Jordan

[soupcan_99]

Really enjoying this sizzeling story!!

[Tire_Kicker]

This is an awesome story, very well written, the USMC tie drew me in immediately. My first trip to Sand land was way back in the 80's, it is truly a hot miserable part of the world. Being a Marine means you can get orders to deploy and you've got a day to get your affairs in order. I was single but always felt bad for the married enlisted men. Leaving a young wife for 6 months can be rough on the relationship. Sleeping with another Marines wife is punishable under the UCMJ by Court Martial.

This doesn't mean it won't happen, there are also cases where your buddy will ask you to "look after" his wife. I never went to her place, but if she felt the need she would show up with a six pack and dinner. It was kind of weird but I guess they both felt like it was better than the unknown. They were both good people.

[Crushing]

Mark: Squad 4 roger up

Jared: …

Jared: … Squad 4 accounted for, everyone's on Pre-D leave, no incidents to report.

Jared: … WTF man? You call in a sitrep text while my wife is in your bedroom?

Mark:

Mark: I'm messing with you, man. Megan's fine, she's asleep. I'm gonna give her a minute, then get her up and bring her home. When's your flight?

Jared: 0700. We gotta be at the airport by 0530 probably, and need to leave here by like 0430.

Mark: Shit. It's 0300 now. I'll go get her up.

Jared: Yeah, I didn't think she was gonna do a sleepover…kinda surprised.

Mark: We didn't do a sleepover, she just fell asleep about 10 minutes ago.

Jared: Seriously? You guys got there at like…what…2200? You've been at it for 5 hours?!?

Mark: We took breaks. I actually fell asleep for a bit. But yeah, I guess so.

Jared: Holy. Shit. Dude.

Mark: Sorry. TMI?

Jared: No man…it's just a lot to process. Sorry if I get weird, but…

Jared: There's a lot of different feelings. Kinda throws me off a little bit.

Mark: K. I get it. Take your time.

Mark stood up from the couch and began to walk back toward the bedroom where he had passed the evening with his best friend's wife. He had just finished showering away the night's fatigue before texting his friend with an update. With a white towel wrapped around his waist and phone in his right hand, he passed down the hallway and gently nudged the door open. Megan was stretched out like a starfish, body down and face turned toward the door, sheets and blankets twisted around her. Her hair was ragged with sweat. Her breathing betrayed equal parts fatigue and relief.

Mark's phone buzzed again.

Jared: So you're bringing her home now?

Mark: Yeah man. We okay? Don't leave me hanging.

Jared: We're good, we're good. It's just…really hot for me is all. Kinda confusing.

Mark: K. I don't get it, but K.

Jared: Think you could send me a pic of the aftermath? Meg sent some earlier, but I kinda want another one.

Mark squinted.

Mark: Stand by.

He raised his phone up in front of him and snapped a photo of Megan's sleeping frame wrapped in vintage bedding. He then walked gently over to the bedside and nudged Megan's shoulder. Megan groaned and rolled away onto her side.

Mark smiled to himself, then lightly grasped her shoulder and shook her gently.

"Megan. You've got a plane to catch…"

Megan shot upright. "Oh my god! I can't believe I fell asleep…I told Jared I wouldn't sleep over…"

"Relax, you didn't sleep over, you fell asleep and I let you lay there for a few minutes. Just to take the edge off. But yeah, we gotta get going."

Megan rubbed her eyes and groaned. "I'm so tired…" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, holding the bedding up over her chest with both hands. She shuffled toward the door, which Mark was blocking. The bedding covered the front of her body and trailed behind her.

An ironically elegant train.

Mark lifted up his phone and snapped another photo, this time capturing her face in a cute pout, framed by dark hair frizzled and cascading over her bare shoulders and upper chest.

"Can I get by?" Megan continued through her pout.

"In a minute," Mark responded brusquely. "I'm taking some pics for Jared."

Megan's eyes widened and she pulled the bedding more tightly around her body. "He wants you to take pictures? I already…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly. Mark noted the dilation of her pupils in genuine fear before her head dropped, avoiding eye contact. He knew complex emotions were likely to feature prominently throughout the remainder of the evening. Wanting to blunt their effect, he took control.

"I want these pictures. Jared wants whatever we give him, but these are for me. Drop your little blanket robe down to your waist."

Megan looked up at Mark again. She was conflicted. The aftermath of their first liaison was beginning to tug at the seams of her usual savvy composure. Increasingly uncomfortable, she contemplated just asking Mark to take her home when he interrupted her thoughts.

"Do it. Now."

Megan held his gaze as she relented, letting the blankets fall down to her waist. Her torso bore some light bruises–marks of passion–and her perky, full breasts had clear remnants of thick streams of dried semen streaking down them and dripping onto her stomach. Mark lifted his phone again and snapped the third photo.

"Good girl. You did good. Now let's get you home."

"OK," Megan said weakly, emotions beginning to brim.

Ten minutes later, two thirds of the new throuple were in Mark's car, returning his lover to her regular bed. She was turned away silently. Mark noted the telltale signs of quiet crying.

"Megan? Are you okay?"

Still facing out the window, she nodded. She had hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail, hiding some of the disarray of the evening.

"Are you sure? I need to know whether or not you're okay before we get you home. Either way, we need to be on the same page and deal with it."

"I'm okay, I really am," she stammered. "I just…I'm going home to my husband after having sex with another man. What's he going to say?" Megan choked a little on the last two words.

"I don't know, Meg. I know he was on board, and he seemed fine when I texted him. Did you tell him you were on your way home?"

"Yeah…"

"What did he say?"

"He just said OK…" Megan held back more tears. "I really don't know how this is going to go…"

"Are you afraid?" Mark interrupted. "Do you feel like you're not safe…?"

"No no," Megan hastened. "It's not that at all. It's just…this is so crazy."

"It is," Mark said. "But did you enjoy yourself?"

For the first time, Megan turned her head to face Mark. She strained out a smile. The dim lights of the car's interior reflected gently off the tear tracks on her face. "You needn't concern yourself with THAT, Achilles. This insecurity of yours is very unbecoming," she intoned sarcastically.

"There she is…" Mark laughed. Meg couldn't help a characteristic smirk after her joke landed.

Mark seized the lightened mood to soften the gravity of his more serious point. "Look Meg, I know this is weird, but I know your husband. If you guys decide you made a mistake, we'll work through it. If you decide you didn't, we'll work that through too. But I know that he loves you like crazy. Always has. And I'll never cross him. Never. I wouldn't have done this if I thought it was something he didn't want."

Megan looked down at her hands again. The car pulled into the modest apartment complex to find Jared sitting on the steps up to their second floor apartment. Mark reached over and squeezed her leg as he pulled into a parking space and turned off the car. "You want me to go with you? We can talk it out…"

"No…" Megan answered quickly. "This is between Jared and me now."

Megan quietly exited the car and shut the door behind her.

The lights were off inside the young couple's apartment, complementing the very late hour. Jared wordlessly closed the door behind them.

She looked different. It was dark, but somehow he could tell.

She had a tentative yet powerful glow about her. Not a visible glow that would literally light up the dark room where they stood facing each other. One pace apart.

Rather, despite being noticeably nervous, Megan projected an equally noticeable aura of relaxed confidence. Of satisfaction. Of power.

Nevertheless.

She was clearly nervous.

Jared was unable to wait any longer. He moved decisively forward to embrace and passionately kiss his surprised wife. Megan melted into his arms and returned his affections in the dark.

* * *

Jordan leaned back in her office chair and sighed deeply.

Midterms.

A virtual stack of academic mediocrity hung over her head on a Wednesday afternoon. She had just finished her lunch–a delicious pita with fresh vegetables that David packed for her that morning. She was not too full, not too tired, and had no other immediate deadlines or pressing concerns that stood in her way before boring through the pile of student papers. She just didn't want to do it. The task was just…exhausting.

Lolling her head back, Jordan groaned silently to herself. Two desks down in the communal grad student office suite, a young man laughed in sympathy. Jordan looked over and grinned at Patrick Lin, another psychology Ph.D student sharing in her midterm grading grief.

"How far in are you?"

"I'm looking at the starting line, and hating the whole race already…" Jordan groaned through a smirk.

Patrick chuckled. "I would say that starting is the worst part. But then that part where you grade the first few…that part really sucks. Then the next few after that…then the next few after that…"

Jordan swiveled her chair to face her office friend and theatrically bent over to drop her head into her hands. "I know…" she whined through her hands.

"Well, the only way out is through, Ms. Stark Simms," Patrick mockingly imitated Professor Lukacz's harsh speaking voice, which inspired another laugh from Jordan. Patrick had a different faculty advisor, but Lukacz's persona was well known among the department students. And very conducive to mockery.

Jordan sat back up, lifting her head out of her hands to treat Patrick to a smile. She briefly met his eyes.

He was handsome.

Medium height, almost six feet, bright blue eyes, dark brown hair, high cheekbones, and an inviting but non threatening smile. His body was lean but clearly in shape. Jordan knew that while she was a competitive runner during her undergraduate years, Patrick had played water polo on the club team of the university he attended. From what she could see, it looked like he continued his swimming regimen. Jordan wondered what he looked like getting into the pool. Or out of it…

She mentally pinched herself. This was new. She and Patrick had always been friendly, but she had never thought of him…that way. This was mildly disturbing. She was beginning to think of men she knew…differently.

The silence between the two of them inched toward the awkward, and Jordan could tell.

"Well," she sighed deeply, "time to dive in."

Patrick nodded. The two graduates turned back to their work. Jordan opened the first paper and began reading the first paragraph.

Fifteen minutes later, she was startled to look at the small clock in the bottom corner of her monitor to find that she had not gotten past that first paragraph.

She needed coffee. Jordan reached for her refillable mug in preparation to get a pick-me-up and found the mug already full. She had coffee.

Damn.

She needed motivation. But she wasn't quite sure where to get it. She pulled out her phone to check her messages out of habit and was met with a photograph of her husband smiling up at her from the lock screen. She smiled to herself. There's some motivation. She put the phone down on her desk.

Jordan caught herself briefly glancing over at Patrick, who was focusing on his computer screen, typing away. He really did have a nice face…

She turned back to her computer, seeing David's face again. Her lock screen had not powered down to a blank screen yet. He had such sweet eyes.

She softened.

She really was drawn to his soul. He was so charming, and she had never met a man who could rival his strength of character. He worked so hard, never complained, and was constantly trying to improve himself and his situation. He was humble to a fault, often undervaluing his skills and contributions.

The phone screen had darkened to a blank display a while ago. She still couldn't focus, pulled in various directions by her daydreaming. Her eyes drifted around her desk. Why couldn't she focus?

Jordan's eyes came to rest on her book bag which was sitting on the back of her desk behind her laptop. The top flap was open, and the metal spirals of her small notebook peeked over the top of her other papers and folders.

Jordan had not written the next letter to her husband. She had intended to write on Tuesday, but she was scared to proceed. She had put a lot of feelings on paper that she was still grappling with, and she felt she was morally on thin ice.

She looked down at the clock again. Another fifteen minutes had passed.

Reaching for her notebook, she rifled through her pen drawer to find something to write with. She took a deep breath and opened the cover of the notebook. High on the first page, she had forgotten the response her husband had written, accompanied by roses:

"Jordan. You're incredible, and I love you. Please don't stop.

-David"

Jordan blushed as she read. She focused on the last three words of her husband's note.

"Please don't stop."

Not "I accept you," or "We need to talk."

Not "You've destroyed me," or "You're a whore."

Not "I'm leaving you."

None of the things she feared.

He had written "Please don't stop."

Words can be powerful. These words indicated need. Not on her part, on his.

Words that she herself had moaned a number of times on the previous Saturday night.

Just not to David.

Jordan's blush deepened slightly. She clicked her pen and began writing her second letter.

* * *

Airport parking was stressful enough. Megan sat next to Jared, positively drained and confused. Her husband had moved to take her with a ferocity she did not recognize. She was married to a Marine, so she was used to a certain degree of intensity. But his advances after she came home from her liaison with his platoon sergeant were on a whole new level.

She had prepared herself for a number of scenarios. Her worst nightmare was sudden hostility or alienation. She was also prepared for elation, but in reality she was planning on a reception somewhere between those extremes when she returned to her husband.

What actually happened was surprising. She had returned to a dark living room and her husband couldn't keep his hands off her. She was excited by this development. In fact, she was delighted.

However, when he laid her back down on the couch to take her, she expressed concern that she couldn't give herself fully to him. She was quite sore–more so than she had ever been before. This frightened her. She was worried that Jared would be frustrated. Jealous. Perhaps even angry that he was not given an opportunity to enjoy her after her long night of passion.

She was wrong.

Jared had immediately relaxed his passionate grip on her and became surprisingly solicitous of her comfort. He shifted his weight to sit next to her, as she remained on her back on the other half of their couch. Her legs, initially wide open to receive him, closed slowly, and she sat up next to him. The mood shifted rapidly from sexually charged to lovingly concerned. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder, running her arm through his. As they cuddled, Jared repeatedly checked in on her, asking her if she was in pain, if she was uncomfortable, if she needed anything. His noticeable erection, however, remained visible, poking through the hole of his boxer shorts.

Megan had snuggled her husband, assuring him of her well-being. This level of attention and affection was rare from him. He was–like many Marines–stoic, even emotionally inaccessible at times. She always knew he loved her, but he struggled to show it. But there was something new at play here. Some kind of dynamic shift that she couldn't put her finger on. It was sweet in the moment, but also made her nervous.

Jared had stood up and pulled his shorts up from around his ankles. He had hastily pulled them down in anticipation of enjoying her body, but that ship appeared to have sailed. He walked around to the light switch and turned it on. Megan blinked in the sudden glare of light. She had spent most of the evening in subdued light or darkness.

The full light was harsh. But the apartment looked different. She was surprised to find their vacation bags neatly packed and stacked next to the door. The apartment was neat as a pin, the floors vacuumed, every surface dusted. Jared had been cleaning.

"Wow…" Megan had said, surprised at this new development. "Looks good, baby. Oh my god…have you finished packing? For both of us?"

"Yeah," Jared replied softly. I thought we might not have time to pack so I did it for both of us."

"Thank you, baby!" Megan exclaimed.

"Well, if you want to shower or get changed or whatever, we need to leave in a little bit."

Megan had looked down at her watch. 4:10. They had to leave soon. She nodded and stood up.

Jared had drunk in the view of his wife. She was still wearing the attractive top she had on at Shoney's earlier, but now she was bottomless, having pulled off her pants in their shared moment of passion. Jared looked at the thin, sexy landing strip of pubic hair that she had styled for her new lover. Beneath the thin, vertical line, was some evidence of swelling beginning at the cleft of her vagina.

Megan's eyes had followed Jared's down to her sex. She walked softly over to him and took his hand in hers. She then gently guided it between her legs. He felt her wetness. She was swollen and damp. She winced slightly as he gently inserted the first knuckle of his middle finger in between her lips, finding an intense dampness he had not felt since their honeymoon. He withdrew, knowing her discomfort. He looked up and she bent over, her face now inches from his.

Her eyes had locked into his imploringly. "Jared, are you okay?"

Jared had broken eye contact and looked down, nodding briskly.

Megan had hunched down, trying to find his eyes, but they kept avoiding hers. She stood back up and leaned against his body, exhaling audibly. Part satisfaction, part concern.

She had then turned away and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom to shower.

Now, as Jared pulled into a long-term parking space at the airport. Shifting the gear shift into park, Megan placed her left hand over his right, holding it tightly.

"Jared."

"Yeah?" Jared said, not making eye contact.

"I love you, Jared. I need you to talk to me."

"I'm fine, Meg. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay if you're okay." She smiled nervously. "Are you ready to go deal with family for two weeks?"

That line usually elicited a laugh from her husband. Nothing. Just a nod and a grunt of assent.

Megan's eyes began to tear up. She looked past their hands, hers still grasping his intently. Her wedding ring glistened briefly as it caught a passing light. Just past her tense grasp of his hand, Megan saw the tense bulge in his pants. She looked up at Jared's face again, still concerned. He didn't move. She let go of his hand and he began to move to open the door. However, as his body turned to unbuckle his safety belt, Jared was surprised to find his wife's hand had changed its grasp from his right hand to his erect penis through his pants. He turned to face Megan, shocked to find tears welling up in her eyes.

For a moment, they said nothing. Then Megan unbuckled her seat belt, rose to her knees in the passenger's seat, and bent down over the center console to release her husband from his pants. Once she had done so, Jared was shocked at the audacity of his wife as her head descended into his lap.

In the dark, empty crowd of cars in a long-term airport parking lot, Jared felt the inviting warmth of his loving wife once more.

* * *

"Dear David,

Thank you for the roses. I'm guessing that the combination of those and your note add up to an overall approval of my last note. I had hoped we would actually talk about it, but I don't think either of us are all the way there yet."

Jordan clicked the pen closed and reviewed the last sentence.

Her eyes lingered on her husband's words, acting as a header to her own written response.

"Please don't stop."

She was full of uncertainty as to the best way to proceed with her letter. Ideally, she wanted to open up lines of communication around the awkwardly powerful sexual arrangement they had settled into. Still relatively newly married, she knew her emotionally damaged husband was unlikely to open up on his own.

Knowing his childhood, and knowing her near-Ph.D level expertise in psychology, Jordan was intently attuned to the fact that David would have trouble communicating while feeling vulnerable. His childhood was completely saturated with situations that punished vulnerability, and most other things that contribute to a healthy psyche. Some small breakthroughs had come about recently. Some of which, Jordan had to admit, definitely resulted from the fallout of this transgressive relationship arrangement.

This left her with the problematic dilemma. Should she fulfill her husband's erotic hunger by increasing the erotic intensity of her narrative? Or at least holding the current level? Or should she try to cool down the discussion to a presentation of bare facts, that might allow them to engage honestly? Would in either case, would she risk shaming him or even herself and damaging the relationship? Would the erotic intensity amount to a kind of manipulation resulting in harm to the man she loved? She was playing with fire, and she knew it.

Was there a middle ground? Could she find a way to present facts openly and honestly while still stimulating her husband? Could she tease his triggers in a healthy way without becoming harmfully manipulative?

She clicked her pen open again.

"I ended my last letter by indicating that you weren't satisfying me. I was terrified to write that, but it seems like it didn't hurt you like I feared it would. It occurred to me after I wrote it that I should clarify some aspects of that realization. As I said before, I had hoped we could talk about it, but it seems we're still at the roses and letters phase of communication. That's okay, we're walking on new ground and I think it's fine to move slowly and be cautious.

However, since it seems like you like hearing it, since, from your roses and your request that I not stop, I think we need to make sure that we bridge the gap between fantasy, role play, and a serious discussion between a husband and wife who love each other. So here it goes. I'm going to say this, and you should know that I'm completely serious I am when I say it. So bookmark this page in your notes, and refer back to it whenever you have questions about this aspect of our relationship. Are you ready? Here goes.

David, I love you. I've loved you since I met you. I'm your wife. I'm so very, very happy to be married to you. I'm so very, very happy that I married you. I want to be by your side forever. You and I have made love many, many times since our wedding night. I have loved every one of those experiences. But David, you also need to know that, despite the fact that we were making love several times a week from the day we married, you did not satisfy me sexually. Not once. Not ever.

Does that hurt, baby? I really hope it doesn't. Or if it does, I hope that you can talk to me about it so we can work on it. It might help, in any case, to keep a couple things in mind. So here are two things to think about when I say–truthfully–you weren't satisfying me.

First thing I want you to think about is that it wasn't really your fault. A significant part of the blame lies with me. I was still so new to sex, I didn't really understand my body, and I didn't know what sex could be like. Like many young women of faith, I had been brought up to resist sexual impulses, to keep myself pure for my future husband. Not all of us do that, but I did. I'm glad I did, too. I was happy to save something special for the man I loved, and that was you. You were the first man to see me naked, and you took my virginity. I love being with you, and I love to have sex with you. I feel like I can't stress that enough. Am I sounding desperate? I am desperate. At least a little bit. I'm terrified of hurting you. Please believe that I love you!

When I say you weren't satisfying me, the fact that I wasn't having satisfying sex was partly, maybe even mainly, my fault. I wasn't holding out, I just didn't know very much. I just felt so good when we were together, and that feeling was unlike anything I'd felt before. Sex with you always felt good. I loved it! It still feels good! I still love it! I just didn't know there was more. When we would finish in bed, or technically, when you would finish in bed, I would still feel kind of hot and tense. I figured that's just how it was. I would fall asleep and cool down and eventually get back to normal. It seemed natural at the time.

The second thing I want you to think about is that it wasn't really your fault. Wait…wasn't that the first thing? Yes, but this one is different from the first one."

Jordan paused, staring at the paper. She clicked her pen closed again. Here was the fine line she was trying to walk.

Honesty at this point of the letter had the potential to go two ways. On the one hand, it could be devastating to David's ego. Jordan's impulse was to sugar coat, to shine up her narrative to mitigate harm. Her words had enormous potential to wound the only man she ever really loved.

On the other hand, the tone had already leaned hard into brutal honesty. Her husband seemed to crave it, and sugarcoating how she felt didn't seem to serve any real purpose. Worse, sugarcoating may cause David to suspect her candor, putting up barriers to the open communication she was trying to cultivate. She had tempered her earlier honesty with pleading language of deep love. That would have to be the balance for this, much more difficult revelation.

Jordan hesitated again, then clicked open her pen and returned to her paragraph in progress.

"The thing is, David, I'm going to tell you something that is very hard for me to admit to you, because I love you so much. And I really do! And as you read this, I want you to remember that I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, and that this is NOT YOUR FAULT…"

Jordan paused on the last few words. After writing them in all capitals, she underlined them. Then underlined them again. She took a deep breath and held it. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she forced out the next line.

"The thing is, David, and I didn't know this then…but I do know it now. There are men that are better at sex than you are."

* * *

Mark stood blankly in the doorway of the small, rented house. An uncanny and ambiguous feeling came over him as he entered the living room. Several hours ago, a beautiful young Latina had bent over the old couch in front of him. He had gripped her hips to stabilize her body for him. Her olive skin had become flushed as he had demanded she vocally admit her infidelity to her husband with his cock inside of her body. He remembered seeing her hands grip the back of the couch more tightly as she enjoyed a deep orgasm both during and following that vocalized admission. He remembered the gleam of the diamond ring on her left hand as her fingers clutched the vintage fabric in desperation.

Through the kitchen archway, Mark saw an otherwise undisturbed space with the lingering feeling of submission. Megan had kneeled in front of him here for the first time. He had felt her mouth close around his stiffening cock, and had directed her as she worked to arouse him from a kneeling position. She was still mostly clothed at that time. Again, the memory of her wedding ring found its way to the front of Mark's mind. This time, her left hand was laid flat, gently covering a portion of his right thigh as her right hand curled around most, if not all, of his manhood while she sucked it.

Walking down the hall, he looked through the open bathroom door, finding the twisted sheets Megan had dropped before leaving. The telltale signs of sexual release were apparent in the pile of sheets and blankets. Mark remembered how the cheap white cotton acted as ad hoc drapery over his lover's naked frame. She really did have a beautiful body. Certain of her curves were visible through the cotton in certain angles of light. After photographing her for her husband, Mark had impishly reached for her breasts, a move that she playfully swatted away with her right hand as she pulled the bunched sheets up over her chest with her left. Again, Mark recalled the diamond at the clutched apex of drapery, crowning the cascading cotton covers descending over her smooth brown skin in an upside down V. She had walked awkwardly around the living room, picking up her strewn clothing piecemeal and finally retreating into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. When she emerged, she was dressed and ready to return home to her husband.

The wedding ring was clearly a theme in Mark's enjoyment of the recent memory. Walking the rest of the way down the hall, he looked in the bedroom to find an eerily quiet scene contrasting the one in his memory. The bed was stripped of both blankets and flat sheet. Now only the fitted sheet stretched simply over the mattress. Rumpled, yes. Moist spots, several. But the still, quiet bed had squealed, groaned, clicked, and even slammed into the wall for multiple hours earlier that night. Mark embraced the theme and consciously sought to remember the sight of Megan's wedding ring as she had crawled naked under the covers for the first time.

She had pulled the covers over her head. Mark assumed she was embarrassed by the situation, which was strange given the fact that they had already had sex by that point.

The experience was still new, however. Her body and face had disappeared under the then-neatly made bedding, but her wedding ring had peeked over the top of the covers as she held them over her.

Her embarrassment had been half coquettish, half sincere.

Mark didn't care at the time, but it was exquisite in retrospect. Such an interesting mix of emotions. At the time, however, he didn't have the time or the mental bandwidth to enjoy it. She had simply aroused him, and he needed release.

Mark had ripped off the covers entirely, exposing Megan's fully nude and giggling frame. The giggles continued, further betraying the exquisite paradox of his virginal seductress both instinctively afraid of and primally desiring possession by him. He had crawled on the bed, deftly parting her legs and crawling between them. Her arms had crossed over her breasts as her legs were pushed apart. He had grunted in displeasure at her instinct to cover herself, and grabbed her wrists and lifted her arms above and to the sides of her head in response. He had then let go, fully anticipating her arms to snap back like springs and cover her chest, but they remained frozen in the position he had arranged. He looked into her deep brown eyes, finally pausing to enjoy the full mixture of fear and hunger. He then leaned forward so that his eyes were inches from hers, kissed her gently, and gave instruction before snapping back upright on his knees between her legs.

"Watch."

Megan's eyes had widened as she propped up her torso on her elbows and turned her gaze downward to her abdomen. Mark had gripped both thighs and pulled her outer labia apart slightly before placing the heavy head of his penis between them. He then paused to look Megan in the eyes, but her gaze remained fixed on the prelude to their coupling. Mark had shifted his whole massive body weight briefly to the grip on her thighs as he leaned forward. Megan had groaned involuntarily as she both watched and felt his large, hard cock slide between her thighs and into her body.

Megan's eyes had rolled back, and she gradually dropped back to a full supine position, legs out, and arms draped casually over her torso. Mark shifted his weight again and moved her arms in order to once again expose her breasts to his view. She instinctively raised her arms around his neck, and he had pulled her close to her as he began to thrust.

The rest was wordless. Both had made noises, but spoke no words. Periodically, Megan's whimpers would crescendo to a wail, and Mark would feel her tense around him to ride a deep orgasm. He maintained a moderate, deep thrust throughout. After a time–how much time, neither knew–Mark had glanced at Megan's exhausted face, and…wait, yes, he now remembered…had felt her grip the back of his neck with her left hand. The diamond on her wedding band had fallen to the side of her finger and scratched his neck slightly. This had broken his erotic trance and began to thrust more aggressively. Megan had begun to wail again and he found his own crescendo, ramming deep into his best friend's wife with sufficient force to knock the vintage headboard solidly against the wall. The bed had swayed slightly, then settled again as Mark felt an enormous pressure found release through his cock. Megan had inhaled desperately and locked her arms around his neck as she felt his release. Her jaw had locked in place, involuntarily biting Mark's shoulder as her own orgasm responded to his.

Mark had never ejaculated unprotected into a woman before, he had always worn condoms. The feeling was unbelievable. He felt like he came more than usual, which was saying something. He generally made quite a mess. He smiled to himself as he saw the wet spot on the bed sheet, wondering if the stain was more attributable to him or to Megan. Hard to say.

* * *
"I hope that's not too hard to hear David, I really hope it's not harder for you to hear than it is for me to write. But it is true. But I didn't know that either, at the time. I do know that now. I know that because I took a new lover. A new sexual partner. And he satisfies me sexually. You still don't. Once I found that out, once I discovered what sexual satisfaction was, I couldn't go back to not knowing. I felt like Eve eating the apple. I might get thrown out of the Garden of Eden, but I can't un-eat the apple. My feeling of horror is that I got you to eat it too. So we're out of the garden now, but we're still together. And we've both eaten the apple."

Jordan paused again. Now that the hard admission was over, she wondered if she should lean in or back off. Now that she was writing obliquely about her lover, she found herself getting excited at the reference to Mark. Best not to impose her own excitement on her husband, she thought to herself. Best to just move on.

