“I’m sorry,” My voice broke, “I love you,” I called out to the retreating back of my boyfriend of four years.

“I love you too, but I’m not very happy with you right now,” His voice sulky, “I think it’s time you went home.”

I silently and slowly gathered my things, remains of the dinner we had just shared. Dirty plates with their sad remains of lasagna sauce, the crusty ends of garlic bread, and dismal amounts of lettuce all went into the picnic basket where they sat forlornly beside the untouched cheesecake.

We started out like every other new couple, on fire and completely enthralled with each other. He made me laugh and smolder. I made him smile and hard. Now, it was routine. We fucked on Fridays; it was practically written into the schedule. The rest of the week we lay side by side in varying degrees of silence.

All too often anymore it was the moody kind, I longed for the companion ability we used to share.Once upon a time we used to laugh together and say that we could spend the day together in silence and be perfectly happy. Now we were content in our separate worlds, the only intersection in Facebook.

Isolated, we had decided to go together to a couple’s retreat, to reconnect. Tom had paid an overly large sum of money, and more expansively, had taken a large chunk of time of work so that we could go to the swanky hotel upstate.

The brochure promises scenic views of Lake Ontario from the room’s balcony. The vistas portrayed showed sparkling waves and crimson skies. Colorful sails decorated the harbor and equally colorful bedspreads covered the luxurious king sized bed. I had looked forward to some quality time on those silky sheets, something a bit different from our ho-hum routine. We had fallen into a rut so predictable that at times neither one of us was interested in the mating act.

It wasn’t his fault and I did try, but the reality was that I was disinterested in his version of sex. He was less than concerned because to pleasure me was yet another job to be ticked off the calendar, along with changing the oil in his car. Stand in front; wave his penis in my face. Oh and ahh as I licked and sucked with a lackluster attitude. Then bend me over the nearest chair and pump away four or five times. If I wasn’t wet at first, a few strokes with his cock would fix that. Twitch and moan. Then pass me some paper towels. The couple’s version of a hot night.

This is what we hoped to change by going away. We hoped to again find that spark, the one that left us breathless, and screwing nonstop. I wanted to be giddy and carefree with him again, to enjoy the things we had, not bemoan what we didn’t have.

A tear leaked out from my eye, but I angrily jerked it away. I hated to cry and even more I hated to let him see me cry. I wanted his respect and I wanted him to consider me strong.

Weak girls cried. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have known I was angry; Tom was outside, head under the hood of the car.

‘Typically response . Don’t listen to my side of the story. Just get mad.’ It wasn’t my fault that a mandatory corporate training session had been scheduled those two weeks. I had tried to insist that I get them off. I had even managed to get time on Friday of the first week. But it wasn’t enough and now it was looking like I would have to choose between my job or my boyfriend.

I had baked his favorites for dinner in a futile attempt to soften the blow my words would leave. Mother had always said, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She might have been right, but it was obviously not the way into his head.

‘He makes this decision really easy when he acts like this,' I fumed in my internal monologue. ‘Why can’t he understand I’ll be fired if I don’t work? Besides it’s not like the sex was going to be any good anyway. ’ I grabbed my basket and marched outside. Throwing it in the passenger side, I left without saying a word to my boyfriend’s denim clad ass poking out from under the hood.

Gravel spewed from my tires as I hit the road and mashed the gas. It seemed so hard to be able to sustain a relationship while we both pursued our careers. Conflicting schedules and demands pulled at us. Tom was always exhausted and I, well I was busy.

Long wordy pleadings, lengthy messages to him, begging to be forgiven for my schedule, were coldly returned with a curt “K.” It was becoming more obvious with each day that my apologies were not enough. I was being punished for becoming successful at my job. It was everything I had wanted, and it was driving me away from the man I wanted to share my success with. My misery was evident to all those around me.

“Geeze, Jess,” my boss commented on Thursday,” You’ve been a mess all week.” She gestured with her spangled hand, waving it at me in a fussy manner, “What’s up with you?”

Sighing heavily, I said, “It’s Tom. He reserved us a week at a couple’s retreat. This week. Now he’s upset because I have to work.”

She looked at her watch. “It’s after lunch. You aren’t working tomorrow and you’ve been putting in long hours. Why don’t you just cut out of here early?” Shocked, I stammered out my thanks. She waved them away. “Stop. You’ve been a big help to me, but not when you are like this. Go. Have a good time.”

I hurriedly grabbed my purse and dashed out the door. The trunk was already a jumble of things that I had packed, hoping to be able to get to the lake before it was too late. My purse thrown into the car and myself behind it, hoping behind the wheel and hurriedly turning over the engine. The quick little engine raced to life and leapt down the road, eating up the miles to my distant boyfriend.

Repeatedly, I pulled out my phone to text him the good news. Repeatedly, I resisted the urge. After all, nothing would put a smile on his face like a pleasant surprise and the thought that I had left work just for him.

My work was a demanding partner; it took up so much of my time. I knew he felt abandoned and unimportant. He was important to me. So was my job. I worked hard to get to my position, and was justly proud of it. Of course that wasn’t the way he saw it.

He had verbalized on more than one occasion that I had stopped caring for him, leaving him to fend for himself. This was treason in his eyes, or at least lying. After all, I had started the relationship attending to his every need. Now there just wasn’t the time, and he felt it as an expression of uncaring.

