I just stared at him. Our faces rose and fell with his languid thrusts. My face rose with each push, my mouth forming a constant, panting circle. He cradled the back of my head with his rough palm.
“I love you,” he said. His dick pulsed and gave me my first orgasm.
I bit my lip. Shuddered a little. Tried not to make it obvious. We were silent for a little bit, then the rhythm picked up, and before I knew it we were doing another whirlwind round and Tom was kissing my chin, and biting it, and I’d pulled my phone out of the apron pocket.
“You want me to use this?” I said breathlessly.
He grunted assent into my jaw.
I don’t remember why it was Sara whose number came up but I’ll cut through a lot of wet intercourse and kisses to tell you that we ended up with the phone on speaker near the pillows and the apron stripped off completely, my arms held over my head by Tom’s strong hands and the two of us bucking wildly into each other’s sexes trying to wring cum out of each other (Tom was winning). I was downright randy. I writhed on Tom’s dick, making it curve up into my uterus. He was getting close to his breaking point and that made me feel powerful.
But we were obviously fucking when Sara picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sara-” I murmured.
“Hey- uh,” she paused as Tom gave a distinct grunt. “What’s up?”
“N-nothin'” I said. My eyes widened as Tom gave his dick some torque and pressed into my g spot.
“What are you doing?”
Tom mouthed ‘fucking’ over my face and I shook my head. “N-nothin'” I said. “Just…” Tom plunged deep inside me. “AH. FUCKING.”
“Oh my god!” said Sara. She sounded surprised, which makes sense. But then she came back with, “Are you serious?”
“Mm,” I grunted. I couldn’t think straight. I was staring up into Tom’s face and imagining what his dick looked like as it slipped in and out of my messy vagina. I was so wet I could feel my juices running down into my ass crack.
“Is Bobby over?” she said.
No he definitely was not. “Y-yeah,” I huffed.
“He’s fucking you?”
“MMH-hmm.” It wasn’t fair. Tom squeezed my tits and bent down to suck on my neck. He was going to give me a hickey but I didn’t care.
“I can hear you,” said Sara huskily. “Hold on!” There was a shuffling, amplified by the speakerphone, a sudden scratching, then a clatter, and Sara’s voice returned. “This is so fucking hot. He’s fucking you?”
“YES,” I said.
“Oh my god.” I heard the distinct slurp of fingers in vagina. Then Sara said, “I had no idea you guys were so kinky. Tell me what he’s doing!”
“He’s fucking me,” I moaned. Tom abandoned my neck to glance down at me. I shook my head and closed my eyes. He grabbed my hair and gently tilted my face back. “He’s fucking me so hard…” I gasped. “Makes me talk dirty…”
“Oh my god,” Sara repeated. “Fuck. I’m fingering myself.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” Sara whispered. “I’m so high right now. Are you guys actually fucking?”
“Yes!” I groaned.
Another series of squelching squeezes. “Did he make you cum?”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’m cumming right now.”
“How hard is his dick?”
“So hard,” I said. “Fuck!”
“Tell her to join us next week,” said Tom.
I laughed. “Yeah, come join us, Sara.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” I screamed. At the same time a wordless cry from Sara’s end signified that she’d achieved a brief release of her own. I threw my hand out for the phone and pounded it with my fingers – the stupid lights went haywire until I finally hung the stupid thing up and flung it off the bed. I reached up behind Tom’s neck. “Now?” I said.
“Almost…”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “… how do you get so riled up?”
“I save it for you.”
“Then give it to me… give it to me now.”
His dick bulged until my vagina fried my tickled and tingling nerve endings throughout my belly and tits and shook the little muscles under my skin (the ones I didn’t know the names for, the ones between my chest and shoulders, the little strings connecting my abdomen to my ribs, the weird divots in the small of my back – and my ass twitched spasmodically). I won’t be so romantic as to say we came together, but Tom came, and I rode every last drop out of him. He frowned with the exertion. Each plunge was slower, but strong. I counted them down. 2… 6… 10… Every spurt until they were too faint to feel anymore. My fingers slid over his shoulders. I waited. He held on and squeezed, and thrust, strained, and, finally, relaxed.
My hands followed the relief of his major muscle groups as they softened in a steady cascade. Resting my palms on his belly button, I made him pull out. I didn’t want his excess semen leaking inside me. But I smiled when the merest brush of my fingertips made his tender stomach tense and twitch back.
After he left for the bathroom he came back with his damp face in a towel. His grin was almost embarrassed, like he was a little boy with a guilty conscience. “You ought to wear the apron more often.”
“No thanks,” I said. “Not my thing.”
His grin didn’t diminish. “Well it works for you. Definitely works for me.”
I put my legs together and swung them over the bed. I wiped the sweat off my tits. “Do you want to take a shower?”
“No, I’m going to get a lap in when I get home…” He swallowed. “What about Sara?”
I smirked. “What, you don’t think you could handle us both?”
He laughed outright. “You’d do that?”
My smile faded but my eyebrows rose. “That would definitely cost you extra.”
“Alright.”
Was I bluffing? Was he bluffing? I shook my head. “Let me clear my brain and reconsider the situation. I don’t think I can make a proper decision right now.” I got to my feet. “Unless you’re…”
His eyes slipped over my nose. It took me a few weeks before I realized that was where he was looking when he made that face.
“No,” he huffed. “I’m actually running on borrowed time today. I have to… It’s a work thing.” He looked confused when he tried to find his clothes on the floor. “Right. Downstairs.”
“You okay?”
“Better than,” he said with an easy smile. “Just tired. But I’m happy to see you.” He frowned. “Sorry,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
I didn’t.
* * *
It wouldn’t be right to say I was confused, then. It wouldn’t be right for me to say I was bored. I was too busy to be bored, and still planning what I thought I might do with the money I’d made, the money that could just as easily have gone to shoes or a new laptop or anything, anything that wasn’t my own place. Graduate school was still a dream, but I didn’t know if the loan would be worth what I needed it for.
And the things I needed back then were blended with the things I wanted. No, it wasn’t confusing; I understood where one began and the other ended. I didn’t like that they kept splicing into each other.
I will say, though, that I kept getting tingles.
Small tingles in my bottom when I was behind my desk at the office. Phantom grazes along the tops of my hands where Tom had held them to the mattress.
A threesome was (just like prostitution, I reminded myself) not my thing. But neither were aprons.
(Small tingles walking to lunch, my heels tapping the sidewalk.)
How could it even work? Tom was Tom, and not Bobby. Even Sara could tell the difference.
(Reading in bed, I found my fingers worming gently between my legs.)
Did I think I could get away with it?
(Checking the calendar, like an eager teenager.)
Friday, I made a phone call.
* * *
“You paid for me,” I said. “You tell me what to do.”