"The fruit of the tree, David, represents good and evil knowledge. Or the knowledge of good and evil. Those aren't the same thing, but I've read translations that say one or the other, so I think it could go either way. The first one is interesting though, don't you think? The idea that the knowledge itself is either good or evil, or maybe both, seems very resonant to our situation. All of the knowledge that we have now could be either good or evil.

I'll give a couple examples, and maybe we can talk through a few more. Here's something I know that I didn't used to know. I am attracted to some men on a purely physical level. Some men arouse me physically, my attraction is really just physical, and I desire them physically. How is that good? Well, I'm experiencing levels of physical satisfaction that I never have before. How is that bad? Well, we figured out that I don't have that kind of attraction to you. More accurately, I don't have ONLY that type of attraction to you. I do find you physically attractive, but I don't get sexually aroused at the mere sight of you. The first part of that knowledge is good for me, maybe for us, depending on how we approach it. The second part is bad for us, or for you. Maybe bad for me. It could make you insecure, make you worry about whether I love you, or whether I'm attracted to you in the way you want me to be attracted to you. It's scary!

Here's another thing I know now that I didn't know before I ate the apple. Penis size matters. I have experienced heights of sexual feeling that I literally didn't know were possible when I have had sex with Mark, and I'm convinced that the size of his penis was the main reason I had that experience. Again, that is good knowledge, if we want to know how to bring me sexual satisfaction. That knowledge could be evil, knowing that the man I'm married to (you) has a very small penis. It's not your fault, but now you know that you have a small penis, and you know that I get sexual satisfaction from a large one. You can't make your penis better, so how could that knowledge be good for you? It would just make you more insecure, and it might drive a wedge between us.

Here's the last example I can think of right now. I now know that I will enjoy sex with Mark more than I will enjoy sex with you. That seems like good knowledge to have, as long as I can have sex with Mark. If can't, then it could be evil knowledge. I might start to resent you, resent our lovemaking. I won't want to, but it will always be there between us. I didn't expect, once I got married, to have sexual needs that my husband couldn't satisfy. That bothers me, and makes me feel selfish and hurtful to my husband, which I don't want to do. I feel like my physical needs are going to destroy my marriage, and I don't want to do that. It hurts me to think about it, and I really hate it sometimes. That is evil knowledge.

So we have eaten the apple, David. The knowledge we got when we ate the apple, or really when I ate the apple and gave it to you, is both good and evil. I'm not sure what to do with it, other than trace back how we got here, and then talk about how to move forward with it.

I think I've really laid it on heavy here, baby. I love you. I love you so much. Let's talk more about this, okay?

* * *

Megan's rapid breathing had gradually slowed to a normal rate before Mark pulled his cock out of her. She moaned as it fell out, and propped herself up on her elbows so she could look again down toward her abdomen. Thick, viscous, opaque white semen was leaking from between her legs. She was staring at it, and Mark wasn't quite sure what to say. He laid down next to her and sighed. Megan dropped back and laid flat on her back staring up at the ceiling. Mark had reached over to pull the bedding over them and closed his eyes, exhausted.

He had woken up to the warm, wet feeling of a mouth on his cock. His eyes fluttered as he stumbled back toward reality. The disorientation dissipated slowly, blanketed by the warm ministrations of a willing mouth. Where was he? He was in a strange bed, looking down at a bump in the bedding, slowly bobbing up and down over his midsection. He pulled off the bedding again to reveal a caramel skinned woman, nude and hunched over him, facing toward his feet. The feeling was incredible, she was swirling her tongue around hungrily, spreading the sensations all around his stiffening manhood. The bedding now gone, she had shifted her weight to the other side and had begun fellating him while facing upward toward his face. Her eyes, initially focused downward on the task of her mouth, at last rose to meet his own eyes submissively.

He finally remembered where he was, and who he was with. This was Megan. His best friend's wife. He had had sex with Megan, and she was now making clear overtures to get more sex from him.

His arousal was unconscious, almost hypersomnolent. Primal. His earlier reservations, already put aside for their first round, were now conspicuously absent.

This woman was not his. But he had made her his. He would do it again. He wanted more. His cock had stiffened in her mouth.

Mark sat up and pulled her mouth off of him. "Hey sleepy…how ya…" Megan's coy beckonings were rudely interrupted when Mark pivoted off the bed, stood up, turned around, and grabbed her hair, pulling her head toward his crotch.

"Shut up. Suck it."

Megan squeaked in surprise as he cupped the back of her head and pulled her head toward his body him. She opened her mouth to have him thrust down her tongue toward the back of her throat. He had began to thrust toward her face with more intensity than before. She initially struggled, but soon relaxed and began eagerly reciprocating his movements. A large dribble of drool formed and dropped where her lower lip met the bottom of his cock.

The sweet spot.

His cock sufficiently prepared, Mark pulled out of her mouth, and gently but firmly grasped her jaw, pulling her whole body to a standing position off the bed. He then grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, pressing her face against the wall behind them. He then positioned himself lower behind her and took her from behind again.

Megan squeaked in surprise, but soon began moaning in delight again. After a few moments of submitting to the wall, she shook from another orgasm again, her knees nearly buckling. While she was still shuddering, Mark had pulled out and wheeled her around to face him. He picked her up by the thighs and pressed her back to the wall, entering her from the front.

Under drooped eyelids, Megan had locked eyes with her much larger lover as he began thrusting into her while she wrapped her legs around him, remaining suspended and pressed up against the wall. Her moans gave way to whines as Mark noticed her noticeably losing control again.

"I'm going to cum again…I'm…"

"No."

Mark had flatly said, pulling out and gently letting her down onto her feet. Her legs buckled slightly, but Mark held her up, leading her back over to the bed where he arranged her. At his direction, she had kneeled on the bed in front of him, facing away. He then grasped her shoulders from behind and forced her down onto her hands and knees. He positioned himself behind her again and entered her once more. As he had before, he had reached forward and grabbed a fistful of hair as he began thrusting wildly.

Once again, he remembered her wedding ring hand clutching sheets as he increased his pace. As if on instinct, he had let go of her hair, leaned forward, and grabbed her wrists. She squeaked again as he pulled her supports out and her face fell forward and buried in the bedding. He pulled her hands behind her, and locked her small, thin wrists by grasping them together with his left hand. With his right, he gripped her right hip and began thrusting wildly.

He held her in this position as she made surprised, gutteral sounds into the bed. He vividly remembered her position, bent over, face down, hands behind her back, moaning and whimpering.

This went on for some time.

It seemed that both were in a trance, until Mark began to tire. Catching sight of her wedding ring one last time, he pushed through the fatigue and toward a new release. His eyes narrowed on the cheap diamond cut on his submissive partner's limp fingers and he began to build toward an apex of tension.

Mark grunted and dropped Megan's wrists. Her arms fell limp at her sides as he pulled his cock out of her. Her sleepy eyes turned lazily up toward him questioningly, then widened in shock as he grasped a large handful of hair and dragged her off the bed to an upright kneeling position on the floor next to it. Lifting up her chin to look at him, he had grasped his large cock and began stroking it, towering over his best friend's wife until he grunted powerfully, releasing several thick streams of semen across her perky breasts.

Megan didn't move. She offered no resistance. No assertion of power. No playful banter or sarcastic quip. Just doe-eyed receptivity as Mark's thick liquid ran down her torso. In a final gesture, Mark had followed up his orgasm by leaning down and picking up her left hand, and squeezed the last few drops of semen onto the diamond on her ring.

Megan offered no resistance, waiting for her lover to finish before placing both hands on his thighs and using her mouth to gently and quietly clean his penis.

Mark snapped back to the present, looking at the blank spot on the floor next to the bed where he had sexually humbled his best friend's wife.

His was a mix of emotions. He felt uncertain about whether and how this would affect his relationship with a crucial subordinate during the upcoming deployment.

He was worried about whether and how this would affect his most valued friendship.

But there was a third emotion. He felt like he was standing on the top of something. A mountain that needed to be summited. He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it felt…right.

One last memory occurred to him then. Mark had recently earned his black belt in the mixed martial arts discipline taught in the Marine Corps. Leveling that high was not required, but Mark's ceaseless drive to excel drove him to challenges like that one for their own sake . The final test for the black belt had been a hand to hand match up with a more experienced fighter. A formality that allowed the new black belt to realize that they still had things to learn when they suffered a defeat. Mark's opponent had been a heavily tattooed, grimacing senior gunnery sergeant, who strode fearlessly into the pit to dominate the much less experienced junior–Mark. After several minutes of punching, gouging, and twisting, Mark's right hand had been lifted as the winner while he had casually nursed a bleeding lip with his left. The other marines standing around the edge of the pit were stunned to see the senior marine holding an injured arm gingerly and shaking his head in disbelief after submitting to the crippling hold Mark had forced upon him.

That feeling was a little like this one. He had felt bad about besting the senior marine, who now had significant work to do to save face with his peers. At the same time, he felt like there was a mountain that needed climbed. A mountain that it was his job to climb. Now, the empty room seemed to signify something about Mark and his place in the world. What it signified, he could not yet name, but he did recognize the feeling.

Mark turned off the light and closed the door.

* * *

Jared choked out a moan as he ejaculated into his wife's mouth. She had given him head before, but she had never done it long enough to let him finish. Granted, given the state of arousal he found himself in, he wasn't going to last long. He had refrained from masturbating while his wife was away, fearing the angst that followed sometimes in their fantasy play would return with devastating force when she had her first real hotwife experience.

The feeling was incredible, a first for both of them as her lips locked more tightly around his dick while he gradually relaxed. She hesitated for a moment, seeming to expect more from him.

After a moment, she lifted up her head and smirked sassily at Jared, cocking an eyebrow for emphasis. He looked noticeably more relaxed.

"Damn girl, you rocked it…" Jared said, still catching his breath.

"Mmmmhmmm…" Megan smirked again, saying nothing. Jared's concern returned.

"You okay Meg?"

Megan nodded slowly, then opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, showing a modest pool of thin, grayish semen resting in the middle. She then closed her mouth, winked at Jared, and swallowed.

Jared was flabbergasted. Who was this woman?

Megan's face shifted definitively back into the moment. Indicating toward her husband's penis sticking out of the fly of his pants, she playfully concluded the liaison.

"Put it away, hotshot. We've got a plane to catch."

[Tire_Kicker]

Outstanding! Can't wait for the next installment.

[Crushing]

"Stark!"

David's eye twitched slightly as he wiggled the flower rack into position in the back of his truck. He turned around and walked briskly toward the voice that was impatiently shouting his name.

"Morning, Vinny. What can I do for you?" David asked warily.

"You're late leaving. Don't ever be late leaving out the dock. This is your warning…" Vinny glared menacingly down at David.

David looked confused. He looked down at his watch, then up at Vinny again with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, Vinny, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I've got 15 minutes before we're even allowed to go. Late departure isn't until 5:30! It's only 4:45 and I'm almost loaded. I'm ready to go…"

"No, Stark, you're late. Your watch is wrong. Don't ever do it again, or you won't be driving for us no more. Understand?"

David grew defiant. "I know you got power on the dock, Vinny, but you can't bend time. I'm late when I'm late, okay? And I'm not late. I'm going to finish loading and I'll be out the door in ten minutes." David turned away in frustration back to his work. Vinny snickered behind him, and David watched him out of the corner of his eye as he turned away to make his morning rounds along the loading dock.

David hastily grabbed the next two racks and began pushing them into place in his truck. He looked quickly back and forth down the line of docks, seeing the warehouse workers still in the midst of loading the other trucks. None were as far along as he was, and it was now unofficially understood that no dock workers were to help him load. Some of them clearly felt bad, but Vinny was established at the center of the old timer's clique. If they didn't like you, then no one was allowed to like you. And for some reason, David seemed to find himself permanently on Vinny's bad side.

He locked the last rack in place and closed the truck door, then the dock door. He picked up his lunch bag and delivery schedule and walked hastily down the line to the exit door, shouldering the door open with a bang. Walking past the other trucks still being loaded, he finally arrived at his truck to find a man hunched over near the driver's side door.

David was not expecting anyone out there, and in the low dawn light, the appearance was almost ghostlike. He was shocked enough to jump back. The motion caused the man to turn his head to face David.

Hamad. David's friend in the mechanic bay.

"Hey Day-feed. How you doing?" Hamad smiled.

"I'm good Hamad, what's up? What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, I see Vinny and friends over here earlier. They let out air of your tires, Day-feed. I grab compressor and come over here to fill. Almost done."

David held his breath. This is why Vinny said he was late leaving. He clenched his teeth, saying nothing. The hissing of filling tires filled the silence.

"How is Yordan? How is wife, Day-feed?" David shook his head, realizing that he completely neglected to thank the man who had his back.

"She's great, Hamad, everything's going great. She's working on her degree, she'll be writing her disser–her really big final writing project–pretty soon now. Then she'll be done!"

"That's good, man. She work hard, you work hard." Hamad pulled out a pressure gauge to check the last tire. Full. He pulled the compressor hose back and replaced the cap on the tire stem.

"Hamad," David said gravely, "I'm serious, thank you for watching out for me. You really saved me today, and I didn't even know I would need it. I really appreciate it. How's your family? How's Eisha, how's the baby?"

"Aisha. Say it Eye-shaa," Hamad smiled as David pronounced it back. "Your pronouncing is not so good, but I help you, Hamad smiled again. Aisha is good, baby is good. I work too much, but I make good money here."

"That's great, Hamad. Hey, I want to thank you properly, would you want to come over to our place for dinner sometime? Maybe this weekend? Bring Aisha and the baby?"

Hamad smiled. "Sure, we come! You want to talk to Yordan first, make sure wife okay?"

"Yeah, I'll check with her and let you know for sure tomorrow. For now, I gotta get going. I want to clear the dock before 5." He glanced at his watch. 4:55.

"No problem, stay safe man." David nodded to his friend in appreciation. Then he paused again and stuck out his hand. Hamad smiled broadly and shook it.

"Seriously, Hamad, I count you as a friend. Thank you for having my back."

David turned, opened the truck door, and climbed in. He cleared the dock first, before any other truck even started its engines. As he turned out of the gate into the road, David glanced in his rearview mirror, seeing Hamad rolling the heavy compressor across the parking lot to the mechanic's bay.

* * *

The exposed coastline glistened in the post-dawn golden hour light. Mark had driven straight north from the rented house until the sun broke in the east. Finding the next public access beach along the coastal road, Mark pulled into the barely maintained parking lot and shifted his truck into neutral and set the parking brake. He stepped out, stretched, and inhaled the salty air lustily. He leaned against the hood of his truck and looked out over the ocean.

The day was calm, and the waves were gentle as they lapped up at mid tide. Mark sighed in satisfaction and turned to undo the straps holding his kayak to the rack on the back of his truck. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he wrestled the small craft down onto the ground in the parking lot. He carefully rolled the straps and replaced them in the toolbox before checking his phone.

It was a text message from Jared. A picture. Mark smiled and touched the screen to open the photo and pulled the paddle out of the back of the truck while it downloaded.

The picture was of Megan in the window seat of a commercial airliner. She was leaning against the bulkhead, clearly asleep. Her head was lolled back, and her mouth hanging all the way open. Mark chuckled as he responded.

Mark: Looks like she's wiped out.

Jared: Ya think? Haha

Mark: Seriously, though, you guys ok? She was a little nervous when I dropped her off.

Jared: …
Jared: Yeah, we're good. I could tell she was nervous, and she said she was sore. We haven't really talked about it yet, but I think we're okay. Also, she gave me a bj in the car!

Mark: Nice, man. Nice!

Jared: Seriously! We got to the airport, I was about to get out, and she just grabbed it and went down. All the way to a happy ending.

Mark: Congrats man. That's good! She just horny or something?

Jared: I guess…whatever you did, if it gets her in that frame of mind. Obv. I'm down with that, haha.

Mark: Gotcha. Obv you can't text out that pic when you're in the air, are you guys home now?

Jared: We're in Boston now, layover for our connector to Burlington. My parents are going to pick us up there. Where you at?

Mark: I drove up the coast, gonna camp on a few beach campgrounds before I head back. Taking ten days, hoping to do a lot of time on the water.

Jared: You by yourself?

Mark: Yeah. Just clearing my head. Pre-d workup got me all tied in knots.

Jared: K. Stay safe man.

Mark: You too.

Mark placed his phone down on his tailgate and fished out a waterproof bag from his backpack. He locked his truck and placed his phone, keys, wallet, and the book he was reading into the waterproof bag and sealed it, replacing it in his backpack. Shutting the tailgate, he shouldered his backpack, picked up his paddle with his left hand, and grasping the kayak at the center with his right, he strode out of the parking lot toward the water.

* * *

David's chest heaved as he gradually came down from a full body seizing orgasm. The trembling fingers of his right hand were coated with drops of semen, the clutch of steno pages containing Jordan's letter was grasped and crinkled desperately in his left.

He had been delighted to find another fold of letter paper tucked into the dry pocket of his lunch bag when he opened it up. He managed two bites of his sandwich this time, but once he arrived at the paragraphs where Jordan expressed his sexual inadequacy directly, he found himself unable to focus on anything other than intrusive erotic images of his beautiful young wife.

Her voice seemed to rise directly out of the handwritten lines. In his mind's eye, her gunbarrel blue eyes locked in his as she openly confronted him as the source of her sexual frustration. And as she openly confessed to the sexual fulfillment she had found with another man.

Against his better judgment, he had tucked the letters into the pocket of his work shirt, and speed walked into the gas station where he had parked to eat his lunch. Finding the single-toilet bathroom room unoccupied, he had shut the door, locked it, and dropped his pants to his knees. Jerkily caressing his small penis with his fingers, he drank deeply of ecstatic humiliation.

Over and over he had read the deliciously damning language:

"I didn't know this then…but I do know it now. There are men that are better at sex than you are."

He had mouthed the words silently as he came, the shimmering warmth of feeling extending from the tip of his penis back into the depths of his pelvic floor and causing both his arms and legs to convulse.

Now he was frozen in a half-hunch, standing in the middle of a gas station bathroom, slowly returning to comparative sexual sanity.

"What the actual hell am I doing?"

David looked down at his fingers, at the letter, at the undignified crumple of pants around his ankles. He blinked hard and pulled his pants up as if someone had just walked in on his shame. Tucking the papers back into his shirt pocket, he hastily buttoned, zipped, buckled, and tucked in his workshirt. After washing his hands, he turned around to reach for the doorknob, hesitated, then reached back to flush the toilet. Once the tank began to fill again, his breathing had regulated enough to walk out. He walked to the candy isle, picked up a Mounds bar and paid for it before walking back out to his truck.

Glancing at his watch, he found ten minutes remaining on his lunch break. He tucked into the tasty sandwich Jordan had prepared for him, and tried to forget the now-crinkled fold of papers in his shirt pocket.

He lasted two minutes before pulling out the papers again. As he did so, he realized that there was more letter to read. He hadn't gotten past the line that ripped the shameful ecstasy from his body.

He turned the page.

Five more lines in, he was aroused again. Not aroused enough to run desperately into the gas station again, but aroused enough to dull the edge of shame he walked out of the bathroom with. He finished the letter just as his watch buzzed out the indication that his lunch break was over.

Jordan certainly had a way with words, and had made some very good points. The central biblical metaphor she had explored was particularly insightful. She was really good at this. He needed to think.

Starting the truck and rolling out of the gas station parking lot, David absently opened the candy bar and took a bite.

Gross. Coconut. He hated coconut. Why did he buy a Mounds bar?

* * *

The sun was low in the sky. Mark's kayak came to a stop with a relieved hiss as the fiberglass made contact with the smooth sand at low tide. He deftly tucked in his legs and popped out of the kayak, picking up the craft with one hand and carrying it across the beach toward his reserved campsite. He liked this beach. Not too crowded. A small gaggle of high school kids were setting up a bonfire about 500 yards in one direction down the beach, and a few families were milling about at the campsites behind them. A broken row of RVs filled almost half of the RV lot in the other direction off the beach. Retirees lounged in camp chairs in front of most of them. Nearing the high tide line, Mark passed two young children arguing about how to build a sand castle.

"I want a big tower on this side!" whined the younger, a boy of kindergarten age with wavy brown hair. The older, a girl of about ten with shocking red hair in pigtails and a conspicuous lisp, answered with practiced impatience.

"I underthtand that, but the thtructure ith inthufficient. We need to build a bathe under it or it won't thtand up on itth own."

"I don't want to do any more on your part, I want to build my tower!"

"You need to underthtand…I'm trying to help you build a BETTER tower!"

Mark chuckled to himself as he walked by. He arrived at his campsite and set the kayak down next to his tent. Rummaging through his tent, he found a dry shirt and threw it on. The hour was starting to get cool. He retrieved a few pieces of firewood from his truck and began arranging it in and beside his fire pit. He would fix dinner and settle down to read and relax for the evening. He was 3 days into a ten day leave. He had just begun to truly relax. Text updates from his squad leaders had slowed to a trickle as everyone settled into their pre deployment leave. He hadn't shaved in 4 days and had grown noticeable stubble, a departure from his usual clean cut look. The tension had begun leaving his body as he heard the waves gently lapping up and down with the tidal cycle near his tent.

The paddle.

Mark tutted to himself. He left the paddle at the shoreline, just carrying the kayak up. He finished stacking the night's firewood and took off back down the beach at a light jog, retrieving the paddle and walking back again toward his campsite. As he passed the sand castle construction site, he was flagged down by the red haired girl.

"Ekthcuthe me thir, my brother and I are building a thand cattle, and we don't have any toolth. May we borrow your paddle to gather thome thand tho we can work more efficiently?"

Mark stifled a laugh at the precocious dignity of the girl with a lisp. Putting on his serious platoon sergeant face, he approached the girl and the sand castle with the air of a foreman ready to inspect a job site. He towered over the children, both of whom were curiously unfazed by the approach of a stranger of huge stature.

"I suppose tools might help. Would you explain the project to me? Perhaps I can help with design, or give you some tips. I have some experience with castle building…"

The red haired girl nodded in a businesslike manner. "Of courth, thir. We have here a nithe courtyard, and thome outer wallth. I wanted to make the wallth taller with thome flying buttretheth, but we found that thand ith not conduthive to conthtructing buttrethteth…"

Mark covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the absurd line. He listened intently as she took him on a tour of a relatively unformed and uneven and nearly random collection of sand piles, explaining the virtues and features of the sand castle of her aspirations. The boy held back shyly, letting his sister explain everything.

Mark agreed to assist with his paddle, deftly creating a large pile of wet, workable sand next to their site with a half dozen powerful digs of his kayak paddle. The children were wide eyed as he produced more wet sand in a few seconds than they had dug up in the past hour. Mark was preparing to give them another pile to work with when they were interrupted.

"Lucy, are you bothering strangers again?"

Mark looked up from digging, finding a harried young woman with frizzled red hair, a loose gray t-shirt, and loose black sweatpants walking toward the little work crew. He was startled, hoping that he wasn't perceived as a threat to the children. He began to answer defensively,

"Ma'am, it's really okay, they just asked me to dig up a little sand, it's no trouble, I've already finished. I'll be on my way…"

"No I'm, sorry," the woman rushed in response. "You're trying to relax on the beach and you're conscripted into my children's work crew…"

"Not at all!" Mark laughed. "We're having fun. I've been fully briefed on the project, and I'm rather enjoying the process."

The woman softened, but maintained a cautious suspicion. "Well, it's time to come back up for dinner, anyway…maybe it's time to wrap it up?"

"But mom, we've made tho much progreth!" the little girl whined, drawing a charmed smile from Mark, which in turn drew a subtle, sympathetic smile from her mother.

"Well, we still need to go eat. You can work on it tomorrow…" she promised over the spontaneous whines of both her children.

"Tell you what…" Mark said as they stood up to leave. He squatted down to talk to them on their level. "I'm here for one more day, and I'm going kayaking in the morning tomorrow. How about this…right before I leave in the morning, I'll meet you right here. The tide will come up by then and probably wipe out this castle. But I'll dig three big piles of good, wet sand so you can just get right to building. Is that okay?"

The little boy responded enthusiastically. The little girl remained sullen. "I thuppothe that ith actheptable…"

Mark pursed his lips to stifle a smile again. "Very well then. I'll see you bright and early. I'm in campsite number 24 over there, right on the edge of the campground. If I don't meet you here, you can come get me there and I'll help you out."

Having agreed to the terms, the children took off toward the campground. Their mother hung back a moment.

"That's really kind of you. You don't have to do that," she said, noticeably grateful.

"It's genuinely my pleasure. Your kids are really fun. Your daughter?"

"Lucy. And the little boy is Max."

"Right. They're both great, but Lucy is pretty adorable. She seems very smart."

She smiled. "She is. Sometimes too smart…"

"No such thing…" Mark smiled back. "I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. My name is Mark Rein." He extended his hand, and she gratefully shook it, brushing some frizzy hair away from her face with her other hand as she did so.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Molly."

"Molly…"

"Molly Cohen."

"Well, Molly Cohen, I'm available for sand castle consultation at your leisure," Mark grinned as he turned to walk away.

"Thank you, Mark. Have a good night…"

"You too!"

* * *

The truck touched the rubber dock stop with a satisfying, gentle thunk. David threw the gear into park and turned the engine off. He waved to Hamad across the lot, who was outside power washing the mechanic bay doors.

Walking toward the back office, David glanced around the bay, finding it eerily quiet. He was a little early returning, but usually there was something more going on around the docks. Strange.

Walking through the warehouse toward the shipping office, David's mind was preoccupied with Jordan's metaphor. Namely, his mind was filled with thoughts of apples, and their meaning. The apple came from the tree of good and evil knowledge. To eat them means knowing things that were both good and bad. Taking a bite from something that cannot be un-bitten. Did he want to un-bite the apple? To un-know things? Certainly the revelations of the past few months were powerful, but also filled him with self-doubt, and in certain moments, profound self loathing. Crippling fear and jealousy were bound up in the ecstasy. Certainly it was simpler not to know those things. Probably easier, too. Better?

What is an apple that is never eaten, anyway? Certainly it's something, but it's not the same as an apple that is eaten. It's untouched…in a very real sense, the apple is unknown as an apple. It's just an object. One that can be seen, touched…but if it's not tasted…it is not fully what it is. To known an apple as it is, it should be…no, it must be eaten.

But tasting it necessarily mars it. Rips a whole in it. Disfigures it. Exposes its flesh. The sweetness is intense. Even nourishing.

But it comes with a price.

And what happens when the apple is eaten up? Gone? What then?

David pushed open the shipping office door and walked through, making a beeline to the inbox to drop off his day's paperwork. David was surprised to find Vinny standing in front of the inbox wearing a toothy grin.

"You're late, Stark."

David's heart jumped a little. "I…I'm really not. I'm actually a little early."

"No, you're late. You're late now, and you were late this morning."

"Vinny, I know you let air out…"

"You don't know shit, Stark." Vinny interrupted. David's anxiety crept up, but he tried to maintain eye contact. Vinny was so effortlessly confrontational. It was like he liked to fight just to fight, not to achieve anything. David never understood it. And David hated, HATED confrontation.

"Listen…I'm your supervisor. When I say you're late, you're late. Get it?"

David trembled. "I don't know what you want me to do, Vinny, I wasn't late. I'm not late. I can prove it…"

"You can't prove shit. I'm saying you're late. That's my job. Your job is to say…I'm sorry, Vinny. I was late. I'm a piece of shit. I won't be late again."

"I'm sorry…" David looked down, eyes burning. "I…I won't be late again."

"Good start. Say the rest…" David hesitated.

"Say it, bitch…"

It was official. David was branded a "bitch" on the dock. That would be difficult, if not impossible, to overcome.

"Repeat after me…" Vinny's voice lowered menacingly. "I'm sorry Vinny…"

David began to shake. "I…I'm sorry Vinny…"

"I was late…"

"I was…I wasn't…"

"Say. It…"

David clenched his teeth as Vinny stepped even closer to him. Vinny looked straight down at David, highlighting their height difference. "Say…it…"

"I wasn't late…"David said quietly, almost at a whisper.

"Yes you were."