My fingers gripped the wheel, turning the knuckles white then pink again, as they clenched and unclenched the wheel. ‘ How dare he make this my fault? Where had he been when I had to work late? I still made him dinner. I still rubbed his back when mine ached from the demands of long hours hunched over my desk. Why should I apologize for becoming successful? It wasn’t my fault that he didn’t share the drive. He was content with his position and his job. He worked long hours but they were predictable .’

I slowed the car to make the exit to the resort.

A slim shiny black sports car pulled along my coupe at the stop light. The windows were tinted dark against the summer sun. The car was expensive. I couldn’t see the make, but it screamed luxury in every clean line. I automatically flexed my foot on the gas while continuing the pressure on my clutch.

My little coupe responded by issuing its challenge to the lithe car that grumbled in response. Frustration always made me drive more aggressively. It seemed the shiny ebony beauty beside me was going to answer me.

The power raced through me as the light changed to green. The car leapt forward, as seemingly eager as I was to show its heels to the overpriced import alongside. Motor racing, I pushed it deep into the gears, letting the horses push me faster and faster down the road. The acceleration pushed me back in the seat like a firm hand taking hold.

A quick shift, feet flashing on the gears, and I started to pull ahead. My hands held the wheel firmly without clenching as I steered straight down my lane. The car was my gift to myself. While it might have been a bit pricy, it was worth every penny as I triumphantly rolled to the next stoplight well clear of the fancy black bit, which I could now clearly see was a BMW.

I smiled, well pleased. It was turning into a good day after all. The black car rumbled beside me, egging me on to another round. I laughed aloud, giddy, eager to race again. My car rumbled as I revved the engine in response and watched the light.

Movement out of the corner of my eye distracted me. The driver’s window was cracked slightly on the import and the driver’s hair, a dusty blond shade was moving slightly in the breeze. Not a lot, but just enough to distract me at that crucial moment when the light changed.

“Fuck,” I cried out, frustrated again. My car hurled after the black Beemer, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was too late. The cars were too similar, and the driver’s error was too much for my car to overcome.

It wasn’t really that the impromptu street race meant so much. It was an expression for my week. I rolled up to the stoplight clearly bested by the import. A few fingers waved a salute as the car turned the corner, leaving me to finish my drive in moody solitude. Luckily, there wasn’t much left. A lost race was enough to sore my mood again, but I could see the resort just ahead.

I pulled up, parking to the side and collected my overnight bag from the trunk. The laptop could wait. I didn’t want to work tonight. Tonight I was going to be exactly what he wanted, the devoted girlfriend. Crossing the front lobby, I collected the key from the concierge. Fortunately my name was still on the reservations and I could get the key without him calling the room.

The butterflies were starting in my belly at the idea of surprising Tom. He was still the man that made me excited and quivery. I still wanted to share my triumphs and defeats with him. He had been my best friend from the day we met. The sex might have stagnated but the mental connection was there. I could trust him; this was my friend who would shelter me from the hurts of the world.

It didn’t hurt that he was incredibly sexy. I watched girls he talked to preen themselves, tossing their hair, giggling, and doing all the little things they do to when they are talking to a man they find attractive. But I knew I could trust Tom. Even though the girls tried their best to attract him, I knew he had eyes only for me, just as I only wanted him. It was refreshing and allowed us to have the confidence in each other.

Alone in the elevator, riding to surprise him, I quickly stripped myself of the suit jacket I wore to work. Fingers tangling, the buttons on my shirt slid out of their holes and I was left in a lacey bra accenting my curves and the pencil skirt. The elevator dinged quietly as I slipped the jacket back on, leaving my cleavage and navel on display. The couple who entered the elevator starred googly eyed at me as my face heated.

The pattern on the carpet, a green and beige plaid, was suddenly intensely interesting. Enough to keep my eyes plastered to it and not making eye contact. I was sure they were staring right at me. After all the lilac of the demi bra stood out against my brown suit. With my now drive messed bun and my glasses; I knew I looked like a hooker. Certainly there could be no question in their mind that I was bent on seducing someone.

It just made the idea of freshening our sex life all the more exciting to me. Once the doors to the elevator dinged open, I swayed my hips, feeling the desire build as the little scrap of lace between my legs dampened. Walking towards the room, I felt as confident as ever.

‘ Things are going to go well ,’ I told myself as I adjusted before slipping the card through the lock. Hearing it click, I pushed the door open.

Tom looked around at me, his eyes widening as he recognized me, but not in the excitement I had hoped for. I turned up my lips, felt the pull at the corners of my eyes as I flashed him my best game on smile. My hips swayed as I approached him, lifting my chest, and pushing those exposed tits towards his face.

He brought his hands up to rest on my hips, I could feel his warmth through the thin fabric, but there is no grip, no passion in his face, he didn't even glance at the lace at my cleavage. But I dropped my head, brushed my tongue dampened lips to his dry ones and kissed him. I fumbled with his belt, pulled at his shirt, peeled away his clothes. I touched, groped, my hand in his jeans, wrapped around his cock, and pressed its soft skin. Stroked him while I buried my lips against his neck, nuzzled him and touch, felt the magic start to happen at my fingertips. The soft skin turned to firm, then to iron under my touch.

