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--Tanya Decides, 1--

If he thought her ass was cute. If he told her he liked her nice little tits. If he made her hot and she wanted him. Would it be so bad? What if she just… If it was just for her, just sex, not to hurt Nicky, nothing to do with him really.
These were the thoughts spinning in her head as she lay next to her husband.
Was there anything she could do? Looking over at Nicky, loving him. But wanting Donny, Donny, Donny. Wanting him.
How bad could it be? She didn’t want to hurt Nicky. But they’d come so close to the edge today, at work. She and Donny. He thought she had a nice rear? He had one, that was for sure. She loved his nifty little butt, firm and tight when he’d kissed her. Feeling it flex-big muscles of his butt under her palms, strong and agile, as he kissed her in the empty stair well. She loved that feeling, when a guy had a really nice rear like that, like a machine designed for pleasing a girl. Flexing in her hands as he pressed himself against her, up against the wall in the stairwell. Her breath and his mingling as the gap between their faces closed, tingling anticipation rising, knowing they were about to kiss. Well, what was the harm really. Just to try it.
But it was more than that, and she knew it.
The occasional spark had flown between her and another guy since she’d been married, but she’d never let anything really happen. This time, though, there just seemed to be so much ganging up on her.
Bad enough, the licentiousness of what they were doing-she was married after all, but that just seemed to make it all so much hotter. And the interracial thing just sent it skidding off into a giddy new realm entirely. It wasn’t anything she’d ever thought about, but it was definitely part of what was going on. Clearly it was a turn-on for both of them, the whole situation. A cliché, absolutely. White wife with a black lover-I mean, come on. But there it was. From the very start it had given their little eye-exchanges and nostril-flares and body signals an extra charge, an out-of-control quality she’d never felt in any of those other flirtations. She’d always felt she could keep things from getting out of hand, before. Flirting was fun but an affair was a whole different thing.
Maybe she'd been telling herself she could keep it together this time too. Maybe she still was. But god it was sexy kissing him there in the stairwell, risking discovery, married girl with a black guy, and a co-worker too. Bad bad bad. Still, just a kiss, right? No big deal, necessarily. But then oh my god. Because she’d felt him against her, how he was down there.
It was supposedly just a myth, all that about black guys. Maybe it was just the novelty, the unfamiliarity and her rocketing arousal making everything seem, well, exaggerated. But wow, when he kissed her she’d felt him getting hard down there and she’d kissed lots of guys and never felt it like that. So obvious, such a long heat along her thigh. It seemed like this heavy potent thing, all the more exciting for being so scary and threatening.
Trying to distract herself with other thoughts now. This was never going to go anywhere good. Thinking of her for Nicky, snorfling softly next to her. He was so sweet, even if didn’t always make her feel the roller-coaster tingle she’d had with some guys. There were other more important things. She didn’t want to do anything that would hurt their marriage or make her lose him.
All the proper kinds of thoughts to think, but it was no use. The sense-memory just wouldn’t go away. The thing stretching against her as she and Donny illicitly kissed in the stairwell.
Oh crap, she thought, looking over at the sleeping form under the covers. Alert for any sign of wakefulness as she weakened and let her fingers slide under the elastic.
Only way she was ever going to get any sleep.
Yielding, then. Sighing into it. Letting herself feel the smooth arch of her mons, imagining his excitement at that sensation, his thrill at sliding his hand into her panties: this illicit incursion, and the woman accepting it, arching into it. His fingers doing this. Sliding down-gasp-into the honeysweet heat, sliding into that evidence of her surrender, her arousal. Reveling in it, and using it against her. Using it to lubricate her clitoris, to slide slippery teasing circles around the hot, erect little button. Touch touch tappy tap tippy touch.
If no one had interrupted them, she would have done it. Put her hand on it. She’d started to. She had just been so curious. Could he really be as big as he seemed? Sliding her hand around from his strong, clenching ass to his hip, then down toward the front. Giddy like a girl doing it for the first time, touching one of those. Her palm tingling with fear and excited anticipation at what it was going to feel like to touch that wicked wicked thing. Their hearts thumping, hammering, their tongues slithering together as they both sensed what she was about to do. The electric current of something truly naughty and illicit pulsing in them, a throbbing current carrying them dreamily toward the boundary between flirtation and full blown adultery.
Closing her eyes, here in bed, yielding to what she was doing to her self between her legs. Biting back her little sounds so not to wake her husband. A gasping sexy thought: it was like he was there, oblivious, as her lover stealthily took her in the dark. Oh jesus. Those long dark fingers all slippery with her unmistakable wetness, doing it like this. Tapping and teasing. Making her feel naughty and dirty and helpless to resist what her body wanted so bad. Remembering how he’d kissed, so smooth and confident, and oh god melting into it as she’d felt the shock of his velvet tongue sliding into her mouth, her lips opening for him. And then that other feeling, dear god, that hot sensation as he pressed against her, the long wide bulge she’d felt against her thigh, distinct even through the barrier of trousers, skirt and nylon. The slow, flexing pulse of it that she’d felt as they kissed. The thing that wanted her. He had her up against the wall, his hands sliding down to her rear. Squeezing it, possessing it, using it to hold her tight against him, making her feel the beat of his thing against her, shamelessly wanting her to feel him, his thing, how hard it was, how big. Wanting to share it with her. A gift, sweet sweet gift for her. And god help her she had clenched her ass against his squeezing fingers, signaling her delight, her acceptance, and began pushing back against him, letting her hips do the hungry little dance, pushing at him with her cunt. Offering it to him. Her thoughts blurring now as her orgasm came on. Offering it, like this. Because it was his. His by right. By right of conquest. By right of his-nnnnhhhh… his cock. His big. Fucking. Cock.
