Morning dawned like a gift, sun streaming in the windows, the world washed clean. I woke up to Doc squatting next to the sofa holding a cup of hot coffee and smiling.
“Thought you might want this.” He held it out and I groaned, opening both eyes and focusing. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, his dark hair tousled from sleep. “Not much of a drinker are you?”
“Not much,” I acknowledged hoarsely, sitting up and reaching for the warm mug.
My bladder rebelled immediately- no more liquid input until we have output!
“Bathroom,” I stated flatly, handing the mug back to him and scrambling up.
“Are you going to throw up?” he called sympathetically as I bolted toward the door.
“Pee!” I countered, rounding the corner, glancing briefly at their bed, still unmade.
Carrie wasn’t in it. The shower was running, but I opened the bathroom door anyway, making for the toilet. I’d never had to pee so badly in my life.
“Hey you.” Carrie poked her head out to see me as I sighed in relief, finally relaxing and letting go. My kidneys actually hurt. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” I felt my face redden and I pulled my t-shirt down a little, embarrassed, although god only knows why. I’d been in a shower with her yesterday, touching her privates and shaving her clean, and last night…
Well, she didn’t know about last night, did she? That was my secret.
She ducked back into the shower, calling out, “That couch can be killer if you get in the wrong position.”
“It was fine.” I finished and flushed the toilet, turning the water on to wash my hands.
“Eiiieeee!” Carrie squealed and poked her head back out. “Don’t flush!”
“Too late,” I apologized, wincing. “I forgot, sorry.” I knew how the water worked in these apartments. We couldn’t do dishes and run a bath in the same hour or the hot water would run out, and the shower always turned freezing the moment anyone flushed. With Mason gone so much, I’d lost any sense of water temperature decorum.
“It’s coming back.” She sounded relieved. “Do you want to shower after me?”
“I have to go home.” I glanced in the mirror. My hair was a dark messy cloud around my face and down my back, out of control. “I have to feed my cat.”
“Do you want to do something later?” She stuck her head back out again, face beaded with water, hair wet and slicked back, making her blue eyes even more striking.
“Doc’s got to be back at the hospital by five.”
“Sure.” I didn’t know why I felt shy now when I’d been so comfortable before.
“Last night was fun.”
“We should do it more often.” She winked and pulled the curtain again.
“Talk to you later?” I called.
“Definitely!”
I made my way back through the kitchen and found Doc sitting on the sofa in the living room with a newspaper, a TV tray set up with two mugs sitting on it. He looked up and smiled when he saw me hesitating the in the doorway.
“Here’s your coffee.” He nodded toward the table. “Want to join me?”
I should have declined, for a myriad of reasons, but I didn’t. Instead I took a seat on the couch opposite him.
“Which section do you want?” he asked, shuffling through the paper.
“International.”
He raised an eyebrow, flipping through and pulling out that section of the paper for me. “Hm, that’s different. Carrie always asks for entertainment first.”
“My husband reads the comics first.” I looked at the paper just to have something to do. The news was too depressing for me anymore. I didn’t watch or read it. I couldn’t stand to.
“Let me guess,” I mused. “You read sports first.”
“Politics.” He winked. “And health and medicine of course. But I won’t deny checking the NHL standings occasionally.”
I sipped my coffee, surprised at the flavor. “This is really good.”
“Gourmet coffee. One of my indulgences.” He smiled sheepishly. “Kona’s a Hawaiian company. A little bit of tropical heaven in a cup.”
“You guys like warm places,” I observed. “Carrie was telling me about the timeshare in Florida.”
He nodded. “My parents’ place. Yeah, my girl loves the sun. Looks like you’ve got quite a head start on her in that department though.” His gaze moved down over my thighs, lingering there. I’d only been hanging out with Carrie for a week and I was already darker than she was.
“I just have that olive sort of skin that tans fast.” I felt my cheeks flush at the intensity of his stare.
“It’s lovely.” He sipped his coffee, our eyes meeting over the rim of the mug. He had dark eyes and the way he looked at me made me wonder what he was thinking.