"No, he wasn't." A third voice spoke up behind David. Both he and Vinny turned, surprised, to see Steve, the general manager of the distribution center standing in the doorway. Vinny stepped back instinctively and turned toward the door.

The old man walked in purposively. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing sir," Vinny said casually. Stark has had some issues getting out the door on time, we were just talking about it." Vinny's eyes narrowed at David.

"Yeah, he's been leaving early. Every day. I've seen him. He's also back early now."

"I wasn't referring to today, sir, I just…"

"Yes you were. Not sure what your beef with this young man is, Vincent, but it seems like it would be a good idea to make up with him. Why don't you two shake hands?"

Vinny grimaced. "Of course, Steve." He stuck out his hand. David shook it, flabbergasted.

"Vincent, there are three managers between your rank and mine. Do I need to have a chat with all of them?"

"Not at all."

"Great. Glad to hear it. I noticed the other trucks are starting to arrive. Probably time to meet them, don't you think?"

"Yes sir." Vinny nodded, and walked through the door. Steve flicked the door shut behind him.

"That shit will resolve itself when you start signing his paycheck," Steve confided to David with a smirk.

David was beyond relieved. "I honestly have no idea what his problem is…"

"He sees that you're on your way up. Vinny's not stupid. He's useful where he is. But he stays where he is by stomping others down. You'll have to learn to see past him. You'll figure that out…" Steve answered nonchalantly. "So, I reviewed your resume. Looks good. I've got the corporate goons coming in tomorrow to interview candidates. There are 3. You're one of them. You ready?"

David's jaw dropped. All along he thought Steve was joking. He submitted his resume because he was told to. He didn't think this was real. He stammered out a response.

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, of course! Thank you!"

"No problem. For now, gather up every process you've improved shipping flowers since you got here and write them down. Then write down how you could apply those principles to all the shipping that comes through here. Receiving, delivery, perishables, construction, load booking, everything. Go home and make a nice powerpoint or something that illustrates your ideas. Got it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm on it Steve…"

"I know you are, Stark. One more thing. When you're done with your little presentation prep, tell your wife that you have a shot at a job that's going to quadruple your income with full benefits. Tell her your interview is tomorrow, and that you need to feel like a man tonight. She'll know what to do." Steve delivered the last line with a knowing grin.

David looked down at his feet, grinning. "Okay, Steve…"

"Get out of here, Stark."

"Okay. Thanks Steve, seriously…I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Finishing his chapter, Mark closed his book and placed it in the basket behind his camp chair. He stood up, stretched, and headed down the campground trail toward the bath house. On the way, he passed some familiar faces.

"Sand castle man!" The little auburn haired boy called out from his seat at the picnic table.

"Hi Max!" Mark responded cheerfully, glancing over the campsite. Molly was hunched awkwardly over the fire pit, and looked around, startled, when she heard his voice. Lucy was sitting in a camp chair, reading a Percy Jackson book by the light of a small electric lantern set up next to her. On the other side of the picnic table, a man sat basically motionless, fixated on a laptop screen.

Molly stood up quickly, turned around and smiled. "Kids, sand castle man's name is Mark. Say hello."

"Hello, Mark," the children said in a drone unison, clearly practiced at prompted greetings. Molly continued.

"Mark, this is my husband, Chris. Chris, this is Mark. He was helping Lucy and Max make their sand castle earlier…"

"Hey…" the man said, not looking up from his screen. Mark nodded in his direction. Molly looked embarrassed. "What brings you by, Mark?" She asked politely.

"I was just passing by on my way to the bathroom. Max spotted me."

"He'll do that," Molly smiled.

"Well, I don't mean to interrupt. I'll be on my way," Mark said, turning to walk away.

"Actually, Mark…sorry…"

"What's up?" Mark said, turning back.

"Do you have…like a lighter? We had one, but it looks like the butane ran out or something. I'm trying to get a fire going for S'Mores…"

"No, I don't, sorry. Don't smoke…"

"That's okay, just thought I'd ask," Molly said, smiling sheepishly.

Her eyes had a particularly striking hue in low light. Green in the daylight, something deeper in the dusk.

"Well, hang on…" Mark said, glancing toward the picnic table. There was a stack of camping dishes, and a small frying pan and pot with a little package of steel wool in it, along with some soap and rags for cleaning cookware. He walked on to their campsite, and indicated toward the bag. "May I?"

"Umm, sure…" Molly replied, perplexed. Mark bent over and picked up the bag, extracting a small piece of steel wool and holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Then he looked over toward Lucy in her camp chair. "Lucy, may I borrow your lantern for just a moment?"

"May I finish my paragraph?" Lucy replied without looking up.

"Of course…" Mark said, with a surprised smile. He looked over at Molly, who was grimacing awkwardly. "You really don't have to…"

Mark held up his hand, waving off her objections.

While they silently waited, Mark and Molly were positioned facing each other on opposite ends of the empty fire pit. Max broke the silent tension as only little boys can.

"Are you Superman?"

Molly laughed outright, and Mark chuckled. "No Max, I'm not Superman."

"Batman?"

"No…"

"The Hulk?"

"No…"

"Wolverine?"

"Wow, you know them all, don't you? No, I'm not a superhero…"

"He'th a marine," Lucy said, matter of factly, placing a bookmark in her book and closing it. "The mark on hith back ith an Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, thymbolizing worldwide maritime thervith. I googled it on mom'th phone while you guyth were in the bathroom."

Mark was a little taken aback. Lucy had seen the tattoo between his shoulder blades, and had actually researched it. "Wow, Lucy. You're right, I am a marine. I'm on leave, so I'm camping. Good job!" He said, looking over at Molly, who was shaking her head in knowing disbelief. "She sees everything…" she muttered.

"Well Lucy, I hate to interrupt your reading, but if you'll give me just a moment…" He picked up the lantern and popped open the end, removing a nine volt battery from it. He crouched down to the fire pit, arranged the newspaper and kindling that was already there, and gently touched the battery terminals to the tuft of steel wool, which promptly ignited in a bright orange glow.

"Whoa…" both children muttered in unison. "How did you do that?"

"The steel wool completes the electrical circuit between the two terminals, so it catches on fire. Gotta be careful…" Mark explained while lighting the fire, then bending down to gently blow on it until the medium sticks caught on fire.

"Ath a marine, it'th likely that he hath exthtenthive thurvival training…" Lucy explained, matter of factly, as the little flame began to grow and stabilize.

"That's true, Lucy, but I actually learned this from my next door neighbor when I was about your age…" Mark explained, standing up. "There you go. Should be good for S'mores as soon as the wood burns down a bit…"

Molly looked across the fire pit, gratefully. "There's no way they'll wait that long," she said, smiling.

The soft glow of flames illuminated Molly's face. She had a health collection of freckles that matched her red hair, and the orange light of the growing fire lent her features a warm, inviting quality.

"Well, I think you're set. See you kids in the morning for sand castles…"

"Kids, say thank you to Mr. Rein," Molly instructed as he turned back toward the bath house.

"Thank you, Mr. Rein," the two droned in unison.

"Chris, nice to meet you." The man grunted in acknowledgment, not looking up. Mark nodded awkwardly in his direction.

"Good bye, Molly. See you in the morning, kids!"

* * *

Jordan inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of seasoned pork chops that greeted her as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Hi honey!" David greeted her from the kitchen. The sizzle of cooking meat accompanied the delicious smell. Jordan, still in the crush of midterm grading, was fatigued and a bit short-tempered at the end of the day. Being literally and emotionally fed soon after she walked through the door of her home certainly helped to mitigate that, though.

She took another deep whiff of cooking food, then set her schoolbag down beside the couch and walked into the kitchen. She kissed David on the cheek, then leaned back against the opposite counter.

"How was your day, Jo?" David asked, still focused on the frying pan in front of him.

"Long. Lo-o-o-o-ng…" Jordan groaned. "I'm almost done with the midterm papers, though."

"Any good ones?"

"Are there ever?"

David laughed.

"No," Jordan said, "there's some undergraduate level promise in some of them. Some of them are clearly interested, even passionate. But they're still new, figuring things out. I've got to find a way to motivate them without making them cocky. Or I have to find a way to correct them without destroying their confidence. It's a fine line."

David nodded. "If anyone can find it, you can…"

Jordan leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek again. "What about you? Your internship is getting to that crucial stage now. Have you done any good networking for jobs after next semester? Any accounting firms might want your bod?"

David smiled. "Well, actually, there is something."

Jordan's eyes brightened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," David responded. He lifted the pork chops onto their plates, already covered with rice and vegetables. He spooned some savory sauce out of a small pot next to the frying pan. "Aaaand, we're…ready!"

Jordan eagerly picked up her plate and walked over to the table. After the two had said grace, Jordan attacked the vegetables before pressing her husband on his news.

"So, who did you talk to? I hear the job market isn't too bad in this area, someone's going to need a brilliant, hardworking, exacting junior accountant, don't you think?"

David blushed. "Well, not quite…"

Jordan smiled as she tore into her pork chop. "Seriously, anything is better than that dock and delivery job. Those people treat you like garbage…I'll be so glad when you leave that place forever…"

David cleared his throat. "Yeah, Jo. About that."

Jordan looked up at David inquisitively. "What about it?"

"Well, you remember a little while ago I said I had a run in with Steve about maybe moving up?"

"Yeah…" Jordan's eyebrow cocked up slightly.

"Well…I know that Steve's retiring, and I kinda thought that some spots would open up above me, like maybe I'd get Vinny's job and Vinny would move up, or maybe something in accounting, you know, move out of the docks and into the office, right? Anyway, Steve told me to put in my resume, so I did, then I forgot about it."

"Okay…" Jordan sounded apprehensive.

"Well, I ran into Steve today, and he said that I was actually applying for his job. Like, literally. Like, general manager of the whole hub."

Jordan's eyes widened. David hastened to sweeten the pot, unsure of his wife's reaction.

"The pay goes up. Like a lot. Like, more than four times my current take home. And benefits. And regular hours if I want them. And I don't have to do dock work…"

Jordan's eyes sparkled. "Baby…that's so amazing! Are you serious? They want you to go from delivery driver to general manager? That's…just…wow baby!"

David's heart swelled and swelled. An involuntary grin broke across the whole breadth of his face. He loved it when he could impress Jordan.

"I'm so, so, so proud of you! Oh my gosh…Can I tell my family! I want to tell everyone!"

"Slow down, Jo…" David laughed, still smiling broadly. "I don't have the job yet…we definitely shouldn't tell anyone. I'm just interviewing for the job, and the interview is tomorrow."

Jordan shot up from the table. "Tomorrow! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! David! Are you ready? Do you have a clean suit?"

David laughed again, soaking up the joy. "I do, I have that really nice one your dad got for me last Christmas. I've only worn it once, and it's cleaned and pressed. Ready to go."

"I have to pick out the right tie for you. My man is going into that interview SPARKLING…" Jordan said as she took off down the hall. Catching herself halfway, she turned around and strode up to David, pulling out of his chair, throwing her arms around him, and kissing him deeply.

David had never felt so full of happiness.

Jordan relaxed her embrace enough to gaze deeply into her husband's eyes. "How many people are they interviewing?"

"Three."

"Oh my gosh, you're going to crush it. You're going to crush it! Do you have stuff prepared?"

"Yes. Steve told me just what to do. I have a little power point with my accomplishments and ideas. I finished it a little while ago."

"Try it out on me. I'm your interviewer. Go!" Jordan sat briskly down at the table and pushed the empty food plates to the other end.

"Um…okay. Let me grab my laptop…" David rushed to the entryway and retrieved his laptop from his bag. He set it on the table, opened it, opened the program, and turned to face Jordan, running through his presentation as she gave him pointers.

"So basically," David concluded several minutes later, "with this reallocation of dock resources, load booking practices, and scheduling changes, efficiency will likely improve six to ten percent. Maybe more. If they get four, they'll be thrilled. But I know I can get six."

Jordan smiled and clapped heartily. "Awesome, baby! Just at the end, stick to six to ten percent, maybe more. No maybes, ifs, ands, or buts. Those words are for later meetings, when you actually are…you know…the boss. Stick to doable but impressive promises now. Try to under promise and over deliver, but that under promise should still sound impressive. OK?"

David grinned and nodded. "Oh my gosh, I think that's great, David! Did Steve give you any other pointers?"

"No, that's it…"David said.

"You're going to be great, honey. I just know it. And even if you don't get it, just getting this interview is huge! You can use it to impress anyone else who's interested. And a recommendation from Steve is in the bag either way, right?"

David nodded again.

"That's so cool, baby. That's so cool!" Jordan's vocal pitch raised to a girlish squeak as she repeated herself, clearly struggling to contain her excitement.

David cleared his throat. "Steve did…ummm…" David hesitated, flushed. He cleared his throat again, and looked down at the table. "Steve did say one more thing…"

"What? What did he say?" Jordan asked excitedly.

"He said…" David cleared his throat a third time. "He said to tell you that, since my interview is tomorrow, I need to feel like a man tonight. He said you'd know what to do."

Jordan's smile faded, and her right eyebrow cocked upward. Then her left lifted up to match it. Finally, her face relaxed and her lips pouted slightly in a more thoughtful posture.

"I see."

"So…he said that." David said, still looking down. A moment passed in silence. Then Jordan reached across the table and took his hand in hers. David lifted his eyes to meet hers. Those eyes. Gunbarrel blue. They were deep. They were soulful. They brimmed with affection and admiration. Deep wells for David's heart and soul to drink from.

Jordan gave her husband a coy smile. "That's a very interesting thing for him to have said."

David briefly looked down, breathing out the beginnings of a shy laugh. When he looked up, her coy smile had faded back into thoughtful serenity. She squeezed his hand.

"Wait here. Don't move." David smiled excitedly as Jordan stood up from the table.

Jordan walked seductively down the hall, entered their bedroom, and closed the door behind her. She opened her closet, flipping through her modest collection of boudoir attire, picking out a few that she thought would tantalize her husband. She hummed happily to herself as she laid down three options next to each other on their bed, weighing the possibilities of each. As she thought it through, a change in the room caught her eye.

On her nightstand, leaning next to her reading lamp was a folded cardstock with a single red heart on it. She walked over and picked it up. Written in David's shaky handwriting was a simple message.

XOXO
-David.

In front of the card sat a clean, crisp, red apple.

Jordan walked over to her nightstand, and picked up the apple.

A few minutes later, Jordan reappeared slowly, thoughtfully out of the hallway and into the living area of their small apartment. She was wearing a bathrobe with bare legs and feet underneath. Her hair was down and her glasses were gone. She held her hands together behind her back as she moved.

David was transfixed as his wife moved smoothly toward him at an excruciating pace. She held his eyes with hers for each small, smooth, slow step. When she was two arms lengths from him, she stopped and spoke with practiced gravity.

"David."

"Yeah?" David's heart picked up, and his small penis began to stiffen.

"I think Steve is right. I think I do know what to do."

She took one more step toward David. He was literally salivating.

"Steve thinks you need to feel like a man tonight. I get that. I could see that. But David…"

She took another step closer. She was now at arm's length from her husband as he sat and fidgeted at the table.

"Yeah?" David asked warily.

"That's not what you want, is it, David?" She unclasped her hands from behind her back and produced a clean, crisp, red apple. She took the final step forward and sat gently on his lap. She lifted his chin and kissed him deeply. Then, holding his gaze tightly, she lifted the apple to her lips and gently took a bite. She bit slowly, with two sounds breaking the tense silence between a woman and her husband: the crack of crisp, red skin followed by the firm squish of torn fruit flesh. Each sound sent shockwaves of arousal through David's body.

"Mmmmmmm…." she moaned, closing her eyes to savor the mouthfeel.

She slowly chewed her bite, a small stream of fruity juice dribbling down the side of her mouth.

Jordan leaned forward and positioned her mouth just outside her husband's ear.

Then, in the softest possible whisper, she asked:

"It's so good…Would you like a bite, David?"

David sucked in his breath and held it involuntarily.

She repeated the temptation.

"It'ssss ssssoooo gooood, baby. Would you like a bite?"

David bit his lip and closed his eyes. Once more, Jordan offered, this time gently sucking his earlobe.

"David…would you like to taste what I have tasted first?"

David anxiously nodded.

Jordan pulled back from his ear, smiled at him, and lifted the fruit up to his lips. His lips trembled and his heart pounded as he took his own bite. After he had hastily chewed and swallowed, Jordan placed the fruit gently on the table beside them, then leaned forward to his ear again, whispering:

"That's what I thought…"

[Tire_Kicker]

Great chapter, the pace slowed but did it really? Looking forward to more...

[Johng1953]

Loving this!

[kinkydetroit]

Love the apple symbolism.

[Luis]

This is very…very promising!

[Crushing]

Mark was awake and moving as the first hints of dawn began to prod the night sky. It was a force of habit to be up before the sun. First among his duties on a given day was gathering marines for a full workout well before breakfast. No such obligation existed on the beach, but his brain was now wired to rouse him before the sun. He sat up, rearranged his sleeping pad and bag neatly, and exited his tent. The tide was high, approaching the line of vegetation that separated the campground from the beach itself. Mark inhaled the morning salt air and grabbed a pack of granola from his backpack, quickly devouring it as the day grew a little brighter.

Finishing his breakfast, Mark stepped back into his tent and changed into his swim trunks before jogging down to the shoreline, wading into the cold water, and eventually diving into the waves. Swimming aggressively past the breakers, he switched to leisure strokes as he found deeper water, enjoying the periodic rise and fall the waves provided. For some reason, he felt at peace in ocean water. He bought his kayak shortly after joining the marine corps, and it stayed attached to the rack on his old pickup most of the time. He would frequently take evenings and weekends to skim along the inlets and coastal areas near where he was stationed.

Eventually the dawn broke entirely and the daylight arrived. He was swimming back toward the shore by then. Sensing the depth was shallow enough to stand, he rose from the receding tide about a hundred yards back from his campsite. His wet body was nearly on full display–even a casual observer would not miss his muscular body striding confidently along the beach. Broad shoulders, strong pectorals, clear abdominal definition, and muscular, almost sinewy legs. Like most marines, Mark's walk was distinctive–head high, shoulders back, smooth, even steps–the product of countless hours of marching in tight formation. A slightly less casual observer would not miss his swimming trunks clinging to his body, along with the unambiguous outline of a large, thick penis extending down and to one side of his inner thigh. But since he was reasonably sure that no one but him was up and about yet–evidenced by the otherwise empty beach–Mark was not self conscious about how he presented himself. Nobody was looking, after all. Well, almost no one.

Returning to his campsite, Mark grabbed a towel and a fresh set of clothes and headed to the shower house. He quickly showered, toweled off, got dressed, and headed back, passing the Cohen family's campsite. Molly was standing over the cook stove, frying up some eggs and sausage. Today she wore tan shorts that rose to her mid thighs, and a cleaner, loose fitting red sweatshirt. Her husband Chris was precisely where Mark had seen him last night, glued to a laptop and intently fixed on the screen. The kids were nowhere in sight.

"Good morning…" Mark said politely as he was passing.

"Oh, hello!" Molly said cheerfully. I think that Lucy and Max went to find you…I'm glad you're awake. They're not great with boundaries when they have a goal in mind. They might have beaten down the door of your tent."

Mark laughed. "Not to worry. I've been up for a while. I usually get up pretty early. How's your morning going, Chris?" he said, turning to her husband.

"Fine…" he said, still not looking up.

"Good, good. Well, looks like I'm on castle duty. I should get to work."

"Oh…do you want some breakfast? I made some extra…" Molly offered, indicating toward the sizzling frying pan.

"Maybe later…I don't want to hold up construction," Mark grinned as he headed back to his towel. Molly smiled and nodded gratefully.

Mark arrived back to his campsite to find Lucy and Max gingerly stepping around his tent, trying to ascertain his whereabouts. Mark cleared his throat.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

Lucy spotted him first, followed by Max, who quickly turned around to see him and brightened. "Superman!"

"We came to find you thinth you thaid you could help uth thith morning, Mithter Rein. Are you thtill available?" Lucy asked politely, still sporting her Swiss Miss pigtails.

"I am." Mark said in a businesslike voice. "Are we ready to begin?"

"Yeah!" Max shouted, taking off toward the beach.

"Follow me, pleath…" Lucy said, mirroring Mark's businesslike tone and turning to follow her little brother. Mark grinned and grabbed his paddle off the ground, following the kids to the beach. Then, thinking twice, he quickly doubled back to grab his service issued entrenching tool from his backpack before following the small trail of footprints out toward the beach.

A couple hours later, Mark found himself nearly hip deep in a deep hole, excavating sand and helping the kids build. The new structure was impressive. It was about the size of a standard bedroom spread out across the sand near the mid tide mark where the sand was still wet. Actual walls surrounded and divided the space and were big enough for Max to hide behind, and yes, a messy tower stood on one side. What had started out to be a quick excavation of a few spadefuls of wet sand to work with had quickly become a series of polite yet firm requests for assistance or direction from one or the other of the precocious children, and Mark was simply too charmed to refuse. Molly appeared near lunchtime, surprised to see him still at work.

"Oh my god…" Molly said. "I'm so embarrassed! Kids, Mr. Rein has other things he wants to do! You can't take advantage of people like this."

"He'th not a thtranger, mother. Heth from El Patho, he liketh kayaking, reading, and good muthic, and he doethn't have a girlfriend."

"And he helped me with my tower!" Max shouted.

Molly smiled helplessly at Mark. "I don't know what to say. I'm mortified…did we keep you?"

"Not at all. I didn't have any set plans today, I'm playing it by ear. This was a fun diversion. We had fun. And look what we built!"

"I know!" Molly said, genuinely impressed. "I don't know how you did it…Mr. Rein…"

"Mark, please."

"Right, Mark, I don't know what to say. Thank you for helping out my kids. You're so kind."

Mark smiled and shook his head. "Not a problem. I think I'd better run to the bathroom and wash some of this sand off my hands, don't you think? Come on, kids, time to close up the construction project." Mark picked up his tools and headed to the bath house, cutting through their campsite on the way. After hosing off, he returned to his own campsite hearing the muffled sounds of arguing as he approached the family's spot. As he got closer, he seemed to see Molly and Chris exchanging frustrations. Mark pretended not to see and walked on by.

Arriving back at his own little spot, Mark replaced his entrenching tool in his backpack and picked up his kayak, heading back out on the beach. It was almost noon, and nearly low tide. Heading toward the water, he passed the sand castle complex he had spent much of the morning on. Lucy and Max were playing on the far side, but this time Molly was there too, sitting back against a nearby driftwood log, watching her children play.

She had a blank expression on her face, looking out toward the water. She didn't seem to notice him, but the children waved and called after him as he waved to them with his paddle.

Molly looked up as her children called his name, giving him a weak smile. As she looked up, it was clear she'd been crying. Mark hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but then decided to offer an ear, at least. He set down his kayak and paddle and walked over to Molly, who tried to hastily wipe her tear tracks and smile politely.

"Mind if I sit for a bit? I can supervise further construction from here…"

"Of course, go ahead!" Molly forced a smile. Mark sat down next to her with a few feet of space between them, leaning back against the log and resting his forearms on his knees.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, really."

"You sure?"

Max crawled out from behind one of the small walls and stood up to run over. "Can you help me build another tower on the other side?" he inquired urgently.

"Maybe in a minute, buddy." Mark answered diplomatically.

Gesturing to a small island on one side of the bay, Max explained: "We were gonna go to the island but my daddy has to work, so we're playing sand castle again."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, buddy. Going to islands is cool. But so is building sand castles." Max nodded and returned to crawling around behind the wall.

"Change of plans?" Mark inquired casually, looking over. Molly had a fresh tear running down one side of her face. She wiped it away and shook her head.

"Chris promised the kids that we would paddle to the island and have a picnic. I have it packed, but he says he can't leave. So I'm…a little frustrated, I guess." She laughed to mask her irritation.

"Bummer." Mark responded sympathetically.

"We rented two sea kayaks, and we were each going to take one of the kids. I can't get both in one. Or more like…I'm scared to take both of them out there by myself. I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Ah." Mark said. "Your husband's work is pretty demanding, huh?"

Molly snorted. "He's not working. He's playing World of Warcraft. He agreed to come camping because this campground had good Wifi. He loves that stupid game more than anything else."

Mark blinked in surprise.

"We tell the kids he's working, and Max buys it, but Lucy knows her dad is blowing her off. She pretends not to be bothered, but…" Molly pursed her lips together and fell silent.

"I might be overstepping here, but I can totally take a boat and help you guys. I was going out on the water anyway, it's not a problem."

Molly brightened, then returned to her standard apologetic mode. "That's too much…you spent all morning with the kids, and now you're going to blow the whole afternoon too…"

"I'm telling you, I'm fine. Your kids are fun. If you're okay with it, it's done." Mark hopped to his feet and offered a hand to Molly.

She looked up in surprise. "Seriously?" She asked.

"Seriously." Mark said smiling. Molly smiled broadly and took his hand as he lifted her to her feet.

"Kids," Molly called out, "We're going boating after all. Mr. Rein is going to take one of the boats and go with us."

Lucy and Max both popped up behind the mounds of sand. "Really?"

"Yes," Molly said. Go get the life jackets and paddles." Both children popped to their feet and ran into their campsite. Mark and Molly followed.

"Mark is going to take the other boat so the kids can get to the island," Molly called over to the picnic table when they walked onto the campsite.

"K," Chris droned in response, not looking up.

"We can each take an end. Two trips, right? Molly asked, indicating to the two sea kayaks that were laid next to the family car.

"No need. Just bring the cooler, have the kids bring the life jackets." Mark stepped in between them, picking up one in each hand by the rim, and carefully maneuvered them out to the beach. Molly watched him walk down the beach for a full ten seconds before she caught herself. She shook her head and grabbed the packed cooler containing their picnic lunch and followed him down to the shore.

* * *

"So…" Jordan whispered to David solemnly. What do you want to know?

"Whatever you want to tell me…" David whispered back urgently.

Jordan was still sitting in her bathrobe on her husband's lap with her arms draped casually around his neck. She stood up and walked casually toward the living room, turning around as she reached the back of the couch, directly facing David.

"I suppose you noticed that I have changed clothes," she said, matter of factly.

"I have noticed that…"

"Well, I did it for you, baby." Jordan smiled genuinely. "Your boss said you need to feel like a man tonight, and that it's my responsibility to conjure that feeling in you. I'm happy to take on that task."

David smiled excitedly.

"However, I suppose, given the little ritual we just performed together, that I need to compose a little variation on that theme…don't you think?"

David's excitement grew. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, I'd like to make you feel something deep. Something satisfying. Special. But we'll have to dig deep to find it. Make sure it's…really…really satisfying, don't you think?" Jordan tilted her head down and bit her lip slightly.

David's penis, already stiff, stirred as she treated him to a seductive pose. Jordan reached down to the end table next to the couch and pulled a scrunchie out of the drawer. She gathered her hair into a ponytail and secured it with the scrunchie.

"Remember when you came to meet my family for the first time? Before we got married?"

"Yeah…"

"We went swimming at the lake…and you had a little bit of an awkward experience, didn't you?"

David remembered all too well. The unstoppable erections, the cold water belly flop, the frantic arrangement of towels to avoid calling her parents and siblings attention to his deep, animal attraction in the most embarrassing possible way. Why would she bring that up?

"Yes…it was awkward. And terrifying," David chuckled.

"I think it was the first time you saw my body…or at least enough of it to get a sense of what I would look like naked. You looked at me in a way I had never seen before. I didn't let on then, but it was a pretty powerful experience. I remember being so flattered…"

"I remember running into you in the hallway…I was so…you were just so hot…"

"Ah, you remember that too. I remember the look on your face. You were scared, but also…hungry? That's how I would describe it."

"I bet…" David responded. Where was she going with this?

"Well," Jordan said, matter of factly. "I thought it might be interesting to try something." She stood up, untied the belt on her bathrobe ,and opened it to David's view.

"Remember this?"

Jordan was wearing the one piece swimsuit she had worn that day. Apparently she had kept it. Relatively modest by swimsuit standards, it still hugged her body perfectly, suggesting every curve and softness that her body had to offer, without really revealing any of it. Her perky breasts still filled out the suit perfectly, and the smooth, forest green material hugged her flat belly tightly, stretched over her pubis, and disappeared between her legs.