There…
She grunted, unable to help it, the spasms sharp and sweet, her hips jerking helplessly. Then quiet, heart thrumming and trying to keep her racing breath quiet. Better. Soft. Looking over at Nicky. Still asleep thank god.
Maybe now she could sleep too.
Nothing, after all, had really happened yet. She still hadn’t done it, hadn’t really cheated, which if she had touched the thing, who knew. Thoughts of where they could go, his car, the park, something, had already begun flitting through her head. But then a couple of floors above a stairwell door had slammed and rapid footsteps rang on the metal stairs, descending. They had gasped apart, breaking the connection. Donny pulling her by the hand through the stairwell door. And then they were back in air-conditioned office-land, gray carpeting and bland corporate corridor art, and the hall still deserted thank god. Both of them suddenly laughing, releasing the tingling-all-over arousal and almost-caught adrenalin. Tanya adjusting her skirt, checking her blouse. “Do I look okay?”
“Baby, you look fine, don’t worry.”
And that one last thing, the thing that filled her with guilty fear and dread and trembling anticipation:
“I’ll call you later,” he had said.
And “Okay,” she had answered. God help her.
Drifting off now, Nicky snoring his way through the last minutes of Friday night beside her. But the thought kept zapping her back awake: It would happen this weekend. Sometime this weekend Donny would call and she’d have to decide.


--Tanya Decides, 2--
It happened Sunday afternoon, in fact, while Nicky was getting ready for his golf date.
Nicky had been downstairs getting his things together when Donny called. She’d been lurking by the phone all weekend, terrified that it would be Donny and Nicky would pick up.
“Are you alone? Can you get away?”
“He has a golf date. He’s just leaving. But Donny, I don’t think we... I mean, I him. I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.”
“We can talk. We need to talk about it, Tanya.”
She paused. Her breath had started coming short in her chest and her nipples were crinkling, tightening. It was important that they talk about it, she told herself.
“I’m on my cell. I’m just down the street. I can come there, soon as he leaves.”
“He’ll be going in about five minutes,” she heard herself saying.
“Kind of car he drive?”
His voice tense, keyed up. Excited. Excited for her.
“Black Taurus. Unless he takes the Acura. But he usually drives the Taurus.”
“I’ll watch for him to go by, then I’ll come in.”
“We shouldn’t do this.”
“Trust me. We have to.”
Panting silence.
“Tell me what your wearing.”
“I thought we we’re just going to talk.”
“This is talking. Tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Oh god. Nothing special. Just cut-offs. Little tube top.”
“Tube top. That same one?”
“I’m afraid he’ll hear us.”
“Tell me.”
“Okay, yes. It’s the same one.”
Two months ago, the office picnic. When they’d first felt it that spark, that scary, exciting spark. Nicky had been off helping with the barbecue when he came over to her. She’d seen him around the office-a recent hire-and in their few interactions she’d felt a definite tingle of interest, but it was unprofessional to think such things and she’d put it aside. Except for getting ready this morning and thinking “casual dress,” and thinking about that little top she’d bought, and how it would feel to have Donny’s eyeing her in that. She knew she looked hot, and lots of guys would be glancing at her “that way,” but she was mainly thinking about this new guy, Donny. Because even though she liked to tease the other guys a little, there was something special about him looking at her. He had the softest, kindest eyes and a tight, hot bod-anyone could see that he was really fit, even with a business suit on-and there was something about the cross-racial aspect that put the hunger in his eyes and the way it made her feel in a whole different light. It was edgier, riskier. Even the little bit of flirting they'd done seemed to go over the line into something serious, something hot and sexy and not so innocent at all.
And there’d been a tingle, more than a tingle, a hot little thrill, when he’d come upon her alone over by the river where the picnic tables were, and silently started helping her put rocks to keep the wind from snatching the table cloth. And looked at her, that way. And she knew her nipples were visible against the stretchy spandex and the tingle centered there. Felt them crinkling, knew they were obvious to his eyes and she couldn’t do anything about it. That delicious letting-go feeling. Nipples just perking right up, standing to attention, all happy and obvious in the tight little tube top and making her a little helpless, making her feel a warm slippery tingle every time his eyes swept down across her chest.
“Who was that, hon?” Nicky called up the stairs after she’d hung up the phone.
“Wendy,” she said. “She’s thinking of coming by, later.”
“You have a good time then. I’m on may way. Might have a drink with Josh after.” The door slammed. Muffled sound of the car starting up, gravel crunch as it hit the rough patch at the end of the drive. And then a few minutes later the gravel crunched again. Her heart thumping as a car door chunked and shoes clocked on the slate path.
“Hey,” he said when she opened it.
“Hey yourself.”
“Can I come in?”
She paused. They didn’t have to do anything, the lying voice in her head said. His eyes swept down and back up again. Warm eyes, pretty eyes for a guy, long lashes. Hungry for her. Young black guy, pretty white wife. Jesus.
“Okay. Just for a minute.”
“Sure.”
Trying to keep it light. She made the effort. Trying to keep it casual, normal, like he really had just dropped by for a friendly social visit. Just to talk.
