This is part two of three of a series about a friend MaryAnn who stayed with my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend and me, after separating from her husband.
My ex-girlfriend was going out of state for her mother's birthday for a few days. Two days, three nights alone in the house with MaryAnn, my mind raced for a week, thinking about what could happen - but probably wouldn't.
My soon-to-be ex-girlfriend Morgan, who is normally unemotional like ice, broke down crying the night before she left for her mom's. I couldn't nail down exactly what was upsetting her. She was worried about her mom's health, work issues, and Maryann's trouble with her husband.
As it turned out, MaryAnn was gone the entire first day. She came home briefly in the evening, got dressed up, and told me she had plans to visit Catalina Island with a girlfriend the next day. Then MaryAnn left for the night and didn't return until the following day. I was discouraged.
It was Maryann's last weekend before moving out and our last chance to spend time together. I found out when MaryAnn came home after she was gone all night, that her Catalina Island plans had been canceled. With MaryAnn's Catalina plans canceled, we went to the grocery store and planned a dinner — Shishcabob on the barbecue outdoors, wild rice, and asparagus. Our drinking began around 3:30 pm - a prelude to our intended food preparation.
This time we were drinking margaritas - intermixed with straight tequila shots. MaryAnn became predictably flirtatious and provocative after a couple of shots. It was fun - partly because MaryAnn was getting more drunk than usual and mainly because we didn't have to worry about my ex getting home and ruining the party.
"Ask me anything," she said to me. "Anything you want, and I'll answer, then I'll ask you something, okay?" MaryAnn said.
"Okay, like what?" I asked.
"Anything," she said.
"Do you miss your husband?" I asked. "Why did you separate?"
"I miss our home and the facade of being married, sort of," MaryAnn said. "John was happy. If nothing at all changed, and no growth ever happened, he'd be fine with it. I didn't need him to be some huge success, but I hoped there'd be something he was passionate about or somewhere he wanted us to go. I still would have stayed. Instead, he's insecure about my money, or that's the explanation he gave why he cheated ."
"Wow," I said.
"Yes, wow. Ridiculous, right?" MaryAnn replied.
"That sucks," I said.
"And the sex wasn't great, to be totally honest," MaryAnn added with a disappointed sneer.
I felt it was a bit of a low blow, but given that her husband cheated on her, It was fair for her to take a few shots at him.
"That was very good, Duncan," MaryAnn said. "May I ask you something now?"
"Sure," I said.
"Hmmm, okay, here's something," MaryAnn said. "Actually, probably shouldn't say this, but fuck it!. Why are you and Morgan having sex if you're breaking up? I overheard," MaryAnn asked.
"Ouch," I said.
"Sorry, I think the neighbors probably heard too?" she laughed.
"Sex was never our problem."
"Totally fine," she said.
"How was sex with your husband not great?" I asked. MaryAnn.
"It was too frequent and too quick. Mechanical. Predictable. I made the mistake of thinking frequency was a good indicator of a healthy marital sex life. "
"Many wives would probably love to have that problem," I said. "Sex being too frequent."
"Perhaps they think they would. Sex can feel like a chore if it's routine and not satisfying," MaryAnn said.
"What do you want in a guy? Assuming you don't get back with your husband?" I asked.
"Handsome, healthy, and fun, for now. I'm not thinking long-term right now. Good in bed? I'll take some of that for now," MaryAnn laughed. "What about you? What will you look for, different from Morgan?
"Nothing specific. Someone who needs me? I don't know."
"I get what you're saying," she said.
"Tell me the naughtiest thing you've done or fantasized about since you've been separated," I asked.
"Oh boy, quite the question Duncan," MaryAnn said.
"You don't have to answer," I said.
"You mean besides being in the dressing room with you," she laughed.
This was a hard one for her. Were there too many or too few answers to choose from? Was she just struggling to find an answer that she could bear to confess?
"Duncan, I'm drunk," she laughed. "We should start dinner."
She ducked out of the question. The truth must have been hot and scandalous - I'd never know.
"Let's cook in our underwear," I proposed because I was drunk - and because I'd been lusting about MaryAnn for weeks.