David was thunderstruck. The memories of his first face plant into uncontrollable lust for Jordan's body–-not to mention his literal face plant into cold lake water–stunned him.

"Yeah, I remember…" David whispered hoarsely.

"How do I look? Does it still fit okay?" She dropped her bathrobe off her shoulders and turned around. The scooped back of the swimsuit exposed about half of her back, and the material stretched tightly around her firm butt. She wiggled it a little, playfully jockeying for David's approval.

"You didn't do that before…" David said, transfixed.

"Didn't I? I guess I wouldn't back then…" She wiggled her butt one more time for effect. "So, David…" she continued, turning around, walking back toward him, and sitting on his lap. He felt the warmth of her bare legs through his pants.

She looked down to see the small strain on the crotch of his pants.

"Good…" she said, matter of factly. "I was hoping for that. A girl always hopes to be able to get that reaction. Now. David."

Jordan stood up and walked back to the couch again, leaning back and sitting on the back of the furniture. "It occurred to me that this particular outfit might be significant to you…so I opted to wear it instead of…other things I could wear. Is that okay with you?"

She looked at him earnestly. God, those eyes…

"Yes…"

"Good. It occurred to me that on a special occasion–such as this one–it might be particularly affirming for your manhood to take this swimsuit off of me and take me to bed. A kind of…sexual closure. One where you might see me as I was when you first wanted to have me…you know…sexually. Then, when the suit is removed, you get to see, feel, possess, the body NOW that you lusted after so powerfully THEN. Does that make sense?"

"Oh my god, Jordan…"

"Language, David!" Jordan snapped back playfully.

"Sorry…"

"That's okay. Your enthusiasm is appreciated." She paused to think for a moment. "

So…I'm glad we've both pinned down the significance of this little outfit, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything…" David responded desperately.

"I need you to stay in that chair and not move. Seriously David, don't move an inch. Don't move your arms, don't move your legs. Just stay put, okay? Let me do all the work."

"Okay…" David sputtered.

"Good."

* * *

Okay, everyone ready? I'm just going to lift and…off we go!"

Mark lifted the back end of the sea kayak and gently thrust it into the water. Molly was seated in the back of the launched craft with Max seated in front of her. Lucy waited patiently in the other small craft, waiting for Mark's return. With one boat now floating freely, he hopped back over to the other and shoved off, hopping nimbly in the back as it ungrounded. Lucy began dutifully paddling on the side as Mark situated himself and took control.

"Follow me!" He called out to Molly.

The two boats began to bob gently on the waves. The weather was perfect–just a few wispy clouds in the sky and no wind. The little crew made their way to the small uninhabited island situated about a half mile into the bay. Max chattered away in one boat while Lucy kept a pensive silence in the other.

Looking over to the other boat at Molly, Mark could still sense some awkward tension. A fear of hidden resentment on his part, perhaps. She seemed convinced that she was bothering him.

"So, Molly. I know all sorts of things about your kiddos…tell me about yourself?"

"About myself?" Molly asked, a little abashed. "Umm, I'm not sure what you want to know. I'm married. I have two kids. I work as a nurse in the oncology unit of the hospital where we live."

"You're a nurse?" Mark asked.

"Yes…"

Mark raised his eyebrows, impressed. "I would think you had your hands completely full with these two…

"I do," she laughed. "I just…Chris had some difficulty with work. He's a programmer, and he's a very good one, but the work hasn't been steady. A few years ago, when I was pregnant with Max, I decided we needed something a little steadier. And I like nursing. It's hard, but it can be rewarding sometimes." She held her gaze forward, still unsure of her footing with Mark.

"So you went to nursing school, made it through and graduated..while pregnant?" Mark asked, impressed. "That's no small feat."

"And I was working as a CNA at the time, too. It was pretty busy. It's still pretty busy. But we get by…and who am I to tell a marine that my training was hard?" she laughed a little more easily.

Mark chuckled back. "Don't worry, I'm not comparing. But I'm still impressed. And I do say that as someone who is familiar with brutal training schedules. That's a real accomplishment. And your kids are great." Mark paused for a moment, weighing his next words before speaking again. "I'm impressed, Molly. You're an impressive woman."

Molly seemed briefly taken aback, then flattered. For the first time, she gave a genuine smile, blushing slightly.

"What's on the island?" Max shouted suddenly.

"I don't know, buddy, we're going to find out…" Molly replied, diverting the conversation.

Max stayed silent for a moment. His paddling, while more or less ineffective at propelling the boat, was both earnest and enthusiastic. "Are we the first people ever to go to the island?" he asked thoughtfully.

"No, buddy, I've been there before," Mark replied casually.

"Do you know what's on the island?"

"Not much. Just some rocks, a few animals and birds, some pirate treasure, a few interesting plants, and tons of bird poop…"

"Wait, what?" Max stopped him excitedly. Lucy turned around to look incredulously at him.

"Oh, the bird poop? Well, that happens when they hang out in big numbers…" Mark replied, stifling a fake yawn.

"No, the pirate treasure!" Max and Lucy shouted in unison. Molly's smile widened as she shook her head to herself.

"Oh, that. Well, there's an X somewhere on the island, with some pirate treasure under it. I didn't dig it up. I mean…who needs more treasure, right? So heavy and rusty…"

Max stared open mouthed at Mark, then turned forward and increased the fury of his largely pointless paddling.

Lucy attempted to throw some water on his fire. Looking across the small strip of water toward her brother's boat, she stated matter of factly:

"It'th unlikely that there'th actual treasure on the island. I think Mithter Rein ith joking. We'll probably find thome interethting plantth and thea creatureth though…"

"I guess we'll just have to see," Mark said brightly.

The two boats, rocking on the gentle water, gradually made it to a soft beach on the small island and the little expedition disembarked. Molly removed the cooler from the kayaks, while Mark lifted the boats out of the water and placed them out of the reach of the tide. Shedding their life jackets, they walked up to a small thatch of trees above the high tide line.

* * *

Jordan reached over her seated husband to the kitchen table and picked up her phone. She flipped through the contacts and dialed a number, walking away from David toward the couch again. David looked up and down at her pale, toned legs and arms, her tight butt, and her smooth back partially exposed by the back of her swimsuit.

"Jordan…who are you…"

Jordan whirled around and put her finger to her lips, the phone still at her ear. She then extended and turned her raised finger, shifting the "hush" sign to the "wait one moment" sign. Whoever she called picked up on the other end.

"Hi Mark, it's Jordan. I mean, you know that, everyone has caller ID now, haha!" Jordan's laugh was bright and enthusiastic, a marked shift from the solemnly erotic tone she established with her husband moments ago.

David sat frozen in his chair, enthralled.

"I hope I'm not bothering you, do you have a minute? Oh good…Yes, we just finished dinner too. How was your day?"

Jordan paced slowly and evenly back and forth in front of her husband, modeling the swimsuit that was burned in his memory. Her curves were smoothly and subtly concealed under the low-gloss, skin tight fabric.

"That's good. I'm still grading papers, but I'm almost done. Stressful and boring, yeah. Listen, about why I called…do you mind switching to facetime for a moment? Okay, good." Jordan dropped the phone and hit the video call button. Moments later, the tone indicated that she and Mark could see each other. A deep, masculine voice emanated from the phone.

"What's up? What can I do for you? Wait…what are you wearing?"

Jordan smiled down at the phone. "Oh, it's just an old swimsuit. Nothing special, we thought we might go to the YMCA later, have a swim. You know, clear our heads."

"I see…" Mark said, clearly unconvinced.

"But I have David here behind me, and we were just talking about whether you and I should meet again Saturday night…"

"Oh, I see. Something come up? Everything okay with you guys?" Mark asked, concerned.

"I think so. David left it up to me, and I thought I'd talk it through with you."

"Entirely up to you guys. No pressure in any way."

"I guess…I'm just a little uncertain…well, let me put it this way," Jordan hesitated. "I suppose I just have a couple questions for you. Do you mind if I show you something real quick?"

"Sure…" Mark replied, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Jordan quickly walked across their living room and picked up David's bag where it sat next to the door. She placed it on the center of the coffee table and pulled the coffee table toward the TV, making some extra space between it and the couch.

"Sorry, just a second…" she explained into the phone. "Didn't think this all the way through before I called," she laughed awkwardly.

Mark chuckled back. "Okay…"

Jordan propped her phone against David's bag on the table and stepped back. She stood in front of the couch, visible to both men, but neither David nor Mark could see each other. She tossed a quick look over her shoulder at David, who remained fixed in his chair. Briefly holding his gaze, she slowly turned her head toward the phone.

"Okay, so I just have a quick question, Mark. And please, be honest. It's important."

"Okay, I'll be brutally honest. I promise"

David watched from behind as his wife slowly reached up in front of her and nervously pulled the straps of her one piece bathing suit off her shoulders, then continued to pull the swimsuit down until it bunched around her waist. David saw her bare back, topless, while she presented her breasts to the man on the video call.

Unable to regulate, David started to breathe heavily.

"Mark…" Jordan asked with an affectation of innocence, "Are my boobs too small?"

Mark laughed. "No, Jordan, they're not. I quite like them. Where is this coming from?"

"Well, I know you've been with many women, and I just get a little insecure. I can't imagine I would compare well with…say… a buxom blonde supermodel that I know you could get."

"I see. No, I quite like them."

"Thank you! You're so sweet. Hang on one sec." Still facing away from David, Jordan reached through her shoulder straps and pulled up the swimsuit until it covered her again, the shoulder straps snapping against the tops of her shoulders securely. She turned around to face her husband, covered again by her swimsuit. "David, honey, what do you think? Are my breasts too small?"

"No…no, they're perfect, baby." Jordan beamed and turned around to face Mark again. "I don't know why I get insecure sometimes. I guess it's just something girls do, you know?" As she explained, she pulled the shoulder straps down again to reveal her naked torso to her lover.

"Now that you mention it, I'd like to get a better look at those. Could you come a little closer?"

"Of course!" Jordan replied with enthusiasm. She dropped to her knees to be closer to the level with her phone's camera and scooted forward to ensure that her uncovered torso was tightly in frame. "Is that okay, Mark? Can you see them?"

David resisted the urge to unzip his pants. This exchange had him so hot…unconsciously, he grasped the apple on the table with two bites missing and squeezed it gently.

"Yeah, that's good," Mark's voice drifted over the back of the couch. "Yeah, you've got good ones. Nicely proportionate to your body. Perky. Soft. Nice pink nipples, too. Looks like they've gotten a little hard there. Does that mean you're starting to feel some special way?"

Jordan giggled. "I'm not sure. Let me check." She slipped her right hand down the front of her bunched up swimsuit around her waistline and reached down between her legs. She maintained eye contact with the phone camera as she did so. Withdrawing, she inspected the tip of her middle finger closely. "It looks like I might be, Mark. Hang on a second."

Jordan lifted up her swimsuit again to cover herself and snapped the shoulder straps into place again. Then she stood up and turned around to face David. "Honey?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah?" David asked breathily.

"Talking to Mark is…well, let me show you." She walked around the couch and stood next to David, lifting her right index finger to his nose. "Do you know that smell, David?"

He did. He nodded, closing his eyes.

"I think…and don't quote me on this…I think Mark has begun to make me feel like a woman."

David's heart skipped as she reversed Steve's wording. The evening was changing course. He should hate this. He knew he should hate this. He loved it.

"What should I do, David?" Jordan's nipples were denting the fabric of her swimsuit noticeably. "Should I end the call and get control of my feelings? Maybe take a cold shower? What do you think?"

David shook his head slightly in exquisite shame.

"No? Well, okay…well, I'd better get back…" David nodded slightly, gripping the apple tighter.

Jordan glanced at the apple tightly gripped by her husband, smiled, then walked around the couch again. She remained standing and facing away from her husband. She once again deftly removed her shoulder straps and pulled her suit down to reveal herself to Mark. Then, she dropped gently to her knees to frame her body for the camera.

"Mark, can you see me okay?"

"Oh yeah. I see you fine."

"Okay, good. Mark, if you have a moment, I need your help with something…"

* * *

Mark sat next to Molly on a wide rock overlooking a modest beach on the far side of the little uninhabited island. The small expedition had exhausted their exploration in an hour or so before setting up a picnic lunch on this rock. After eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Capri Sun chasers, the children ran down to the beach. Max was combing the area searching for the telltale X that concealed hidden pirate treasure. Lucy seemed fixated on a single tide pool, crawling around on her hands and knees and occasionally extracting some small, colorful creature to examine and then replace.

For the most part, Molly was quiet. Occasionally she would point out features on the island, or ask Mark where he had been on his solo kayak trips. Mostly, however, the two slipped into the comfortable silence usually enjoyed by old friends.

"I want to thank you again for helping us out today. I'm sure doing short trips to rocky islands with some woman and her kids wasn't how you envisioned spending your vacation. And I can't imagine you're overly fond of PB&J as…you know…a grownup."

"Actually, PB&J is kind of a delicacy in MREs. Long field exercises, deployments. Figuring out how to squeeze PB&J into tortillas or something…delicious."

Molly laughed, surprised. "Really…"

"Oh yeah. Eating MREs can get pretty old pretty fast. You go back to basics, and it's great. And don't worry about how I envisioned my vacation. I don't envision my vacations too specifically. I like the freedom to go and see and do things as they come, without the need to control them."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, looking over.

"My professional life is very loud. Very tense. Pretty high stakes, and a premium is placed on control. I have to know and be responsible for everything my people do, or might do. Every piece of gear, every vehicle, everything. It's all on me, all the time. When I get away, I like to let things happen as they happen. Let experiences come to me, and decide if I want to be a part of them or not. Just go with the flow, you know?"

"So that includes making sand castles?"

Mark smiled, looking over at Molly. "Yeah, that includes making sand castles. I think our sand castle turned out pretty good…"

Molly smiled back. As she leaned back, Mark got a better view of her body. She had generally worn old sweatshirts and sweatpants, but today's choice of mid-length shorts and a T-shirt began to hint at an impressively fit body for a mother of two. He tried not to linger as his eyes roamed from her feet to her face, but he couldn't help but notice.

"So…tell me if I'm overstepping here," Mark said, looking down to the beach where Molly's children played, "Does Chris do this alot?"

Molly sighed, and her face dropped. For a while she didn't say anything. Mark let the silence pass for a moment, then decided to apologize.

"I'm sorry Mol…"

"Yeah, he does it alot…" Molly interrupted. "It's partly my fault. We married young. I was 18, in fact. He was 20. I got pregnant with Lucy and his family basically made him make an honest woman out of me."

"I didn't know. 18? Wow."

"I was actually excited then. You know how it is when you're just out of high school. I was nuts about him. He was…he is…really smart. I thought he was going to go to Silicon Valley and change the world with some cool new internet platform. He had great ideas, but when Lucy came along he got a job working for someone else and kinda burned out. He doesn't work well with other people." Molly paused and looked out over the ocean again. Mark just listened intently.

"I feel like I ruined his life sometimes. I feel like I trapped a guy with real potential. I try to make family life good for him, but I'm so busy working." She sighed. "And he's basically given up. He's really into gaming now, as you have probably noticed. Now that I make enough to get by, he just sort of…"

Molly trailed off.

"You really think you ruined his life?" Mark asked gently.

"I don't know. It's how he acts, and I feel like…I don't know. Yeah, I guess I do think that."

"Huh. That's not what I see, but I've only known you guys for a couple days now."

"Oh really…" Molly replied laughed playfully. "What do you see?"

"I see an incredibly determined woman who works hard. I see a woman who throws her heart and soul into raising a family while still providing for them. Based on what I've seen of her bright, curious, polite, and well adjusted kids, I have to say I see her succeeding at that, despite the uphill battle. And…"

Mark was silent for a moment, looking out over the water. Molly was looking over at him, mildly shocked. He continued:

"And I see a man who, for whatever reason, can't see that. But none of that is your fault. You've got grit, Molly. I can tell, I see it every day. I can tell who has it, and who doesn't. You've got grit, you've got guts, and you've clearly got character. And you're gorgeous to boot."

Mark immediately regretted the last line. He looked down at his feet, avoiding Molly's eyes. An awkward silence followed before he spoke again.

"I didn't have a dad growing up. I'm from El Paso. It's right on the border, if you've never been there. My mom was an immigrant who slipped over the border when she was 17, got involved with my dad, got pregnant with me, and then he split. They never married, but my mom still gave me his name. She had nothing. She worked at an Arby's down the street my whole life growing up, whatever shifts she could get. I was mostly by myself."

Another pause. Molly, trembling slightly, put her left hand on his right forearm. Mark looked down at her hand. A ring sparkled on the third finger. He continued.

"I had this neighbor, two doors down in our apartment complex. He was an old guy. Really nice. Really smart. Korean War era marine. He'd been wounded and lived on a Veteran's pension. I'd hang out with him every day after school, and he taught me stuff. He'd help me with homework, and tell me stories. His name was Benny. He died when I was in 9th grade."

Molly's hand squeezed his forearm gently. Mark hesitated, and continued.

"My mom would always say that God's holiest angel lived two doors down from us. She used to make him dinners, and he'd eat with us sometimes. He was a good guy. When he died, I got to keep his uniform cap from when he was in the corps. You know the one? White cap, small black brim, gold insignia on the front. I still have it."

"Wow," Molly said gently, squeezing his forearm again. "That's so cool. Sounds like he was a great man." Mark turned to face her.

"Whenever a kid reaches out to me, even just to get a ball out of a tree or something, I just think of Benny, and how good he was for me growing up. So I don't resent for a second any time your kids want from me. I'm paying it forward."

Molly smiled. "That's really good of you, Mark. That's such a touching story. Thank you for telling me about that."

Mark smiled and looked down again. "I like it too…" he continued. "I like spending time with kids who want to learn stuff. And for what it's worth," he turned to look at her again, "I like spending time with you too."

Molly blushed, looking down and shaking her head. Her skin was beautiful. Pale, smooth, a smattering of dainty freckles. And her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Her entire look was just…charming.

"Exthcuthe me, Mithter Rein…" Lucy said, appearing suddenly in front of them. "I found thome interethting cruthtacianth, would you like to thee them too?"

"Yes! Yes I would." Mark stood up and Lucy extended her small hand, which he grasped. She pulled him away.

Molly laughed at the sight of a nine year old girl towing a 6'4" marine across a beach to look at hermit crabs.

The little expedition departed the opposite side of the island an hour or so later as the sun began to hang low in the sky. The distance to the shore wasn't too great, perhaps a half mile, but the waves were a little choppier, accompanying a light wind. Mark thought it best to depart sooner than later.

A small skirmish had ensued as Lucy and Max both wanted to ride in Mark's kayak. Max prevailed, since Lucy had ridden with him earlier. About halfway across, Max had largely given up his efforts to paddle and was leaning over the side of the boat, trying to spot sea monsters.

"Don't lean too far out, buddy, you'll slip right in…" Mark warned.

"Do you use paddle boats in your job? Like, do you kayak in to fight bad guys?" Molly joked as the two paddled in parallel.

"Not too much. We do amphibious assault things, but they usually involve heavy, armored vehicles. Not a lot of quiet harmony with nature."

Molly laughed. "I guess not. I was wondering, though…"

Her question was interrupted by Max tipping over the side of Mark's kayak and slipping in the water.

"Oh, dammit…" Mark leaned over the boat to grab Max's life jacket, but pulled up an empty set of orange floating pads. He had slipped right through. He must have unbuckled it when he was trying to lean in to the water. Shit. He dropped the pads back in the water and began unbuckling his life jacket.

Molly tensed immediately. "Max…Max!" She began paddling furiously in their direction. Mark rolled off the boat and into the water after Max. He disappeared for a breathless moment. Molly covered her mouth in horror, looking over the right side of her kayak down into the dark, briny water.

Mark appeared on her left side, causing her to jerk around in surprise to see the man holding a sputtering, coughing six year old out of the water.

"You okay, buddy? Just cough it out…that's right…just cough it out until you can take a deep breath. I've got you now. I'm not going to let you go…"

Max began crying. Mark cradled him in a lifeguard carry and swam over to Molly's kayak, lifting him up so she could pull him into the boat.

"He's okay. He just panicked a bit, that's all, he's okay." Mark reassured her.

Molly hugged Max tightly, then pulled him back to look right in his eyes. "Don't ever scare me like that, okay buddy? Life jackets have to stay buckled all the time, okay?"

Max sniffled out in agreement. Mark swam over to his now capsized kayak floating just under the surface. Looking over to the shore, he estimated only 500 yards, more or less, to be covered before he could walk the craft in. Rather than emptying it here, he decided just to wrap the tie line around him and tow it in while swimming. He turned back to the other three in their boat.

"Everyone okay?" he asked.

"I think we're okay." Molly replied.

"Okay, well we're not far from the shore. Here, let's get Max's jacket back on…" He handed the floating orange pads back to Molly, who fastened them tightly around her gradually calming six year old. "You think you can paddle in with the two of them? I'll just tow this one and we'll drain it on the shore."

"I think I'll be okay. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine."

Molly paddled the boat toward the shoreline, with Mark swimming alongside, the capsized kayak trailing behind him.

"Mithter Rein…I'm sure you're a great thwimmer, but I'm a little contherned about sharkth…"

Mark grinned to himself, leaning into his stroke.

* * *

David had never actually seen Jordan masturbate before. There was the teasing incident of a few Sundays ago…but she had playfully concealed the fact. Now, the game continued.

Jordan kneeled, with her knees shoulder width apart and her swimsuit bunched around her waist again. Her left hand gently caressed her breasts, occasionally tweaking a stiff nipple. Her right hand had disappeared down the front of her suit, fondling herself between her legs.

Or so David could surmise. She remained turned away from him, facing another man via facetime. Since she was kneeling, much of her body had dropped below David's line of sight, concealing the lower ⅔ of her body behind the couch. Her bare shoulders and shoulder blades taunted him with the view from the other side.

The view that was being denied him.

Jordan flirted playfully with the man on the call.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls, Captain Rein…" Her ponytail swayed easily from side to side as she moved her body for him.

"What girls?" Mark replied, "I only see women. Beautiful women. And I'm looking at you right now…"

"You ARE looking at me right now, captain…do you like what you see?"

"I do. And I love that you're showing it to me…"

David squeezed the apple harder. A few drops of juice dripped into the palm of his hand.

"Is there anything else you'd like to see?" Jordan asked coquettishly.

"Now that you mention it, I'd like to see what you're doing with your hand there."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm doing wonderful things with both hands. At least they're wonderful for me…I'd be happy to show you. Could you be more specific?"

"Of course I can. I can see your top half. Show me the bottom."

"So you want me to remove the suit entirely? I suppose I can do that. But I would prefer some reciprocity…I'd like to see your bottom half too."

"Oh, I see," Mark responded playfully. "You're bargaining. Well, why don't you show me yours, and if I like what I see, we can talk about mine."

"You drive a hard bargain, captain."

Jordan sat back, then rolled on her back as she slipped the swimsuit entirely off her body, her bare legs sticking over the couch barrier and briefly visible to her husband. She returned to her kneeling position and continued caressing herself.

"That's nice. Very nice. How are you feeling, Jordan?"

"I'm good. Really gooooood," she moaned playfully, then giggled.

"Well, I like what I see. What would you like to see?"

"I'd like to see your bottom half."

"No, I don't know what you mean by that. Try again."

Jordan's tone shifted slightly from playful to increasingly serious. David could see her neck, shoulders, and upper back gradually begin to tense.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I want to see it."

"See what?"

"I want to see it, Mark…"

More drops of juice slipped into David's palm as tightened his grip, hearing his wife's tone gradually shift from playful to pleading.

"See what? Say it, Jordan…" Mark replied sternly.

"I want…" David began to hear the first sounds of wetness from the other side of the couch as his wife's caresses became audible as she touched herself.

"I want…I want to see your cock, Mark. Please…"

David noticed wetness forming at the apex of the small tent in the crotch of his pants as he heard his wife verbally hunger for another man.

"There's the magic word…" Mark replied, followed by a few seconds of silence. "Is that what you wanted to see?"

David couldn't see the phone from his position, as Jordan's naked body was interposed between them. From the context, however, it became clear that Mark had shifted his own camera view to frame his cock to Jordan's view.

Jordan's vocal pitch lowered. "Yes…I want that…" The sound of wetness seemed to increase in volume. Or at least it seemed so to David.

"It's Thursday evening, Jordan," Mark said. "What do you want to do on Saturday evening?"

"I want to be with you…" Jordan whined.

David's breathing became erratic.

"What was that?" Mark asked. "You'd like to be with me? To go grocery shopping? Antiquing? What do you mean, Jordan?"

"I want you." Jordan's voice became breathy, increasing in desperation.

The sound of wetness was definitely louder now, David observed.

"Say the words, Jordan."

Jordan hesitated as she began breathing harder. Her visible tension increased. David had never seen her like this before. He shifted his weight in his chair, gripping the apple to avoid pulling his penis out of his pants.

"Mark…" Jordan coughed out. I want your cock. I want it inside me. Please…"

"That's better. Now you sound ready. Can I expect you at my home Saturday evening?"

"Y-yess…" Jordan moaned.

"Excellent." Mark's tone was cheerful as David's wife masturbated with increasing intensity. Jordan's body began to tremble.

Mark's voice shifted down to the quiet deep bass reach of its natural range.

"Now cum, Jordan. Do it now."

David watched his wife's head and shoulders hunch, convulse, and curl forward. Her ponytail fell over her shoulder as she bent down and made a sound he had never heard from her before–a combination grunt and cough. Then she held her breath for what seemed like forever and let out a long, low moan.

She stayed hunched over, still in the kneeling position for a moment as the tension slowly but visibly drained from her neck, back and shoulders.

For the first time, David saw his wife have an orgasm. She was facing away from. And he was transfixed. It took a moment for him to realize that the small patch of wetness in his pants had spread significantly across his crotch. The juice from the apple also had overrun the boundaries of his palm and was dripping down his forearm.

Jordan languidly rose to her original upright kneeling position and reached forward to pick up her phone off the coffee table.

"Thanks Mark. I feel much better now…" the playful tone had returned to her voice, although about a half pitch lower than before.

Mark laughed. "I'm glad. So you guys okay?"

"We're fine. Thanks for being so understanding. I'll see you Saturday."

"Sounds great. See you then. Bye."

"Bye Mark."

* * *

Molly watched Mark out of the corner of her eye as he set the second Kayak down next to the first. She and Lucy had wrestled the first craft up to their campsite, stopping to rest every few dozen feet or so. Mark had stayed behind to drain the swamped second kayak and check it over. About ten minutes later, he carried it effortlessly over his head to ensure the last few drops of water would drain out along the way. Now, he walked up to Molly, who pretended to have just seen him.

"Oh!" She put her hand over her chest. "Scared me. You move quietly. Gotta put a bell on you, so I can hear you coming…" Molly grinned as Mark smiled at her joke.

"Listen.." she continued, "I know you said you don't need it, but I just wanted to thank you again. You basically saved Max's life today…I just…Thank you again, Mark. I'm really glad we ended up at the same campground this week."

Mark smiled. "No problem. Seriously."

"Can I at least convince you to stay for dinner? I've got some burgers and chips, maybe a cold beer or soda or something? I was just going to run the kids through the showers and change, then come back and grill it up." Molly offered.

"That sounds delicious. Let me run back and change, get a hoodie and some jeans on. It's starting to get a little chilly out. I'll pop back in a bit and eat dinner with you guys."

"Deal," Molly smiled. Her eyes were a deep emerald green. Mark held her smile and gaze for an instant too long. Her smile faded into something more solemn. A hint of desire fluttered under the surface of her gaze, just long enough for Mark to politely excuse himself.

30 minutes later, Mark had hosed the briny salt water off of his body and had changed into clean clothes. He walked casually over to the Cohens' campsite and announced himself before walking up to the picnic table. Molly and the children were not there. Chris sat alone at the picnic table. Mark gave a casual greeting, then sat down across from him.

"Sup." Chris grunted.

"Looks like you're pretty busy there," Mark offered, breaking the rude silence.