“Thank you.” I put my coffee back on the TV tray. “Well, I should get home. My husband…” How to finish that sentence? He wasn’t waiting for me. He hadn’t been home since Carrie had heard us fighting, and that had been a bad one. The worst yet.
“We should all get together some time,” Doc suggested.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I said, changing the subject as I headed toward the door.
“Carrie really likes you,” he said and I stopped, my hand on the doorknob, to look back at him. “I just wanted you to know. She’s had a hard time here, since we moved from Boston, finding people to connect with. I’m glad you’re friends.”
I softened at his words. “I’m glad too.”
My front door was locked. I’d gone out the back into the yard to sunbathe with Carrie and had forgotten to bring my keys. If I hadn’t gone all the way around back, I wouldn’t have known Mason was home until I got inside. His moped was parked in our yard, chained to the fence. It was the fastest way to get around campus and his parents had bought him one last Christmas. Only the best for their boy. My heart leapt when I saw it.
I went through the back door into the kitchen, closing it quietly behind me.
Jezebel came over to greet me with a quizzical “mew,” asking where I’d been all night. I noticed a can of food opened for her on the floor. He hadn’t bothered putting it in her dish and he’d left the lid half-on, the edge sharp, but at least he’d fed her.
“Here precious.” I picked up the can. Miss Picky had only eaten half of it. I turned the rest into her bowl, tossing the can into the garbage. Her tail rose immediately and she settled herself in front of her dish as if to say, “This is more like it.”
I took a deep breath and opened our bedroom door. The screen was still propped against the wall-it had been a week and I still hadn’t managed to figure out how to put it back-but at least I’d remembered to shut the window before I left.
“Mace,” I whispered. He was on his back in bed, snoring gently, an arm thrown across his eyes against the light. The sheet didn’t do much to keep out the sun and it was getting bright. I hesitated, part of me desperate to climb in with him, another part of me heeding the “warning” sign flashing in my head. I went past, into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I stood under the hot water for a long time, until it started turning cool, before getting out and toweling off.
“Dani?” His voice was sleepy, eyes still closed as I opened the door.
It was warm and stuffy-we didn’t have air conditioning-especially with the steam of the shower seeping into our bedroom, and Mason had just the sheet tangled around his waist. He was a beautiful man, his arms defined, chest broad. He’d cut his sandy brown hair, buzzed it short for the summer, and I fought the urge to get into bed with him and run my hand over his shorn head.
“Where were you last night?” he asked.
I snugged the towel around me tighter, just looking at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He sighed. “I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t either,” I replied in a small voice, remembering our last fight with painful clarity, but I relented when he opened his eyes and held a hand out to me. I went to him in spite of myself, dropping my towel and slipping under the covers beside him.
“Your hair’s wet.” He kissed the top of my head as I tucked it under his chin, resting my cheek against his chest, a heartbreakingly familiar position. His arms were strong and warm and I let him hold me for the first time in a very long time, closing my eyes and drifting.
When his hand moved under the covers, sliding up over my hip, fitting my body more fully against his and sliding a thigh between mine, I welcomed his intimate heat and weight. I let him kiss me, his tongue probing, letting myself go soft and open beneath him as we rolled, our bodies joining in silent apology to one another.
I was still wet from last night, from touching myself and listening, and the memory served as kindling to our fire. I was desperate for him, something in me awakened, brought to life again, a Frankenstein’s monster charged with energy, reborn and hungry.
“Dani!” He gasped in surprise at my wild response, probably shocked that I was responding at all. I had been a rigid sheet of ice in my own corner of the bed for months after Isabella was gone. Then he had left the permafrost of our marriage for warmer climes, a catalyst that had allowed me to finally melt into a flood of tears.
He was hard and thick in my hand, thrusting in spite of himself. I saw the doubt in his eyes. I saw it and felt it and pushed past it, squeezing and rubbing him up and down against my slit, teasing us both. We both hesitated, breathing hard already with the gravity and weight of the moment. This was the act that had begun and ended our whole life together.