‘Finally,’ I thought to myself, wanted to do a cheer of excitement, thought this is finally going to spice our seriously lacking sex up. His hands began to move, unbuttoning my jacket, and sliding the pencil skirt over my hips, exposing sheers, and suspenders, taking and leading me to the bed.

Before I was ready, he had me on all fours. I was still only wet from the excitement of driving here. He was buried inside me, thrusting all too quickly, grunting close to his orgasm. Nothing had changed, he wasn't even worried about making it better. Just on getting his nut.

Lying in bed afterwards, he didn’t even bother to ask me how it was possible to get the time off. He just drifted off to sleep, as I watch his cock grow soft and pleased.

The anger with pent up sexual frustration boiled up inside me and I went out to get some fresh air. I rolled out of bed and dug through my bags, trading suspenders and formal wear for yoga pants and a tank top. Key card in hand, I made my way out the same way I came in.

As I turn from the elevator for the lobby, I saw the man from the Beamer. ‘ No fucking way! What are the odds ?’ I asked myself. He was seated at the bar by himself, scanning through the newspaper. I don’t know what came over me, but I walked over, joining him.

“Those are some nice moves you pulled out there, you know?” I raise my eyes and smile a long unpracticed, flirty grin. Unsure if he’d realise I was the girl he had a car chase with, and unsure of his response.

‘Hell, for all I know he does this all the time.’ My thoughts raced as our cars had.

Without hesitation, he looked up at me, lips opening as a coy smile spread across his perfectly stubbled face. “I can say the same to you, dear.” His voice was thick, even at a low tone. It sent an involuntary quiver through my whole body. “After all, it was you who started it, was it not?”

I stumbled over my words, long out of practice with this song and dance, but my anger and frustration driving me to respond. He was cheeky, smooth and I felt the long forgotten tug of lust curl deep inside me. “I suppose you’re right. I was in a mood and you happened to respond to my teasing. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Nor could I, honestly. I do enjoy winning, so it makes it all the more sweeter, if you ask me,” he dropped his right eyelid in a lazy wink, nodded his head at the bar stool beside him as he folded the paper away.

“So I noticed. Though, I’m pretty sure everyone likes to win,”I sat in the next stool leaving a polite space. “The name is Jess,” I extended my hand to him.

“Derek, nice to meet you, Jess. I think you’re right. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like to win.” His shake was erotic without any words, smooth skin gripping and inviting, sending a twitch deep within me. I shook my head, tried not to think of it.

“Damn Tom for leaving me so sexually frustrated.” My pulse pounded through me like the rumble of a racing engine. Blue eyes roved over me, lingering on my cleavage; I felt the distinct impression I was being measured, as the contest, and as the prize. My face heated, but I met his gaze with my own.  “You shouldn’t be doing this,” but I didn't care.

As hard as I tried not to think of thoughts I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help it. Our words might have been about the most basic of things, but my pulse still raced red hot matching my thoughts about what lay under his suit. Each breath incited a deeper fire inside me.

It wasn’t until after we had discussed the bar, the drinks, the picture on the wall, and other couples seated at the bar, that he finally asked me why I was here. Words spilled out of me, overflowing from the restraint I used around my friends, and I confessed our sins to this stranger. Told myself that it doesn’t matter, that I just needed to vent, and my barside confessor was just an interested face.

He turned, flipped a couple fingers at the bartender, who immediately brought his white towel down to swirl across the bar at our seats.

“I think this lady needs a drink Fred, will you get her something?” The barkeeper looked at me, inquiring.

“Whiskey. A double, please.”

“Brand?”

My priest spoke up for me, “Make it top shelf Fred.” Turned back to face me, “God damn girl, that is some story.” The bartender pushed a glass across the bar, amber liquid invited me to hurl the contents back, to feel the burn slide down my throat, warming me from my core. “So you left your limp dick boyfriend upstairs and now you’re talking to me. Aren’t I the lucky one?”

He lifted one eyebrow, with the corner of his lip, a little shadow of the his thoughts, as he rested his hand on my upper thigh, caressing through the thin fabric, making me shiver. “You just show him what he could lose, if you left. You know, sometimes men need those kinds of reminders. We can be a little dense.”

I laughed, startled by the sound. It felt rusty; it’s not a noise I have made often. But his offhand manner, and the flippant comment, entertain me, and the callous comments made me wonder if perhaps I was approaching my relationship from the wrong angle.

Maybe what Tom needed wasn't more attention and devotion. Maybe he needed to shown that I was a catch, and that I could walk away. Maybe I needed to be reminded of that too.

Dropping my eyes to his tickling finger tips,I squirmed on my barstool. My already aroused state caused my skin to ignite with his touch in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. Fireworks exploded under his fingers, and stole my breath and thoughts.

“And how am I to do that exactly?” Thinking not of his answer or a real answer to my question, I just relished in his touch.

“You find some lucky guy, ask him if he wants to help show your man a good time, by fucking you in front of him. It’s simple really. What man would turn you down?” Piercing blue eyes meet mine directly, like steel cutting through to my core leaving me naked to their gaze. I could only imagine how bold the owner of such eyes must be to brazenly proposition a girl who is obviously in a long term relationship.