"Yeah." Chris leaned back and looked at Mark. "You guys have fun boating?"

"We did. The kids are fun, Molly's great. Fun afternoon."

"Cool. Hey, thanks for taking them off my hands, man. Gave me some breathing room. I owe you one"

"Ummm…no problem."

Chris picked up his beer can and drained the remainder, then stood up, threw the can into a trash bag, and got a new one from a nearby cooler. "You want one?" He called over his shoulder to Mark.

"No, I'm good. Maybe with dinner," Mark replied.

"K." Chris returned to the table and sat down, returning his gaze to its default, fixated on the screen.

"I'll tell you man…" he continued without looking at Mark, "don't ever get married."

Mark's eyes narrowed. This fact was lost on Chris, whose eyes were otherwise directed.

"Yeah, it's just meh, meh, meh, all the time." Chris pitched his voice higher to mimic a shrill pitch coming from his wife. A pitch that Mark had never observed and had trouble imagining.

"Is that so?" Mark intoned.

"Yeah, and kids make it ten times worse. It never ends. Everyone is so fucking needy. For me, getting an hour of time to myself…it's better than gold. That's why you're the man of the day today, my friend. You got me some me time. You are the man…" Chris made a frustrated noise, presumably a result of an undesired outcome in his game play.

"I see. Well, uh, glad I could help you out." The memory of Max sputtering out sea water as Mark held his head above the surface popped to the front of his mind. He briefly wondered what would have happened if Molly was alone on the water when that happened.

"And don't get me started on the sex, man. Sex with the same woman for years…dude…"

Mark's eyes narrowed more. He didn't respond.

"Anyway, yeah. Don't get married, don't have kids. Man to man. Trust me."

Mark grunted acknowledgment. The two sat in silence for a moment.

Mark saw Molly emerge from the bath house, gently shepherding her kids out of the shower stall room and back to the campsite. Her normally bright red hair was wet and darker, hanging down a little past her shoulders. She wore a tighter T-shirt, accenting the shape of her breasts--petite and perky. She also wore a clean pair of black yoga pants, accenting her curves.

A stark contrast from the dirty old sweatsuit she wore when he first saw her.

She didn't see him yet.

"Chris," Mark said through the silence.

"Yeah, what's up?" Chris grunted, not looking up.

"I'm going to fuck your wife tonight."

[Johng1953]

This is one of the best stories I've ever read on here.

[Tire_Kicker]

LOL, that will get Chris to look up won't it?

[Luis]

This is incredible!! Fantastic writing too!! I can’t wait for the next installment!

[Crushing]

Jordan laid on her back on the floor, hidden from David's view. She was breathing heavily for a few moments, then seemed to stabilize and relax. Her bare legs–up to her knees, anyway–shot up over the couch as she threw the tangle of her empty swimsuit over her bare feet. Giggling to herself, she maneuvered her feet through the leg holes of her swimsuit and pulled it up over her legs before dropping out of David's sight again. The soft swishing of spandex stretching over skin was audible, concluded by the gentle snaps of shoulder straps holding the suit tightly into place. She was covered again.

Jordan's face and shoulders appeared over the back of the couch with a mischievous smile. She ducked her head down slightly so that only her eyes and fingertips rose over the ridge of the couch.

"I feel naughty…"

David laughed nervously.

"You can stand up and move around now, honey…" Jordan said, standing up and walking around the couch. Once again, David was treated to the sight of his beautiful wife in the modest bathing suit. The simple forest green garment had strange power over him, pulling a core memory from his bachelor past into his married present.

She was then, as she was now, utterly alluring.

Carrying on as if nothing happened, Jordan cheerfully walked up to the table where her husband sat. David stood up, still clutching the chewed apple, and threw his arms around her, holding her tight to his body.

Jordan giggled again, confidently reaching around his neck to match the intensity of her husband's embrace. The two squeezed each other as she tucked her head into his shoulder and soaked in his affections. She breathed in deeply and let out a contented sigh.

After a lingering moment, the couple broke their embrace. Jordan casually lifted David's apple clenching hand to her mouth, taking another bite as he held it.

"This is actually a really good apple. Tastes great. What kind of apple is this?" She muffled out while chewing.

"Uhhh…" David said, still flummoxed. "I don't know. Pink lady, I think."

"That's awesome…" Jordan giggled as she swallowed. "I'm a pink lady too!"

David laughed back. "Poetic."

Jordan smiled and took another bite, talking with her mouth full again. "Maybe we should always keep a pink lady on hand for new sexual revelations…" She grinned. She chewed and swallowed again.

Gesturing downward to David's pants, Jordan's voice lowered with mock gravity: "Looks like you had a little accident there, honey."

David flushed as he covered the wet spot on his pants with his free hand.

"Yeah…"

Jordan smiled again, a hint of triumph in her eyes. "Take a bite David, and tell me what you learned." She gently took the apple out of his hand and held it up to his mouth.

David nervously bit a little more flesh off the apple.

"I learned…" he hesitated before continuing. "I learned you're amazing…" he said helplessly.

"Really?" Jordan cocked an eyebrow. "Is this the first time you've noticed that? I can't help but be a little insulted." She smiled and held his gaze for a moment before continuing. "No, I think you learned something totally new, didn't you?"

"I didn't, really see you…" David said quietly, looking down.

"No, you didn't," Jordan answered gently. "But you saw…something…didn't you, David. Something you've never seen before. What was that?"

She leaned forward and whispered directly into his ear.

"I'm dying to know, David. What did you see?"

"Ummm…" David groaned. "You had an o…"

"I had an orgasm, David," she interrupted in a low whisper. "I came. Didn't I? Just a few minutes ago."

"Mmmhmmm."

Jordan pulled back to look him in the eyes. "What did you think?"

"You were amazing."

Jordan giggled happily. "You said that already."

"It's true."

"Well…okay. I suppose that's an acceptable answer." The apple was nearly gone. Jordan took the last bite and placed the core back down on the table.

"So…" she continued, chewing her last bite. "Is that good knowledge or evil knowledge?"

"It's good. So good," David gushed.

"I think so too. But…is there evil knowledge too?"

"No, it was all good…so good…" David's was rushing back to full arousal.

"Are you sure about that?"

David hesitated.

Jordan's face fell slightly, breaking the playfully seductive persona she had, up to that point point, presented masterfully.

"What about…the fact that it wasn't you that caused it?" she asked quietly.

David sensed apprehension on Jordan's part. He stepped forward and hugged her again. "That doesn't bother me, baby. In fact, that's one of the things that makes it really hot for me…"

Jordan tucked her head into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck again. "I know, David. I'm trying to understand. But sometimes…I feel bad. And I feel bad after I feel really good. And that makes me feel worse sometimes, you know?"

"I know, Jo. It's actually the same for me."

"Really?" Jordan asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah. After I climax, I can really crash. I feel ashamed, mad at myself, even disgusted with myself. But then I come up again eventually. It's like a roller coaster. I don't really understand it either, baby. It's as confusing as it is intense. But however confused I'm feeling, I feel intense love and attraction to you. That never changes. Not for a second. That's always there."

Jordan teared up slightly. "Okay. I don't understand it, but okay." She hugged him close again and snuggled into his shoulder.

From the outside, the pair looked ludicrous–locked in a tight, emotional embrace, with the young wife in a swimsuit in the middle of the day, her husband with stained pants and a wet shirtsleeve. Ludicrous and beautiful.

"So…" David asked cautiously. "Can I take the swimsuit off now?"

Jordan laughed through her tears. She stepped back and wiped her cheeks dry, and looked back at her husband playfully.

"Not now. After you've nailed the interview and gotten the job. I'm going to go change and we can clean up the kitchen. For now, you need to stay hungry."

* * *

Chris looked up over the top of his laptop monitor.

"Sorry?"

"I said I'm going to fuck your wife, Chris. And I'm going to do it tonight."

Chris blinked in surprise, then let out a loud guffaw.

"HAAA!! Good one, man. Good one."

"Not kidding, Chris. Midnight tonight, after the kids are asleep, she'll be at my campsite, and I'm going to take her. How do you want to handle the logistics? Would it be easier if you just send her over, or, if you'd like, I can come get her. What works better for you?"

Chris squinted and threw his head back, incredulous. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Mark smiled. "I'm sorry, I thought we had been introduced earlier." He stood up halfway and extended his hand across the table. "Mark Rein. Pleased to meet you. I'm camped over on site #20 on the edge of the property. Platoon sergeant, third platoon, Alpha Company, Second Battalion, Second Marines. Also, I'm the guy that's going to fuck your wife tonight."

Chris did not take the hand Mark offered in greeting. Mark withdrew his hand, sat back down, and looked over to the shower house. Molly was still there, bent down to comb out the tangles in Lucy's hair. Max was holding on to her shirt, looking off in the distance.

They were going to be another minute.

"You have to be kidding. You think you can just walk in here and…what…just take my wife?" Chris asked, noticeably agitated.

"No Chris, I don't think I can do that. I know that I already did do that. I walked in yesterday afternoon and basically took over your family vacation. You resented it, so I walked in and took the territory without any resistance. And I had a great time, thanks. I've been here for the last 36 hours spending the quality time with your family while you're pissing away with your nerd friends in an online fantasy land. I didn't even have to try. Now, since I've stepped into that role, I rather like it. I've had fun. Now I want to spend the evening with your wife. Or more accurately, in her. I guess it's kind of both, really. With her, in her. Semantics really. Anyway, that's what I think, Chris."

"What the fuck? Are you serious right now?"

"Incredibly." Mark's voice lowered. "I couldn't get a single word out of you until now. Your wife and kids don't seem to be able to get ten consecutive seconds of your attention no matter what they do. Your wife is exhausted and basically alone. She's also beautiful, hard working, smart, kind, and god knows what else if I spend more time getting to know her. Your kids are bright, fun, and incredibly easy to spend time with. You have the makings of a charmed life here. Who the hell would blow all that on a fucking computer game?"

Chris sneered. "Oh, I see. So you're like some fucking ghost of Christmas future trying to get me to mend my ways…scare me into being a better husband and father or whatever…well fuck you. None of this is any of your business."

"No, Chris. I'm not the ghost of anything. I'm the very real man that is very really here, and is going to fuck your wife in…" Mark paused to check his watch. 7:45 PM. "Four hours and fifteen minutes. Give or take."

"Fuck you. Get out of here." Chris growled.

"No, I don't think so, Chris. I was invited for burgers." He looked over toward the bath house again. Molly was walking toward them now, each child holding one of her hands. Her pale skin almost glowed in the receding light.

"And Chris…"

"What?" Chris snapped back.

"I'm hungry."

Spotting Mark from a few dozen feet away, Molly called out happily from the campsite trail.

"Mark! You made it! I hope you're hungry!"

"I am, actually…" Mark stole a side glance at Chris, who was clenching his jaw. He continued, "I really appreciate the invite, Molly."

Chris glowered at him. "Fucking leave," he whispered. "Right now. Leave, or I'll beat your ass."

Mark looked back at him. Folding his hands across the picnic table, he leaned forward on his elbows.

"Care to rethink that threat, Chris? Just for a second or two? Maybe try another one that's a little less ridiculous? I'm not sure your orc warrior friends are available to crawl out of that screen and back you up…"

Molly and the kids walked onto the campsite, freshly showered and smelling of fruity soap. Mark smiled broadly as he stood up to meet them.

"Hey again kids! Molly, you look great. Can I help with anything?"

* * *

Dear David,

I'm glad we had a chance to communicate a little yesterday. That was fun, wasn't it? I know you're nervous about your interview. I am too! It's a big deal! Just remember to breathe, and act like you know what you're doing. Because you do! I have total faith in you. You can do it!

Also, I hope this goes without saying–no matter what happens…no matter how unbelievably awesome or catstrophically awful or anyway in between this opportunity turns out–I am so, so proud of you. You are the man. You're my man! And I'm so happy to be married to you…

Love Forever and Always,
Jordan XOXO

David smiled to himself as he read the note. He tucked it into the pocket of his work shirt and reached into his lunch bag for the sandwich that Jordan had prepared for him. He deliberately did not reach for the second fold of lined steno paper tucked into the inside pocket of the bag. That would likely take over his mind, and he needed a clear head. He was going to finish his route, return to the dock, change into his suit for the interview, and then take his laptop bag to the main office, several buildings over from the dock where he usually worked. He would hold off reading Jordan's newest letter until the interview was complete. This afternoon called for discipline. This was a big day.

He was a long shot choice for the job. He knew it, and even Jordan knew it–although she would never admit it to him. But undoubtedly her faith in his skills and talent was a major boost to his confidence. Which he needed. David's life prior to meeting Jordan had been filled with self-doubt, reinforced by a school and family that were largely disinterested in him.

He bit into the sandwich and smiled to himself. Jordan had used the fancy mustard. She wanted to make his lunch an occasion today. She always knew how to make him smile.

His mind shot back to another sandwich with significantly less fancy mustard. He had eaten it sitting alone at a table in his public school lunch room. White bread, plastic tasting meat, packet mustard. He remembered chewing thoughtfully while his glasses were snatched off his face from behind. He had whirled around to snatch them back, but the faceless cluster of boys had already begun passing them back and forth, forcing him to chase them around. Still clutching his sandwich with a single bite missing in one hand, he protested helplessly. One of the boys slapped the food out of his hand. The sandwich was stomped and soiled in the scuffle. He eventually got his glasses back with one lens missing. He had to wait for the crowd to go elsewhere so he could drop to his hands and knees and hunt for the missing lens.

When he had gotten home, his mother's boyfriend had seen the cracked lens, demanding the story behind it. David told the truth, and learned from this that only bitches and pussies got worked over like this. That he needed to learn to stand up for himself, or this would keep happening and happening.

David chewed thoughtfully as he recalled the past. It hadn't been non-stop bullying. He had figured out ways to minimize it, or at least lessen the impact. With no parents or authority figures to stand up for him, he had developed strategies instead. Mitigation strategies. He had cultivated the skill of keeping a low profile. Invisibility was the key to defending himself, being so much smaller than the other boys. He learned quickly that most conflicts were best resolved by being avoided entirely. The remainder involved negotiation, and the forfeiture of things. Toys, money, pencils, and not infrequently, food. He also found that he could use academic mediocrity to deflect dangerous attention, as long as he was careful about it. He didn't know it at the time, but he was an exceptionally bright student. He never really struggled. But he would never talk in class unless called on, and then would give one or two word answers. He would always do his homework, but usually skip over one section or a handful of questions to make him appear sloppy and uncaring. He would fail every fourth test to make sure his name didn't end up on any public honor rolls. All strategies calculated to make sure no one who was overtly hostile to him would pick him out as a source to draw from when they wanted to cheat on tests or papers. Most of the time, people simply walked past him. Still, every now and then he was targeted and simply had to endure the indignity.

But it seemed like things were changing. He was trying as hard as he could now–he had found room to do that once he left high school. People were beginning to notice his skills and intelligence. He was beginning to be valued in a way he had never experienced before. It seem to be working for him.

Now, no one was going to stomp on his food. Now he wore contacts, and found a way to walk away from or negotiate his way out of altercations with bullies. Even Vinny, annoying as he was, was more or less handled. Now he had a shot at being the boss.

And now, he had a beautiful woman to go home to every night. A beautiful woman who loved him. The most beautiful woman in the world.

David had won.

He finished his sandwich and zipped up his lunch bag. Turning on the truck, he wiped his mouth off with his sleeve, took a deep breath, then exhaled.

Four deliveries to go, then the interview.

He threw the truck into gear.

* * *

"What's that seasoning?" Mark asked, sniffing the air.

Molly smiled, turning one of the burgers over on the grill. "It's a secret…" she giggled.

"No, no…I don't like secrets…Mark walked up behind her, a full head taller, and leaned over slightly to inhale the aroma.

"It's a combination of little things," Molly explained. "My dad and I fiddled with it for years, but the secret ingredient is a little brown sugar. Balances the spice with…just a little sweet."

"I gotta admit, Molly…that sounds…awful. But it smells amazing."

Molly laughed. "Just wait till you taste it…"

Mark stepped away and sat back down at the picnic table, facing away from Chris and toward the rest of the campground and the family. Max was sitting by the firepit, playing with an action figure. Lucy was in the kids' tent. Molly was at profile, facing the grill. He stole a glance at her rump, tightly cradled in black yoga pants. It was…exquisite. Not too big, not too small. Just enough meat to make him salivate.

"Want me to get the fire going?" Mark asked, snapping out of the thought.

"That would be great! Thank you!" Molly replied enthusiastically.

Mark noted that her enthusiasm was likely, at least in part, due to the appearance of someone to help her in the day to day tasks of raising children. Simply splitting the workload was a big deal for Molly, and her reactions seemed disproportionately enthusiastic given the relative ease of the tasks he was offering to perform. The product of neglect. He looked over his shoulder, finding Chris once again immersed in his game.

Chris' cell phone was set behind his open laptop. Mark subtly slid it toward himself, then picked it up. He sent a quick text to his own phone number from Chris' phone, then added his own name and phone number into the contacts. He then replaced Chris' phone, pulled his own out of his pocket, and added the new number associated with his most recent text message to his address book. He typed in "Shithead" as the name of the contact. Replacing the phone in his pocket, he stood up and walked over to the firepit where Max was playing.

"Hey buddy. Want to help me build the fire?"

Max's eyes widened. "Really? Mommy says I can't play with fire."

"Mommy's absolutely right, buddy. But if we respect the fire, then we can do whatever we want with it. There are some things that just aren't toys. Fire is one of them."

"Can we do the magic fire starter again?"

"You mean the thing I did last night? Sure, buddy. Go grab me a little chunk of steel wool, it's over there by your mom in that bag of cleaning stuff. Just enough to pinch between your thumb and finger, okay?"

Max darted off to find it.

Chris watched Mark patiently teach his son how to arrange flammables, kindling, and bigger chunks of wood into a pile before lighting it. He watched Max eagerly touch the battery to the steel wool and his eyes light up as it glowed in his hand. He saw Mark quickly guide his son's hand down to the base of the fire to drop the chunk of glowing metal fiber before it burned him. Within a few seconds, the flames appeared vigorous at the base, then slowly caught on to the heavier firewood. Within a few minutes, the tall, muscular interloper was exchanging an enthusiastic high five with his young son in front of a robust, stable campfire.

He also saw his wife watching the pair work with misty eyes and a gentle smile.

"Dinner's ready!" Molly called out as she began placing meat patties into buns.

Mark walked up behind her again, a little closer than last time. He reached for the arranged condiments. "Who wants what? I'll stack them for you. We got…lettuce, tomato slices, cheese, ketchup, mustard, some kinda other sauce…looks like your mom's got it all here. Who wants what?"

Lucy emerged from her tent, book still in hand. "Lettuth, cheethe and muthtard for me pleathe…"

"You got it, girl…" Mark nodded. He took everyone's order and stacked the meat before putting the top buns on. Within minutes, the happy little crew was sitting around the firepit, tearing into the delicious burgers.

Chris glanced at them over the top of his game display. His feelings began to curl with resentment.

"Mithter Rein…" Lucy asked, "I notithed a book thitting on your chair when we went to find you thith morning. I couldn't pronounth the title, tho I wanted to athk you about it. I think it wath called Don Kwickthote?"

"Don Quixote," Mark corrected. "Pronounced Kee-ho-tay. It was written in Spanish, and they pronounce some letters different from us."

"Oh. Do you thpeak thpanish?"

"I do speak some–I grew up near the border with Mexico. But I don't really read very much in Spanish. That book is a translation from the Spanish. Really fun book, actually."

"What'th it about?"

"It's about a man who reads stories about knights and ladies and dragons all day long, until he becomes convinced that he's a knight too. He goes around having fake adventures, and getting into trouble. It's really funny, but also a little sad. He doesn't live in the real world, but you kinda come to love him for it by the end. Finally he realizes he isn't a knight, and it's a real bummer. So, you know, like I said…a little bit sad. But mainly, it's just super funny."

"That thoundth interethting. Maybe I can read it when I get older."

"Read it any time you like, you're certainly smart enough. I can't imagine you couldn't get through it. You seem plenty smart to me. It is a pretty long book, though, are you up for that?"

"I think tho…"

"Well, then, if you want to read it, read it. Nobody's stopping you."

Lucy beamed with pleasure. An adult expressed confidence in her intelligence.

Molly beamed too.

Chris, still seated at the table away from the fire pit, began to feel his face flush behind his computer screen.

* * *

The truck bumped gently against the rubber dock stops. David shifted into park, turned off the truck, and took another deep breath. He looked down at his watch. 3:30. His interview was at 4. He'd have just enough time to change into his nice suit and walk over to the office suite. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, grabbed his lunch bag, and walked briskly into the warehouse. He walked into the employee locker area, opened his locker, and pulled out his suit bag. He set his lunch bag in his locker and walked into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, David stepped back into the warehouse in a neatly tailored, clean gray suit. He had combed his hair and wore a tie that Jordan had picked out for him–red with thin black diagonal stripes. He stuffed his work clothes into the locker and shut the door–or tried to. The locker wasn't big enough to hold his bulky work suit and his boots. He tried to rearrange them so the door would lock, but couldn't quite get everything in. Finally, he just leaned on the door until the bottom latch clicked shut, leaving the top latch leaning out.

It would have to be good enough. David walked nervously back out through the warehouse, ignoring the curious stares directed at him in his clean business suit. He stopped at his car on the way and fetched his laptop bag before walking across the parking lot to the office suite.

"Stark!" Steve smiled as David walked in. "Just in time. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'm likely to get…" David grinned back.

"Good man. Go right in, I'll introduce you."

David would never admit it to anyone. His personality was simply too compulsively modest. But he nailed that interview. Absolutely crushed it. The hiring committee was made up of five executives, four of which had traveled from other states. The fifth was Steve. They made much of David's degree and prestigious internship, noting that they had never employed such a massively overqualified delivery driver before. His modesty charmed them. He would be easy to work with.

David's presentation was concise, cogent, and convincing. He didn't add fireworks, he simply explained the logistics models as he saw them, laid out his proposals to improve them, and then gave reasonable projections for increased efficiency and resulting saved costs.

At this point, Steve informed the others that if he wasn't retiring, he would have already hired David to work directly below him, but he thought the big chair was more appropriate. David smiled modestly. Steve put the cherry on top by recounting the story of David's fixing a delivery truck while on the route. This was a young man who could think and act on the fly, and who would always keep things moving. No excuses.

The hiring committee was clearly impressed. They wouldn't commit to hiring him, but did thank him for applying and for interviewing, promising him an answer by the end of the day Monday. David smiled confidently, and shook each hand gratefully. The last executive let it slip as they gripped hands.

"Look forward to working with you."

David smiled and returned the good wishes, inwardly elated at his now elevated chances. He walked out of the office suite with a spring in his step. He walked briskly into the warehouse, opened his locker, pulled the lunchbag off the top of his clothes, and gathered the rest into a bundle before walking out of the locker room and through the warehouse.

"Stark!" David cringed at the voice. Vinny. He stopped and turned around to see his delivery supervisor walking confidently toward him.

"What can I do for you Vinny…I was just headed out." David said flatly.

Vinny didn't say anything as he approached within arms length. He squinted at David as he looked up and down, trying to ascertain the meaning of this change.

"Nice suit, Stark."

"Thanks Vinny. Is that all? I'm off the clock, and it's Friday. I want to head back home."

Vinny took another step forward, and reached out to feel the material of David's lapel between his thumb and forefinger. "Real nice, Stark."

David just endured, trying not to let his annoyance show.

"I just wanted to say…have a great weekend, Stark. I'll see you on Monday." Vinny grinned.

"Yeah. Okay." David responded warily. "I'll see you then." He turned away and walked out of the warehouse.

He took a moment to speculate on what Vinny's overtures meant. Perhaps he had heard that David was possibly the next general manager and wanted to get on his good side.

That would be weird. Vinny kissing his ass? He didn't want to think about how to handle that. "One thing at a time…" he thought to himself as he walked the rest of the way back to his car.

He couldn't wait to tell Jordan.

* * *

It was now dark at campsite #20. Mark leaned back in his camp chair next to the glowing orange light of his modest campfire. He had enjoyed a fulfilling day with new friends, capped off by a delicious meal. After exchanging heartfelt good night wishes, he was now back in his own space, reading Don Quixote by headlamp, lost to the world.

His phone buzzed.

A new text. From Shithead.

S: Hey. I noticed you put your contact info in my phone.

Mark stared at the display screen, unsure of how to answer such an obvious question. He stuck with the obvious answer.

M: Yes. Yes I did.

Mark waited, and no response came. He went back to reading. Nearly a full chapter later, his phone buzzed again.

S: Who the fuck do you think you are?

M: I thought we covered that earlier.

S: Well, don't come around our space again. You'll regret it.

M: OK.

Mark carefully laid his bookmark and closed his book before setting it in the basket behind his camp chair. He then stood up, stretched, and walked directly over to the Cohen's campsite. Molly and the kids were getting ready to have S'mores. He made one, showed Max how to make one, and then gave the uneaten half of his to Molly, who giggled and then took a bite before handing it back to him. He told a ghost story that Benny had told him when he was a child, which had Max clinging desperately to his mom's leg and Lucy rolling her eyes incredulously. Finally, he stood up and bid the kids goodnight again before looking directly at Chris and nodding meaningfully.

Arriving back at his campsite, his phone buzzed again.

S: Fuck you.

Mark smiled.

S: What I meant was, don't come around here. You're not welcome over here. Take a hint.

M: Funny, I felt welcome. I'm going to feel much more welcome in about…

Mark checked the clock on his phone. 9:30.

M: 2.5 hours.

The phone went silent for a little longer, and Mark went back to reading. After a while, another buzz.

S: Hey man, I'm telling you, if you show up here at midnight while we're sleeping, I'm calling the cops.

M: You're welcome to do that. If Molly wants me to leave, I'll leave. Whatever she tells me, I'll do it.

S: I'm telling you not to come here. I am. I'm her husband. I'm saying no.

M: You don't get to say no. She does.

S: What the fuck does that mean?

M: It means that you're the husband of a grown ass woman who can make decisions on her own. Decisions about who she wants to spend time with, and how she wants to use her own body. She makes those decisions. You do not.

S: Yeah, says the guy who has never been married.

M: Yeah, says the guy who told me never to get married. Not sure you're the authority on marital bliss here, pal. Here's the deal. One of us is going to tell Molly that I want to fuck her. If you tell her, you two are welcome to discuss it, and you can make your case to her. If I do, I'm going to be less interested in talking her out of it than you are. Either way, by midnight, she's going to know how I feel. Whatever she says, goes.

S: This is crazy. This is not happening.

M: It is happening, Chris. And it's not crazy. Your wife is hot, smart, and pretty clearly frustrated. You're a schlubby piece of shit that provides nothing but frustration. That's the reality. I'll put it another way. I want your wife's body, and she likes mine. She's going to look at you, then she's going to look at me. Then she'll pick what she wants. I like my odds. That's not crazy, Chris. It's nature.

Mark waited for a few minutes, but Chris appeared to be done texting. He checked the time again. 10:45. He fished his book out of the basket and turned his camp lantern up slightly, then continued reading. A few paragraphs later…

"Mark?"

Mark looked up, surprised. "Molly…"

* * *

David walked in the door of his apartment and set his computer bag down next to the door. He carried his work clothes into the bedroom, dropping them into the hamper, then returned into the kitchen to empty out and clean his lunch bag.

The folded yellow steno paper peaked out of the top of the bag.

David was so excited after the interview, he had forgotten that he had another letter from Jordan. He clumsily unzipped the bag and dug through the remaining baggies and food, until he found all the pages. They seemed in slight disarray. Very unlike Jordan. Interesting.

He pulled it out and brushed the crumbs off before sitting down at the table to read. His hands fumbled with the neatly folded sheaf until all the pages were present, with Jordan's warm and welcoming handwriting ready to embrace him.

"Dear David,

I know I told you to ask me Friday whether or not I will be seeing Mark on Saturday. I'm writing this on Thursday night, having just changed out of my swimsuit into some nice, comfy pajamas. You're in the next room, doing homework. I have homework too, but I'm very tired after a frustrating day grading papers. I think I'll do my homework tomorrow. But Despite having an exhausting and frustrating day, I actually feel quite relaxed right now. I think you know why. With that in mind, it can't be too surprising that I made my decision about Saturday a day or two early.