“Can I get you a beer or something?” But she kept feeling his eyes on her, her naked legs, the slippery spandex top. Her nipples excited and excitingly visible. That same tingling rush, yeah. But in her house now. Alone. Just her with this black guy, her husband freshly departed for the afternoon. She felt tight between her legs, like her cutoffs were a size too small. Ridiculous. She was already that excited. Blood rushing down there, making her sensitive, hot, swollen and ready. Ridiculous.
A last little despairing attempt by the voice of propriety in her head: you’re not really going to do this, Tanya? Really let him fuck… but that word itself a mistake on Miss Propriety’s part, oh yes it was. Let him fuck me. Fuck this hot babe, this too too horny white wife with the long pretty legs and too-tight tube-top already hot between her legs for the big big cock she’d felt against her in the stairwell.
She thought it would be gradual, a seduction, a few kisses on the couch, maybe something she could control, even stop before it went too far.
Instead, when she went to the fridge he came up behind her. She leaned to pull a Sierra Nevada out of the six pack (will Nicky notice? I’ll tell him Wendy drank it), and when she rose he was right behind her--she just straightened into his arms and suddenly he was holding her, dark strong forearms circling her waist. Waiting to hear herself object, and then she felt warm lips on the back of her neck. She shivered, cool air trickling out of the fridge and her nipples tightened even more, tingling and crinkling. The sweet falling feeling, letting go. His hands lifting to her tits. The shock of it, their first real sexual touch. Looking down to see: strong black hands holding her breasts, nipples standing up in the arc between thumb and forefinger, treacherously stretching against the slippery material. Electric tingles between her legs, like free fall. Here on the boundary between flirtation and affair, crossing over into real sex.
And there might have just been some possibility of stopping this in the shock itself, the part of her that was offended at his boldness, his presumption that he could take this liberty. I am a married woman Donny. I'm not some slutty little wife you can just....
But no. Because… no. Because of that. What she felt again. As the arc of fingers closed around her peaked nipples and he was warm against her back and oh god there it was again, the hot bar of him back there, his big thing stretching long against her ass as he claimed her, as he pushed them both over the boundary into the strange and exciting territory of adultery.
They did it in the living room, the first time. She thought he might take her on the floor, the thick carpet, but his idea was to do it with her bending over the back of the couch.
He took her. Took her-that was what it was like. She’d never experienced that kind of thing before. Always her boyfriends, including her husband, had been nice, polite, reciprocal, going down on her and hoping she would do the same for them-which she did, she liked doing it-but above all aware of her needs as well as theirs and, well, on some level just polite about it all.
Not like this. Not like being stripped from behind, cut-offs and panties jerked down and off in a little tangle. His hot lips on her tight little butt, laughing-so excited he liked that, kissing her little-and then pushing her forward, and she moaned, arching out and his tongue was all slippery in the already slippery saddle of her cunt. Giving her pleasure, but mainly to get her wet-to make sure she was wet and ready for it, for the big thing she’d felt. Going weak at the thought of it. Leaving it all up to him.
His hand on her back, keeping her down as he stood. Fumble and clink of clothing, and her heart racing with anticipation. Her adulterous little cunt slick for him, wet for him, nothing could stop it now, and she grunted with abandon, bent forward like some object for his pleasure, her cunt raised and receptive and ready for him. The thing bumping around back there, bumping up against her butt. Lying sleek and hot along the crack of her ass. Then sliding down, his hand forcing it down against its own resistant rigidity. Pressing it in between her legs, bulging along slick lips, and the little hiss he made, the sound of his pleasure as he felt himself sliding in her oily heat and wetness. Sliding up and down, then pushing, pushing. Finding the spot and pressing there. And it was huge, she could tell how big it was, how wide it was. Which scared her but she was just this fuck thing now, this toy for him, and she spread as much as she could and pushed back at it despite the difficulty of her posture, held down over the back of the couch as he pushed his cock into her from the rear.
Gasping as he took her like that, rough and impatient, and she couldn’t move the way she wanted, all she could do was take it. His slow strokes ensuring that she wetted the thing, that it was all nice and slick as it pushed in then pulled slowly out, going deeper and deeper, stretching her to the limit, making her cry out, some pain there but it was magnificent, it was huge and proud and she was sharing in that, it was hers now too. So much bigger than nice little Nicky and the thought made her feel like the wicked terrible slut she was, bent over like this for her lover, her big-cocked black lover. And she wanted to show him that, how she wanted this now but she couldn’t really move like this, could only wait for him to take her in his own way. But she pleased him, she knew she did, because he was gasping and hissing and making pleasure sounds as he slid the thing out and pushed it back in. The both of them crying out as he found his rhythm, the steady pull and push, the soft smack of thighs against her ass, her cunt stretching and clasping the thing. And it stiffened and stiffened as he began going faster, she could feel it getting harder, more rigid. And they both cried out at the realization of what this meant, that ten minutes ago they were just friends, just ordinary friends in her ordinary house but now he was pumping this big, stiff cock in her and in a few seconds it was going to start spurting her, nothing could stop it now. From friends to him jetting his sperm into her in ten minutes.
“Oh GOD!” she cried, and she felt him going into stiff-backed, pre-orgasmic rigidity, thrusting becoming machinelike and a rising groan coming out of him, pumping her fast to bring on his climax, and making a drawn-out rising groan like he was being slowly squeezed by something, Uuuuurrrrrrgggghhh.
Then a tiny pause-tingly, teetering on the edge….