My eyes widened, betrayed my shock as I automatically covered with flippancy. “Oh, because that would go over so well, ‘Hi Tom, this dude is going to fuck me, you’re going to watch and see just what you’d be missing if I left your sorry ass.’ With him saying ‘Okay dear.” I completed the sarcastic remark with an exaggerated swing of my eyes, rolling them towards the dim recessed lights in the ceiling.

“If he knows what is best for him. Besides I’m sure you and the man you ask can figure something out,” His eyes wrinkled at the corners, as his cheeks raised in a grin, his dirty intent as unmistakable as the growing bulge in his khakis. His fingers grew bolder riding higher on my thigh, stroking across the soft sensitive skin there.

“Let me guess, you happen to know a man who is willing to do this? To help such a little lost girl out?” Leaning into him, I could smell the spicy scent of his cologne, trying to place it. I caught woodsy scents of pine combined with an unidentified underlying scent.

He moved a bit to the side, startled by my quick movement, laughing low and melodic. “Actually, I do.”

My right eyebrow raised high, asking the question. Of course, I knew he meant himself, why else would he have brought it up. But was he serious, and am I? Would he actually step up, if I took him up on the offer?

My thoughts raced, but the hot feel of his hand on my yoga pant clad leg swept them to the side, like dust from the floor. His thumb was tracing over the thin cotton, stroking in lazy circles that left icy shivers on my heated skin. I sucked in my bottom lip with my breath, teeth gnawing its soft skin.

“You look doubtful to what I say.” His voice broke the trance his thumb had on me. Startling me, my sight pulled from pink toes to look into those cerulean eyes. Heat raced up my neck to my face in a blush as his long hand squeezed my thigh, that thumb gripping the tender inside, where it has been moving. I moan so soft it might have been a sigh. My hand on the glass tumbler shook as I raised it and tipped it back, draining the amber liquid, the burn nothing to the heat in my skin.

Swallowing, the whiskey flamed its way through me down my throat and through my senses. “Doubtful? No, not doubtful. Questioning how realistic this all is, sure.”

“It is as real as it can be, Jess. I’m serious, this whole thing is. But it is completely up to you.” Boldly, his hand moved up, his middle finger grazing across the crotch of my yoga pants.

Even through the double layer of cotton, the deliberate, light touch ignites my sex beneath my panties. A furtive glance about the room revealed no interested eyes, we were but another couple sitting close to one another in the semi darkness. Even the bartender wasn’t paying attention; his back to us, he washed the pints and tumblers.

No words exchanged, no thoughts, I lean forward, catching that subtle woodsy scent again. My fingers catch in the buttoned front of his shirt, catching and fisting there. I rest my weight against him, and press my lips against his, kissing him.

I tried not to question my motives and told myself, ‘I’m just testing to see how serious he is. ’ I didn’t think about how much I wanted t to run my hands under his shirt. I tried not to think of how I could see the cut of his chest through the shirt. I forced my mind from the disloyal thoughts of how it would feel to straddle his lap right here in the dim bar and grind against him.

I didn’t allow these thoughts to invade. I simply acted, and let the spark that was ignited flare into a blaze that consumed every fiber in my core. Soft lips, softer than any I had know before, pressed back against mine, responding but letting me take the lead. They tasted pleasantly of light mint, mingling with the flavor of my whiskey.

“I think I’m going to take you up on your offer, Derek. I’m assuming you mean yourself, and if you don’t, well, I’m recruiting you.” I exhaled softly, eyes on those soft pink lips just inches away, wondered how they would feel pressed hard to my throat. Wanted to keep the kiss going, ached for so much more, I was consumed with the desire to touch and be touched.

My pulse pounded in my veins, throbbed in my pussy, shaking me with the need to satisfy a need I hadn't felt in far too long. The idea of slackening that need, of fucking him in front of Tom was consuming me, over riding me in its intensity.

“I’m not about to argue or tell a pretty lady no. What kind of man would I be if I did that, hmm?” He pulled back; I could see amusement at my obvious arousal in the way he grinned down at me, little wrinkles at the corner of those icy eyes.

Dipping his head back to mine, he brushed my lips quickly with his own before catching them in his teeth, nip that started gentle, but turned insistent. My sex responded, twitching in a shiver that runs through me, raising goosebumps on my flesh to my scalp, and eliciting another of those quiet moans from my parted lips.

He raised a hand, eyes still watching me, and Fred returned to refill my tumbler. I tried to compose myself, straighten my hair, and try to rein in my excessive lust. But each word we dropped was a double entendre. My hand roamed his thigh, feeling the hard muscle under the smooth fabric. I tried not to think of Tom’s reaction, and after his performance earlier- the state he left me in, I don’t know that I care.

I forced my thoughts away from Tom, away from the history we have. I hoped it would turn out well, but either way, I was past the point of deluding myself. I was going to get fucked that night. Tom had proven he wasn’t willing to, and Derek seemed eager to satisfy my need.

His hand still resting on my thigh, his thumb still stroking my skin, and the liquor were all driving a need. I didn’t need any more alcohol to fill me with courage.

The throb of pulse that ran through me, thudded deep inside, skidded through my mind, over ran all my thoughts. Fingers clutching the glass of the tumbler, I raised it with an unsteady hand, and downed it in a long gulp.

