Man in the Middle
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by Sommer Marsden
Category: Erotica/Menage Erotica
Description: A two story collection of hot couples who decide to make things even hotter by putting a man in the middle. In Some Things, a friend of Joe's stirs the pot and puts Zoe in a corner. "There are some things you simply don't ask for. I know that. And I had done a damn fine job of keeping this particular thought-wish-dream to myself. Until that jackass, Drake, undid it all." Zoe ends up confessing a long-held fantasy of seeing her husband with another man while he's with her. What Zoe is not expecting after spilling the beans is that Joe will do whatever he can to make sure she gets what she wants. In Hidey Hole, a drawer riddled piece of furniture shows Jill a glimpse of Peter's past in a note. Now that we're moving, I want you to know that you mean so much to me. And when I'm lonely or sad, I will always think of us together. How you smelled, how you touched me, what you tasted like... Jill pieces together her husband's adolescent experimentation and wonders (aloud) if he might just do it again. But this time for her. Lucky for Jill, Peter's all about pleasing his wife.
eBook Publisher: Excessica Publishing,
eBookwise Release Date: June 2010
7 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [63 KB]
Reading time: 32-45 min.
"I loved Ms. Marsden's writing style...You can never be too graphic in an erotic tale, and Ms. Marsden does a splendid job in depicting the confusion, struggle, love, and finally acceptance...The eroticism was fantastic...you get two great stories in one book!" -Claudia R., Manic Readers Reviews, 4.5/5 STARS
"... sweet and moving... lighthearted and fun, while one could only imagine the free-thinking attitudes of the lovers. Out of the darkest places can come the brightest light." -Ambrosia, Whipped Cream Reviews, 4/5 CHERRIES
"So what is it?" He didn't look directly a t me but instead at his five o'clock shadow in the mirror. He stroked his jaw as if considering shaving. We both knew damn well he wouldn't. He never shaved on the weekends.
"What's what?" I pulled the toilet paper roll so viciously I ended up with enough toilet paper for a baby elephant.
"The fantasy you're keeping from me." More mirror examining as I wiped and flushed.
"How long have we been married?" he asked, confusing me for an instant.
I sighed. "Thirteen years."
"How often do we lie to each other?"
"Pretty much never." I tried to scoot by him, but the bathroom was so damned small, he took a step back and nearly pinned me against the tub.
"So why are you lying now? What's so horrible about this fantasy that you can't or won't tell me?"
"There is no fantasy!" I growled and felt my fists ball up on their own. As if on cue, I had a vivid mental flash of what I imagine almost every time we make love. I gritted my teeth and willed it away.
"Yeah. Well, your face says you're lying. Your voice says you're lying. And you look guilty as all get out."
"Why is this so important?" I hissed. Tears. I could feel them coming like an impending storm. And goddamn I hated to cry. My throat was squeezing shut, and my eyes were prickling. I felt panicky.
"Because I love you." He tried to take my hand, but I yanked it back as if he had held a match to my skin.
"Then let it go." I tried to flee again. He blocked me with his big, warm body.
"Why? You don't trust me? Don't love me enough?" Now he looked confused, and worse, hurt. That made my throat close even more. My eyes started to fill.
"I love you enough not to tell you," I blurted. Fuck.
"I want you to tell me. I want you to ask me," he almost roared. Now he was really confused and when suddenly confused, Joe could get pissed. He'd rather be pissed than confused.
"There are some things you just don't ask for!" I yelled, saying my mantra aloud for the first time ever. And I bolted from the bathroom as fast as I could.
He left me there in the garden for awhile. Let me brood or steam or whatever the hell it was I was doing. Then I felt a cold wetness against my back and turned to accept the glass of iced tea he offered.
"Now can we talk? "
"I don't want to tell you."
"Please. Trust me."
"A man. Another man," I sighed. "I have always wanted you with another man."
His perfect, lovely face crinkled as he tried to absorb what I was saying. Probably there are men who wouldn't care. Then some might get angry. I watched Joe war with what to think and what to say.
"Can we drop it now?" I sipped my tea and sat it in the dry, brittle grass. The heat wave was sucking the life out of everything.
"Go on." His voice was soft and steady. My skin prickled with false cold and pebbled with goose bumps.
"And me," I finished. "You and another man and me."
"What? Like you with another man and me in the room" Again I watched his internal conflict stain his face. He was trying. Really hard. For me.
"Nope. Quite the opposite. Me with you and another man--"
There it was. Total confusion. I almost laughed at the look on his face. He didn't understand. Not even a little.