Then Uh, Uh, Uh, and she was going into spasm again-she’d already come, it was all like coming really, only this was IT now, the thing jetting into her, the absolute sinfulness of it making her feel more abandoned, more out of herself with excitement than she’d ever been in her life, the thing expanding and pulsing in her in this completely mastering and massive way, not like the little spurtings and jerkings she’d experienced with others, with Nicky, but this completely different, heavy, massive pulsing, making her own orgasm go on and on and on with it.
It was only later, when he took her in the bedroom, that she got to kneel to it, explore it, worship it.
She hadn’t really gotten to see it, down there in the living room. By the time she’d recovered and turned around it had disappeared back into his underwear. And then he was kissing her and she was just weak, letting him do whatever he would, her legs all rubbery and she could feel their mingled wetness tickling a trace down her inner thigh.
“God, Tanya, you were fantastic. That was the best. We’re really great together.”
“Mm,” was all she said, losing herself back into the kiss, letting lust melt away all her guilty feelings. Time to deal with that later.
But he didn’t want her to forget what this was, what she was. He was taking her face in his hands, pulling back to look at her. Giving her this fierce “You are MINE” look, and thrusting his tongue back into her mouth. And she could only respond by letting her hand drop down his back, down to the smooth material of the sleek-looking briefs he had on, feeling his tight butt, oh so curious to feel his thing now, to see what that huge muscular thing felt like in the stretchy slippery material. And sliding her hand around to the front and, Ooh. Ooh, it was hot, springy and heavy, and big even in its relaxed state, she had an impression of the rubbery tubular length of it all coiled in there.
A completely different kind of thing, really, than Nicky’s.
That thought brought her back to an awareness of what she was doing--oh god, Nicky--but once she got started she usually wanted to go and go and go and instead of being cold water the thought just made her feel hotter. Sluttier. Oh wicked girl, naughty naughty girl. Later she might feel remorse, but right now she was way too revved up, this was just too hot.
“God, Donny,” she whispered, squeezing his thing in her hand. It was already starting to move and elongate. Wow. “You’re so much bigger.”
“You like that?”
“It’s so exciting. I want to see it. Can I? I like going down.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “Your bedroom.”
“You wanna? There?”
“Yeah.”
“God. So hot.”
By now kissing and his thing lengthening in her hand, the smooth stretchy material. Giggling into his lips, how naughty they were.
Up in the familiar-oh but now so strange-surroundings of her own room. On her knees.
“So much bigger,” she whispered. Staring up into his eyes as she moved her lips delicately, delicately across the big expanding bulge in the slippery material. “Much bigger than my husband.”
“You like that? You like that baby?”
“Mm hm,” she nodded, the movement sliding her lips across him, and her fingers hooking in the briefs, pausing, then pulling them down, watching fascinated as the thing swung out from its cramped state and lifted up, bobbing lightly with little pulses of excitement.
Oh pretty. Oh she wanted it, wanted to explain to it, in some detail, with her lips and tongue that she loved what it had done for her, how it had made her a woman, really a woman, and she loved it for that and wanted it to do more.
Soft skin, coffee brown and glossy. She needed to kiss all along there, measure it out with kisses along its length, astonishing herself with how many kisses it took to get from one end to the other. God it was big. So lovely and powerful and big. Moaning as she mouthed him, sounds echoing in the room. He backed up a step, the edge of the bed against the back of his knees and he eased back down. The familiar green coverlet with the pink florets, bed all made up after she and Nicky got up this morning. So exciting, all these casual little reminders of her status as another man’s wife as she followed his cock down with her mouth. Down on her knees to him, his huge upthrust cock demanding her slavish, moaning, helpless devotion.
He lay back on his elbows, looking down impassively at what she was doing to him. Exciting for him to watch, she could see it in his eyes. That he liked seeing her down here, pretty white wife kissing and licking and thrilling herself worshipping his cock.
But she had a measure of control too. She could make him squint and flinch and gasp. And when she knew she was either going to have to finish him like this or… Well, she chose the other way. Clambering up over him, her hand wrapped around the base of it. Kneeling her way up to where she could get it in position. Awkward with knee-trembling excitement. His hands crossed behind his head now as he let her use him however she wanted. Tanya giggling and panting as she positioned herself, making all the necessary adjustments. Then squatting back, the delicious thick-stretching pressure, the slick resistance and push and deep-stretching satisfaction.
To be fucked. To be fucked. To fuck herself on his huge slick rigid pole of a cock. “Never,” she gasped as her hips shoved her down on this pleasuremaker, “oh never.” Meaning nothing like this, ever before, not with Nicky, not with anyone. Her black lover. Her big-cocked black lover down there smiling up at her. “Yeah,” he said. “You got it now.”
Well so, she thought, the next morning. So what do we do now. She supposed that all the while yesterday, when she was taking his call, when she was letting herself think it was all innocent, when she was surrendering to what really she knew she was going to do-all the rest of it-she supposed there was some part of her devious brain that was telling her she could do this once. That once would be enough and get it out of her system.
Hoo boy. Oh no, I don’t think so.
“When can we be together again?” he’d said before he left, Nicky due any moment.
“I don’t know, it’s difficult. He usually plays golf on Saturday, but next week it’s couples and I have to go along. Maybe I could call in sick during the week….”
“We got to be together again. You know that?”
“Yes. I want that.”
“Good. We’ll work it out.”
They were embracing at the door. If Nicky drove in while he was leaving….
“You better go.”
“Tomorrow. Can you call in sick tomorrow?”