I know you're nervous for your interview. By the time you read this, you will either be hours away from the interview, or will have just finished it. I hope you know how confident I am that you will do well. I also hope you know that whether or not you're the next general manager, you're definitely top-shelf material in my book. I'm going to be proud of you either way. I love you!

Now, to the business at hand. I left off my previous letter recalling the history of our little arrangement–how I met Mark and how this whole situation fell into place. I'll continue that next week, but given the special circumstances of today, I thought I'd write a little bit of an interlude. Today, I want to reflect on our arrangement itself, and how it makes me feel. Then, when we return to our little historical exercise, you can have some things in mind as you digest my side of the story.

I began my sexual relationship with Mark three months ago. So, for three months I have been having sex with someone other than you. However, I have never had a sexual experience that you didn't know about. That part is very important to me, and I hope it is important to you. I don't, and I won't, sneak around on you. You have been accepting, and even enthusiastic about my liaisons with Mark for the entirety of that time. If you weren't, I would have stopped immediately. That deal stands, by the way. But what started as a curiosity on both our parts has evolved into a kind of hunger, and for me at least (if I'm being honest with myself), a significant aspect of my overall wellness. I really like having sex with Mark. He makes me feel good. I like having sex with you too. You make me feel good as well. But the experiences are different. I'd like to explore that difference for a moment.

That difference bothered me, and still does if I'm being honest. I have trouble comparing you two. Before I met Mark, I used to think sex was sex.

It isn't.

I love being intimate with you, David. I love feeling physically close to you, and I love making you feel good. I love to give you things and do things for you that make you happy. And you make me feel good too! Making love with you is very…emotionally fulfilling. After we make love, I just want to cuddle you and hold you close and be with you forever.

Sex with Mark is good in a different way. It's not particularly emotional. In fact, he can be a little distant, which actually turns me on a little bit. I don't know why. But I might have found a hint at an answer. While I was working through our recent history this week, and wrestling with the morality of what we're doing, I stumbled across something that gave me a little insight. I dug in and used my old Sunday School teacher roots, and researched love, sex, marriage, and gender roles in the Biblical texts I know. I found one phrase, surprisingly, that really put a name to what I'm feeling. In the Bible? I know…I was surprised too. Let's see if I get struck by lightning by writing this…

1 Corinthians chapter 11 is a problematic chapter for me–it starts by arguing that women should always keep their heads covered, and essentially makes the case that women have to be subordinate to men. I'm not totally on board with this, and I used to get in arguments with my dad about it. Thankfully, he didn't read the text literally. Neither do I. So the jury is out on how exactly to use that chapter as a whole. But, it does have a phrase that really stuck out to me. I quote from my old King James version here: "Neither is the woman without the man, nor the man without the woman, in the Lord."

It's one of those phrases that you think you understand instinctively, but becomes mysterious when you think about it. I don't know that I have the key to it, but the words really stood out to me. I assume that the writer was saying that married couples complete each other, and I like that interpretation. I'd like to think you complete me, David, and I complete you. But what if the complementary relationship between a man and his wife doesn't really make a whole? What then? I couldn't help but think–is it just two parts that make a whole, or is there more to it? Is it static, like two puzzle pieces fitting together, or is it more dynamic? Like…does a woman transform a man more of a man? Or, and I think you might see where I'm going with this…can a man transform a woman more of a woman?

I didn't think too much of this until last night you told me your boss said I should make you feel like a man. I like that idea. I thought of this scripture. Then, when I saw the little symbolic note you left me, I realized our dynamic was a little different. And I wondered how this interesting phrase from scripture applies to us. You see, David, I have a man that I love, who is my best friend, who makes me happy, and who always supports me. I'm married to that man, and I love him more than anything. That man is you, David. That man is you.

But I also have a man that makes me feel like a woman. That man is Mark. And when I'm with him, that's what I feel like. I'm not a nice little girl that grew up anymore, I'm a woman. And I feel like I'm a woman because I'm with a man who is…well…manly. He's tall. He's muscular. He has a deep voice. He is aggressive, and he simply takes what he wants. And I struggle to write this, David, but I know you want to know. He has a physical endowment that makes me feel like I've never felt before. Like a woman.

You saw me cum for the first time last night, David. I came because Mark showed me his penis and told me to cum. That's all it took. I don't know what it would take for you to make me cum. It hasn't happened yet. This aspect of comparison is now known to both of us, for good and evil, as we discussed last night.

So I hope you realize my choice is obvious, and comes from a deep and almost unconscious part of me.

I'm going to go to him again, David. Saturday night. I'm getting aroused right now thinking about it. I'm going to go to his bed, and I'm going to have sex with him. And it will feel amazing. I'm particularly looking forward to when he cums inside me. As you know, Mark and I used condoms initially, but Saturday will be the third time we have gone without. It is so much better. I wish I could convey to you the incredible feeling I have when he gets tense and lets himself go inside my body. It's almost an out of body experience for me. And I get to share that experience with you when I come home. I'm looking forward to that too.

So there it is, David. I feel like a woman when I'm with a man. That's true when I'm with you, but it's just…more true with him. More…deeply true, I guess. I'm still struggling to explain it to myself.

And also–don't forget this: the fact that I can come home to you and feel that depth of emotional intimacy afterward…I just love it. I don't ever want to go back.

I hope you find this little reflection useful, David. I have found it helpful to clarify some of my thoughts. Things can get muddy when all you know is how good something feels. Getting a little bit of distance and writing it out was a good idea.

Also, one more thing. In doing some research on our arrangement, I have discovered some terminology that I would like to use going forward. There are a lot of names for what you might be in our configured relationship, David. But I have only found one name for what I am. Hotwife. I rather like that. It feels right. I would like it if you refer to me as your hotwife when appropriate. Your designation, as I suggested, is a little tricky.There are many options in nomenclature for what the man is in a relationship like ours. But after considering how you approach this situation, and in particular how you prefer to greet me when I come home from my time with Mark, I think we can settle on a label for you, David. I think you are a cuckold. We are living in a happy marriage, but it is a cuckold marriage. And I, the happy hotwife, am deeply, irresistibly, eternally in love with my cuckold. But on Saturday night, I will take my time with my lover before I return home to you.

Well, I think that wraps it up for this letter, David. I love you. You'll do great in your interview. And when you come home, it will be our home. Soak that up when you walk in the door. It's "our" home! I don't know about you, but I love coming back to "our" home, don't you? It makes me feel so safe. So loved.

Best of luck-

Jordan XOXO

P.S. Even though we've already established my Saturday plans, before you put your Saturday night panties on, I'd like you to specifically ask me to have sex with Mark before I leave. It seems like the kind of thing a good cuckold should do.

Kisses–
J

* * *

Mark stood up quickly to greet Molly as she walked nervously onto his campsite. She had her arms folded and her shoulders slightly hunched. Although the campfire and lantern limited his vision, Mark could see visible strain on her face.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, a little nervous.

Molly sat down on the picnic table across from Mark's camp chair. "Umm, Chris said…I came to talk to you about…"

Mark waited, holding his breath. After a moment, Molly broke through.

"Chris said he doesn't want you around us or the kids anymore. He said…I don't know, I guess you guys had an argument or something…I just wanted to apologize if he…He can sometimes be…"

Mark exhaled, annoyed. "I'm sorry, Molly. The last thing I wanted to do was create drama for you. Although looking back at the evening, I'm not sure how else it could have turned out. I was stupid."

"What happened?" she asked, quietly.

"I got annoyed with him, and I…" Mark paused. "I told him that he was blowing the vacation, that he was ignoring the kids and you, and that he shouldn't do that."

"Oh…" Molly said, a little defeated.

"I also told him…" Mark paused and took a deep breath again. "I also told him that I thought you were beautiful, and that I wanted to be with you."

"What?" Molly said, clearly shocked. Mark strained to see into her eyes over the campfire, but the smoke and darkness obscured his view. He struggled to explain.

"I'm not ashamed of that, Molly. I think you're beautiful, you're interesting, you're fun to talk to, and you're an impressive person overall. I'll be real here. I'm attracted to you. When I saw him ignoring you, and even disrespecting you, I popped off and…I think I took it too far. I got carried away. I totally understand if you want nothing to do with me."

Molly was quiet for a moment, elbows resting on her knees, looking down at her feet. The sound of waves lapping against the high tide mark punctuated the silence.

Molly looked up. "Well, Mark, I'm flattered. But I'm also married."

"I know," Mark said sadly.

"I know you know. But if I'm honest, I've…I'm interested in you too. But I can't, Mark. I can't do that to my family."

"I totally understand that. And I respect that. I won't bring it up again. And if you want me to stay away, I will. I can pack up and hit another beach, no problem. I'll be gone before breakfast. Go with the flow, right?"

Molly gave a halfhearted laugh. "No, don't do that on our account. Honestly, Mark, I'm a little jealous you can 'go with the flow.' I'm kinda stuck making it work wherever I stand. I love the kids. And I love Chris too. But it's…it's hard sometimes. To be…stuck."

Mark sat in the silence for another moment. The smoke had changed direction slightly, and Mark got a clearer picture of Molly over the subtle orange licks of the campfire. Her pale skin glowed in the firelight, and her red hair, now dry and tied back in a sporty ponytail, seemed almost a golden yellow in the sympathetic firelight.

"Well, I promise not to bring it up again," Mark said finally. "But I will maintain that I think you're very, very attractive. And also…I'm not so sure you don't need a vacation." Mark chuckled awkwardly.

Molly didn't respond. She stood up, crossed her arms again, and walked around the campfire. Sidling up next to Mark, who was still seated, she bent down to kiss him. He thought she would go for his lips, but she turned her head at the last minute and gave him a gentle, lingering kiss on the cheek.

Her lips were warm. And soft.

She stood up and began walking stiffly away toward the trail to her campsite.

"Molly." Mark said, still looking down. She stopped without turning around.

Mark called out confidently: "A man like that needs to know that you can do better. Not think you can do better. Know it. And for what it's worth, you should know that too."

Molly hesitated for a moment, then continued to walk away, her trim body fading away into the darkness.

After she had gone, Mark slapped his forehead. How could he have been this dumb? He had created family drama for a woman that he really liked. How selfish was that? How would it affect the kids if their parents started fighting? Although it didn't seem like they had the healthiest relationship to begin with…still…

Dammit.

This was none of his business. He was on leave, and he was clearly suffering from vacation brain. Living in the moment could generate some astonishingly stupid decisions. He really hoped he hadn't offended Molly. He would have to tread lightly. Maybe he should leave. For another campground in the morning. Like he said…earlier, when she was here in his space…

He shook his head in frustration at himself, and turned off his reading lantern. He then made his way over to the fire, gently kicking the few flaming logs apart until they faded down to glowing embers.

He looked at his watch. 11:45. Time for bed. Sighing, he found his backpack, got out his toiletry kit, faced the ocean, and brushed his teeth using water from a water bottle. Finishing, he spit out the toothpaste, and then rinsed his mouth and spat again. Wiping his face with a small hand towel, he turned around to make his way into his tent.

Molly was there, in front of his tent door. Standing silently with her arms folded again, looking down toward Mark's feet. She looked exactly as she had before, but slightly less luminescent, as the light from the fire had deepened to an ever cooling orange with the fading embers. She had a fleece blanket tucked under her folded arms.

"Molly…" Mark started in surprise. "Is…is everything okay?"

"Mark…" Molly said softly, not looking up. "I need a vacation…"

[Luis]

Incredible!!! I can’t wait for the next chapter!

[Open2it]

This is a really well written story! I too, am looking forward to the next chapter.

[Tire_Kicker]

Ole David just can't catch a break... Maybe Vinny gets hit by a truck over the weekend LOL.

[Frenchie]

Terrific discovery.

I like the depth of characters

Love it all (and looking forward to the next developments, of course !)

[Crushing]

Mark took a deep breath as discreetly as he could. He tucked his hand towel into his toiletry bag, zipped it up, and tossed it into his open backpack.

Molly stood on the other side of the dying fire pit. Clutching a blanket bundle in her crossed arms, she continued to hold her gaze down toward the glowing coals nestled in the ring of rocks standing between her body and Mark's.

Despite the reasonably balmy night air, she shivered.

Mark walked silently around the small fire pit and wrapped his long arms around her trembling body. The fruity smell of shampoo had faded somewhat from earlier, but her hair, tightly pulled back into a sporty ponytail, still had a strong hint of that attractive aroma.

She turned her head to the side and leaned into him as his embrace closed around her. Holding her silently for a time, she suddenly giggled.

"What's so funny?" Mark asked, not releasing his hold.

"I'm still holding the blanket…" Molly giggled again.

Mark chuckled and let her go. She looked up at him as he took the blanket from her and lightly tossed it through the open door of his tent.

She stood defenseless, with no literal or symbolic barriers between her body and Mark's. She trembled again.

Mark stepped forward, closing the distance and renewing the embrace. This time, Molly nervously answered by extending her arms up and around his neck. They held each other for a moment, with Mark noting small episodes–fits of shaking from her while he clasped her body in his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She hesitated. "I'm just. I've only ever been with Chris. And some guy from high school. I'm not sure how this goes with a new person. And you're so much taller…" she giggled.

Mark smiled. "So the other guy from high school, not a tall guy..?"

She giggled again. "He was pretty skinny, not much taller than me. Vice president of the school Audio Visual club, actually. I'm thinking…it might be different with you."

Mark snorted slightly. "Reasonable assumption…But who knows. AV vice presidents may be totl stallions. I guess we'll have to find out."

Another short moment of silence. Then, Mark leaned back slightly and looked down to find Molly's eyes rising to meet his. They held a mix of apprehension and hunger, matching his own feelings. Apprehension and hunger. A delicious–or dangerous–combination.

Molly's lips parted slightly as he leaned down and kissed her gently.

Her lips were warm and soft. He held the kiss, following it with another. Then another. Molly's shivering began to wane, and her breathing began to pick up. Mark's hands began moving up and down her back, occasionally pausing to grasp her body and squeeze her to him. He could feel the soft impressions of her perky breasts pressing against his own torso.

She was surprised at how large his hands were, alternately touching and lightly grasping at her body as they embraced. She was equally surprised at what he held below the waist…that what she had only glimpsed before through clingy swimsuits–already significantly larger than anything she had encountered before–seemed to swell even more as they fondled each other.

And he was a good kisser. Soft, but just aggressive enough to make her feel desired.

It was wrong. She was a young mother with obligations. Her husband was sitting at a campsite a hundred yards away. She couldn't. She had to stop this…

Mark's hands slipped under the back of her shirt and began to massage her bare skin. Molly began to melt, relaxing into his embrace. She hadn't been touched like this since…since…

She had never been touched like this. Chris didn't do foreplay, generally just demanding that she do what he wanted to meet his needs. He could be assertive, which she liked, but also neglectful of her needs.

Mark was assertive too–and was taking time to attend to her. She began to kiss him more urgently, and felt the bulge in his pants continue to grow in response.

The two continued to exchange slow, moist kisses as Mark massaged her under her shirt. He relished the feel of her soft, alabaster skin passing underneath his fingers and warming his palms.

He wanted more.

Grasping the bottom of her T-shirt, he pulled the garment straight up. Molly squeaked in surprise, then relented as she lifted her arms from around his neck and held them over her head. She giggled nervously as her torso was exposed to the night air, and her ponytail dropped sloppily out of the neck of her shirt as it passed over her head.

Mark stepped back and took in the sight of the beautiful redhead. She wore a plain white brassiere. She clearly did not pack clothing intended to seduce. Yet the firelight dimly illuminated her pale skin and red hair, giving her form an erotic glow. Her physically demanding job as a hospital nurse was clearly keeping her in shape. Her body held an alluring, trim form. Her breasts were–as he had noted before– perky and attractive. Most likely B cups. Her stomach was trim, but not gym-trim. In addition to being naturally beautiful–a fact that her marriage to an entitle lout seemed bent on erasing–Molly simply took care of herself and stayed active. Her attractiveness emanated effortlessly from that. She, however, seemed unaware of this.

She began to tremble slightly again, exposed to the night air and the visual scrutiny of a new man. It was too dark to read the expressions on his face as he evaluated her body.

"Mark?" She said, folding her arms in front of her again.

"Yes?"

"Can we…?" Molly motioned toward the tent door.

"In a minute." Mark's tone was firm. Commanding. She hadn't heard him like this before. He stepped forward and began caressing her shoulders and arms. She nervously looked around, exposed. She didn't want to be seen in such a…compromising position…

To her shock, Mark reached behind her and deftly unclasped the strap of her brassiere, which loosened without fully exposing her. Mark stepped back and looked at her again as she tightened her folded arms in front of her breasts. So dangerously near exposure. She looked uncertainly at him, waiting for a cue to take their liaison into the slightly more private space of his tent.

He stepped back again, looking quietly at her.

"Take it off."

Molly's heart began pounding. She shyly shook her head, looking down to her feet. This was not expected. This was terrifying. This was…

"Molly."

She looked up at him. His eyes were kind, yet firm.

"What…" she asked, trembling again.

"Show me." His voice was low. Firm. Kind.

Molly awkwardly pulled the remaining clothing off, but returned her folded arms to concealing her breasts. Her bra dangled from one strap hanging off her right hand which was clinging to her uncovered torso.

Mark reached forward and took the bra, and then gently rearranged her folded arms to an analogous position behind her, ensuring the full exposure of her breasts. He then stepped back and looked deeply at her.

Molly stood exposed in the dim firelight, breathing heavily. Her arms were tucked neatly behind her back, her pert breasts exposed to the air, nipples erect. Her pale skin reflected the dim orange firelight–a stark contrast to the darkness around her. Her eyes remained fixed on Mark, who stood unmoved, taking in her form. After a moment, he broke the silence.

"You're getting cold."

Molly nodded, a hint of embarrassed tears gleaming in the corner of her eyes.

"Get in my tent."

* * *

David woke up from a dreamless sleep to an empty bed. Jordan's side was messy but warm, indicating she had just left. He scooted over to her side, soaking in the residual warmth of her body and the smell of her hair on her pillow.

Time to get up.

David stood up and stretched, his Star Trek T-shirt exposing his skinny midriff. He pulled his shirt down and adjusted his pajama bottoms. Walking out of the room, he heard the sounds of peppy rock music floating down the hall from the kitchen. Curious, he stretched his head around the corner to look in the kitchen. Jordan's phone was playing Journey, one of her favorite bands. She sang along quietly as she broke eggs into a frying pan, clearly under the impression that her husband was still asleep and not wanting to wake him. David picked up the words

"She loves to laugh
She loves to sing
She does everything
She loves to move
She loves to groove
She loves the lovin' things"

Jordan swayed her hips carelessly, tossing her hair back and forth as she sang along. David grinned and made a noise indicating he was in the room. Jordan shot a look at him, and broke into a wide smile without missing a single note. He walked around the corner and hugged her from behind, soaking in the smooth movements of her hips as she danced and continued to sing–though now at full volume. He kissed her neck and turned around to go to the bathroom.

Jordan whirled around and caught his shoulder, pulling him around to watch her for the chorus. She raised the spatula still dripping with egg yolk to her mouth and sung into it like a microphone, holding David's gaze as she moved:

"She said, any way you want it
That's the way you need it
Any way you want it!"

David broke into laughter and shook his head, opening the dish cabinet to set the table for breakfast.

"What's eatin, beautiful?" He asked playfully.

"Omelettes! With stuff in them. Ham, cheese, and…um…etcetera." She said mysteriously, returning his playful gaze.

"How'd you sleep, Jo?"

"I was a little restless, but once I zonked out, it was great! Very restful. How about you?"

"I woke up a few times. Still a little nervous about the job," David confessed.

"Oh, I know, baby. I'm sorry. I'm sure it went fine, though. They said they'd give you the answer Monday, right?"

"Yeah, Monday."

"Well it's only Saturday morning. Just relax and enjoy the weekend! I'm not worried at all. My baby is on his way up…" She intoned, giving him air kisses across the kitchen as she folded the omelet.

David finished setting the table and sat down, waiting for Jordan to finish cooking so he could serve them up. "What's the plan for today?"

"Well, we need to get some groceries, and then I thought we could do a little day hike down by the beach? The weather is…delightful. We should take advantage of it," Jordan suggested.

"Sounds great. What about tonight?"

"What do you mean, what about tonight?" Jordan responded innocently, folding the second omelet and serving them both onto plates.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"Well," Jordan replied with nonchalance. "I thought we could watch the long version of the BBC adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. It's four and a half hours long. That'll definitely kill the evening, and I'll be a blubbering mess by the end. Does that sound fun?"

David laughed. "Sounds like a barrel of monkeys."

Jordan walked over to the table and set down the food, then walked back over to place the frying pan in the sink. "Although…Mr. Stark…" she continued, "I'm getting the sense that you already know the plans for tonight, and you're trying to bait me into saying something."

David blushed. "You know me so well…"

"Well, it's not going to happen, I'm just too darn smart for your little…traps." She said matter-of-factly as she walked back to the table behind her husband.

"Can't blame me for tr…"

David was shocked to suddenly feel Jordan's left hand clasp onto his shoulder, and her right sliding down the front of his gym shorts. She was leaning over his shoulder behind him, her breath audible in proximity to his ear. She wrapped her fingers around his penis, which instantly began to harden.

"What's happening tonight, David?" Jordan whispered.

"Uhh, Ummm…" David sputtered helplessly.

"Am I watching a Jane Austen movie marathon tonight, David?" she asked quietly as her right hand caressed his stiffening organ.

David shook his head no.

"Aww…I love Jane Austen. Is there something else I might want…a little more than Jane Austen tonight?"

"I can't imagine…" David tried to quip playfully.

Jordan squeezed his dick tightly, cutting off his response.

"Oooh, wrong answer. Just for that, I'm not going to tell you what my plans are."

David groaned as she relaxed her grip slightly.

"I think I have an idea about what you're doing tonight, However. Missterr. Ssssstark," she drew out his name in a tease.

David sat helplessly, hoping she would continue. She began to move her fingers lightly up and down him, noting the increasing tension in his breathing. She kissed him gently on the cheek, then moved her mouth right next to his ear before whispering as low as she possibly could:

"You're getting cucked tonight, Mr. Stark…"

David groaned and she felt a drip of precum leak out of the tip of his penis. She let go of it, removed her hand from his pants, and moved around to sit across from him.

"David? Would you like to say grace, or shall I? We don't want our breakfast to get cold…"

* * *

Molly crawled awkwardly through the tent's cloth door into the dark and kicked off her shoes, leaving them outside. Sitting cross legged on the floor, she felt intensely vulnerable as a man that seemed to be twice her size crawled in behind her. That vulnerability was compounded by the fact that she had no top on. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest again.

Mark zipped up the tent behind him. He hadn't planned on this. Bringing a woman back to a tent for a first time together was–suboptimal, and his tent was not the ideal space to carry out a seduction. Just a zipped up sleeping bag and a pillow lay in the center of the tent. Mark suddenly realized why Molly had brought a blanket. He blessed her instinct as he grabbed the folded fleece from the corner of the tent where it had been tossed, and quickly spread it across the bare floor. He then unzipped his sleeping bag and spread it flat on top of the blanket.

Molly shifted around as he worked, giggling nervously. After he finished the rough arrangement, he sat up and looked over at her, smiling. The light from the fire pit barely made it through the tent, making the encounter almost entirely dark. Mark could still see Molly's body, but not very clearly. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, moving gently closer before leaning in to kiss her. She returned his kiss. Then another.

The two exchanged gentle kisses for a moment before Mark wordlessly peeled back the corner of his sleeping bag. Molly understood and quietly crawled underneath the cover before Mark joined her. He pulled her body into his and resumed kissing her with more intensity, exploring the naked half of her body as he did.

Molly surprised herself with how readily she returned Mark's affections. She felt his warm body pressed against hers, lying on the ground in what ought to have been a sordid affair. Perhaps it was a sordid affair, but it didn't feel like it. She felt warm and loved. She felt desired, but not objectified. She felt lost in the moment, relishing being held by strong arms that completely enveloped her, loving being touched by large hands attached to a handsome, kind man that seemed to genuinely desire her.

She hadn't felt genuinely desired in a long time.

She hadn't been touched by a man like Mark…ever.

She warmed as he felt her body, alternating between the tips and pads of his fingers as he stroked her back, occasionally giving her flesh a firm squeeze. His hands were rough, but his touch was light. She shivered in anticipation, and she in turn ran her hands over his shoulders and back, excited by the warmth of his taut skin.

The soft, sensual intimacy of their embrace increased her hunger. She moved her arms in between them, running her palms over his chest before working her way down over his abs.

Mark felt her hesitate as her hands approached the top of his pants. He reached down to unbutton his pants in encouragement, but left the rest to her. He kissed her forehead as she bent her head down to look between them and gingerly lower his zipper. She kissed his cheek, then his chest, then the top of his stomach, and then gently tugged down his clothing. She giggled quietly as he wiggled to assist her as she pulled down past…

Oh God.

Molly couldn't see through the dark, but she had just eagerly wrapped a hand around what had before been hinted through clingy swimsuits, and which she had briefly felt as they embraced by the fire pit. Now, she was holding an erect man of a size…

She laughed.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay down there?"

Molly's head popped out of the sleeping bag. Her eyes were wide. "I don't…I haven't…"

Mark smiled. "You want to try?"

"Yes." Molly answered immediately.

Mark reached down and grasped her wrists, pulling her hands off his cock and rolling her onto her back. He pressed her hands firmly into the ground with her palms up on either side of her head.

"Don't move."

Molly's breath picked up as Mark began kissing down her body, pausing briefly to kiss and suck on each exposed nipple, which began to harden as he drew on them. After savoring the moment, he broke contact with her breast and firmly grasped the waist of her yoga pants, pulling firmly down in one strong motion. He left her panties in place, but slid his hand under the waistband of her panties as he kissed her stomach.

His fingers ran over smooth, soft, freshly shaved skin before finding the delicate cleft between her legs. She moaned softly as he explored her surface before sliding his middle finger into the moistening space between her lips. He kissed his way back up to her face, noting with satisfaction that her hands had not moved.

Molly's eyes were closed as Mark began kissing her again. She could hear the light smacking sounds from between her legs as Mark caressed her womanhood. Her whole body was rising in temperature, and she felt the warmth and excitement rising in her body as this new man explored her body without resistance. She moved her hand back down between them, wanting to feel his cock again. She found the tip and began petting up and down the length of him.

He was big. Much, much bigger than her husband. She had never…

"Are you ready?" Mark asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Molly nodded nervously. She shuffled to pull her plain panties down and off her body before laying her legs open to her lover. Mark gave her one more gentle kiss, lingering in her softness, then gently nudged her legs slightly further apart and settled his body between them.

* * *

"Slow down, honey…"

Jordan called out to her husband who disappeared around a bend in the trail ahead of her. He stopped, grinning as she caught up.

"Sorry…"

David was a quick walker, and a quick worker. With his instinctive focus and high energy, he had trouble taking things slowly. This occasionally led to gentle reminders from Jordan–who preferred and enjoyed a more leisurely, contemplative way of life. She was not lazy–quite the opposite. But she didn't see life as a race to get to a goal before anyone else. She married a man who very much did see life as a race toward tangible goals–one reason he was so instantly attractive to employers. When given a task, David was unstoppable. But it made some things–like a Saturday morning hike–a little awkward.

Jordan caught up to her husband, who smiled sheepishly.

"Look at this, honey…" Jordan indicated toward a patch of mixed wildflowers blooming in a small clearing. A break in the forest canopy created a patch of light roughly ten feet wide, allowing the conditions for a miniature explosion of flowers–yellow, blue, and even pink.

Jordan walked off the trail and into the small patch. She sniffed the air deeply. "Come smell the air over here, honey, it's magic."

David walked over to his wife, smirking. "When I see flowers, or smell flowers, all I can think about is delivery times."