I blew out a sigh and my bangs feathered across my sweaty brow. "Here's how it would be." Screw it. If I was going to tell him some, I might as well roll out the whole nasty ball of wax. "I want you to fuck me while ... he fucks you. Him fucking you into me."
Realization struck and he seemed to go several shades of pale under his mid-summer tan.
"And it's only a fantasy," I rushed on. "I never expected to admit it, let alone think it would happen. It's just something I've had in my head for a very long time. It doesn't mean anything." I wanted him to understand. Needed for him to understand.
"But it's important to you."
"No more than any other fantasy that's ever flitted through my empty head." When I spoke the lie I laughed to show him it was so very unimportant to me.
"Joe! I wouldn't lie--"
"Let me think about it," he said and walked back into the house. No anger in his walk, just a sort of weariness. Trying to digest his wife's fucked up fantasy, I could only assume.
Not even a week passed before he came home with Sam.
Sam had reddish hair and green eyes that were so flecked with brown they reminded me of a forest. He had a big smile and big white teeth. When he smiled, it touched his whole face and forced you to like him. He shook my hand, and I watched his giant hand swallow mine. His skin was a deep tan against the ruddy brown I turned in the summer.
"Nice to meet, you. I'm Sam. I'm bi."
At first I misunderstood. Buy what? What? Then my brain caught up, and I remembered why he was here and what he meant. He was bisexual. He liked men and women. I nodded dumbly and shook his hand like I was trying to extract fresh water from a well.
"Hi. Zoe. That's me. I mean, I'm Zoe," I let out a long sigh, which made him laugh. It was a nice laugh.
"It's okay. You're a little weirded out."
He gently released my hand, and I shoved both of my hands deep in my denim short pockets. Fuck.
"Sam is a friend from work. He only works there once in awhile," Joe was saying. His voice was low and his head was in the fridge pulling out cold bottles of Rolling Rock. "I trusted him enough to broach the subject."
I nodded and nearly swooned when I heard the bottle cap pop off the beer. I needed a damn beer. I needed a fucking keg of beer. I gratefully accepted the bottle from my husband and drank a third of the cold brew in one long swallow. Liquid courage.
"Okay." That was it. That was all I had to add to the conversation.
"What are the rules?" Sam asked and sipped his beer way more politely than I could have managed.
He nodded and grinned at me. For a moment I grinned back. At least he was nice. Joe hadn't brought some serial killer home or someone who made me uncomfortable. Given the situation, I felt pretty comfortable with Sam.
"Um, I guess the first is if anyone changes their mind, they are free to say so and no hard feelings?" It came out as a question. I was winging it here.
He nodded. Took another sip. "Go on."
I shrugged. "What else is there? I um ... I assume that Joe explained what the fantasy is." My face felt hotter than our blacktop driveway at that moment. I never thought I'd confess my fantasy to Joe, let alone have another person know about it.
"Well, the dynamics. Am I just with Joe? Am I with Joe and then with y--"
I shook my head, about to interject when Joe barked, "Not with her. Just me. She's not part of this. At least for you." His voice was flinty, and I felt myself shiver just a little.
I wanted to tell him that he had been too harsh with Sam. That he was simply trying to understand. Before I could, Sam laughed, patted Joe on the arm and said, "Got it. Me and you. You and Zoe. No problem. I understand. I just wanted to be clear."
Then Joe's face softened and he took a long draw on his beer. "Sorry, man. I just got a little possessive I guess."
Sam nodded and then turned to me. "So, are we finishing our beers or are we doing this?"
I started choking and before I knew it, both men were patting me on the back while I struggled for air.
"Today?" I managed.
Joe surprised me by laughing. "It's gotta be today darlin'. I don't know if I'll keep my nerve up otherwise."
So here was my chance. A one-shot deal. Make my fantasy a reality or leave it in the memory banks to play out with nameless, faceless men. I straightened myself and took a deep breath.
For one long beat we all stared at each other as if to say, Will we? Will we really do this? Then with Sam in the lead, we climbed the steps to the bedroom.
I didn't look at either one of them. Couldn't force myself to at that point, so I undressed quietly. No panic or embarrassment, I simply took each piece of clothing off and folded it neatly. My white cotton panties sat on top of the pile, a nice little square of fabric. I opened the bedside drawer and set a bottle of lube in the very middle of the bed. Then I sat and waited.
Sam followed suit, taking off his faded blue jeans, his equally faded blue polo shirt and his boxer briefs. His cock was wider than Joe's. Darker in color and slightly tilted to the left. I smiled at that. I wondered what it would feel like in my hand. All steely smooth and jumping under my touch. However, I made no move to touch it or find out. That was not the point of this afternoon.
