listen to talking. I love my job, I do. But there are days when the endless talking grates on me, getting to me in a way that makes me feel like going postal.
But every morning, I balance myself again with this.
A silent jog through silent woods with my trustworthy sidekick.
I slow my stride down so that my aging sidekick can keep up. We’ll take a truncated jog today so that she doesn’t overdo it.
Like every other day at this time, the world isn’t awake yet, the horizon is still dark. Orange fingers stretch from the dark ground up to where the sun will soon be. The only noise is the sound of my feet and Artie’s paws hitting the pavement, pounding and clicking, step after step after step.
I suck in the brisk air and release it in a fog around me, in and out, as I jog my way down the trail. The remaining leaves on the trees rustle drily, and somehow, I find myself aligning the sound with my breathing. In and out, in and out. With each breath, I fall more and more into balance. I feel each muscle in my legs constrict and contract, pushing and pulling, propelling me through the park.
Then, in the silence, there’s something.
A foreign noise. Something unusual, out of place.
I hear them before I see them, and it takes me a minute to recognize the sounds for what they are.
Sex.
Artie perks her ears and so do I.
A low voice murmurs, “Yes. More.”
A woman.
Then another woman. “Show me.”
What the fuck?
Two women?
I pick up my pace, and as I crest a small hill, I see them.
It’s like the Heavens parted and God Himself is smiling down on this park, because two completely nude women are having sex on a picnic table in the broad sight of anyone who might pass. They’re slender and long, with bare limbs and tender flesh, writhing and moaning in front of me. Their nipples are taut and erect in the cold morning air.
I’m instantly hard, and I pull to an abrupt stop, holding Artie close to my side. She starts to whimper, but I shush her so the girls won’t know we’re here.
I step back into the trees so they don’t see me and stop what they’re doing. I see them, though.
Holy shit.
A brunette kneels over a blonde, her face buried in the other girl’s crotch, her tongue darting out to lick with long strokes, her fingers kneading at the other girl’s thighs.
“Like that?” she asks, her voice low.
“Just like that,” the other one answers. Her fingers are entwined in brown hair, pushing her face, pulling it back, then pushing again. “Jesus, Zo. You always know what I like.”
Zo?
Startled, I’m frozen, my eyes glued to the scene in front of me. It’s like slow motion, yet fast-forward at the same time. Fingers slide, moans and groans, whimpers, tongues. Pale skin, plump tight flesh, tits and ass.
God.
I can hardly swallow my own spit as I watch the girls in front of me, and it can’t be. It can’t be Zoe.
Yet the brunette lifts her head from between the blonde’s legs and looks over her shoulder with wide eyes, and those eyes hunt for mine. It’s like she knew I was here, and knew I was watching, and it’s definitely Zoe.
The second our eyes meet, hers narrow in satisfaction, and she smiles.
Her hair is a long curtain, and she flips it back so that I can see better, and she does it on purpose. She wants me to see her tongue flicking down, she wants me to see her lick, lick, licking. She wants me to see it all.
I know it.
I can feel it.
With another soft smile, she flips around and straddles the other girl’s face.
“Lick me now, Chelsie,” she says, and her friend obliges, quickly and easily. With slender hands, she cups Zoe’s ass as she buries her tongue inside Zoe.
Zoe is facing me now, and her eyes are flooded in pleasure, and they don’t waver from mine. She holds the stare and holds it and holds it.
She squirms and rocks against the other girl’s tongue, whimpering and moaning as the girl reaches up and cups Zoe’s tits. The blonde alternates between pinching and pulling Zoe’s nipples and kneading at the tender flesh until...until... Zoe arches upward, slamming her pussy into the girl’s face, crying out as she orgasms against the blonde’s mouth.
The sun rises around her, and it’s like a scene from a movie as the light frames her.
Zoe couldn’t have planned a more erotic scene.
She quivers in the light of dawn and then collapses onto the girl, her eyes still glued to mine as their arms and legs entwine, and they clutch each other, their tiny breaths forming ethereal clouds around them.
“Chelsie, you’re amazing.”
Chelsie. It’s the girl she’d been telling me about.
“I know.” Chelsie giggles, reaching over to trail her fingers over the curve of Zoe’s generous ass. “You love me.”
“I do.” Zoe admits this, and with each word, her eyes search mine. Hunting for what? Surprise? Repugnance? Rejection?
She’ll find none of that.
I keep my expression completely empty, but I don’t flinch. I bend down and stroke Artie’s head.
“It’s okay, girl,” I tell the whimpering dog. “It’s just two girls.”
Just two girls having sex in a park.
Chelsie startles at my voice and sits up, her eyes darting around the trees to find me, but Zoe, of course, is unsurprised. She knows full well that I’m here, and maybe that was the point.
“Zoe, someone’s here,” a voice calls out, and a guy steps from the sidelines. He looks to be homeless, dirty and tattered.
“I know, Gil,” she answers him. “Thanks for standing watch.”
This is weird. Too weird.
I begin jogging again, even though it’s difficult with a rigid dick, and I hope to hell that they don’t see it. Only a freak would stand there and watch that scene, yet I did. And only freaks would lie in the middle of a public park and have sex in front of a homeless guy, yet they did.
Maybe we’re all freaks.