“I can’t. I’ve got a project due.”
“Maybe we can sneak off during work.”
“You make me bad. You make me want it so bad.”
“Ha ha ha, me too baby. Bad is good. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“You must think I’m a terrible little slut.”
“I think you the hottest thing on two legs, is what I think.”
Even now, in the cold light of the day after, she could feel herself getting slippery and helpless. Nicky over there doing his tie in front of the mirror. A burst of toward him. Such a great guy. If only….
Well, that was a weird thought. Very weird indeed-what strange corner of her brain had that come from? But she’d had the thought yesterday, too, a couple of times. More like a feeling than a thought, really. An intuition? Dunno. Something about it, though, made it not want to quite go away however insane it was.
It had come to her in a sort of primitive way when she’d been on her knees during that first real exploration of Donny’s fantastic cock. Seeing herself, in her room-her marital bedroom-as if from outside, as if from, well, Nicky’s point of view-if he could see her now, sort of thing. Just a flash of thought, something shocking but it just intensified the sense of surrender to this overwhelming lust, exciting in itself to be so unbelievably excited. And the thought, if she’d allowed it to go into words, had been along the lines of, well, he’d see it and he’d understand, wouldn’t he. Wouldn’t a guy understand, in a weird way? That something like this, this beautiful beautiful cock, imposed its own rules, its own obligations?
She tried to push the bizarre idea away, but it came back later, both during and after. That if she felt this way, well, it was kind of an objective fact and shouldn’t a guy, above all, understand about a cock like that? That it was just a different category of experience or something. That you just had to experience something like that. That a guy should understand and, well, accept it.
She knew this was a completely nutty idea. But it persisted.

Tanya Decides, 3

Was she nuts? Inviting him over, where her husband could see them together, witness all the subtle signals that they were lovers?
But that was what they were going to do. It was a few weeks later. At some point, she and Nicky had had The Talk, and that was how the plan for tonight came about.
He’d heard from a neighbor about a strange car in the driveway, that was how it started. She supposed she and Donny had taken the excitement of risk too far, or were just too intent on fucking to remember to be careful. Or maybe what it really was, was that she didn’t really like cheating and wanted to be caught, wanted to have her chance to explain. Maybe it was something about Nicky, too.
The thing was, she always kind of felt Nicky wasn’t really into sex all that much. That was part of how she’d always justified her flirtatious behavior. He didn’t seem to mind, and it gave her that little zing she needed in her life. This thing with Donny wasn’t really anything more than that, was how she found herself explaining it to Nicholas, and as she heard the words coming out of her mouth she felt they were true. And if she could be honest, so could he. That he wasn’t really big on sex and never had been-that was true, wasn’t it? And instead of being an increasing tension in their relationship, maybe this was a good thing in the long run. If they could admit how things were, and be open about it. It could be sort of, well, an arrangement between them. If his needs were less than hers, and he was satisfied, and after that she was free to seek out what she felt she needed. As long as she was reasonably discreet. And anyway it was their marriage; who cared what anyone else would think?
Perhaps it was because it didn’t seem that strange to her, once she’d found herself proposing it, that Nicky didn’t react as negatively as she might have expected. He said some things, right at the beginning, that were really just attempts to conform to the expected set of reactions-she was pretty sure he didn’t mean them. Oh, it certainly hurt him a little. But sometimes the thing that cures also comes with a little sting. And surely it was healthy to get all this out in the open, and work their way through to their own accommodation rather than let outside expectations dictate how they should live.
“So, who is this guy?” was the next phase. A day or so after The Talk. It had been a little strange between them, a funny tension in the air up to that point. Nicky had backed down pretty quickly from all that about how she had to stop seeing Donny or they’d have to separate, but despite the positive way the conversation had eventually turned out, there’d been a kind of tingly uncertainty. Had he really agreed to let her keep seeing Donny, and what did it really mean? Coming to her with that question, asking it in a friendly, non-confrontational way had been a kind of concession. A way of communicating to her that he really wanted to try, wanted to understand and move forward.
So she told him. How it had happened between her and Donny, what it was like with him. How fantastically exciting it was for her. Not just that he was big, but he was so confident about what to do, so masterful, and they both loved this whole thing of her being married and having a black lover. How he could be funny about that, teasing, and she teasing right back.
And in the telling the idea had just kind of evolved. If they were really going to do this, and be open about it, maybe the logical, friendly thing would be for Donny to come over so Nicky could meet him. They could do a barbecue out by the pool, get to know each other a bit. Get things on a friendly, normal footing. Nicky seemed a little hesitant at first. That inward look she was coming to recognize as the signal of internal struggle over all this. But to her delight, in the end Nicky agreed.
Not but what the next few days had their pins-and-needles moments. Despite how rational she had felt the whole idea was when explaining it, she couldn’t stop vacillating between her confidence that this was the right way to proceed and these sudden moments of seeing it all from the outside and wondering if she was crazy to have set this all up.
In the end, though, it was… Interesting. Wonderful. Better than she could have imagined in fact. But strange, too.
From the beginning there was this funny two-level thing going on, where partly they were all normal-she was determined to treat this all as something quite okay and normal-yet there was this exceedingly nervy and sexy current running in parallel underneath.