"I guess it's my turn," Joe mumbled, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to suppress a giggle. I had never seen him modest before. On the other hand, I had never asked him to get naked and take it up the ass for me, either.
His clothes came off a little more slowly than mine or Sam's. When he got down to his boxers, he hesitated for just a moment and looked me dead in the eye. I tried to show him that it was up to him. That I would be fine if he said no. That I would not be upset or disappointed. I tried to communicate all of that with a look, and he nodded. As if he understood. And then his boxers hit the floor.
Somehow I went from perched on the edge of the bed to on my knees in front of my husband. His cock in my mouth, warm and familiar. I don't know if I was simply that turned on or thanking him. All I knew was I was so wet and hot between my thighs, my cunt already clutching eagerly at nothing. I wanted to swallow him whole if I could. Take in everything he had to give me. I scooted closer and lightly ran my thumbnail between his balls. Just enough pressure to make him throw his head back and sigh.
I knew Sam was watching, and I didn't care. I wanted him to watch. I didn't care that I was nude. I had to be nude for what we had planned. I could just make him out in my peripheral vision. A flesh-colored blur, slightly in motion. He was fisting his dick. I couldn't see him but I could hear the slide of his rough hands over his smooth, hard cock. I sighed around a mouthful of Joe and sucked him harder into my mouth. I rolled my tongue along the head before plunging back down so that he was buried in my throat, nearly cutting off my air.
"Baby," he sighed and plunged his hands into my hair. "It'll be over before it begins," he chuckled.
I shook my head and gave a muffled, "No" but lightened my pressure. He was right. I was going to push him right over that edge if I wasn't careful.
I heard the distinct sound of lube escaping the bottle but didn't stop. Light sucking, stroking with my hand, turning Joe on as much as I could. Amping him up. The more relaxed he was, the more he might enjoy what he was venturing for me. I barely heard it when Sam whispered, "Just a finger, Joe. Focus on what Zoe's doing."
His voice was kind, and I felt a sense of relief. He cared enough about my husband as a person to coach him. To be nice and talk. That was all I needed to know. I tried to time it. I waited a beat and then slid Joe's cock down my throat as far as I could. I relaxed, letting my throat go soft and breathe through my nose. Willing myself to take it to the hilt and I did. I heard Sam say, "In. Good?"
My husband was moaning, and I didn't give him time to register anything other than my mouth on him and that finger deep inside of him. He would over think it if I let him, so I ducked my head and licked his balls. The way he likes. The way he begs me for until I giggle and give in.
His hands clutched at my hair, and Sam's voice was light like silk and sunlight. "Now a second."
I knew when Sam added another finger because for just a moment, Joe bucked against my mouth. He sighed and I continued to play him over my tongue and let him feel how the two sensations would mix. My mouth, Sam's fingers. He was familiar with the sensation. I liked to use a finger or two when I have him blowjobs and he liked it as well. The only difference was these were not my fingers but another man's. As soon as I thought it, my insides went softer for him. Warmer and wetter.
I let myself sit. The motion pulled Joe forward some. A smooth transition. That's what I was shooting for. It would work or it wouldn't. It was as simple as that.
He moved forward willingly. Pulled from between my lips. I knew by his sounds he was ready to be in me, but was he ready for Sam to be in him? I kept my eyes closed. Almost afraid to look, but I felt him lowering toward me on the soft carpet. Soft blue carpet that touched my back as he settled between my thighs. I nudged the velvety head of his cock against my cunt. So wet. So ready. I arched up just a little so he slid into me. I peeked for a moment and saw Sam behind him, also on his knees. I could tell from his posture that his fingers were still in Joe. I would have to trust Sam to choose the right moment to change over. To move from fingers to cock.
"Baby," he said again as he slid into me. I sighed. Watching Sam through slit eyes over my husband's shoulder. Our eyes met for a moment and he smiled. I smiled back and let my thighs fall open wider, let Joe drive into me more deeply. I raised my head and bit his shoulder--the sweet spot that always makes him cringe but grow harder deep inside me.
He growled a little, fucking into me harder and Sam gave just the slightest nod. I heard the lube bottle again. Watched my husband's face as he kept his eyes closed, took a deep breath. I heard the wet, slippery sounds of Sam lubing his cock. Heard him say, "Ready?"
Joe didn't answer out loud. Just nodded and so I nodded to Sam, locking eyes with him. And then we all stilled for a moment. Joe breathing deep, me flexing my cunt around him to keep the pleasure in the forefront of his mind. Sam, positioning himself, going totally motionless and then with a sigh, sliding into my husband.
