Monday, September 22, 2008

Playing With Old Friends-Epilogue

It would be nice to say that things reverted back to normal, or back to where they used to be, and it would be nice to say that things didn't really change and stayed the way they were before, but they didn't. We spent the next few days tiptoeing around each another, silent breakfasts followed by catch-as-catch-can dinners where each of us would fix a meal and eat independently of the other, each on of us working hard to be in the same place but to be invisible, sleeping in the same bed but not together or with each other, truly ships that passed in the night. Franny watched tv in bed, I watched many of the same programs in the family room, the sounds echoing through the house. Neither one of us really said anything about that evening to the other, limiting our conversations to the necessary sorting of day-to-day problems and tasks.

Until the night that I thought I felt her drape her leg over mine and reach across the bed, which by now felt as wide as a football field. I rolled over on my side, thrusting an open hand between her legs, letting my hand rest on the smooth parts of her thighs, and she reached down for my hand, seemingly ready to move it up to her crotch. But I had misread the situation, or just imagined it in my longing for her and for the intimacy of her touch, as she put her fingers around my wrist and moved my hand away from her body and back toward mine. She pivoted in bed, reaching over to turn on the reading lamp beside her, and then turning back to face me.

"You liked it, didn't you? You liked seeing another man making love to me, no fucking me, ripping the orgasms from me, didn't you? You liked it, you really liked it." Her eyes widened at me, a mixture of anger, fear, a tiny bit of lust mixed in as she remembered what had happened, her skin flushing slightly, the tiny pulse at the side of her neck beating away like a crazed metronome. She flung the sheet off, sitting up straight, crossing her legs as though sitting at a campfire, moving the sheet off me as well. And I could feel my cock jump at the shock of the cooler air...I was erect, hard, as aroused as I had been that evening.

"I can see how much you liked it, me getting the life fucked out of me while you watched...your cock looks like a fucking totem pole, it's so hard. It's what you wanted, isn't it? Look at how fucking excited you are by just my talking about it." And, embarrassingly enough, I could feel my skin begin to flush as well, the shame of what she was saying sinking in, the thought being said out loud for the first time that I had enjoyed seeing her with another man, seeing her doubleteamed by a voracious couple, not caring where the next touch or caress came from, only wanting to be used more and more and more.

And I watched the expression in her eyes change, the anger and fear draining away as she said the words, all the words, as she let out the feelings that she had kept in these past few days. Sly cunning and a look of calculated scheming replaced what had been there before she spoke, and I could see that although things were somewhat as they were, they weren't ever going to be the same. She reached across the bed, grabbing my hyper-erect cock and absentmindedly stroking it slowly up and down. "Now that I know what you want, what really lights you up, we can go forward from there, there have to be some changes. We're still together, but things have to work a different way."

And she just smiled, the cheshire cat smile, the cat who ate the canary smile, her face a mask of insolence.

1 comment:

Emma Kelly said...

Hi there Swordfish,

As usual, rendered beautifully.

Sounds less like an epilogue, though, and more like a bridge to other tales.


Mrs. Kelly's Playhouse