“Okay, let’s do this. If you’re so sure this can happen, why not, right?” My lips pulled up at the corners baring neat even white teeth, flirtatious smile at the man whose presence had me pulled tight. His hand on my thigh, with its fingers tightened there on the sensitive inside, drove the throb that echoed through me. Going back to bed wouldn’t relieve this ache. It was going to take a deeper touch from the same hand that was driving that throb.

Derek’s thin lips turned up at the ends, swagger in his movements, as he too drained his drink, then set the empty glass on the small paper coaster. Pushed his chair back as he stood, putting an arm around me to cup my ass and pulled me close. My hands came up to grip his shirt, feeling hard muscle underneath, my breasts smashed tight to them, the soft cotton of my little tank top rough against my nipples. The hand on my behind squeezed tight as his lips descend, capturing mine roughly, opened against mine, and his tongue pressed deep into me. My locked fingers held tight as I started to sway, the background of the bar faded into the reality of that invading tongue. I moaned against his mouth, soft noises that barely made it above a murmur.

He pulled back, left me clinging, weakly holding onto him for support, bereft of his lips. Chilly blue eyes crinkled as he smiled down at me. Confidence in his movements, he flipped a bill on the bar.

“Let’s get out of here.” I could almost believe that he unaffected by our kiss. But the gravel in his voice gave him away, and made my insides twitch. I bit my lip, remembering the bar, and the observers, particularly Fred. I could feel his eyes on me, and knew he was imagining me without my yoga pants or tank.

I reached up, straightened my ponytail, and caught my breath. He captured my hand and tugged me in the direction of the elevator. Once the doors open and we stepped inside, I pressed the illuminated three for my floor. Within seconds of the door shutting with a ding, Derek pushed me against the furthest wall, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around him. His mouth found my neck, the place I have wanted those soft, perfect lips to be since our first kiss. I purred out, a long groan, ground a little into him. I could feel his own arousal press against my sex.

My mind is consumed with his lips touching me, his teeth on my skin, the pull of his mouth on my throat. The movement of the elevator faded to background, I don't notice it stop nor hear the lift ding.I am oblivious to anything else. Not until I heard a man clear his throat.

Derek and I both looked at the same time and I recognized the same couple as before. I gave them a sheepish smile and wanted to hide myself in Derek’s neck. The man leered back, clearly enjoying what he saw. The woman wore that look somehow perfected in Midwest church ladies, disgust and disdain rolled into one long glare down her thin nose. Her lips turned down a little at the corners of her pinched mouth.

Set down again, I stood near Derek, whose hand remained on my ass, and whose fingers teased through the cotton; cupped my ass, squeezed it, run along the bottom curve, and slide along the seam. I bit my lip, looked studiously elsewhere, desperately tried not to moan out in front of Ms. Church wife. Waited for the lift to reach my floor. As soon as the number for my floor lite up, we made excuses and started to move for the door, my giggles erupting despite my hand clamped over my mouth. I could hear the good wife say something behind me about respect, but it just made me laugh harder.

The few feet along the thick rug to my room were passed in giggles and growing unease. It was dawning on me how real this is. I could feel the jitter in my belly, but I’ve come this far, and the hand on my ass squeezing gives me just enough courage to keep going. The key shook as I tried to fit it in the slot, but eventually it slid in, clicked, the little light turning green as I pushed it open to the low sounds of the TV.

I entered, Derek still behind me, still gripping my ass. I could see the dark hair on the back of Tom’s head, and looking past him, I could see what he was watching on the TV. Two girls with fake tits mashed against each other are locked in a deep kiss. I laughed aloud, a sharp arid laugh that caught him by surprise. He twirled around, cock in his hand.

“What the fuck!” His voice artificially high as his eyes cut to Derek and back to myself. “Who the fuck is this?” his voice tight with anger as he scrambled to cover himself snatching up a towel that barely covers him. His eyebrows are drawn together as he stares at me, waiting for me to answer. I know from previous experience that he’s going to wait until I say something, and then no matter what I say it will be wrong.

I breathed in deeply, my chest rising as I thought of the best way to begin. “Well, it is like this, looks like you’re in the mood anyway. So, that is good. This here is Derek, I was telling him about what has been going on with us. He says that you don’t know how to appreciate me. He kindly offered to fuck me, to show you, what you could and can actually lose.”

I smiled, the sly kind a girl uses when she knows what she wants, and I glanced back at Derek, who had both of his hands on my ass by then. He nodded at me, encouraging me to go on.

Tom’s face was erupting into a look I knew too well. It was not the waiting for me to answer look anymore. His eyes were slitted and his mouth was pinched. His eyebrows had drawn close until they looked as one. His voice was low, a menacing growl.

“I don’t fucking think so! I’m not about to watch some strange man fuck my girl! You belong to me.” He started to stand and the towel dropped. He ignored it and grabbed his jeans shoving one foot and then the other violently into each leg, jerking them up over his hips

“Actually, Tom. It is. If you don’t want to watch, you’re free to leave. But you don’t own me, I’m not yours .” I pushed my loathing, and my anger into my voice. “If you choose to leave, you’re not just leaving this room, but you’re leaving me for good. Do you understand me? The last four years will have been for nothing. You’ll never hear from me again.” My voice was rising, my emotions carrying it higher, but Derek laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t say something in anger you’ll regret later.” His whisper in my ear annoyed me, but it restrained me gently. I breathed in and out, short angry breaths, but breathing, calming slowly. I half expected Tom to walk out the door, and pissed off enough that I didn't care. I just wanted that hard fuck. If Tom had left, I’d have fucked Derek, fucked him hard and crazy, then I’d have started over in the morning. A fresh slate. One that wasn't written on with a boyfriend who wasn't willing to listen to my needs.