“Are you sure?” He nuzzled my neck, sucking at my skin, my wet hair. No, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. The world had turned upside down and I was walking on the ceiling all the time now, always afraid of falling.
My only response was to slide him into me, opening my thighs and letting him thrust, taking him deep. I hid my face against his chest, wrapping myself around him, arms and legs, so he wouldn’t see me welling up with tears. It was the first time anything, anyone, had touched me inside since Isabella.
“Oh Dani,” he whispered, taking everything I had to give him, his breath hot against my hair. “Oh you feel so good.”
“So do you.” I squeezed him hard, making him groan and thrust faster. I couldn’t get enough and I shoved my pelvis up to meet his, again and again. For that moment, everything else disappeared and it was just us, as it had been. He was mine and I was the girl who loved him completely, without restraint or regret.
I panted and clung to him, digging my heels into the well of his back as if I could drive him in further, take him wholly into me. He moaned and slowed, gasping, “Wait, wait,” in my ear, but I wouldn’t let him go.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, my nails digging into his upper arms as he held himself over me. “Please! Don’t stop!”
His eyes met mine, half-lidded with lust, his mouth slightly open. I whimpered and he dipped his head to kiss me, sucking my tongue into his mouth as he began again, his groan swallowed in the press and roll of our tongues. I planted my feet on the bed and lifted my hips, seeing his eyes roll back as he bottomed out inside of me.
“Harder!” I urged, my fingers seeking my own heat, searching between us for the place where we were joined, slick and hot and wet. I rubbed myself as he fucked me harder, giving me just what I’d asked for, although I knew it was going to cost him everything. His cock twitched inside of me and he rolled, pulling me on top of him and lifting me off the bed with one final thrust.
“Noooo,” I howled, almost there but not quite, feeling him coming, knowing the look on his face, brow knitted, eyes closed tight, his lower lip pulled between his teeth.
“Fuck,” he panted, reaching up and grabbing my breasts, thumbing my nipples. “I couldn’t stop.”
I whimpered, still rubbing myself, and he glanced down, his fingers tracing over my ribs, my belly.
I saw him cringe, seeing the bruises there. “Did I do that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” It did, but I didn’t care, not then. I wanted him in spite of everything.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands petting me from my breasts down to my pussy. “I’m so sorry.”
“Mason,” I pleaded, and he knew, he gave me just what I needed, he always had.
I let him pull me up to his face, moaning softly when his mouth settled over my mound.
It wasn’t going to take much, but oh god, it felt so good I didn’t ever want it to stop.
His tongue lapped at me, finding my clit right away, so sensitive and ready. I shuddered, spreading my legs wide and rocking. His hands on my hips moved to steady me and I stilled, letting him do all the work, my pussy on fire. There was no holding it back. I leaned my cheek against the wall behind us-we didn’t have a headboard like
the Baumgartners, we didn’t even have a bed frame, just a boxspring and mattress on the floor-and gave into my orgasm.
“Mason!” I gasped as his tongue fluttered at my clit, sending me flying. He moaned into my pussy as I came, flooding him with my juices, burying his face there for more as if he could drink me in altogether. My knees gave out and I collapsed next to him on the bed, laughing as he kissed me, his face still wet with my cum.
“Come here,” he said, curling around me on the bed, pulling the covers up around us. We were quiet for quite a while and I thought he might be asleep until Jezebel jumped up onto the bed and climbed across Mason’s hip and side, sniffing and twitching him with her whiskers as if to say, “Hello, stranger!”
“So where were you last night?” he asked again, sliding a hand down Jezzie’s back, making her arch. I blushed, watching them over my shoulder and remembering how he could make me do that, just like a cat.
“At the neighbors’.” I flushed even more deeply at the memory of my night at the Baumgartners’. “It was raining so hard, they thought I should stay.”
“I didn’t know you hung out with the neighbors.”
I snorted. “You don’t know a lot of things that happen around here.”
“Touche,” he said softly, not taking the bait.
I turned toward him so we were belly to belly. “What brings you home?”
