Tara and I were making love. It was a Thursday night and about a month since I’d cum all over her sister’s face and tits. My blackmail had worked in a faithless and uninterrupted way and by the time Tara had returned from the grocery store Courtney and I had both cleaned up and pretended like nothing had happened (Courtney did spend the rest of the weekend glaring at me when her sister wasn’t looking, but that was normal). I had promised Courtney I’d return her ill-gotten money the next time she visited, and I’d meant it. Four weeks later Courtney was coming to visit us in Chicago, ostensibly to see the family who hadn’t been able to make it to Indianapolis for her birthday.
Where was I? Tara and I were going at it. It was loving and comfortable, the way it always is. When we’d first hooked up the sex was a little more hot and heavy (and I’ve always been a bigger fan of rough stuff) but now that we were in love, the fucking had turned into love making and became a lot more dependable. And a lot less spontaneous.
Tara planted an adoring kiss on my mouth and shifted in the bed. I turned her over gently and pulled out. She scooted forward and laid her head on the pillow, raising her slim bottom to me. I got up, planted my hands on her waist, not looking, and prodded forward enthusiastically. A sudden “Yow!” alerted me that I’d mistakenly jabbed a sensitive place.
“Wrong hole,” Tara said, and giggled.
“Sorry,” I replied, and grabbed my offending member. Tara reached between her legs and helped guide me into her body. When my head rubbed against her slit she gave an appreciative moan and we continued our previous motion.
Later, sitting in bed together, spent but not really sleepy, I willed myself to ignore the urge to smoke. Tara thought I’d quit a year ago.
My girlfriend was curled around my arm and rubbing her fingers over my chest. She kissed my bicep and murmured something.
“What?” I asked, looking down.
“You were going to deflower my butt,” she teased. Tara grinned at me from my elbow. I smiled and stroked her hair.
“Never,” I said.
She looked puzzled. “Would you ever want to?”
I thought about how best to answer this. Tara might not have remembered, but one night early in our relationship we’d actually become almost startingly drunk together and proceeded to try anal sex. It didn’t go very well and I’d managed to get my half limp dick about an inch into her bottom before she pulled away and made me swear never to ask her to try that again. Then one of us got sick – I’m not altogether sure which one.
“I dunno,” I said casually.
Tara grinned at me. “I bet you’ve thought about it.”
I laughed. Well, truth be told, I had, but I never thought of asking Tara to submit to something so degrading. At least not sober.
“Why, do you want to?” I asked.
Tara wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Yuck. Like I really want your dick – or any dick – up my ass. No, honey, my behind is for one thing and you know very well that that’s something girls don’t do.”
I smiled. “That’s right. When you go to the bathroom it’s just to brush your hair for ten minutes.”
Tara pinched my sides. “That’s right.” She settled into me and laughed. “I have a few girlfriends who’ve done it. Most of them hated it.”
“Most of them?”
“Don’t get any thoughts, mister. Actually there was only one who said it wasn’t that bad.”
“Who?” I asked.
Tara shook her head.
“Oh come on.”
She got defensive. “Why are you so interested?”
“I’m just curious,” I said. And I was. Had I told Tara that I’d tried it with past girlfriends? That it usually precipitated the end of a relationship that had nothing left going for it but an experimental fuck? In any case, that time in my life was over. I was happily committed to Tara.
“It was Courtney,” she said.
My dick gave a throb of longing. My skin prickled at the memory of Courtney’s juicy breasts squeezing my cock. Tara continued unaware. “She’s always getting together with these loser guys and she says she does it every now and then. She says it’s different.”
“Does she like it?” I asked, trying not to sound weird.
Tara grabbed a pillow and smacked me. “Don’t tell her I told you! God, she’d kill me.”
I laughed and pulled the pillow away. We fell into a groping, tickling match and that was the last time we discussed Courtney’s backdoor proclivities.
The next day Courtney showed up early. I was washing the dishes in the sink and Tara was getting ready for work. I listened to Tara go to the door of our apartment and squeal with delight. She and her sister immediately fell to talking over each other and laughing. The rush of the faucet blotted out most of the ensuing mania.
As I scrubbed the dishes clean I listened to them clatter over our hardwood floor in their heels, commenting on new pieces of furniture or the mirror Tara had just purchased from an old woman four blocks down. They quieted for a moment and I figured they were either whispering about one or another family members or boyfriends or preening themselves in the mirror. I tried not to think too hard about what Courtney might be wearing. Unconsciously, my crotch did the thinking for me.