“Those are your choices, Tom. You can sit and watch a real man fuck me, like I deserve, or you can walk out and this relationship is over.” I could feel the anger rolling off my in waves. My own forehead scrunched as I glared at my boyfriend. “The choice is yours. Make up your mind. Either way, Derek is going to fuck me. I want to feel his cock inside me.” I emphasised his cock, made sure Tom could hear how serious I was about it.

He sat, stared at me, stared at Derek. His face contorted, and I could see the dilemma in his mind. I should have taken pity on him. I could see he really wanted to just walk out, and I gave him credit for staying rather than simply walking out. Not many people, men or women, would have stayed.

“You know what, Jess. If this is something you want.” His voice cracked. “Fucking do it. But don’t think I’m going to be happy about it, at all.” He flopped back down on the chair,his face collapsing in defeat. It shouldn’t have, but it lifted my spirits.

I should have felt bad. I should have felt guilty. This was Tom, the man I loved. The man I wanted to be with. But, I didn’t. I didn’t feel bad at all. All I could think about was all the times he had made me feel bad. I thought of all the times I cried because of this man. And I felt a curious sense of elation.

My arousal, turned down during my confrontation with Tom, returned back up to the white hot flame it was. Without a word, I swung around and stepped towards Derek. I reached up, gripping the back of his hair, pulled him down towards me and I kiss him deeply, my mouth opening on his. His hands wrapped around me, gripping my ass tightly. Fiercely he returned my kiss, sucking my tongue as I flicked it in his mouth.

I could hear Tom growl at Derek not to touch me. From the corner of my eye, I could see him get up, stomp from my sight, his hands balled into fists. I continued to explore Derek’s mouth, and neither of us pay any mind to him. Tom stomped back, flung himself savagely into the chair. I refused to let his theatrics stop me. It wasn’t going to be ruined by such petty things.

My head tipped back as he rained kisses down my neck and across my chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Our breathing was getting heavy, and I could feel his arousal pressing against my own, causing me to grind instinctively against him. He moaned and captured my mouth in his again, hugging me tighter to him as his hands caresses the exposed skin on my lower back.

I tugged at his shirt, impatient, the long seduction and my longer need have me on the edge of self control. I wanted the shirt off. I wanted to see all those define muscles that I know are under his shirt. I picked at the little buttons, whimpering with my frustration, jerked on the last few sending two flying. I ran my fingers over his well ripped chest, casting the shirt back over his shoulders. Moaned through our kiss with approvement, loving how it felt against my fingers, aching to run my tongue their as well.

With his shirt finally off, my lips trailed from his perfect lips, towards his neck. I licked the curve, dipping right into his collarbone. Licked gently, before biting, I let out a small giggle as I heard him groan, squeezing me closer to him. His hard cock pressed against my sex, I knew how much we were both going to enjoy this.

I slowly began to drag my lips in small kisses down his perfect chest. Nearly hairless, I could easily taste the salt on his skin. The hardness of his nipples tempted, I kissed each of them, gave a little flick, teased him. My lips trailed down a little lower, over his greatly defined stomach. Each curve, each dip, each place I lay a kiss made his hands tighten on my shoulders and then in my hair.

He pulled me up, with a growl, “Not yet,” and he kept his fingers wrapped in my hair, at the base of my neck, pulling me close, pecking my lips quickly. He followed with a low, playful growl as he sunk his teeth into my neck. No kiss, no nibble, no teasing, a full blown bite, sucking at the skin he has in his teeth. The sharp yelp that left my lips was soon followed by short, whimpering moans.

When he released me I held tight to him, not trusting my knees, I could feel the mark he has left on me. It made me feel dirtier knowing what we’re doing. It will be there for days. I stood up straight, lifted my chin.

Derek slid his hands under the bottom of my top raising it up, over my chest revealing my tits, but his eyes stayed on mine, not slipping down to my chest. Those slightly roughened hands scraped against my skin as he slid them up and brought them along my raised arms, discarding my shirt on the floor. He looked down at me, and despite my height he was taller, much taller than Tom. It felt odd to be looking up at him, but I felt dainty.

I broke his gaze and dropped my hands to the waist of those yoga pants. Derek put his hands on mine, stopped me, raised my chin with a finger, till I was once more drowning in his stormy blue eyes. His fingers hooked under the waist of my pants and he knelt down, drawing them with his hands, continuing to hold my eyes with his. I stepped out, and stood there in my cotton thong. He caught the waist, and drew them down my legs. I step my feet out and stand in the cool, conditioned air.

My nipples puckered, and strained as they got hard in the cold. My skin seemed alive and I shivered. Derek stood up, still holding my gaze. He drew me, fingers in mine, to the bed, and l laid back, his rippled chest hovering over me as he climbed up. His lips curled up in a smile as he ducked his head and took a nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing my skin.