All the preparations-Nicky doing the shopping, getting some nice Delmonicos from Whole Foods-and her own getting-ready rituals. Picking out something to wear, to look nice. The little zing that kept zipping through her at the strange combination of familiarity and difference. Same things she’d be doing if it was just anyone coming over-but it wasn’t just anyone. Picking out underthings, and that thought came again, about how Donny was, and if Nicky just saw, he would understand. As a man, he’d understand why this was so good for her, so exciting. Electric and weird, that thought. She just had to shelve it. Let matters develop as they would-it would be wrong and dangerous to try to force things.


Tanya Decides, 4
That little zing she kept feeling, despite the outward normality of things, that was what did it. It just kept growing more and more intense until it just started making things happen.
She was determined that Nicky would be nice about things, emphasizing that she really needed him to make a good-faith effort and get off to a good start with Donny. The key, she decided, was to keep things as normal as possible, a straightforward social encounter, a chance for Nicky to meet her new friend from work.
At the same time, there was this delicious feeling of making herself look nice just as she normally would for a casual get-together, but with the added thrill of doing it for her lover. The question, “How do I look, hon?” taking on this sudden new dimension. Her long legs bare to mid-thigh, swishy little pleated skirt, a sleeveless cotton knit top. A glance at the mirror confirming that that undercurrent of excitement was evident in her nipples pressing against the clingy material. Nothing’s going to happen, she admonished herself. Just a friendly chance to get to know each other socially. Explore this new situation, help Nicky-help them all, really-adjust to it. It wouldn’t be anything more than that.
What actually happened, though, was the zing took over.
Pretty normal at first. Donny did well, turning on the charm, reassuring Nicky that he was not some ogre coming to break up their relationship. She had asked him to contribute the wine, and it helped that he had made good choices-a very nice California Pinot and a Chateau-neuf,--because this was something Nicky was into and respected, and it gave them a neutral topic to get started on.
The drinks before dinner did their work, easing tongues and lowering tensions. Donny admiring Nicky’s efforts at the grill, both of them moving on to other topics-golf, cars, guy stuff-while Tanya leaned back in a chaise, sipping her drink. Feet prettily crossed, long tan legs casually displayed. Dark glances from Donny, gliding up along her thighs, a hungry, knowing look. Apprehensive ones from Nicky. Her own eyes protected behind her sunglasses.
Well, things did want to drift in that direction. Donny wasn’t the kind of guy to behave himself around a woman he was involved with, even if her husband was present. He did just keep taking little liberties and she found herself naturally falling into his rhythm. Lightly holding his offered hand as they sat side-by-side on the sun couches. Inviting him to refresh her drink for her. Getting up to show him her garden. The feel of his hand on back, sliding down to rest familiarly on her hip as she showed him the flower beds she’d been working on. The zing of his touch combining with the nervy edge of doing this with Nicky standing there. It was sending all kinds of tingly signals out along her skin and nerve endings. She had to admit to herself that this play, mild as it was, was making her hot. Just sending all the little signals that they were a couple, they were lovers, and Nicky diligently working at his barbecue, being polite about all this like he should. Well, fine, she thought. This was fine, what it was all about really. Nicky getting used to this, learning to accept it. It was all going perfectly.
And it was tempting to take it farther, wasn’t it. Because it felt so giddy and electric and risky. Back at her chaise as Nicky finished up at the grill. His back to them, intent on his work-a little more so than usual, perhaps. Perhaps trying to play down what was developing over here: Donny smoothing lotion on her legs. Hands gliding appreciatively along her calves, up along the delicious smoothness of her thighs. The lotion not very necessary now that the sun was touching the tree tops at the edge of the yard, but the slippery caress of his hands was very pleasant and a little moisturizer when you’d been out in the sun was never a bad thing.
The spell building through dinner. Donny exuding his easy charm as they chewed and sipped, and just naturally, subtly taking charge of the situation. Nicky becoming increasingly taciturn, but not stopping what was going on. Donny keeping up the friendly chit chat, sharing a few comments, a joke with Nicky, and all the while doing things under the table. His foot flirting with hers. A bare toe tracing teasingly up the back of her calf.
She was starting to feel impatient, needy, the insistent heat between her thighs asserting control. Her nipples standing out hard against her top, contradicting the superficial normality of the scene. Nicky’s eyes kept flicking down to them, then nervously away. Donny’s hand casually coming to her leg as he made some comment about her to Nicky: how lovely she was, how lucky Nicky was to have someone like her.

Nicky’s voice got a little funny. Maybe it was the three glasses of wine he’d had. A kind of weak little hitch to it. Donny’s hand remained on her thigh as they sat talking, glasses refilled and plates empty. Softly caressing her leg, and Nicky knew it, too; his eyes kept drifting over to the point where Donny’s hand disappeared under the table, the undisguised caressing motion of his arm. At first Donny’s hand was just warmly cupping there, casually claiming the right to touch her this way. But it evolved into a caress, fingertips tracing little lines. Enjoying the rich velvet of her thighs, touches meant to communicate how sexy she was to him. Touches meant to tease her, arouse her, right in front of her husband.
It was the first really hot day of late spring, and the heat didn’t fade with the sun-a sure sign summer was about to settle in for real. Matching the impatient, furious heat building inside her. Her cunt was hot and it wanted to take control of her, of this-the whole situation. A feeling somewhere between fury and languorous surrender. At some point the guys got on to some man-topic she didn’t care about as the after-dinner wine flowed. Tanya got up, denying Donny’s wicked teasing fingers any more fun at her expense. Feeling the eyes of both on her back, she idled her way over by the pool and dipped a toe in. Cool water. She wanted to feel cool water on her skin. There’d been some talk of bathing suits earlier but no one had made a move in that direction. Well, she skinny-dipped all the time-none of the houses nearby had a view of their pool. What was to stop her now?