"Oooh, we've got to deprogram that, baby," Jordan said, bending down to smell individual flowers. "Some of these don't smell at all, I can't tell which are the really fragrant ones. But something in the mix makes the whole bunch smell…so good…" She was working through each flower, taking a deep breath before each one. David looked at his watch. After a few minutes, Jordan was ready to move on. She took his hand in hers.

David's heart warmed. He could cut his pace for this. Jordan gently took the lead as they strolled along the forest path. They talked about this and that, gradually drifting toward one of two things that loomed large on their minds–David's promotion.

"So…" Jordan said cautiously, "What changes for us if you don't get this job?"

David paused before answering. "I'm not totally sure. I guess nothing."

Jordan nodded. "I don't think that's reasonable–I think it's time for you to look around and move up either way. You're in your last semester of your MBA, you've already got an accounting degree. Why don't you apply for actual accounting or management jobs? What about your internship? Is there any chance you could get hired on after it's over?"

"There's a chance. A decent chance. They like me," David admitted. He didn't relish the prospect of being a junior accountant in the bottom ranks of a firm. Even a prestigious firm. But then again, he could focus on working hard and moving up…

"I just know you tend to stay put where you can stay busy," Jordan explained. "You short change yourself. You're educated, hardworking, and skilled. Steve recognized your value. If you don't get this job, then others will recognize it too, don't you think?"

"Maybe," David replied. "I'd have to establish myself somewhere new, it'll take some time."

"I have another two years before I defend my dissertation, honey. We have some time. I just don't want you to get stuck spinning your wheels and not going anywhere."

"I know…"

The couple walked in silence for a few minutes before David spoke again.

"What changes if I do get the job?"

Jordan smiled. "You're not worried about cursing it by talking about it?"

David shook his head. "You know I'm not superstitious. What happens to us follows the choices we make. I did my best, so I think it's reasonable to make tentative plans. Or at least dream plans."

"Okay," Jordan said cautiously. She was clearly pinning significant hopes on the job, but was actively restraining her enthusiasm. "I'm not sure. I know the extra money will be nice–-the hours might be better for you too. What do you think?"

"I think the extra money will be nice. We can start paying off student loans. Maybe buy a house. Start thinking about kids," David said casually.

"Whoa…" Jordan laughed. "Slow down there, cowboy. One job interview and all of the sudden we're Ward and June Cleaver…"

David laughed back. "I'm sorry. Do you not want me to talk about that?"

"No, it's fine. I want all of those things too. It just seems…kind of early, you know? We've only been married for a little while."

David nodded. "Okay."

The couple walked silently for a little longer.

"I mean," Jordan continued awkwardly, "I do want those things. I want them with you. I want a house we can live in and call our own. And I want to have your babies…" She turned her head and smiled at him, catching his eyes with her beautiful blues.

David couldn't help but blush. "Well…that's…okay I guess…"

Jordan burst out laughing. "Wow, David. Sweep me off my feet, why don't you?"

"No, no, I just mean…I hadn't thought of it that way before."

"You mean you thought about having children when you get married, but you never thought about getting your wife pregnant? About what it would be like for me to carry your child?"

"Yeah, I guess so," David confessed.

"Babies aren't manufactured, honey. It involves a person–a woman–going through a lot of unpleasant things over a long period of time."

"I know that, baby. I really do. I'm just saying I haven't thought about it like that before."

"That's because you're a man, sweetie. You don't have to. I have to think about it. If children come along, they come along through my body." Jordan's explanation was gentle, but stern.

"You're right, Jo. And I haven't thought about it, and I should shift my thinking into that headspace. I was really just spitballing. You know, giving the standard answer of 'what you do after you get married.' That's all."

"I know that, honey. I'm just saying…"

They walked in silence for another moment. Jordan began to feel relaxed as they got deeper into the woods, listening to the gentle, damp sounds of the forest.

"Are you mad at me?" David sputtered all of the sudden.

"What? No!" Jordan replied, taken aback. "No, honey, we're just talking. I'm just trying to broaden your horizon a little here. Help you see things through my eyes. That kind of thing."

"So…" David struggled with his next thought. "So, what happens if you get…uh…pregnant…um…before we plan on it?"

* * *

Molly held her breath as she felt Mark's large cock press between her legs. She was wet, and her desire to take her lover was strong, even consuming, but his size made her nervous. He reached between them to place himself at her opening, and ran the tip up and down her cleft, spreading her wetness as he did so.

She closed her eyes in pleasure as he rubbed himself on her, pausing to push the tip into slightly into her with each pass. He maintained that pattern for longer than she expected. He seemed to be tightly attentive to her readiness, giving her pleasure and making her comfortable before…

She whined gently, opening her eyes to look at him through the dark. He was watching her carefully, observing every movement of her face and twitch of her body. She nodded slightly, signaling…

Mark leaned forward, pressing the tip of his cock into his lover. She winced and he stopped, withdrawing slowly, then pressing a little further in. She made small sounds of submissive invitation as he continued to press deeper and deeper into her, until she placed a hand on his stomach to stop him.

His cock was not all the way inside. He had bottomed out inside her.

Molly was tense. She was aroused, but tense. She felt discomfort as Mark's cock stretched her, but also…

Mark began to slowly withdraw and return, moving his hips gently as he slid in and out of her. With each movement, the points of friction disappeared, and discomfort was replaced with…

"Uhhh…" Molly groaned involuntarily as he withdrew most of his cock and then pushed it deep enough to fill her again. It felt like nothing she had experienced before. The warmth, the tingling, the moisture was radiating around inside her, building toward an intensity…

It left her speechless. Her mind raced in a fog, just a swirling feeling emanating from the union of her body with Mark's.

Mark began to increase the pressure and intensity as he moved in and out of the young mother. She began to curl her hands around his shoulders and instinctively pull him into her. He pushed harder in response, careful not to go too deep. Her small groans began to increase in volume and decrease in pitch. Mark propped himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to cover her mouth as he continued thrusting.

"Shhhhh…."

Molly's eyes rolled back in her head as she breathed in fits into Mark's hand before her legs began to shake. Mark leaned forward and whispered gently into Molly's ear, leading her whole body to convulse and curl into him.

Her silent orgasm was accompanied with frantic swishing as the makeshift bedding rubbed against the nylon tent floor while Molly's body twitched and convulsed before…eventually…relaxing into heavy breathing.

Mark held still, holding his hand over her mouth as her body gradually went limp under him. His hard, long, thick cock was still buried in her warm body as the focus returned to her eyes. He removed her hand and kissed her lips, her chest still heaving.

"Oh my god. Oh my god…." Molly whispered through heaving breath as Mark lifted the kiss. He let her calm down for a moment, holding eye contact with her as he did. Once the sharp focus in her eyes returned to him, and once her breathing returned to normal, he smiled down at her.

"What the hell…" she whispered to him, laughing under her breath.

"Hold on…" He whispered back.

She grunted again as he began moving inside her again. Her mouth dropped open as she felt his mass stimulate every part of her vagina at once. She lifted her knees to welcome him.

His gentle thrusts brought her to a second shattering culmination with his hand over her mouth several moments later. Her own peaked arousal brought his own climax. Pulling his cock out of her, Mark rose to his knees, lifting the unfolded sleeping bag off their bodies, exposing the naked lovers. Molly fixed her gaze down on his cock as he grasped it and released his semen onto her body.

It wasn't a fire hose, but it was a genuinely shocking volume of white, viscous cum that spurted out of his cock and coated her smooth stomach and shaved pubic area. Still coming down from her own second orgasm, Molly saw through bleary eyes the small streams and pools of her lover forming on her pale skin, creating brief spots of warmth before cooling.

Mark grunted quietly, then laid down on his side next to Molly, absently fondling her breasts as he recovered. The two said nothing, but Molly turned her head to look into his eyes. Mark matched her gaze as their breathing slowed to normal.

* * *

"So you have been thinking about it…" Jordan responded to David's pointed query playfully.

"I mean…I think it's…I mean…yeah…" David stumbled out.

"Oh sweetie…" Jordan stopped walking and faced him, grasping his other hand. "What kind of conversation is this?"

"I'm just…you were asking about plans and stuff, so I…"

Jordan let go of his left hand and reached down to feel his crotch. She grasped around for a moment until she found his small penis, noticeably stiff. "I see. So, this is a factor."

She deftly unzipped his fly and reached in to pull him out into the air. David winced in embarrassment, but offered no resistance. Jordan began to stroke him with the pads of her fingers.

"So you're worried about us getting pregnant, David? Is that it?"

David nodded.

"But we use condoms, baby. You know that. Right?" She added the pinch of her thumb on the underside of him and continued to stroke.

"Yeah…we do."

"So what's the worry?"

David hummed silently.

"David?"

"Yeah?" David answered breathlessly.

"What are you worried about?"

"You don't use condoms with…"

"Sorry? I didn't hear you there, love. With…?"

"With Mark. You don't use condoms with Mark." David gasped as Jordan picked up the pace.

"Oh, right…I forgot." Jordan responded, feigning sexual amnesia. "I suppose that's right. I do occasionally experience the feeling of a man filling me with semen. A lot of it, now that you mention it. So I suppose there's a risk of pregnancy there, isn't there?"

David scrunched his eyes together, nodding desperately.

"Well…" Jordan leaned in close to him, "I can't imagine how it must feel to contemplate the possibility that your loving wife will fall pregnant with another man's child. I can't imagine." She picked up the pace of her stroking as her husband's body began its telltale tensing.

She looked down away from him and observed her hand deftly working her helpless husband's sexual organ. "Well…" she said again, as if to no one in particular, "I suppose that's just something a cuckold learns to live with…"

David choked and came, a few translucent drops dropping from the end of his stiff member. Jordan slowed her stroke until he stopped convulsing, then let go and wiped her fingertips on his pants. She looked into his eyes, kissed him on the cheek, and walked briskly down the path, leaving her husband to awkwardly zip up and chase after her.

* * *

"So what did Chris say?"

"Hmmm?" Molly replied. "Sorry?" She was laying on her side, with her arm draped over Mark's chest and her head on his shoulder.

"I was wondering what Chris said when you came over here."

Molly laughed quietly, then squeezed his shoulder. She didn't answer.

Mark let the silence hang for a moment, then asked again.

"So…did he say anyth…?"

"He doesn't know," Molly interrupted. She was silent for a moment again, then explained. "After you and I talked initially, I went back and he was actually waiting for me instead of playing that game. For the first time in a long time, we just talked. It felt nice to have his attention. We talked about what you said, and he was upset, and basically told me I couldn't talk to you anymore. I told him I wasn't going to, and he was really relieved."

"OK." Mark said. "So what did he say when you walked over here again?"

"He didn't. He got right back on the computer. Something just broke inside me. I realized nothing was going to change. I realized that you were nearby, and you said you wanted me and…I don't know. I walked away without him noticing," Molly replied bitterly.

Mark sat with that information for a moment. Molly lessened her grip on his shoulder, then slid her hand down his chest and wrapped her hand around his cock.

"I don't know what to do about Chris. I just want to enjoy this for a while…" Molly said distantly, almost to herself.

"I think he should know about this," Mark said after a moment.

"I assume he'll figure it out if he goes to bed and I'm not there. That's assuming he doesn't play World of Warcraft all night…" Molly said, running her fingers up Mark's shaft.

"I'm going to play all night. Just not in a fantasy world…" Mark said, matter of factly.

Molly looked up, cocked an eyebrow, and smiled. "Really?"

"Yep." She closed her grip around him and began stroking up and down, looking down under the covers to watch what she was doing. Even with the darkness under the covers, she saw the dim outline of him swelling in her hand. Soon her fingers could not touch each other around his hardening cock.

"Taste it." Mark's rumbling chest buzzed Molly's cheek as the crude order arose through the darkness of the little shelter. Molly hesitated, then slid down to rest her head on his stomach. His abdominal muscles were firm, his skin tight and warm. She moved her mouth directly next to the tip of his cock.

Mark could feel her breath on it. He shifted his hips in anticipation.

Molly extended her tongue and touched it to the tip, getting a first taste of her lover. She then began to kiss around the head, pausing to lick every three or four kisses before opening her mouth wide to take him in. Finally, his head slipped past her lips and she began to suck.

Mark breathed in deeply, enjoying the sensation. He gave small but masculine grunts as his cock found its way around her mouth. She responded in kind with her small, feminine vocal tones.

Through bleary eyes, Mark reached out to find his phone. He opened it, found the contact labeled Shithead, and accessed the text chain he had started earlier that evening.

M: Hey man. Glad we could work this out.

A few moments passed. Mark watched the sleeping bag bob gently up and down as Molly sucked on him.

S: Yeah we worked it out. Just stay away from my wife, and everything will be fine.

Mark smiled.

M: I'm not sure we're on the same page.

S: I think we are.

M: Might want to check your tent.

S: What the fuck are you talking about???

M: If I were you, I'd check your tent. Then, if you need further clarification, check mine.

There was no immediate response. Mark reached down and wordlessly grasped Molly's ponytail and used it to lift her head off his cock. He then quietly indicated for her to situate herself on her hands and knees before arranging himself to kneel behind her. She quietly looked over her shoulder in anticipation as he placed his large palm on the center of her ivory back, pushing firmly down until her arms buckled and her chest rested on the bedding, her arms folded beneath her. He then lined his cock up and pushed firmly into her body.

She whimpered audibly.

"Shhhhh…."

He hushed her. Taking his cue, she covered her own mouth with both hands. He grasped her hips and began to thrust in, getting deeper in this position than he had during their earlier tryst, but still bottoming out. He began bucking slowly into her, becoming slightly less gentle as her wetness responded to him.

Mark heard rustling outside the tent, smiling to himself. He raised his right hand and gave a firm slap to Molly's exposed ass, causing her to squeak past the barrier of her hand over her mouth. He then used his free hand to grasp a fistful of red ponytail and pull it back toward him.

Molly moaned in surprise as he shushed her again. He applied stead pressure to her hair as he fucked her. Mark was fairly sure the dim outline of a man's form was crouched some feet away from the tent. He stopped for a moment.

Molly gave a small, inquisitive tone with no words, curious as to the reason he stopped. Mark responded verbally:

"You want more?"

"Mmmhmmm…" Molly said quietly.

"Tell me you want more."

"I want more," she whispered. "Please give me more…"

"Good girl. Now keep quiet," Mark said as he began to thrust into her again. Molly covered her mouth again and clutched her arms together under her as Mark brought her up into ecstasy again. When her body gave the signs of climax again, Mark encouraged her.

"Good girl. Cum on my big cock. Cum now."

Molly's breathing became rapid before she inhaled deeply, holding her breath, then giving off several small, hushed, high pitched squeaks as her body squeezed involuntarily. Mark looked over. The figure was still there. He held himself deep inside her until she relaxed and her breathing regulated again. His cock fell heavily out of her as he withdrew, and she tipped over to rest on her side. Mark laid down next to her, pulling her into the position they were before they started their second coupling. Her head rested on his left shoulder, her hand clutching his right across his chest.

Molly, naked, satisfied, and still coated with Mark's drying semen on her stomach, fell into deep sleep.

As Molly's breathing deepened, Mark looked out the side of the tent. The figure was gone. He reached for his phone, fully expecting to find a new text from Molly's husband.

There was none.

He sent out a feeler text.

M: Hey, bud. How you holding up?

No response from Shithead.

M: Well, now we're on the same page. Your wife is fantastic in bed, by the way. Great body, tight pussy, the works. Good mouth work too. You're a lucky man.

No response from Shithead.

M: I'll have her back before sunrise. She's tired now. And I'm not done with her.

* * *

David's head was clearer now, and he walked briskly to catch up with Jordan. He was very, very glad that no other hikers happened upon them within the last few minutes. He sighed with the relief of a newly cleared head. Very glad indeed.

Rounding a bend in the trail, David found Jordan bent over to smell another patch of flowers. "Hey baby!" she called out as if nothing happened.

"Hey yourself…" David said uncertainly. She reached out and took his hand again and they resumed their walk down the trail. He was in knots. His stomach hurt as he contemplated his own abject perversion. He realized that he had just had a standing, public orgasm contemplating Jordan's impregnation by another man. What was wrong with him? And she was due to visit him tonight…

"So, what do you want in a home?" Jordan asked seriously. "If you do get that job, I think it would be neat to get our own place. Really make it our own…"

David shook off his doubts. "I don't know. Something modest, but a nice neighborhood. Or maybe out in the country. What do you think?"

"I like being able to walk to school, so I'd like something near where we are, but I know that might be tricky. What do you think?"

"We can look…" David said. "And we don't have to go too high end. I can do repairs and stuff, so we can get a little bit of a fixer upper if the price is right. Maybe one of the places students have been renting forever will come up for sale–they'll have trashed the place, but then we can probably get a better price…then renovate."

Jordan smiled to herself and turned her head toward him. "I'm so glad I married a guy who knows how to do stuff! How to fix stuff…Smart with money, smart in general, hard worker…my dream guy…"

David blushed as his wife heaped praises on him. She squeezed his hand, and her tone lowered gravely. "I do want to spend my life with you, baby. I want my house to be our house. I want my babies to be our babies. Nothing…extracurricular…is going to interfere with that. Okay?"

David nodded in appreciation. The knots in his stomach lessened.

Jordan smiled and began swinging their held hands playfully. "So…" she said happily, "you think you got the job?"

David beamed. "I think I got a real good shot. Interview went well, and I think…well…I think I have a real shot at it."

Jordan beamed back. "Whatever happens, baby, you keep moving forward and up. Don't get bogged down by what other people think or what other people need. I love that you do well wherever you're set, but you should make your own path. You're a winner! I believe in you."

The couple grew silent as the trail took a turn up a steep rise. Making their way to the top, they huffed and puffed until they came to a beautiful vista with a small, rainbow shrouded waterfall. Stopping to enjoy the view, David extended his arm around his wife's shoulder, pulling her close to him.

Jordan took in the beauty as her husband held her close. She meant every word she said to him. She admired him, and loved him, and had every confidence in him.

She wondered if she had crossed a line earlier, however. Not once, but twice.
The first line was psychological. Teasing him with the very real consequence of unexpected pregnancy to push his sexual buttons seemed…crass. Flouting an actual nightmare scenario in the name of playfulness. Especially if she was wrong about why he asked. She felt that she may have misread him, that he may indeed want to talk about the risk of pregnancy she had taken with Mark.

The risk she was going to take again that night.

It was not totally reckless behavior. She was on birth control, and took the pills religiously. She did not have time or mental bandwidth for children yet. Furthermore, she didn't yet feel that she wanted children. At least not at this point in her life. She and David were just getting started. And David wore protection too. That part was true.

But Mark didn't. That part was true too.

Jordan swallowed and blushed slightly. David didn't notice.

The second line she feared having crossed was simply taking control of her husband's sexual release more or less in public. After he finished, she couldn't help but grin broadly to herself–a fact concealed by the fact that she briskly walked away after wiping her fingers off on his pants. But what if someone came along on the trail while she was doing it? She shuddered at the thought of a stranger, or worse yet, someone she knew from church, walking up to them while she teased and manipulated her husband.

It wouldn't do to get pregnant now. And it simply wouldn't do to expose her husband in public.

She wrestled with the creeping shame. The shame of this new, troubling, emergent self. The old Jordan wouldn't be caught dead acting out, manipulating her man, or taking serious things lightly.

It wouldn't do. She had to get ahold of herself.

But an even deeper shame was stirring, awareness of which was just beginning to flash…albeit weakly under the surface of her conscious mind. That shame feared being seen with her husband while his penis was exposed. The thought that people would know that her chosen mate had such a small organ. Perhaps even seeing the weak dribble of his ejaculation. Knowing that she, on some level, invited that small penis and weak dribble into her body.

It lurked under the surface of her conscious mind–she was barely aware of it, but it tugged at the edges of her more conscious feelings of shame.

Instead of confronting that shame, she found her thoughts pulled in a new direction, drifting off into reveries of Mark's large, thick cock. Of the feeling of Mark's hearty, thick release in or on her body. The deep feeling of submissive fulfillment when her large, masculine lover found satisfaction in her body…

"Ready to get home, Jo? We can hit the grocery store on the way back…" David interrupted.

It took a moment for Jordan to reorient herself to the present. The early stirrings of arousal were making their way to the surface.

Anticipation of her evening. She shook her head to clear it.

"Sure, baby. Let's go." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

* * *

The early shift from midnight blue to the dark pre-dawn gray called Mark out of sleep. His had been a deep, dreamless sleep, and he was mildly surprised to find the beautiful naked redhead still asleep on her side next to him. For a second, he thought the absence of dreams meant that he had dreamed that part.

He reached for his phone, dimly cognizant of having taunted her husband with his sexual conquest. Chris had to be dealt with.

New Message.

Mark hastened to open it. From Shithead.

S: Just make sure she's back before the kids are up.

Mark squinted, allowing the corners of his mouth to hint upward toward a smile. Molly stirred, and he placed a large hand over her shoulder. The morning was cool, and the interior of the tent was still dark.

Molly muttered weakly, then turned on her back. Mark stroked her cheek, moving down over her neck, and caressed her breasts and stomach. She opened her eyes, then they snapped open in panic.

"Oh my god. What time is it?"

Mark looked at his phone. "4:30. No one is up."

Molly began to shuffle around in the dark looking for her clothes. "I have to get back. Chris definitely knows by now, I don't know what he's going…"

"Relax, Molly. I told him. I'm going to go back with you, hopefully we can clear the air before the kids get up. For now, take a walk with me."

Molly held her shirt up to her chest, looking suspiciously over at him. "Take a walk? At 4:30 in the morning? For what?"

"It's just something I do when I wake up. And I'd like you to do it with me."

"Okay…" she said, maintaining her suspicion. Mark opened the door of the tent, and gathered her scattered clothing, handing each item to her as she put it on. He slid into his own pants, then stood up outside the tent and stretched. Molly followed him, looking out toward the tide, which was slowly receding from the high water mark.

They walked along the beach away from the campground. They were quiet for a while, and Molly had trouble seeing where she was going. Instinctively, she placed her arm through his as they walked together.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Mark asked.

"Good. Weird. I don't know. I feel bad, you know? But I feel good too. I'm just…a little confused…"

"I believe that. But you're okay? Do you regret anything?"

"I don't know…" Molly hesitated. "Do you?"

"Nope." Mark said flatly.

Molly smiled to herself. The light was growing as they walked along, and their features were becoming clearer to each other.

"I'll admit I…liked it," Molly said at last, a little afraid of her admission.

"Me too," Mark assured her. "I'll go further than that, though. I want more."

Molly blushed and looked away, over the water. "I just don't know what Chris will say."

"It's your marriage, Molly. And your life. Whatever you do is your decision. But Chris knows. We'll figure out what that fallout is when we get back over there. But for me, right now, I really only care about one thing. Do you like me?"

Molly blushed again, looking down. "Yes."

"I like you too. I'm also heading to Iraq in two weeks. I have five days left on leave, then I go home, get my stuff, get my platoon together, and I'm gone. I'm not saying this to manipulate you, or to get you to go along, just telling you where I'm coming from. I just want to enjoy this moment. I want to enjoy you for a while. But I also respect where you're coming from. I respect that it might mess up your family, and if you want to back off, I can go away. Find another beach. But if you don't…"

"Don't leave," Molly interrupted.

"Sorry?"

"Don't leave," Molly repeated. "I like having you here. I'm not sure about Chris and me. But you've transformed my vacation from a chore to something magical. You're good with the kids. You're interesting to talk to. And I like spending time with you. And I like…you know…spending…um…time with you."

Mark smiled and nodded. "I'm really happy to hear that, Molly."

They walked a few more minutes before reaching a rocky end to the beach. Several tall boulders jutted out of the sand, transitioning the landscape from a soft beach to a rocky cliff. Mark led Molly behind a boulder, took her in his arms, and kissed her deeply.

After returning his kiss, she leaned back and looked up into his eyes. He looked back. Emerald green eyes.

The gradual brightening of the day was reflecting off her red hair.

He leaned down and kissed her again. She held his gaze again. Then, running his fingers through her hair, he gently grasped a handful and pulled down.

Molly smiled and blushed, understanding his signal and dropping to her knees on the sand. She rested her palms on his thighs as he pulled his pants down to reveal his cock. It was the first time she had actually seen it–albeit in the low and growing light. She held it in both hands. It was heavy. Thick. It had a pronounced head, and she could see it growing slowly more stiff in her hands.

She looked up at him and took him into her mouth.

The ebb and flow of the water continued to pull the tide out as Molly sucked on her new lover. He guided her head to maximize his pleasure, rewarding her with grunts of satisfaction. She could not fit more than half of him in her mouth, but seemed to relish what she could take.

Mark had never experienced an orgasm from or in a woman's mouth. None had been able to take enough of him or last long enough to bring him to that point. This was just recreation.

Noting the passing of time, Mark knew they had to make their way back to her campsite before the children got up. He withdrew himself from her mouth and instructed her to stay still. He stroked himself powerfully, looking down at the attractive redhead on her knees looking up at him in expectation until his arousal peaked and he released himself onto her face.

Molly sat serenely as Mark covered her.. The thick semen shot over her mouth, draped over the bridge of her nose, and speckled her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, Mark concluded his climax and brought his cock to her mouth again. She sucked the tip into her mouth, tasting the last bit of his pleasure before returning his cock to him. She remained on her knees, unmoving and aroused, until Mark zipped up his pants and told her to get up.

She felt so…she wasn't sure how to say it…useful? Usable? Used? having this man use her for his pleasure. It surprised her how aroused she felt. Strangely…proud.

He took her hand again, and, without cleaning her face, she walked with him out onto the beach.

"Molly."

She turned to look at him, the trails and spatters still visible on her face. He smiled at her.

"We'll clean you up at my campsite before we head over to yours."

"Okay."

They walked further in silence. Then Mark:

"Molly."

"Yeah?"

"You're my girl this week."

She paused, then looked forward again.

"Okay."

[Tire_Kicker]

Jordan, Meghan, Molly... More Meghan please.

[Crushing]

Chris was seated nervously on the front bench of the campsite's picnic table, facing toward the beach with an absent look on his eyes. Mark and Molly approached, walking side by side, clearly relaxed. Molly saw the absent look in her husband's eyes as she approached. She had never seen that look before. Ever since she met Chris, he was always fiercely concentrating on something. It just usually wasn't her. What did this vacant stare mean? Her heart turned nervously, a pit forming in her stomach.

Jumping to his feet when they approached, Chris watched the pair walk casually toward him in the growing dawn light, the thick silence punctuated by the slow lapping of nearby waves.

High tide.

"Hey…" he said quietly.

"Hi honey…" Molly replied, quietly but cheerfully.

Mark nodded toward Chris in acknowledgement.

Although she had been dreading this conversation, Molly found herself surprisingly relaxed. She enjoyed an unfamiliar feeling. A kind of decompression in her body, which in turn affected her confidence.

She knew this could get ugly, but it felt like the long, drawn out unpleasantness of her clunky marriage was working its way toward some kind of consummation. Her infidelity now seemed inevitable in retrospect, and she wanted to just address it and then move forward. She seemed unaware that in spite of her uncertainty, she wore a natural, easy smile.

She was glowing.

Chris noticed.

For the first time in a long time, his eyes were fixed on her.

Molly noticed.

They locked eyes for a moment before she spoke.

"Mark's joining us for breakfast," she said as she sat down in a camp chair. "Kids up yet?"

"No, not yet."

"OK. What's on your mind?"

Chris, still standing, shifted his weight uneasily. "I…I thought we should talk about…" He gestured weakly toward Mark.

"OK," Molly responded.

Her confidence surprised her. 24 hours earlier, this conversation would have paralyzed her. She would have been falling all over herself trying to fix things. Now she seemed undisturbed at the prospect of simply letting the chips fall.

Chris sat down again on the picnic table bench seat. "So…you and Mark…ummm?"

"Yep," said Mark, speaking for the first time. The low, confident resonance of his voice shocked Molly in contrast to the trepidation and almost whisper-pitch of her husband.

"Yes," Molly affirmed.

"Shouldn't we talk about that?" Chris asked meekly.

"What do you want to talk about? We're all adults. We're not hiding anything."