I arched my back, and cried out, my hips rising to grind up against him. His hips were rocking against mine, despite his trousers. My bared pussy rubbed against the coarse fabric, and I rocked, humping up against him, till he abruptly sat back, casting his shoes aside, and quickly peeled out of his pants. He stayed at my knees, and lifted my legs over his shoulders, lips trailing across the soft skin along the inside of my knees, moving up to my thighs.

The brush of his facial hair tickled, as he nuzzled my legs. I wiggled under his touch, his lips inflaming me. I tipped my head back and the upside down view showed that Tom is staring at me, mouth open, his cock pitching a tent in his pants. But, with the feel of Derek’s nose skimming my sex, his tongue dragging along my lips, my attention is pulled back to him.

The way his nose skimmed my mound as he kissed over my sex, and the way his tongue drug along my lips, teased me as he took his time, not rushing at all. It felt as though this moment could last forever and I wasn't about to complain.

I couldn't help but compare the two men. It’d been a long time since Tom had spent this type of time on me, I can’t even remember the last time he’d gone down on me. This was more then I've received in a long time, and that was if Derek stopped now, not that he showed any sign of stopping.

He parted my folds and his tongue slid over my clit. I gasped aloud, my fingers scrambling against his head. Entwined in his blond strands and bucked against him, his tongue sliding across me wet and electric.

I drove my hips harder, eyes screwed shut as Derek lapped his tongue over my clit, again, and again. He sucked, trapping my clit between his lips, as he darted the tip of his tongue over my nub. I my cries were coming higher, and louder, my muscles tensed. I knew my orgasm was approaching fast, but I pushed it away, hoping it would hold off. Greedily, I wanted more.

Derek slid two rough fingers inside me at that perfect moment. He curled his fingers upwards, wriggling them just right to hit against my sweet spot. I cried out, sharp oh’s, that faded to moans as I bucked against that mouth. He sucked harder.

My cries seeming to urge him on; he sucked harder with each moan, driving me over the edge. I started to come apart, stars exploding behind my squeezed shut eyelids. I could feel myself squeezing around him, rippling around his two fingers as I come.

He raised his head, looked at me, his face decorated with a smile that seems a bit coy. Moving with grace up my body, he kissed gently along my skin. My heart raced like a hummingbird. My breathing heavy still, catching the air into my lungs.

He climbed over me and I expected him to stoop, to kiss me. But he didn’t. Instead, he offered me his two slick, wet fingers. My own juices clung to his fingers.

I opened my mouth willingly, he placed them against my tongue. I smelled my arousal, tasted it on those fingers. It is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted. I loved the way I taste on him. I sucked slowly at first, savoring it. I treated those fingers as though they were his cock.

My mouth became greedy, sucking a little deeper down on his fingers. Derek dipped his head, catching and sucking on my nipple. I moaned against his fingers, sucking longer, deeper, on him.

When those fingers were cleaned of every trace of me, Derek removed them, replacing his fingers with his lips finally. Our kiss was lingering, long and perfect, until broken by the clearing of Tom’s throat.

He glared at us with a vicious hate visible in the taunt movements, in his still and frozen face, in his slitted eyes. He stayed in that same chair, seated on the edge.His cock is clearly hard, straining against his jeans now.

“Go on Tom, you know you can’t help yourself. Why don’t you take out your cock and jerk it.” My face twisted to match his own. “You had no problem doing it whilst watching porn. It is the same thing, isn’t it?”

The look on Tom’s face only grew colder. I could feel the anger as his features turned mean. “Don’t…”

“Shut up, Tom. I don’t want hear it.” My voice matched the menace on his face. “Do as you want, but keep your mouth shut.” I hissed at him. If he had talked, we would have argued, and I refused to let him ruin what was the best sexual experience I'd had in years.

His mouth shut tight, teeth clicking, but his eyes were blazing, anger plain to read on his face. He had never listened to me. I couldn’t help but like the way he seemed to be so obedient. I turned my focus back to Derek, at his lips turned up in a smirk at the way I have spoken to Tom.

“You’re so perfectly beautiful, Jess. You should be made to feel as such each and every single day. You’re a unique kind of girl.” Derek’s words warmed me, made me feel coddled as he dipped his head again to once more kiss me.

I wrapped my legs around his middle, as he ground down against me. I rolled my hips to match his pace. His cock rested along my slit, a big thumb that caressed my nub. The head of his cock rolled over my tender clit, slow strokes that drive my need. I shook and clung to him, sensitive hood aching from the touch and I lifted my hips against him. Our lips still danced together, kissing long and deep. My moans mixed into whimpers as I came for him, again.

Derek took my legs from his middle, moved them up over his shoulders. With just his hips,in elegant movements, he adjusted himself to press against my entrance.

“Are you ready?” His voice was low, sexy, and rumbled with lust. I nodded, like a virgin rather than the good girlfriend I have been, my thoughts simply on getting his cock in me, buried to the hilt in my wetness. “Beg me.” His lips curved up, waited for me as he stroked across my slit, teasing me. I whimpered, wiggled my body, twisted, tried to slip his cock into me.

I whimpered, I whined, but I complied. “Please.” I whispered in a low tone.

“Louder. I want your boyfriend to hear you moan for me. To beg me to fuck you.”

In a way I have never done before, I begged him. “Please.” Then louder, not caring who heard me, “Oh fuck me, Fuck me Derek. Stuff me full and fuck me, please.” The last word trailed off into a whimper.