“Same thing that kept you at the neighbors, I guess.” He stopped petting the cat and started petting me, his hand moving over my shoulder and down my side. “I was on my way back to Darron’s and it was raining so damned hard I could barely see.”
Darron the dungeonmaster. He had an apartment on the edge of campus and they played Dungeons and Dragons there three times a week. Mason and I had argued about how much time he spent there even before Isabella and now he was living in Darron’s basement.
I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “So you didn’t come home to see me?”
“No,” he replied honestly. “But I’m glad I did.”
That warmed me. “I’m glad too.”
“Hey, I’m hungry,” he said. “What do we have for breakfast?”
“I can make eggs.” The fridge was pretty empty. I didn’t have to do a lot of shopping with Mason gone. He was a big eater, but I could live on Lean Cuisines forever.
“That sounds good. Can I take a shower?” He slipped out of bed, stretching, and I admired the taut flex of the muscles in his back. I really had missed him, in so many ways.
“Go for it. You still have clothes in the closet.” He’d never really moved out completely. He was doing it piecemeal, coming back and taking a few more things with him every time he left.
Mason ran the shower and I got dressed and cooked him eggs-four scrambled.
I even made him toast with extra butter and cut them into fours. I was humming to myself, just putting the ketchup on the table, when he came out wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else.
“Thanks.” He sat at the table across from me, squirting ketchup all over his eggs before digging in while I watched and nibbled my own slice of toast.
“How’s Darron?” I didn’t really want to know but it was somewhere to start conversation.
“Good.” His mouth was half-full. “We’re thinking about starting a new thing that just came out. It’s called Magic the Gathering.”
“Sounds cool.” I had no idea what that meant. I’d never paid much attention to his gaming.
“Right.” Mason snorted, giving me a look that said he knew just how much I cared-or not. “So what classes you got this semester?”
“Advanced Italian, Dante’s Divine Comedy, Senior Honors and Advanced Independent Study.” I rattled them off-my last year’s worth of work before graduation, all paid for by my scholarship. At least that was one thing Mason’s parents didn’t pay for. They’d paid for everything since we got married-our rent, our groceries, Mason’s tuition-but my education was my own.
“Heavy load.” He raised his eyebrows.
“So what do you have this term?” It hurt me to think we were so disconnected now we didn’t know these basic things.
He chewed his eggs and swallowed. “Survey of American Folklore and European History.”
“Are you still majoring in sociology?”
“I switched to general studies.”
The catch-all degree. He’d changed his major six times since we’d started school.
“So did you hear back from that study abroad thing?” He smiled when he picked up a triangle of toast and I knew he was appreciating that I’d remembered.
I stiffened and shook my head, busying myself with my own toast. The “study abroad thing” was my dream. I’d always wanted to go to Europe and, because of my scholarship, I’d been asked to apply to a very competitive program that would allow me do all of my graduate work in Italy. The “study abroad thing” was also the topic of our last argument, the one that got me pushed into the kitchen table as Mason shoved by me on his way out the door. Needless to say, he didn’t want me to go.
“You still set on doing that?” He popped a whole quarter triangle of toast into his mouth, chewing fiercely. I just nodded, not trusting my voice to answer him. “I can’t go to Italy. My parents would have a fit. They’d never allow it.”
Sure. They allowed him to skip school, fail classes and play D amp;D all day, but follow his wife to Italy so she could pursue her dreams? Oh no, never that.
“You’re a big boy.” I stood and took my empty plate to the sink. “Don’t you think it’s about time you started cutting some apron strings and making your own decisions?”
I held my breath. It was like deja-vu. We were going to have the same argument all over again. Maybe this time he’d do more than just push me and bruise my ribs.
Maybe this time he’d break an arm or my skull.
“It’s not just them.” He was on the defensive now. “I don’t want to go to Italy.
What am I going to do in Italy?”
“I don’t know.” I rinsed my plate, feeling Jezebel twining around my ankles. “What are you doing here?”