She felt pretty, desirable, a classical moment, like something in a painting. Girl strips to bathe in the twilight. The male voices going silent as she crossed her arms and pulled the stretchy knit top up and off. She was all casualness as she turned, bare tits tingling under the double male gaze. She’d never done anything like this before. It was fun, sexy. Hot.
“It’s so hot,” she said. “I’m going in.”
Fingers at the back of her skirt, finding the little catch. The catch fussing then letting go, the skirt slipping down to puddle at her feet.
“Anyone care to join me?”
Hot. Their eyes on her. Donny’s eyes. Her naked nipples crinkled tight. No going back, she thought, and with a light-headed thrill let her fingers slide under the waistband of the filmy little Victoria’s Secret boy-briefs she’d chosen for tonight. Pulling out and down, baring herself to them. Wouldn’t have done it if they’d not been teasing her: Donny with his fingers, Nicky with his lovely pain and surrender, acceptance. No wonder this cunt wanted to bare itself, punish them for being so naughty.
Drunk thoughts, funny and strange. Exciting. And anyway she skinny-dipped all the time. What was the big deal.
Hand to the chrome rail, balancing as she lifted her foot, then dropped the silky thing onto the puddle of her skirt. Turning, offering her pretty posterior to the double gaze. Then step, step and a swift plunge, and shock of cool liquid all along her, that delicious feeling of the water reaching everywhere when you swam nude, like giving yourself to it utterly.
No one had thought to turn on the pool lights and she glided in the dark as the last light ran out of the sky. Houselight glowed around the patio but it was all dark over here. Nicky sipped his wine. Well, maybe he needed it now. After a little while Donny rose, moved toward the dark pool. Just a silhouette to her as he came to the edge of the concrete. Would he speak? She tread water, watching him. Elbows out, he began undoing the buttons of his loose Hawaiian shirt. Up and off it went, classical outline of his torso in silhouette. A muffled clink as his shorts dropped to the concrete: his keys or something. He was naked. A pause as he stood, one knee slightly bent, at the edge of the pool. Casually graceful. he crouched, tiger like, leaped out and smacked into the water.
They started their lovemaking in the pool.
She didn’t know how much of it Nicky could see from where he was. They orbited closer and closer, swimming. Then touching, kissing. Hot skin in cool satin liquid, and she was fiercely aroused. This incredible letting go feeling, her husband just across the few feet of concrete as this happened. Heartbeat thundering, drums pounding in her head. All of them surrendering to this pagan spell.
At some point Donny swam away, then surfaced behind her, his naked cock rising against the split curve of her ass. She went tippy toes, pressed back against him. Let him hold her. His lips on the line of her neck, his hands lifting her tits. She was half floating, held by the water and her lover, a delicious lax feeling. That tingling weakness all over when you knew you were going to a let a man take you. Dangling fingers tracing his thigh under the water, his cock thick and hot and hard against her bare bottom. A long time of just holding her like this, the feeling deliciously wicked, abandoned: his naked cock against her back there and Nicky silhouetted in the puddle of light over there, sipping his drink. A feeling of power, superiority, sharing that with her lover. His power as he asserted his right to her. Poor Nicky unable to resist the primal imperative, reduced to peering into the dark, trying to confirm what his wife and her lover were doing over there in the pool.
She felt Donny’s hands at her waist, easily lifting her. The motion tipped her forward; she reached out to the concrete lip of the pool, steadying herself. Her thighs parting around his hips, his cock a rigid upright between them. Hot bar of it, standing up along the heat of her cunt and ass. He walked them forward a step or two so she could put her elbows on the concrete-the contrast between that roughness and the smooth hot throb of him between her legs. She was gasping already, eager for him to take her.
One of his hands left her hip and went in between them. She felt him moving back, making room for his long thing to push down into position. He was going to fuck her. He was going to push that lovely dark penis into her, right here in the pool with her husband present. She heard her own gasping breath echoing across the patio. Nicky must hear that, the sounds unmistakably sexual. The fact of him listening made her more excited-made her own excitement a source of excitement. A wicked, delicious feedback loop. Cruel excitement: he was going to sit right there and listen as she and Donny fucked.
Sharp gasp as it started. Blunt head sliding in her wet heat, seeking the spot, the angle. She moved a little for him-right there-and it pushed. Oh god. Oh G-
She was so hot and wet and weightless and it pushed all the way in. Head down, fingers splayed on the concrete. He was in her back there, in her to the hilt, the thick-stretching bulk of him throbbing oh god so deeply in her. Hands on her hips, control her. Lifting her lightly so she shifted on it. For his pleasure. Just this pretty doll attached to the rubbery ring of cunt he was using for his pleasure. Lifting her, shifting her, just that little bit, experimenting, showing how easy it was, demonstrating his control.