Finally, he entered me, but not in a quick thrusting way, like I was expecting. No, a slow, entering. He let me feel every single inch of him, in the slowest way possible. The width of his head opened me, my pussy stretching, squeezing him as I felt him move in. The control he had to move this slow left me aching, dying to push back against him, but I forced myself to relax, to take him in fully. I felt taunt, full of him, and knew there was more to go.

We looked down together as he moved, watching him sink into me. I could see the length of him growing shorter, as he filled me, until he hit hilt, balls deep inside. We both began to sawed against one another, moving perfectly. Our eyes locked, soaked in our expressions, feeling the passion grow. It seemed we couldn’t take it any longer and he started to thrust into me. Slowly at first, then soon, he was moving a quick, needy pace.

Each stroke, he brought his entire length out, then back in. Repeating this over, as I moved with him, pulling him back inside me. Soon enough, he was fucking me hard enough to cause my breasts to bounce with each thrust, taking me deeper.

My legs locked up around his neck. He plowed in fast, plunging deep. My eyes open, watered with each assault, as I cried out with the delight of being rammed deep and hard. I squeezed tight around him, as he impaled me deep. I twisted, shouted and shuddered, moaned his name, begged him not to stop.

He didn’t, only increased his pace, long, deep thrusts inside me. He growled out, stiffening before he began to explode inside me. The thrust of his shudder, the slip of his seed spilling inside me, left me trembling hard. I rolled my hips to meet his long strokes, our bodies moved together perfectly.

Soft kisses, low moans, quivering bodies; we brought each other back down from our high. Our bodies entangled, Derek rolled off of me, but pulled me into his arms. Tom still was seated, not having moved, his mouth partially open, surprise and lust warring on his face.

Blissful, I nuzzled into Derek. I could smell myself on him a tang that mingled with his woodsy, salty scent, and I lay, face and nose against him, caressing his wonderfully perfect sculpted stomach. His fingers did a soothing dance on my back, sent shivers through me. Nothing bothered me and I revealed in his touch, his scent and the delicious soreness in between my legs that throbbed and tingled.

It was a perfect moment. But they never last.

“Are you fucking happy with yourself, Jess? Did you get everything you wanted? Feel proud of yourself?” Every word hammered home the sudden realization of what must happen. His angry hiss breaking my happiness into a million shards. “Go on, tell me just how pleased you are with yourself that you needed to be fucked by another man!”

It’s all I need, everything has fallen into place. I know what is meant to happen at this point. I needed sense fucked into me, to see it.

Climbing out of bed, I grabbed my robe, tied the knot around the middle. “You know what Tom?” My voice harsh, as I've never turned it on him before. “Yes, I actually do feel happy with myself. Derek gave me something I haven’t felt in years. I’ve not shared something that intense with someone, in well, maybe forever. That’s really saying something, given he is a complete stranger!”

“Oh, I bet…”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom! You never just shut up. Just shut the fuck up!” My voice rose with my frustration as I cut him off. “Learn when to keep that hole in your face shut. I do feel proud of myself. I stuck up for me when I felt like I deserved it. I don’t regret a single thing I’ve done today, Tom,” I spit his name out as if it was like acid. “Furthermore, I know what I want from now on. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, we’re done. I’m done with you. Today is a new start for me, one that you’re not taking part of. I want nothing to do with you. I won’t even give you “we can be friends speech,” because that would be a lie.”

“What are you going to do Jess, run off with some strange man you just met? That seems logical. Stupid ass.” He broke into a bitter laugh, contempt in his twisted features.

“You know what, Tom? What I do from here on out, is not your concern. If I run off with Derek, that’s my choice. If I leave you both in the dust, that’s my choice. Just get your things and get the fuck out, Tom. Seriously, we’re over.” I turned my back to him, crossed my arms, and tossed my head; knowing it’s a childish move, but doing what felt natural.

“I paid for this room!” I could hear him crossing the room, heavy angry tread on the thick carpet.

I heard the bed springs rumble as Derek moves quickly from the bed, and his voice, low with underlying menace sounded from just behind my turned back. “Have some class, dude. Get your things and hit the road.”

I'm not sure if it was the resolution in my back, or if it was the way Derek stood behind me and stared him down. I just know that he slammed his clothes into his suitcase and stomped out.

The door shutting with an angry pffttt across the carpet, let me know he was gone. I bent my head to my hugged chest and let out shuddering sob. I just stood there and cried, tears flowing down my face, and sniffling. Derek held me, hand stroking my hair, telling me everything was going to be all right. I knew he was right. I think he thought I was crying at the loss of Tom, but I was crying at the happiness of having the new found freedom.

***

It’s been six months since that day, I haven’t seen Tom since. A few angry texts, demanding his few things, and a bag of my stuff left swinging from my mailbox have been the extent of our conversation. Last I heard, he had a new girl coming by bringing him dinner. I hear she even looks a lot like me. Mutual friends say its like he’s looking for something.

Derek has been my rock. He’s my friend and always tells me straight. We’ve never repeated that night. He’s seen me at my sniffling, cranky, devastated worst, and I've seen him drunk and searching for the next good time. He’s still model perfect, but some things just shouldn't be pursued. Our friendship is perfect just the way it is.