“I have no idea.” He stood, the rest of his toast untouched. I closed my eyes as he started toward me and let out my pent-up breath when he passed, going into the bedroom. He came back out a few minutes later, fully dressed, while I was sitting quietly at the kitchen table and Jezebel licked up the remains of Mason’s eggs.
He didn’t even say goodbye when he grabbed his helmet from the table and took off out the back door. But I didn’t call him back either. I just sat there and cried and wished, not for the first time or the last, that I had died instead of Isabella.
* * * *
I was in the middle of reading Dante’s Divine Comedy-in the original Italian of course-just entering Purgatory and thinking about Mason and Isabella and the ruin my life had slowly become, when the phone rang.
“Oh my god, Dani, turn on the TV.” It was Carrie. I glanced at the clock-it was almost eight at night and I remembered she said Doc started at the hospital at five.
I grabbed the remote, my stomach clenched. “What is it?” I flipped the TV on, sure something horrible had happened. Like I needed one more disaster?
“Turn to channel three-sixteen.”
I frowned, pushing buttons on the remote. “Three-sixteen?” That wasn’t a news station. We had basic cable, but it was very basic, only about twenty channels total.
“Did you turn it on?”
I was about to open my mouth to reply when the cable box responded. At first there was a sort of scrambled zig-zag image on the screen and then it evened out to reveal a blond women, naked on her knees, with some guy’s cock in her mouth.
“Cazzo!” I swore in Italian, staring dumbfounded at the screen.
“You found it.” Carrie laughed, understanding what I meant by my tone even if she didn’t know the word. “What does that mean?”
“Fuck,” I whispered, watching the blond try to swallow the guy’s cock to the hilt and doing a pretty damned good job of it. “It’s actually also a term for…well…a guy’s cock.”
“How apropos!” She laughed again, sounding utterly delighted.
“How…?” I managed to get that strangled word out, leaning closer as the blond slid her tongue down to lick the guy’s balls, her hand still gripping his dick.
“Jen from across the street called and told me to change my TV to three-sixteen,”
Carrie explained. “Her six-year-old apparently found it when he was playing with the remote. She’d already called most of her mommy group on campus and they confirmed it too. We’ve got free porn!”
“I doubt that was her reaction.” I laughed.
“No, she was pretty irate, but I, for one, am thrilled.” Carrie giggled. “I just hope it’s still on when Doc gets home. I’m tempted to call him and tell him to come now.”
“No pun intended.” I grinned
“Oh every pun intended,” she purred. “Look, he’s licking her!”
I hadn’t stopped looking. The blond on the screen-who reminded me of Carrie with her doll-like features and bronze skin, had splayed herself on a sofa for the guy, who was now eating her pussy like they gave out medals for enthusiasm.
“She looks like she’s enjoying it.” Most porn I’d seen was incredibly fake. I hated the girls with the breast implants and fake nails and the guys were mostly non-entities, just disembodied cocks, but this was different. The girl’s body was real, full and lush.
Her breasts were big, but didn’t defy gravity-instead, they kind of spread out a little when she leaned back. The guy was sexy too, his cock big but not enormous. I could fit that in my mouth. The thought made my pussy twitch.
“Don’t you?” Carrie inquired curiously. “I love having my pussy licked.”
I swallowed and admitted it. “Yes.”
“Oh my god, Dani…” Her words trailed off as I watched the blond pull her knees back, exposing herself. She wasn’t shaved and she was a real blond, the hair between her legs a dark honey color. That reminded me of Carrie too. “This is amateur porn. I wonder…?”
“Wonder what?” Oh god, he was going to fuck her. He positioned himself between her thighs, shoving one leg back so the camera could get a better view while he slid his cock up and down her slit.
“I wonder if this is real. Like real-time, right now. Live,” Carrie breathed.
“It can’t be,” I argued, but imagining that these two were somewhere having sex, right this very moment, was beyond exciting. All the porn I’d seen-Mason had brought some home a few times from the video store-was either vintage stuff with horrible music tracks or the aforementioned fake-sex fake-people type. This felt real. Even their sounds were real.
