On His Way Home — July 18, 2010
John stopped by on a Sunday around 2 in the afternoon, and there was a conversation about the obvious condom rule.
“John, when are you going to get snipped?”
“I can make an appointment tomorrow. Are you saying that if I get snipped, we could have sex without a condom?”
“Yes, well, I guess it's up to my husband also.” She looked over at me.
“John, you would have to give us your word; it would be only her you would have sex with, without a condom. If you wanted to have sex with someone else or had sex with someone else, you would tell us before you had sex with LK again!"
“I totally understand your concerns, and yes, I agree.”
We ended up in bed, and LK started by sucking on me while John was between her legs, licking her pussy. We switched positions and started sucking on John as I went to lick her pussy. LK knows that if I fuck her first, it gives John a better chance of coming, so she brought me to her, and I fucked her and came inside her pussy. John put on a condom and fucked her from behind until he came.
We got up and continued our day. That evening we went to sleep with no sex, but by morning, LK asked if John could come in and have morning sex with her. As usual, he got up by 3 am and left for work.
No sex for LK.
"You okay?" I asked, rolling over to face her.
She shook her head slightly. "I'm... unsatisfied," she admitted softly. "Yesterday was nice, but I didn't come.”
I nodded, understanding. “It has become a pattern lately.”
"Yes, and It's like he's trying to come so that he forgets about me," she continued. "I know he doesn't mean to, but..."
"But you wish he'd focus more on your pleasure?" I finished for her.
"Exactly," she said, turning to look at me. "Is that selfish?"
"Not at all," I assured her. "Sex should be about everyone's pleasure, not just the man's."
"I think... I think we need to talk to him about it," LK said.
"We'll frame it as something we all want to explore together," I said. "Let’s explore new ways to be together that focus on everyone's enjoyment."
LK suggested, "Maybe we could try more oral, more foreplay. Maybe we could explore more fantasies."
"If it turns you on, it turns me on," I said honestly. "And if it helps you relax and enjoy yourself more, then I'm all for it."
"What about... the other thing?" LK asked, her voice dropping. "The risk... the bareback...?"
"What about it?" I asked. "I know it excites you."
“Finding someone…”
“John is going to get snipped.”
“I want someone new! Don’t get me wrong, I like John, but he doesn’t excite me anymore.”
“You just told him to get snipped, and he is going to go do that so he can have sex with you without a condom.”
“And we will, but I want someone who wants to satisfy me, not just to get his own pleasure…”
“Isn’t that what I do?”
“Yes, and you are so good at it. Look at us- but it would be nice to have someone new.”
We talked more that night, exploring boundaries and desires, fears and fantasies. It was the most honest conversation we'd had yet about our arrangement.
Dan Perry — November 4, 2010
The Florida air was thick with humidity and possibility, and LK was on the prowl. Her chosen prey was a broad-shouldered Texan named Dan Perry, a man with a slow drawl and even slower hands that she was determined to speed up. The hunt had been on for a couple of days, a game of cat-and-mouse played in the hospitality suites.
The first real encounter was at one of the bars. LK, with a practiced grace that made it look like an accident, slid onto the stool directly beside Dan. For an hour, she worked her magic; her voice, her laugh were just for him. I watched from a few feet away, a silent co-conspirator. When we moved to another section of the suite, she made sure the game continued, planting herself between Dan. Our friend Kevin, ever the documentarian, had his phone out, the screen glowing as he zoomed in on the generous swell of LK's cleavage, a tantalizing preview of the main event. I played my part, reaching over to tug at the neckline of her top, a silent request for a glimpse of the dark areola beneath. The fabric, unfortunately, was too taut, too stubborn, denying us all the view.
Later, under the colored lights of the temporary dance floor, I pulled her close. "Are you having fun?" I asked, my lips brushing her ear.
"God, yes," she breathed, her eyes finding Dan across the room. "He's so hesitant with you sitting right here. But he's getting braver, I can feel it." She was right. The Texan was testing the waters, and LK was the lure.
We decided to change the scenery again, leaving Kevin behind this time. The new spot was darker, more secluded. We hadn't been there for five minutes before LK made her move. She leaned in, capturing Dan's mouth in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was a statement of intent. Then, in one fluid motion, she was on his lap, her arms draped around his neck.