Joe's face flickered from fear to pain to pleasure. It was like a movie in high speed. Everything in me loved him at that moment. More than I ever had. And then he started thrusting into me again. And Sam was moving over his shoulder. Big hands on my husband's side. Blunt fingers visible to me. Just the sight and the sound and the motion was enough to trip my first orgasm. Blessed, long, warm flickers that worked through me as I mindlessly thrust up against Joe chanting, "Don't come yet, not yet, please wait..."
A greedy request, but I couldn't help myself. It was my plea to him and he gave me a nod that he understood.
"Zoe, closer," he said, and I brought my legs up around him. The insides of my thighs brushing his sides, my calves extended to touch, ever so lightly, Sam's strong flanks. Sam was lost to me now. Eyes closed, face serene, his hips moving slowly. In. Out. An effortless dance of skin on skin and muscle on muscle as he fucked my husband. Who then fucked me. Essentially, Sam was fucking me with Joe's cock. I felt myself tighten again.
Then I pushed my eyes wide open to see it all. "Open your eyes," I said to Joe and he did without hesitation. I smiled. "Okay?"
"Okay. I love you." He clenched his jaw tight. His hands normally busy on my breasts by this point planted on either side of my head. Steadying himself against the thrusts of the cock that pushed into him and propelled him into me.
"Sam?" I said it softly.
Both men were close. Both men were waiting f or me. I watched Joe's face and saw nothing but love there. Love and pleasure and anticipation. I locked my eyes with his and licked my fingertips. Tweaked my nipples the way he would have as he watched. Ran my finger down my belly so goose bumps jumped along my flesh.
"Zoe." He was holding back with everything he had, as was Sam. I could tell by the way his fingers had dug into the softer flesh around Joe's waist. How they bit in and turned the skin a ghostly white.
I raised my neck and kissed Joe. "Thank you. For this. For giving this to me." He opened his mouth to respond but I dipped my head and bit his nipple, just hard enough that I knew that zing of intense pain would shove him over the edge.
"I'm coming," he said to me but Sam heard too. How could he not?
And that was it. The room full of sounds. The sound of three orgasms, a cascade of sighs and cries. Three people finding pleasure. Three people joined. One big blur of motion. I found myself under the weight of two panting men. For a moment it was satisfying. I knew that Sam's cock was still in Joe's ass just as Joe was still firmly in me. I let myself take it in. The entire tableau.
Joe was kissing me then, and Sam was withdrawing. Silently and respectfully. He tucked his clothes under his arm and started to slip from the room. I think I said thank you as he passed but I wasn't sure.
Silence. Joe on top of me where he always was after we were together. I could feel his heart beating against my chest and feel his sweat mixing with mine. I pushed my hands through his hair, drew his face to mine and kissed him. I wanted to ask a million questions but was too scared. So I kissed him instead. Kissing him like it was breathing.
He was the one to ask me. "You okay?"
"Fine. Worried, I guess. That you regret it. Or will regret it eventually. I would never want you to wish you could change something on account of me."
"Whatever I give you, I give freely." He slid his hands under my ass and just cupped me, his body flush with mine, his hands holding me to him.
"I know, but that was a big something."
"And I don't regret it. I'd even go so far as to say that if it were important to you, I'd do it again."
"So, you found some pleasure in it?" I asked, forcing the words out. I was afraid of his answer but wanted to know.
"Will you think any less of me if I say yes?" he asked with a grin.
"Do you think any less of me that it was a fantasy of mine to see you with another man?" I countered.
"That's my answer too," I sighed.
"I did. I found it pleasurable. Would I like it on the menu every night? No. Could it happen again without me feeling weird, yes."
"Not every night?" I said, attempting a straight face and failing miserable.
"Hussy," he chuckled and buried his face in my neck, nuzzling.
"So, what's yours?" I asked. I could feel his cock getting hard again. Maybe because we'd gone through with it. Maybe simply because it was still nestled between my sticky thighs. I didn't know and I didn't care.
"My what?" His voice was muffled against my neck, and he pushed his pelvis into mine, grinding his cock against me until it stiffened further.
"Your biggest fantasy," I said, grinding back. I was ready. Ready for it to be just us this time.
I closed my eyes letting the afterimage of Sam pumping into my husband flood my mind. His broad shoulders, the way he held tight to Joe, the look on his face as he came. Came into Joe's ass while Joe came deep inside of me. My nipples grew hard and my skin pebbled.
Joe had gone completely still. I waited. Nothing.
"What is it?"
"There are some things you just don't ask for," he said, repeating my now insignificant mantra.
I slid my hand between us and started to stroke him, flicked my thumb over the tacky drying mixture made by us. "Now, Joe," I whispered in his ear, stroking him faster. "We both know that is total bullshit."