“What if it is?” The excitement in her voice was catching. “Doesn’t that turn you on?”
I hesitated, watching the guy on the screen slide his cock into her, and then breathed, “Yeah.”
“Oooohhh yeah, like that,” Carrie murmured softly into the phone. It was almost as if she’d gotten so lost in the scene she forgot I was there. “Fuck it nice and slow.”
I gulped, my pussy throbbing now, insistent. When Mason and I had watched porn, we always ended up in bed halfway through the movie and never finished it. But he liked to watch me touch myself first while we watched, and it was almost like my hand had a memory or mind of its own, slipping under the waistband of my shorts.
“Oh I want a cock,” Carrie moaned softly. Me too, I thought, my fingers slipping through my wetness. “It makes me want to go get my vibrator.”
“You have one?”
She laughed. “Don’t you?”
“No.”
Carrie gasped. “Oh my god you have to get one! I’d let you borrow mine but I use it too much to let it out of my sight for more than twenty four hours.”
That made me laugh, but I also flushed at the thought of Carrie playing with her vibrator. That was far sexier than the movie. “Want to go get it?”
“Really?” She sounded breathless.
“Why not?”
She hesitated and then asked, “Will you play too?”
“I don’t have a vibrator,” I reminded her, although my fingers were already busy stroking my aching clit. The girl on screen was rubbing hers too.
“You can still touch yourself.”
“Okay.” I reddened, not telling her I already was. “Can’t let good porn go to waste.”
“My thoughts exactly! Hang on.”
I crooked the phone between my ear and shoulder while she was gone and slid my shorts and panties down. If I was going to play, I wanted full access. I made sure the blinds were closed-I didn’t want to give the neighbors a show-and stretched out on the couch.
“I’m back,” Carrie said. “I hope it doesn’t cut out on us right in the middle or anything.”
“That would suck,” I agreed, dipping my fingers deep into my pussy and drawing out my wetness.
“So to speak.” I could hear her grin. The guy on screen was getting sucked off again. This time they were in a sixty-nine position, her on top. “Oh Doc loves it like that.”
Imagining Carrie and Doc in that position made me rub myself a little faster. I heard something over the phone-a soft buzzing noise.
“Is that…your…?” The sound seemed to go right through me, sending shivers straight to my pussy.
“Mmm hmmmm.” She moaned softly. “Oh it’s so good.”
“I’m jealous,” I admitted, watching as the girl on screen turned around on her man and started to ride him. “I wish I had one.”
“You could come over,” she invited, sounding half-teasing-but half-not.
“Nah, I’ll just make do with my fingers,” I said, swallowing hard. Why did I turn her down? I wondered, imagining her over there, just on the other side of that wall, fucking herself with her vibrator.
“Fingers are good too.” Carrie’s breath was coming faster. “Oh yes, nice and hard now…like that…”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I murmured, more to myself than to her, but she answered anyway.
“Me neither, but I can’t seem to help it.”
I sighed with pleasure, my fingers rubbing fast. “I know what you mean.”
“Feels too good to stop,” she panted.
“Uh huh.” There was no way either of us was going to stop now.
“Oooo look at that!”
I was. The blond had her bottom up in the air, reaching her hands back to spread herself open, and the guy was pressing his cock against the tight crevice of her ass.
“That’s just wrong.” I winced as the girl squealed, panting, begging him to “Go slow, go slow!”
“Haven’t you ever done anal?” Carrie exclaimed. “Oh Dani, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“You’ve done that?” I gulped.
“Oh yeah.” She moaned softly and I wondered what she was doing. I mean, I knew what she was doing, but I wanted to know exactly. Where were her hands? Were her panties on or off? Did she have a shirt on? I wanted to know but was too shy to ask.
“What does it feel like?” I inquired, curious. Mason had never been interested in anal sex so it had never really occurred to me as something to add to my sexual repertoire.
“Well, there’s a trick to it,” she explained. “You have to use lots of lube. And like she said, you have to go real slow.”