Dan's initial surprise melted into raw desire. His hands, once tentative, began a slow, deliberate exploration of her body, tracing the curve of her back before settling possessively on her ass. What followed was a masterclass in public foreplay. Their kisses became deep, full-blown French kissing, their tongues dancing in each other's mouths. For fifteen glorious minutes, Dan's hands roamed, squeezing and caressing her breasts through her top, his grip on her ass tightening as the passion escalated. LK was in his lap, completely lost in the moment.
Then, as quickly as it started, the energy was broken even faster. I saw Kevin approaching from across the room. In a flash, LK was off Dan's lap, smoothing her skirt, her expression shifting from pure lust to casual composure. She was back beside me as Kevin sat down, a picture of innocence, as if the last quarter-hour had been kept in her mind to savor.
The connection was real, though. Months later, his call came out of the blue. He was in San Diego and wanted to see us. The timing was terrible; our lives were a chaotic mess of work and obligations, and we had to decline. We were busy, yes, but LK wondered what kind of trouble she might have gotten into if we'd been free.
Picture to Kent — July 16, 2011
The July sun was hot and turning the river into a crowded highway of chaos. And then, I sank my Jet Ski, my ticket to all that fun, after getting it above the water. My pride sank with it when it wouldn’t start. We towed the drowned beast to shore, our day spoiled.
The next day, we hauled the Jet Ski on its trailer to "Wet n Wild," a repair shop that looked like it had been assembled from spare parts and desperation. LK wore her bikini with a see-through cover-up, and made sure her breasts were high, showing as much as she could without her areolas showing.
The owner, Kent, wore a sweatshirt in 100-degree weather, was permanently stained with grease, and had eyes that seemed to appraise everything. He listened to our tale of woe, kicked a tire on the trailer, and wiped his hands on an already filthy rag.
"Yeah, I can fix it," he said, his voice a low gravel. "But I'm backed up. A couple of weeks, minimum. Just leave it here."
My heart sank. "We're not back until Labor Day," I explained.
LK asked, “How much is the Jet Ski going to cost us?”
Kent shrugged, a gesture that said it wasn't his problem. "Leave it. I'll call you in a few weeks with the estimate. You can pick it up for Labor Day."
We drove away in silence, the long trip home with the cost of the repair looming over the rest of our summer.
After a couple of days, LK came into the bedroom where I was. "I have an idea," she said, turning to me. "A way to make sure we don't get screwed on the price."
She didn't elaborate, but the glint in her eye told me everything. She took off to the bathroom. After being there for 30 minutes, she came back, smirking at her phone.
"What did you do?" I asked, with apprehension in my voice.
She held up the screen. There she was, her hair in wet curls down the front of her body, covering her boobs; if you looked closely, you could see her nipples pointing out between her hair.
It was pure seduction. The photo was meant to get his attention and make him wonder about the possibilities.
The pose said, "I'm just a girl with a broken toy," but her eyes said, "I can make your problems go away."
"I sent it to Kent," she said, her voice laced with mischief. "With a message that said, 'Hoping for a miracle on our Jet Ski repair! Any chance you can work some magic for us?'"
I shook my head, laughing. "You're playing with fire."
"I'm negotiating," she corrected me. "With the tools God gave me."
The 2 weeks crawled by. We got a call from Kent. He told us the Jet Ski was ready to be picked up anytime, and when we did, he would tell us the price then.
More weeks went by as we wondered what it would cost us.
When we finally returned to Wet n Wild on Labor Day weekend, LK made sure she wore the skimpiest bikini she had with the same cover-up over it, but this time it was unbuttoned down to her navel. Her breast was on full view for anyone to see, but it was meant for Kent.
The shop was as chaotic as ever. Kent emerged from the back, wiping his hands on the bill. Our Jet Ski was gleaming beside him, looking brand new.
"She's all ready for you," he said, his eyes finding LK and lingering for a moment too long. He handed me the bill; it was surprisingly cheap. Just parts were on there. The labor section was zero, with a slash through it. "You're just paying for parts, which I had to buy! I found the other parts here at the shop. Labor was on the house."
LK stepped forward, a radiant smile on her face. "Kent, you're a lifesaver! Thank you so much."
He waved it off, but his eyes were still on her. "Happy to do it. Listen," he lowered his voice slightly, leaning in just a bit, "I, uh... I was wondering if I could get another photo? For my... personal collection?"