"Why?" MaryAnn asked.
I had no answer. Why the fuck do you think? I wanted to ask.
"Why not," was my brilliant reply.
"Okay, fuck it," MaryAnn said. "But I'm wearing my apron."
MaryAnn and I parted ways to our own bedrooms to change. I waited in the kitchen for her. I don't know what took her so long, but she showed up at least a half hour later.
No waiting has ever been worth it more than the excruciating wait in the kitchen for MaryAnn. I wondered if she'd show up in her underwear. What was taking so long, and what second thoughts she was having?
MaryAnn finally walked into the kitchen, wearing her apron, panties, sandals, and nothing else. The apron covered her tits but was backless. Her skimpy bikini panties were lavender with a half-inch, white, lacy waistband - panties etched in my mind forever.
I was impressed. MaryAnn had some guts. She followed through with the plan.
For my part, I also had an apron on and was just in my boxer briefs, the same ones she'd seen in the dressing room at Macy's.
"I hate to keep saying this," MaryAnn said when she re-emerged. "But, again, Morgan probably doesn't need to know the details about our apparel this evening?"
"Nope, she doesn't, " I agreed.
I managed the grill in the backyard. Every time MaryAnn was cooking stuff in the kitchen. We checked on each other as much as possible. We ate outside on the patio table, near the grill I was cooking the shishkabob on. MaryAnn set the table and placed the wine while I carefully plucked the kabobs off the grill. The patio table was round and large enough to fit eight comfortably. MaryAnn set our places next to each other.
I found it hard to concentrate on eating. I was semi-erect throughout dinner, trying to focus on whatever MaryAnn's mouth was saying. I must have said something or failed to say something, because after we cleaned the table and dishes, Maryann said she was tired and going to bed.
I resorted to painting like I often did when frustrated. My studio was a sunroom that stretched the length of the back of the house. Both bedrooms had sliding glass doors leading into my studio. I watched the light from MaryAnn's television flicker through the crack in her curtain.
It was the last opportunity - the first and last time MaryAnn and I would be alone for a night. Hours went by before I couldn't resist any longer. I gently knocked on the glass sliding door of our guestroom where Maryann was sleeping. I told myself I'd knock softly, and if she didn't answer, then it wasn't meant to be.
I stood outside the door, silent, awaiting the verdict. I was about to give up when the door slid open a crack and MaryAnn looked around the curtains.
"Can I come in?" I asked. What else could I say? What else could I want, knocking on her door in the middle of the night?
"Okay," MaryAnn replied and slid the door open a little more enough to let me in.
The TV was still on but muted. It lit the room just enough for me to see her - I was so enraptured I only remember the changing scenes flickering light on and off of MaryAnn's face and body. As soon as I walked through her door, we started kissing. By the time we made it to her bed and sat down on the edge of it, I was fully hard, and we were breathing hard and kissing deeply.
I had made the first move by knocking on her door and wasn't going to go past kissing unless and until she initiated something more. The next move was on her. It didn't take long. Almost as soon as we sat down on her bed, MaryAnn began feeling me and then pulled me out.
"Have you been wanting to see this hard?" I asked.
"Definitely," MaryAnn replied.
I pulled her nightshirt off. There remained only the lavender panties she had been wearing earlier.
"Take these off," MaryAnn asked, tugging at my pajama pants.
I took them off and sat there on the edge of her bed, my shirt still on, with the most raging hard-on of my life. The glow from the television lit up MaryAnns hard nipples.
"This is huge," MaryAnn said while grabbing my cock again and examining me.
"You like that?" I asked her, so turned on I couldn't talk right and choked on my words.
"I love it," MaryAnn replied.
I pulled her onto my lap and pulled her by her ass cheeks against my shaft. MaryAnn ground her panties and clit against me while we continued kissing.
"Did you fuck someone last night?" I asked. It was stupid timing to ask why she didn't come the night before. But it had been on my mind.
"Yes," MaryAnn replied. "It wasn't good."
I had a lot more questions about it, but it was clearly not a happy topic. I didn't want to ruin the moment, so I didn't follow up.