"I'm just…I don't know what it means, you know. For…for us." Chris replied in an anxious monotone.

"Well, it doesn't necessarily mean the end of us, but it means something, doesn't it?" Molly smiled tersely, feeling the first pang of anxiety. Her voice moderated, taking a slightly less confident tone. "I guess we'll have to figure that out."

Confidence or not, Molly knew she had crossed a line. The line of fidelity that she vowed not to cross when she married Chris.

When she was barely out of high school.

She was torn. Guilt was there, but it wasn't the usual guilt that dictated most of her decisions and the majority of her life. But it was still….something. Confused, Molly tried hard not to show it.

On the one hand, she wondered what effect this would have on her life, on her children. Her relationship with her husband was tense already, and she worried about making it worse.

On the other hand, she had trouble imagining a less-functional relationship than she already had. Chris was almost entirely disengaged emotionally. From her, and from their children. And her own feelings had stagnated as a result. She still admired his intelligence, but the past few years had seen his obvious intelligence consumed by pettiness. He could be quite petty, taking offense and returning emotional acid at anything he viewed as a provocation. He didn't like to be viewed as subordinate or inferior, and often flew into rage when he felt slighted.

And Mark and Molly didn't blur the line. They had stepped all the way over.

So it naturally surprised Molly to see Chris fumbling about with his response to the situation. It could be genuine fear. There was a man, a trained killer twice his size, standing in between them. But his posture didn't seem fearful, and his tone of voice seemed…different.

Whatever it was, it was new.

"Shouldn't we talk about that?" Chris repeated at last.

"I'm here, Chris. Talk. What's on your mind?"

* * *

David and Jordan bantered playfully from the opposite sides of their shopping cart. Parked in a wide aisle in the produce section, the two exchanged puns for the fruits and vegetables they were inspecting, stuffing into bags, and placing in the cart.

"In order to for a more perfect onion…" Jordan grinned, holding up a golden one.

"Oooh, Patriotic. Nice. How about…lettuce pray…" David grinned back, inspecting all sides of a fresh green head.

"We must be…pre-peared…" Jordan shook her head in ironic pain at her own terrible joke, setting the fruit in the basket.

"I love hanging out with my best spud…" David shot back, selecting several russets from the display.

Jordan groaned. "I can't believe you beat pre-peared!"

David laughed, turning around to place the bag in the cart. Jordan was standing silently, wearing a smirk, and holding a small pre-packaged bag of pink lady apples in her hand.

David was caught off guard. He looked at his wife, unprepared for the tease. He was surprised at how instantly his heart picked up. Jordan was fully clothed in hiking gear–not the most provocative attire. They were not in their bedroom or even in their apartment.

All it took was his wife, a smile, and an apple to instantly arouse him.

Or…and his heart fluttered further at this…a bag of apples.

"I seem to have read about something like this happening before…" A familiar voice broke into their exchange from behind the vegetable display. They both turned to see and froze as a familiar old man stepped into view. He was dressed casually in a tucked in plaid shirt and jeans, wearing an old faded baseball cap.

"Pastor Ripkin…" Jordan's eyes went wide as she recognized the emeritus pastor from their church that had thrown her into a moral spiral earlier that week. She discreetly placed the bag in the cart and shifted her posture from playful to formal and deferential. "How are you this morning?"

The old man grinned. "Nice young lady, offering her husband some fruit. Looks tasty. What could go wrong?"

David was surprised to see the old pastor as well, but was taken aback at how instantly and totally it changed Jordan's tone. She had switched from erotically playful to abjectly horrified. Almost as if a stranger had walked in on her while naked. He didn't understand why the appearance of this old guy would have such an instant impact. But he was very aware that he didn't grow up in Jordan's world, either.

"I'm fine dear, no need to be formal. And you can call me Joe. That's my name, after all. I just wanted to say hello, and couldn't help making a little Bible joke when I saw you showing your husband those apples." The old man smiled genuinely. "How is your Saturday going?"

"Fine. We had a nice breakfast and then went for a little hike this morning…" Jordan seemed poised to give a full report, but stopped when she realized what was planned for the evening.

"That sounds lovely, dear. I heard you two having fun and thought I'd come say hello. And to thank you for lending your lovely voice to our choir, dear. I'm looking forward to hearing you all sing tomorrow. Highlight of my week." He nodded at Jordan. "You two seem so well suited. It's nice to see a young couple in love. Makes me miss my Josie…"

Jordan softened. "I'm so sorry…we've only been in the church for a couple years, I never met her."

"That's okay, it was before you joined us. She died six years ago next month. I thought I'd get over it, but I still miss her." He paused for a moment, soaking in the sentiment before turning back to pastoral admonition out of habit: "You two enjoy each other. Especially when you're young!"

The old man's eyes twinkled as he walked back to his own shopping cart and began to walk away, waving at them genially. "See you both tomorrow morning, I hope!"

Jordan waited until he disappeared around the aisle cap before her rigid stance began to soften. She leaned slightly forward, looking down toward the ground and grasping the rim of the shopping cart. She exhaled deeply. David lifted an eyebrow. "You okay Jo?"

"Just give me a minute…"

David waited for a moment while she gathered herself. She wearily stood up straight and let out a relieved sigh, rolling her eyes in relief. "That was close…"

"Was it?" David asked, puzzled.

Jordan had a small gleam of moisture breaching the corner of her eyes, which she quickly dabbed away.

"You okay Jordan?" David repeated himself.

"I just…that was close."

"It really wasn't, honey. He doesn't know."

"You don't know that. Don't underestimate what a pastor can figure out. Some of those guys can see around corners…"

David snorted incredulously. "What?"

"I'm just saying…just…I know it looks stupid, okay? I just…"

David took a deep breath to reset, then modulated his tone to match her concern. "I get it, honey. I really do. I think we're okay, though. He said we were a good couple. Reminded him of himself. Reminding a pastor of himself…that's like…the best compliment you can get from a pastor, right?"

Jordan laughed in spite of herself. She took a deep breath and seemed to genuinely calm down. "Okay."

She took another breath."It's okay."

One more. "I'm okay."

David wasn't convinced. "All right, honey," he said softly, attempting to reassure her. "Should we get the rest of our groceries then? Let's get home and make lunch…I'm starving."

Jordan nodded bravely. "Yeah. I'm okay. I'm good. Yeah, let's go. I'm hungry too. Yeah. For sure…"

* * *

Chris shifted his weight back and forth as he looked down at his hands. His fingers fumbled in his lap, and his face reddened.

Mark was perplexed. With his limited experience of the family dynamic, he was accustomed to what seemed to be their marital norm: Chris' bored disengagement coupled with Molly's harried attempts to placate him and maintain some appearance of a functional family. Watching Chris fumble awkwardly with words was new. Mark had goaded him into conflict via text message over the last couple of days, and was anticipating…

He didn't know. Something else. A fight. A challenge. A sulk. Something else.

Chris was presenting something entirely unexpected. He looked like a third grade boy with a crush on his teacher.

If Mark was perplexed, Molly was floored. She had known Chris for ten years, and had been married for 8. He had passed through many different personality phases–high achiever, low achiever, industrious, lazy, kind, cruel, disinterested…but all of them were arrogant. Chris liked to be at the front of the stage. When he wanted to control a situation, he grabbed the reins. When he didn't, he would fiercely criticize whoever did have the reins. Watching him rock back and forth in his seat with nothing to say…she had no reference point for that.

Molly was startled as Mark broke the silence. His voice was deep, calm, and commanding as he shattered the thin ice that Chris stood on.

"We've kicked around the edges so far, Chris, but now it just needs said. I had your wife last night. It was great, I really enjoyed it. I took her again this morning. Or at least I took her mouth. Not sure if you count that. I suppose I would. She seemed more than willing both times.

Silence. Mark continued.

"So…what are your thoughts on that, bud?"

Molly held her breath and looked at her husband. Mark's diminutive use of the word, "bud" would usually trigger her husband into a demeaning, acerbic confrontation.

Chris's face darkened to a deeper shade of red. He awkwardly threw his hands up in a shrug and let out a one-breath laugh. "I don't know…she's my wife!" He said awkwardly.

The fumbling awkwardness was brought into stark relief as both Mark and Molly saw, when he threw his hands up in a shrug, what had been hiding under his fumbling hands.

Sticking out at a 60 degree angle from his body, his sweatpants concealed–poorly–the telltale sign of a small, but very rigid penis.

Following his experience with Megan, his squad leader's wife the previous week, Mark was less shocked than he otherwise might have been. This was apparently a thing for some married men. Interesting. He had initially been motivated to humiliate the brooding, arrogant underachiever out of sheer disdain. This was not the anticipated outcome. But now everyone knew it. The small fulcrum pressing against Chris' sweatpants was more than enough to shift the weight of the conversation into a new direction.

This time Molly broke the silence. "Chris?"

"Yeah?" He said, hastily putting his hands in his lap again.

"How do you feel about that?"

Chris looked down and returned her question with a breathy query of his own. "How do YOU feel about that, Molly?"

Molly paused. Mark looked over at her, catching her eye and causing her to look down toward her own hands and blush.

The awkward silence returned. Then Mark's low voice broke in again, gravely asserting what neither could bring themselves to admit:

"I think you both liked it."

Neither answered. Unsure of what to say, Mark followed his gut. He stood up, walked behind the camp chair where Molly was seated, and squatted down behind her. From Chris' perspective, all he could see was Mark's square jawed, grizzled face resting over her shoulder.

Mark reached around the chair and placed his right hand on Molly's stomach. It was large, spanning much of the width of her tight tummy. Molly blushed again, looking down. Chris' eyes widened as Mark's hand angled downward and slid confidently under the waistband of her pants.

* * *

Jordan's eyes were distant as she put away the groceries. David sat at the kitchen table, watching her over the top of his laptop screen. She seemed lost in thought, but this wasn't her dissertation face. She wasn't untangling a complex intellectual problem, she wasn't digging to the root of an issue. She simply seemed concerned, as if someone were looking over her shoulder.

He opened his email to see if any news on the job had come through. Nothing. It was only Saturday, no reason to panic or celebrate prematurely. Still, he was deeply anxious about his prospects. If he got the job, so much would change. And so quickly. If he didn't, it was now known that he interviewed for it. He couldn't stick around as a delivery driver. He was already on Vinny's bad list. But he wasn't sure where he'd go.

"You okay honey?" Jordan interrupted his thoughts. He shook off his worry and smiled. "Fine, babe. How about you?"

Jordan leaned forward, gripping the back of the chair across the table from David. She sighed, then nodded.

"I'm not convinced. What's on your mind?" David asked gently.

"I'm just…I keep running into that old Pastor…it's got me…I don't know. I'm conflicted, baby."

"Why? He seemed cool enough. Are you still bothered about Sunday..."?" David trailed off.

Jordan nodded. "I'm just. It's just kind of deep in my soul to be a certain way, to act a certain way. I always thought that I'd feel a certain way too. Especially after I got married. You know what I mean?"

"No, I don't follow," David said, squinting slightly. Jordan stood up, sighed, and then sat down in the chair across from her husband.

"I always believed, and I was always taught to be a certain kind of girl, to act and present myself a certain way, and most importantly, to be faithful to the things I believed. And to the people I loved."

"Okay, I get that. But we've already talked about…"

"I'm not finished, honey," Jordan grasped his hands to stop his response.

David held back.

"I want to be faithful and good, baby. I really do. And I know how you feel about it, and that's really important too. But…" Jordan paused again, gathering her thoughts, then continued.

"It's really important to me that my loyalty–my goodness, I guess–comes from feelings. Feelings that I really, truly feel and experience. I want to be faithful to you because I love you. I want to be a good Christian because I love Jesus. I want to have those feelings be a real, present part of my life. When I see Pastor Ripkin, or hear sermons about hypocrisy, I feel like I don't have those feelings. I feel like I've left my commitments behind. I feel like a bad person, a bad wife, and a bad Christian. That's how I feel."

"Okay." David acknowledged. He paused, looking closely at his wife. She seemed like she had more to say, so he waited for her to finish. After a moment, he saw small tears of frustration well out of her eyes.

"I feel like this because I have another feeling, and it's a feeling I'm fighting right now. I feel like this when I'm about to go to M…you know…"

David nodded.

"I feel something really deep. Like, a kind of craving. But it's from my body. Not my heart. It…it calls out to me. I can't really explain it. But it's really powerful. I feel like when I listen to my body, that's kind of like listening to the devil, you know? The will of the flesh fighting against the spirit, like it says in the Bible…"

David nodded. "Do you want my opinion, Jo?" Jordan nodded. The tears were now forming tracks down her cheeks. "I don't know know firsthand what you're feeling, baby. But I do recognize what you're describing in myself. That feeling. That conflict. I feel it too. When you're on your way to…you know…I feel like I'm a bad husband, a bad man, a terrible Christian. I feel all of that. I feel that other thing too, how'd you say it? That…deep call from your, right? I definitely feel that, and it scares the crap out of me."

"Really?" Jordan asked, surprised.

"Definitely," David answered gravely. I don't think it's the same thing you feel, but I think it's close enough for us to realize that we're in this together. And I know I feel that I love you, I love all the things you said. Sometimes those things get a little buried under…I don't know how to say it…the hunger? So when you're gone I feel like those things–that love, that loyalty–are being damaged, but as soon as you come back, there they are. They come right through the door with you. And usually stronger. When you come back to me…"

Here David paused, emotions rising. His voice broke slightly.

"I feel so incredibly happy that you come back. You go, and then…Then, you come back. That's really something, baby. That makes me so happy, and makes me love you and want you even more. I don't know everything, but I know this isn't making me feel less love. It's making me feel more love. If that's true for you, too, then…I think that changes things."

Jordan's eyes beamed at her husband's insight. She hadn't thought of that. Looking back, she remembered the intense, deep satisfaction of settling into bed with her husband every night. On the nights that she returned from Mark's bed, she felt that satisfaction more deeply.

"I think you might be on to something there, mister…" Jordan smiled. "I'll need to think about that some more."

"Okay," David said, cleary relieved. Jordan seemed less preoccupied, more focused on him. They held eye contact, and Jordan leaned over the table and deeply kissed David. He returned the kiss, soaking in the feelings of affection that it brought, squeezed her hands, and then let go to stand up. "Should we make some sandwiches for lunch? Maybe watch a Star Trek episode or something?"

Jordan leaned into a relieved smile. "I'd love that…"

* * *

Chris looked down in surprised arousal as he watched Mark's large hand slip into his wife's pants. Molly's head stayed down, but the flush in her face moved down her neck and began to spread across her pale chest. Mark felt the smooth skin of her shaved pubis, slowly moving downward until he felt the beginning of her cleft. Molly subtly opened her legs, just enough to allow his large fingers to move between them.

Molly hoped it wasn't noticeable, but Chris definitely saw her legs move subtly apart. His breathing picked up as he saw the hint of Mark's hand curling between his wife's legs and confidently grasping the space between. Mark stopped and simply held his prize for a moment. Then, he turned his head and whispered gently into Molly's ear.

"Look at him…"

Molly giggled shyly, then looked up, biting her lip nervously. Chris was deliberately looking down at his hands, avoiding the scene. Mark whispered again.

"Call him."

Molly inhaled quickly, shocked by the unexpected delight of the suggestion.

"Chris."

"Yeah?" Chris said, still looking down.

"Chris. Look up."

Chris looked up and saw Molly, seated comfortably in a nylon camp chair. Red hair, green eyes and her porcelain face reddening with the complex of embarrassment and pride, crimson blossoms opening across her pale white chest. Her white upper teeth were gently biting her lower lip. A man she barely knew was holding her pussy tightly under her pants, and his left hand was confidently moving around her back, slipping under her shirt, and grasping her left breast.


Chris felt a wet spot forming in his sweat pants.

Mark gave Molly one last squeeze, let go of her body, and stood up.

"It seems we're on the same page, at least at the moment." His voice was confident. The married couple faced each other across the firepit, blushing in silence.

"Why don't you two take the morning, talk this out, and I'll be back this afternoon. We'll figure out the logistics from there. The kids will be getting up soon, I don't want to confuse them, so I'll head out on my own for a while."

Molly nodded, aroused. Chris said nothing. Mark gave one last look at Chris, placing his right middle finger under his nose and smelling them before walking out toward the beach again.

"One more thing…" Mark said, turning around and facing Molly. The couple looked up at him expectantly. "I felt some wonderful things last night, but I haven't actually seen your body. I'd like to see you in a swimsuit…and not a mom swimsuit. Something that shows off what you've got. I hope you brought something like that. Have it on when I come back. I don't want to be disappointed. Say…around 5?"

Molly looked down and nodded, blushing again.

"Very well. See you at 5, Molly." He nodded at her husband, who had returned his hands to fumbling over his crotch, one last time. "Chris."

Mark turned on his heel and walked back out toward the shore.

* * *

David squeezed Jordan's hand gently to wake her. They had settled into the couch after lunch, binge watching Star Trek: The Next Generation. David loved the show, and Jordan enjoyed it too, although she seemed to enjoy that he enjoyed it more than she enjoyed it on its own merits. Two episodes in, to his delight, she had drifted off to sleep on her husband's shoulder.

It was a peaceful, snuggle filled afternoon.

David loved when she fell asleep touching him. He loved the fact that she felt safe enough to drift off into such a deeply vulnerable state with him. He loved the gentle, rhythmic breathing she settled into, and the occasional little snores that drifted out of her when she slept at certain angles. He also loved how cute she was when she woke up.

She was exceptionally cute this time, only slowly coming back to consciousness, and running her hand up and down his stomach and chest as she did so. She loved physical affection and connection, it was a major part of her love language, and David loved it. When in that quasi-conscious state, that affection was unfiltered, totally natural. Her instinct was to touch and love, which deepened his feelings for her in the moment.

Jordan mewed gently as she came out of her afternoon post turkey sandwich coma. "Hey baby, did Picard beat the Cardassians yet?"

"That was three episodes ago, sweetie," David chuckled.

"Oh, sorry." Jordan sat up, looking apologetically over at him with messy hair. "What time is it?"

"It's 5:30, and don't worry about falling asleep honey. I think it's cute."

Jordan smiled. They sat in silence for a few moments.

Her appointment with Mark was at 7. They both knew it, but neither would outright say it.

After a few awkward moments, Jordan, finally fully conscious and present, broached the subject obliquely.

"Well…I guess I'll go get ready…"

David nodded gravely, trying to hide his excitement.

Jordan ran her hand through her hair, provisionally straightening it before standing up and walking down the hallway. David placed his hand in his lap and turned back to watching his show.

Jordan moved efficiently through her dresser, working through what to wear. Cute pink panties with matching bra. Check. Are yoga pants too forward? Are jeans too awkward to mess with? Don't want to spend too much time awkwardly fumbling, but she needed to look presentable on the way over. She needed to look like she wasn't going where she was definitely going. Like she wasn't about to do what she was definitely about to do. How does a girl dress for that?

She finally settled on light blue jeans that hinted at, but didn't show off her butt too much and a maroon top that hinted at her cleavage. Enough to catch Mark's attention, but not so much that anyone who saw her on her way to or from his place would automatically suspect a playdate was afoot. Grabbing the pile of clothes and heading to the bathroom, she became aware of her elevated heart rate. This part always got her going. Getting ready for…

She took a deep breath…

Getting ready for him.

Crossing the hallway, she saw David looking at her through the corner of his eye, pretending to focus on the TV. She smiled to herself as she moved into the bathroom and shut the door, removing all of her clothes. Then, as she turned the shower on to warm up, she got an idea.

She opened the bathroom door and came out to the living room, surprising her husband. Thankfully, the blinds had been shut to block out the sun while they watched TV. David's eyes widened as Jordan, fully nude, walked toward him.

God she was beautiful. Perfect proportions. Smooth, soft skin that was basically flawless. Her post-nap messy hair was also strangely magnetic, although he couldn't tell why. Her small nipples were tightened on her perky breasts already. Clearly her engines had started…

"David…" Jordan said quietly.

"Yeah?" David responded, still focused on her body.

"Do you want to watch me get ready?"

David's slow ascent into arousal shot upward. "Ummm, okay?" he fumbled out.

"You don't have to…I just thought, you know…you might like to watch me get ready for him."

For him. Just that pronoun. That third person masculine pronoun. Him.

David caught his breath. "Okay. yeah, I think I'd like that…" He stood up quickly to follow her, but she put out her hand to keep him at arm's length. "Just watch, okay? No hanky-panky. That's for later." She smiled playfully at him. He nodded in understanding. "Oh, and David?"

"Yeah?"

"Go put your panties on."

David blushed and nodded. She called out after him.

"I'm wearing the pink ones tonight, so find your pink pair. I want us to match…"

David didn't hesitate to make his way into the bedroom. He threw open his top drawer and dug through to the bottom, where a small multi-pack of women's panties in various colors was stored. The arrangement, begun the previous week when she began taking her lover without a condom, was that he wear the same color panties that she wore to her date. He found the pink pair, and hastily dropped his pants and boxer shorts down to his ankles, awkwardly kicking them off. Then, following a strange instinct he couldn't quite place, he removed his shirt, so that he was completely naked.

He caught a glimpse of his body from the side in Jordan's full-length dressing mirror. His relatively short, thin body standing over a pile of discarded men's clothes, clutching a pair of pink panties in one hand, his small penis visibly erect. He looked away, briefly stunned, and turned away from the mirror before sliding the smooth fabric over his legs and snapping it into place over his erection.

Walking back into the bathroom, he found Jordan already in the shower, facing away while washing her hair.

"Hey baby," she called out cheerfully. "Did you find the pink ones?"

"Yes."

"Are you wearing them?"

"Yeah, I'm wearing them," David struggled against his own voice.

Jordan finished rinsing and turned around, peeking around the transparent curtain in surprise. "You're not wearing anything else!"

David reddened and nodded, looking down.

"Interesting…" She paused, then ducked back into the shower. "I like the impulse, honey, but I don't think you're ready for that. Go put your clothes back on, just keep the panties on under them. Okay?"

"Okay," David said, obeying.

He scuttled across the hall and picked up his discarded clothes, dropping his boxer shorts in the hamper before hopping and flailing into his jeans and shirt.

When he returned, she was nearly finished with her body wash. A new scent. The bathroom was filled with flowery, feminine air. Still rubbing the lather over her skin and curves, David was once again mesmerized by her movements. She looked up from her work and smiled as she finished her rinse. Then she turned away and turned off the shower.

"Hand me a towel, honey?"

David pulled a fresh, neatly folded towel out of the closet and handed it to her. Moving to dry herself off, she appeared to have an idea, and handed David the towel.

"Why don't you do this part?" she smiled playfully, stepping out of the shower toward him.

"Okay…" David took the towel and began patting down his wife's moist body. The softness of her skin was most apparent right after the visible drops leftover from the shower disappeared into the towel.

Her skin was warm, David observed to himself. Warmer than usual. Likely from early, perhaps latent arousal. Passing over her arms first, he walked around her back and moved the towel gently over her smooth, bare back and tight buttocks. Jordan's head drooped forward slightly, luxuriating in her husband's touch. He walked around her front and repeated his motions, pausing briefly to kiss her breasts and stomach.

Then David dropped to his knees and began to dab her feet before stretching the towel around each leg and drying up to her middle. Finally, he patted her pubic hair dry before yielding to the impulse to kiss between her legs.

Jordan giggled and put her hand on the back of his head. He took that as an invitation and extended his tongue into the soft, tangled thatch covering her sex.

Jordan clicked her tongue and closed her hand around a tuft of David's hair, pulling his head away. "No."

Her voice was playfully stern, admonishing her husband on the evening's boundaries. David yielded and stood to meet her eyes apologetically.

Jordan smiled gently. "It's okay sweetie. Just hop on out for a bit, I'm going to get dressed, okay?"

"Okay," David responded, disappointed. He hung the towel on the rack and left the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him. He paced between the kitchen and living room area of their small apartment. He heard a hair dryer running in the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Yet the time dragged. He sat down on the couch and opened his laptop, looking for a show to watch. He had a pretty good collection of science fiction shows, but he liked to share those with Jordan. He decided to access the CNBC live stream, catch up on the economic news. He leaned back, comfortable in the scrolling numbers and running commentary on equity, market fluctuations, accrued value. He briefly forgot the strange circumstances unfolding around him.

Then the bathroom door opened. In an instant, his entire predicament leaped into the front of his mind. He jerked around to see Jordan emerging. She was wearing a tight, but otherwise unremarkable sky blue jeans and a dark red top. Her hair was dry and neat, clearly freshly groomed. She wore makeup, but it was subtle. She looked like she was on her way out the door for a lunch date. Casual, sexy, confident. But not overly so.

God, it was perfect.

David stood up involuntarily, turning to face her directly. A kind of unconscious deference to her. He subtle placed one hand over his growing erection.

Jordan checked the time on her phone. "I'm running late, honey. Could you do the weekly kitchen clean while I'm gone? I'd really appreciate it…"

David nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. Ummm. Have fun…I love you…"

Jordan smiled and walked forward, stepping confidently into his personal space.

They stood face to face. In silence.

David was unsure of what she wanted. He leaned forward to kiss her.

She leaned back, shaking her head slightly. "I just put on makeup honey."

David's erection stiffened. "Ummm, okay."

Jordan waited expectantly for a moment before breaking the silence. Finally, she did:

"What are the rules, David?"

David shook his head. Of course. "Sorry, forgot. I have to stay here, and I can't touch myself, and I have to keep the uh…you know…panties on."

"Good." Jordan smiled. "One more. What's the big one?"

David looked down, embarrassed. "You text me when you get there and when you're leaving…"

"That's my part…what's yours? Remember?"

David mumbled out a few syllables, saying nothing audible.

David…" Jordan prodded.

"I'm not allowed to interrupt you when you're having sex." David blurted.

"That's right, honey. So no texting or calling unless it's an emergency, okay?" Jordan reached out and grasped her husband's hand.

"One more thing. Remember what I said earlier, about…before I go?"

David returned her look, perplexed.

"I wanted you to ask me something…"

David's eyes widened. She was serious. His face flushed. She couldn't be serious. He looked at her in a panic.

Jordan's gaze was soft, imploring. She waited. After a lengthy pause, she let go of his hand and reached for her phone. "Maybe we should cancel tonight…"

"No…" David shot back, grasping her hand again. "I can do it."

This time, Jordan's face flushed slightly, and she almost giggled, momentarily breaking the facade of her gentle, commanding presence.

"Can you…um…can you go have sex with Mark tonight?"

Jordan regained her composure. "Of course I CAN, honey. But that's a little too seedy. You make it sound like it's all about me. We need to think of this in terms of us, of our relationship. There are good words to use here. Maybe we should have practiced. Let's try it again. You're my husband, and you want me to do something, right? Remember to use all the right words…"

David thought for a moment, then tried again, still sputtering. "Jordan, will you…um…be my hotwife tonight?"

Jordan smiled and squeezed his hand. "Closer, honey. You used one of the magic words, but not all of them."

"Jordan…" David felt his small penis begin to weep in his pants. "Will you be my hotwife tonight? And will you…umm…make me your cuckold tonight?"

He was sweating, still looking down at his shoes. Jordan let go of one of his hands and lifted up his chin so she could see his eyes. "You want me to cuck you tonight, David?"

David inhaled quickly, holding his breath and nodding. Jordan smiled sweetly, soaking in a new feeling. He was wrapped around her little finger now. This was…interesting.

"One more magic word, David, and then I'll go make your wish come true. Try again. One more time."

"Jordan," David took a deep breath and let it out. "Will you cuck me tonight? Please?"

Jordan nodded, smiled, leaned forward, and gently kissed her husband's cheek.

David watched her, heart pounding, as she picked up her purse and keys and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind her.

The apartment was quiet.

[change12]

Crushing,

This is one of my favorite posts of all time. You are a wonderful story teller. Please don't stop!

[Johng1953]

This is extremely erotic but it's also a very good story with real developed characters and told with real writing skills. I'm loving it.

[Luis]

Superbly written story. Extremely rare. It’s asking a lot but I wish the chapters came ot faster. Thank you so much for sharing with us!

[Uscgamecoc91]

One of the BEST Stories I have Ever Enjoyed!!