"I will make that happen for you, since you took such care of us on our jet ski. You will find out how much in a couple of days; let me think about how I would like to make it for you."
That evening at the hotel, she said, “Could you snap some shots of me?” She was taking off her bikini, lying on the bed naked.
She was on the hotel bed, with a pillow in front of her, revealing the curve of her hip and the swell of her breast, her nipples hard! The lighting was soft, intimate. The look on her face was an offer. The only part of her body you couldn’t see was her stomach and pussy, which the pillow hid.
We pulled into the shop on the way home to thank Kent personally. LK showed Kent the picture on her phone.
Kent's breath hitched. He stared at the phone, his mechanic's composure completely gone. "Wow," he breathed. "Yeah. I, uh... I'd really like that one."
LK laughed, a low, throaty sound. "I thought you might," she said,” I just wanted to make sure before I send it to you.”
"Send it, please!"
She hit the send button, and you could hear his phone accept the picture.
"We will see each other again real soon; we have a place here in town, and we will be coming during the winter to hang out."
As we drove away with our repaired Jet Ski, I looked over at her. "You're unbelievable," I said.
"Unbelievably effective," she corrected me, already typing a new message. "And it looks like our Jet Ski isn't the only thing that's going to need some regular maintenance."
Last Time — March 23, 2012
The air in the bedroom was thick with the heat of our bodies, a familiar and welcome sense of desire. John, a regular welcome guest in our bed, had been pleasuring LK for almost an hour when John was positioned between LK's spread legs. I watched as he entered her, a slow, deliberate slide that drew a soft gasp from her lips. John's rhythm was pounding her the way she liked it, hard and fast, a steady beat of skin on skin, when the harsh ring of my phone shattered the moment.
I fumbled for it on the nightstand, my annoyance melting into confusion as I saw Jerry's daughter's name on the screen. My heart was heavy, a painful thud against my chest. I swiped to answer; I didn't want to acknowledge that I already knew something bad had happened. "Hello?"
The sound that came back wasn't words, but a choked, guttural sob. "He's gone," she wailed, the words tearing through the phone line. "Dad's... he's passed away."
Jerry. My buddy. The guy I'd shared beers with, the one who always had my back. Gone. Just like that. "What?" I stammered, my own voice sounding alien to me. "No... when?"
"Yesterday," she cried. "I flew out here today, after I heard yesterday."
I was dimly aware of the bed shifting beside me. LK had pushed John off her, her face a mask of concern, her body tense. She had heard the change in my tone, the devastation in my voice. She sat up, naked, her eyes fixed on me.
"What is it?" she mouthed, her expression a mixture of fear and empathy.
I couldn't form words. I just shook my head, my eyes stinging. "One of my best buddies," I finally managed to whisper to her, the words catching in my throat. "He's passed away."
But John, lost in his own world of lust, unable to process the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere, seemed to exist in a different reality. As I sat there, reeling from the news, LK felt his hand on her thigh; his fingers were trying to pull her back into the moment, back into him.
LK recoiled, a sharp, involuntary movement. She pushed his hand away, her movements sharp and definite. "Stop," she hissed, her voice a low warning.
"Can't you see what's going on here?" Her words were laced with disbelief and anger.
John finally froze, his hand hovering in the air. The reality of the situation finally seemed to penetrate his haze of desire. He looked from LK's furious face to my own devastated one, and a slow, dawning comprehension, and then shame, washed over his features. He shrank back, the awkwardness in the room suddenly so thick it was suffocating.
I was already disconnected from their drama. My world had just been shattered.
She told me Bobby said everything her dad owned belonged to him because he paid Jerry’s bills; the collections he had, his Harley, and his car were all his.
I told her, "Tell Bobby that if he doesn’t give you every last piece of what your dad had, I'll make that trip to see him, and by the time I get there, my anger will be beyond what I will do to him."
“Thank you, Uncle! I will tell him right now; I’m sitting outside his house.”
“Let me know right away, because I could be there in 12 hours.”
She hung up the phone, and a few hours later she called me. “I have everything, and he told me to tell you that he gave me everything. I asked about the Hot Wheels collection. “Yes.” The knife collection. “Yes.” The bike and car. “These are at the house, but he gave me the pick slip on both.”
If you think of anything else, ask for it, okay?”
“I sure will, thank you so much!”