I looked back at the screen, at the size of his cock-and the stretch of her asshole. “I should hope so.”
“But only at first. Once he’s past that little ring of muscle, it doesn’t hurt. And then… oh then…” Carrie moaned again. “I can’t even tell you how good it is.”
“Really?” I was excited in spite of my misgivings. My clit throbbed under my fingers.
“Try it for yourself,” Carrie urged.
“Uhhhh…” I bit my lip.
“Go ahead,” she teased. “Just use a finger.”
“Ummm…” But I did it. I slowly slid my wet fingers down to tease my asshole. It was small, puckered, very tight, but wet from the juices running down my slit.
“Are you doing it?” She sounded very excited.
“A little,” I admitted.
“Get it wet first. That helps,” she said. “Just rub it.”
“Mmmmm.” I closed my eyes, rubbing, just like she said. The skin was very sensitive. It wasn’t like touching my clit, or even being fucked. It was very different-but still good.
“See?” Carrie asked. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Now try pressing it in.
Just a little bit.”
The blond on screen was being pounded in her ass now. I marveled at how it stretched. Was that even possible?
“Ohhh!” I gasped as my finger slid in, up to the knuckle. “It’s so tight!”
“I think that’s why Doc likes it so much.”
I bet, I thought, thinking of the two of them, doing that. My ass clenched around my finger in response.
“But why do you like it?”
Carrie groaned and I knew she was touching herself, using her vibrator. I wondered if she had it in her ass? “Because it makes me come so hard I nearly pass out.”
“Wow,” I breathed, feeling my pulse between my thighs, fast and hard.
“Look at her face,” Carrie insisted. “She really likes it, you can tell.”
You could tell. The girl on the screen had her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, and she was rubbing her pussy while she was being fucked in the ass. So I did both, too, thumb of my one hand in my pussy, finger rubbing my asshole, while I circled my clit with the fingers of my other hand.
“Oh god,” I moaned. The sensation was heightened with my finger in my ass and I knew I was close.
“Oh yes,” Carrie panted. “Do it, Dani. Fuck your little ass.”
“Oh fuck.” I closed my eyes, my hips bucking up, picturing her on the couch just on the other side of the wall, touching herself too.
“Yes, fuck yes!” Carrie cried.
The girl on the screen joined our cries of pleasure and I think she was really coming, from the look on her face. The guy pulled out of her ass right then, aiming his spurting cock toward the slight gape of her hole.
“I’m gonna…” Carrie’s warning turning into moaning and I was right there with her.
“Yes, yes, yes, me toooo…” I panted, my whole finger buried in my ass, my clit thrumming with ecstasy. I heard Carrie gasping for breath, away from the phone-she’d probably dropped it-and wished I was there to see her orgasm.
“Mmmmm. That was gooooood.” She was back, her voice close again.
“Wowww,” I agreed. “You think Jen across the street took advantage of her free porn?”
Carrie snorted. “I think she probably called the cable company to complain about her free porn. Some people don’t know a good thing when they’ve got it.”
I sighed. “That’s the truth.”
“Oh no!” Carrie protested and I opened my eyes to look at the screen. Sure enough, it was back to scrambled zig-zags again.
“There goes our free porn.”
“Well it was good while it lasted.” She sighed. “Damn, there’s my other line.”
“Go ahead.”
She hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to come over?”
“I’ve got some reading to do,” I replied. “But call me tomorrow or something, okay?”
I could tell she was disappointed when I hung up the phone but I didn’t trust myself to go over there and hang out. I didn’t know what it would turn into. And I should be working on my marriage, I reminded myself. Or barring that, considering Mason’s lack of interest in the topic, I should at least be working on my life, on my future. I didn’t have time for play and friends and…well, whatever else the Baumgartners might have in mind.
But even I knew that wasn’t quite the truth. What I really believed, deep down, was that I didn’t deserve them. I couldn’t punish Mason or God or anyone else for Isabella, but I could brutally punish myself and that’s just what I’d been doing. What I continued to do. What else was there? It was all I knew.