Then I slid his cock into my wetness and asked him again.
* * * *
* * * *
Peter was ridiculously excited to get his grandmother's furniture. "I loved this furniture when I was a kid, Jill."
It seemed a little odd to me--how very super excited he was by it--but this was Peter, and Peter was off. His off-ness, his innate Peter-ness was what had drawn me to him in the first place. And his grandmother, Pearl, had been the most divine maternal force I had ever met. "I'm sure you did." I played along.
"It was just riddled with hidey holes." Then he rubbed his hands together, an almost greedy motion.
I admit it, for one single heartbeat, I swore he had said hiney holes, which obviously made me want to laugh out loud. I swallowed my laughter. "What did you say?" I knew I had heard him wrong.
"Hidey holes. That's what Gram called them. Little secret compartments in the furniture. They were built into the dressers and bookshelves. Her father, my great grandfather, built the furniture. Gram was pretty sure she knew where all the secret compartments were, but sometimes she would find new ones."
"Sounds like fun," I said. And it did. Not fun enough to practically vibrate over, but then again, this was not a piece of my childhood we were talking about, so maybe I was just being a bitch.
"Oh, it is. They are fantastic."
That was the end of that as I went off to scrub down the walls due to a flash of warm spring-like weather. Peter went off to wash the cars and smoke a cigar, the furniture all but forgotten. Until three days later when Peter's Uncle Jack showed up, his pickup truck criss-crossed with bungee cords holding various bits of Peter's past strapped down in the bed.
"Frankie and I used to hide pot in this one," Peter said. He pressed what looked like a simple striation in the wood grain and a tall thin box popped out. If I squinted I could see the seam, but I really had to squint. Peter's great grandfather had been an artist. Truly. The hidden compartment was damn near invisible.
"Nice," I laughed. But it touched the little square of wood to make sure it was real. Its appearance had the feel of an illusion, so well hidden it was. "So I married a pot head," I laughed.
"We hid porn in here." This time he pulled out a long thin drawer. The drawer you would use for handkerchiefs and doo-dads, maybe expensive lingerie if you were of the female persuasion. He pressed the flat of his hand down on the pale pink drawer lining and up popped a false bottom. Underneath was enough room for some magazines or dirty playing cards. Anything a young man might want to keep away from his aging grandmother. I grinned.
"And look! There's another layer of drawer lining under the false bottom with drawer lining," I laughed.
Peter pressed it back in place and continued to show me all the secret little spots on this one dresser alone.
I had to admit, it was amusing and quietly thrilling to find all the hidden places in the big, ornately-made dresser. He showed me a few more before his cell phone rang. "Gotta go, babe. Something about the backup not backing up at work. I'll only be gone an hour or so but it's inventory time. Have to get it situated before Jones goes all postal because he thinks he'll be fired." He dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose and smacked me on the ass. "I'll bring home Chinese!" he said and out the door he went.
Me? I kept playing with our new furniture.
There was a nightstand that matched the demo dresser Peter had been showcasing. It was in this beautifully carved piece of his past that I found the letter. I pressed the drawer liner to see if this one also had a false bottom. Who knew, maybe I would find a vintage skin mag or an ancient desiccated bud of pot. Instead, I found dried up glue holding down the delicate paisley patterned liner. I was all ready to move on when a square of white-lined paper flashed in my peripheral vision. I pulled the liner a bit more and tugged the triangle of yellowed paper. "Man, someone really wedged it back there," I said to the dog. He was lying on my feet, bored and snoozing the way dogs do.
Simon raised his eyes, sniffed, went back to sleep. "Try not to get too excited," I said to him. This time he didn't even open his eyes.
I unfolded the paper, standard college-ruled filler paper, and saw the heading Dearest Peter. I folded it back. "I shouldn't read this Simon. I think it's a love note."
Simon snorted like a pig, but beyond that he barely registered my addressing him. I sighed, curiosity getting the better of me. I unfolded the paper fast, the way you would take off a band-aid, and continued reading. The opening was mundane enough. Flirtatious and sweet and flattering. Someone who was clearly just star-struck by Peter back in the day. The date in the upper right hand corner would have put my husband at a week shy of eighteen.
"Oh, Simon, I really, really should put this down," I said. But I kept reading. And Simon didn't say a word. He didn't even raise his head or thump his tail on the hardwood floor.
This summer with you has been the best of my life. Now that we're moving, I want you to know that you mean so much to me. And when I'm lonely or sad, I will always think of us together. How you smelled, how you touched me, what you tasted like. Be yourself, Peter. Forever and ever I'll remember you with love.