A few hardy knocks on the wood and Tara was at my cheek with a quick kiss and a smile. “I have to make the express today or they’ll kill me. I told Courtney she could stay here and gave her the spare key. You’re leaving at eleven?”
I nodded. “I don’t think they’ve figured out how to get the electricity back yet. I’ll call Mitch in an hour to see what’s up.” A week earlier my office had been host to a thrilling blackout caused by either a cunning cyber terrorist or some asshole drunk driver who plowed his car into a telephone pole. As you’d imagine, working in tech support amounts to pretty much nothing when all of the computers are down and there is no tech to support. Still, the power were touch and go and they’d been bringing the team in on alternating days to work the phones. I lead a fascinating life.
“I told her not to touch your desk.”
I grabbed Tara’s fingers with my soapy hand and kissed her soft knuckles. “Thanks, babe.” She smiled that gorgeous smile and strode out of the kitchen. She and her sister exited the apartment together, their voices echoing down the three flights of stairs to the street. Then there was silence broken only by the door to our apartment building swinging open and shut. The old staircase made new protest at the swift stomping back up to the top. I heard each creak over the gushing water. I heard the apartment door swing open and shut. Then silence.
I rinsed off a glass and wiped it dry. As I set it on the rack I noticed my hand was shaking. I was excited. My adrenaline was up and foraging around my body for something to play with.
Courtney’s heels went clack on the hardwood five or six times until the final step emptied out into the kitchen. I turned around.
Courtney was standing with her arms crossed and her long legs planted in black, open-toed heels. She had on a plain black skirt that cut off at about the mid-thigh and a white blouse that was fairly conservative except for a long loose decolletage that draped over her breasts and bared her cleavage. She had her lips pressed tightly together and her thin eyebrows furrowed on her dark, tanned forehead. To say she was squinting would be the wrong way to describe it. But her eyelids fought hard to keep it that way.
“Where’s the money?” she growled.
I pointed to the faucet and then at my ear.
There would be no way for me to say she got red in the face. The way the sun hit her coming in through the high kitchen window, her already dark complexion – there’s really no way to tell.
“I can’t hear you,” I yelled. “The water!” I pointed at the faucet again.
“Where’s the money?” Courtney repeated, lower, actually, than last time.
I lifted a sudsy plate to reiterate my handicap. Her white eyes flared. “It’s not in your desk.”
I switched off the tap. “Tara said she told you not to mess with the desk.”
“You fucked my tits.”
“Fair enough.” I wiped the plate dry, taking great care to scrub every inch before setting it carefully on the rack. “How’s the fam?” I asked.
“Where’s the money?”
“It’s safe,” I said. “Misses you. Says it’s been feeling a bit lonely.”
Courtney brought her hand to her mouth and bit at her nails. She was annoyed. She was very annoyed. She spat a bit of chewed nail at the floor and leveled her gaze at me. “I will stab you,” she said.
“Interesting notion,” I replied. “It gives me an idea, actually.”
Courtney shook her head. “What do you want?”
I grinned. “Is it that obvious?”
“I can see your fucking hard on!” she nearly screamed at me. I looked down quickly. I was indeed sporting something of an erection. But Courtney was beyond being offended. “I knew this was going to happen. I was going to spend all day hunting through your stupid apartment to get the money because I knew–” she jabbed an accusing finger at my dick, “I knew you wouldn’t! And you’re fucking home. This is such bullshit…” She shut her eyes tightly and groaned.
“The gods must be crazy,” I assented.
“Shut up!” she hissed. Her eyes snapped open. “Give me the money!”
“I don’t have it with me.”
“Then GET IT.” She looked at me with white fury.
I tossed the dishrag on the counter. “No problem. But I want something in return.”
Courtney brought a hand to her left breast, almost unconsciously. “I gave you…” she started.
“And now I need you to give me a little more.”
Her frown became a dark mask. “You…”
“Sex maniac, I know.”
She shook her head quickly, purposely crossing her arms over the obvious gap in her shirt. “I’ll just wait till you have to go to work and find it when you’re gone.”
“That would be a very cunning plan. If the money were still here.”
Her face fell. “You’re lying.”
I shook my head. “When we got back I put it in the bank. I figured I wouldn’t risk Tara finding it or somebody stealing it from me.”
“Smart,” said Courtney. She lowered her arms until she was holding her forearms to her waist. “You think you’re so fucking smart.”
I didn’t say anything. I just smiled, triumphant.