I feel them watching me as I leave, and I hear whispers, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. It doesn’t really matter, though. What matters is that I had a real live porn scene unfold in front of me, and the excitement of it was fucking overwhelming. I jog straight for my house, leaving the dog in the kitchen.
Corinne is still fast asleep in the bedroom, and I pass through to the bathroom. In my hurry to disrobe, my fingers fumble the string to my shorts, and I forcibly shove them down over my rock-hard penis. The need for release is almost pathetic. I feel it, the pressure, building in my balls, and as soon as the water is hot, I jump in the shower.
As I masturbate, I replay the whole scene in my head.
“God, Zo,” the girl had moaned, her fingers reach, reach, reaching. Her fingertips had circled Zoe, and she was tight and small and perfect, and... Jesus.
I stroke myself, my eyes so tightly closed that I don’t notice my wife watching me.
She clears her throat, and the sound breaks through my concentration and I drop my dick.
“Errrr, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Corinne has the luxury of being glib, because she’s caught me quite literally with my pants down and my dick in my hand. “I heard the shower and thought I would join you, but I see you’re busy.”
She’s annoyed, but I defuse the situation as best I can.
“You can join me,” I suggest, and God I hope she does. I need release right now. Standing here talking when I need to cum is killing me. “I didn’t want to wake you because you worked so late, but I’d always rather have you than this.” I hold up my right hand and she smiles now.
“Really?” She’s surprised.
“Of course. Get your pretty ass in here.”
She drops her robe and joins me, and I hate to admit that I have sex with my wife against the stone shower wall all while thinking about Chelsie and Zoe.
I can’t help it. I’m normal, right? Any man would’ve been turned on by what I just saw. Any red-blooded man.
It’s evolution. Or genetics. Or whatever the fuck it is that causes men to be men.
I’m thinking about them as I cum into my wife, but of course Corinne doesn’t know that. She thinks this is all about her, and I should feel guilty, but I’m overcome with my climax instead. She smiles when I’m finished, her wet fingers clutching my shoulders.
“Well,” she murmurs, “this was a nice way to start the day.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
But a part of me isn’t talking about sex with my wife.
It’s talking about watching a lesbian sex scene in the park, because that’s really how I started my day.
I can’t look Corinne in the eye as I get ready for work, although I kiss her goodbye when I leave. It’s chaste, but it’s still on her mouth.
“I’ll call you tonight,” she promises. But she won’t. I know that. For the first time in a long time, I’m okay with that. I’m not annoyed, because I’ve got something else to focus on. Maybe this weird flirtation thing with Zoe is actually good for my marriage.
Ha. That’s rationale at its finest.
I drive down the road, and I get the first text when I’m sitting at a stoplight.
Did you like that?
It’s Zoe.
I stare at the words, knowing that the girl who just licked another girl is typing them. She’s focused on me now, and she’s wild and unrestrained. It’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me.
The light turns green, and I don’t text her back, because I might be perverted, but I don’t text and drive. It’s another five minutes before I hit another red light and I can answer.
Of course. Wasn’t that the point?
Because I truly think it was. Something tells me she did it on purpose. She somehow figured out where I would be—did I mention to her that I jog in the morning?—and made sure that I’d see. It should make me uneasy, but instead, it turns me on. She went to all of that trouble just for me? The blood pulses through me, and I feel alive for the first time in months.
There are three bubbles now. She’s replying. But the light turns green, and even though I hear the ding of a new text, I fight the temptation to look until I pull into my parking spot at the office. I’m barely parked before I yank the phone up to read it.
It was—it was all for you. Smart boy.
I was right. She meant for me to see them. The exuberant feeling carries me through the morning, fueling me through my appointments. The memories of what they did together keep me hard on and off, and I have to fight to keep my focus on my patients.
At lunchtime, I’m like a little boy at Christmas when I pull my desk drawer open to check my phone.
There are two texts from Zoe, and none from my wife.
God, it turned me on to have you watch us.
I’m going to show you how much.
As I hold the phone, three bubbles pop up, and I’m practically shaking in anticipation when a third text comes through.
A video.
Zoe is in her waitress uniform, standing in a public restroom. She’s fingering herself, and the camera zooms in to her fingers. She’s so wet that I can hear it as her fingers move.
God, I want you, Jude, she murmurs in the background.
I swallow hard, because all of a sudden, this is real.
I’m really in my office watching a girl masturbate while she whispers my name.
I’m married.
I’m married.
Yet Corinne hasn’t called or texted all day. If I’m out of her sight, I’m out of her mind, and that’s so fucking frustrating.
This girl, though... This girl is making it difficult.
I watch the video again, then again.
God, I want you, Jude.
The whisper imprints in my head, and I hear it again and again through the rest of the day. The feeling it invokes is like a drug, and I can’t help but want more of it. It lights a fire in me that I haven’t felt in such a long time, and it’s no excuse, but I want to feel more of it.
That’s why, after work, when I get another text from Zoe and it says, I want to see you tonight, I answer her.
What time?
I lay my phone down before I can change my mind, before I can ponder what an asshole I am.
And then my phone rings. I startle, thinking Zoe is calling. But it’s not her. It’s my wife.
A pang of guilt shudders through me, and I let the call go to voice mail. I can’t talk to her right now. Not right after I set a date with another woman.
She’d hear it in my voice. She’d know.
And that would kill me.