Then fucking her. Fucking. As soon as it started they both knew there was no being gentle, no slow insinuating insertion and withdrawal, languorous luxuriating in its length and thickness. He couldn’t hold back any more than she could. A gasp back there as if in surprise at this, and then he went from his first, testing stroke rapidly up into high gear. He was pumping her and she was hanging on here, head down and hands on the concrete. Pumping her, she thought, pumping her for his orgasm. She wanted it, to feel him come like this, right up to it, arrogantly fast, fast-fucking her in front of her husband. Both of them wanted it, wanted him jetting the big cock into her and Nicky helplessly listening, seeing whatever he could from his puddle of houselight. She wanted it like this, cruel fast and hard. Wanted to obey the cock imperative, oblivious to everything but itself, furiously rubbing itself to orgasm. Fleeting moments of hearing herself, her husband hearing-oh god and little crying Yes Yes Yes yelps, and Oh god, Donny, you’re so hard, sohardgodplease, sohardgoddoitohgod. The awareness of his coming, coming on, delicious stiffness as it came on, causing her own heat to rise past the threshold, heat flaring into orgasm as he blurred into rapid piston fucking. Her climax making her scream and tingle out to her toe tips, feet clenching and lifting out of the water, goosebumps all over, and she felt him go into his rigid, machinelike final phase, bang, bang, bang, suddenly deliberate, all focused on the feeling the cock needed to complete this, to get maximum pleasure out of it, swelling impossibly hard in her and then bang, bang, bang, and that sweet throb of him, the hot liquid rushing sensation she got as it jetted into her, both of them crying and grunting, voices echoing off the hard surfaces of the house, the patio, glass and concrete.
And then slowing, relaxing. Decoupling. Holding. Letting what they'd done just be what they'd done for a moment. Soon enough it would be time to wonder about after.


--Tanya Decides, 5--
Then there was after.
“Nicky?”
“Yes.”
“How you doing?” The little girl voice she used sometimes. Uncoupled from Donny now; just hugging, the lovely afterglow. Hands holding Donny’s big shoulders, head on his chest.
“Okay.”
“Honest?”
“I guess. Feels… strange.”
“It’s nice and cool in the water. Do you want to come in?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I wish you would.”
She wanted him close. She wanted him to experience this with her. This funny thought she’d had all along: surely something that was so wonderful for her had to be good for him, too.
“Come on. Join us. I want you to.”
He seemed nervous, undressing, but he did what she asked. How did that feel for him? The pale band at his hips made him look boy-like, vulnerable, and she felt a rush of sympathy.
“Come. Over here,” she said, quiet words, trying to put all her into them. “Come hold me.”
Nicky wading over, water rising to his middle. Then right here with her, tentatively touching her arms. Her feelings going out to him: she wanted him to her for what she’d done. She turned her back against Donny, still encircled by his arms, and reached for Nicky. Pulled him close. Kissed him. At first he hesitated, awkward, unsure where to put his arms, what all this meant. But she held him close and wouldn’t let him go. And he began to kiss back.
She felt her heat rising again. Nicky shouldn’t fuss. He should her, this. Kissing him, wanting him to want her. The double embrace made her tingle in a new way, her needle tipping back toward arousal and readiness. Doing it once always made her want more-another problem with trying to be faithful to Nicky. She felt his soft thing stirring against her thigh as she kissed him. Donny pulling back a bit, his hands on her shoulders so Nicky could kiss her. Nicky’s hands at her waist. After a little while she broke the kiss, giving him a little teasing nibble. To reassure him as she did this: turned from him back to Donny.
See? This too. This too. That was what she wanted Nicky to realize. This too, darling.
Donny’s mouth so different, the slippery-satin feel of his tongue. The deep pleasure sound he made as she gave him her tongue, telling him how eager she was. Nicky silent, but still holding her waist. And then the nice thing: Donny touching her breasts. His hands tracing delicately down her throat, along her collar bone, down to the sloping arc of her tits. Mmmm, she murmured into his mouth. Donny caressing her breasts while Nicky held her. Circling in toward hard-crinkled nipples. Taking them in his fingertips, twisting them, gentle but firm. Nicky holding her as her lover asserted his right to her breasts, touching her, arousing her.
Turning back to Nicky after that communicated something new. A different meaning to their kiss. She wanted him to want this, telling him to be loving, her kiss telling him to her while she was doing this. Donny still holding her breasts from behind, lifting them to Nicky as if they were his to offer. Which they were. They both wanted to communicate this to Nicky. Nicky avoiding Donny’s hands but touching her tits with his fingertips, a little circling touch around her nipples. Arousing her for him-the thought shook her. Did he know to think of it that way? She kissed him harder, wanting him to realize why this was so exciting for her. Get me hot for him-she almost said it but held back, afraid it would break the lovely spell, the perfect spell.
Or to put it another way, she thought, try this: turning back to Donny, taking her tits and her excitement back to her lover.
This was the game she played for a while there in the pool, the intensity rising as it went along. Back and forth, from Donny to Nicky and back to Donny again. That lovely floating feeling, the water buoying her body, fears and limits falling away, leaving her feeling so light, so naked, so naughty, dancing delicately on tippy toe between the two men, kissing one, then the other, back and forth. Making Nicky understand. How it had to be. His place to approve and assist; her place to guide him, lead him into this new country she’d discovered. A pagan rite, she thought. Strange customs of the far country. The woman given over; the husband knowing he had no choice but to give her over.
He must offer her. Not enough that Donny should take her; Nicky must offer her.
See? she thought, taking Nicky’s hand at one point, pulling it in between her and Donny. Nicky gasped, shocked, but it was the exciting thing, the best way for him to feel what she was feeling, this weightlessly tingling falling feeling. The shock of it-so exciting. Hold it, touch it. See? Putting his hand on the big pagan idol of a penis slowly clenching its desire against her belly. Her thoughts all naughty and innocent at the same time. See? was all she was thinking, really. See? For me. Isn’t it nice?
A kind of consecration. For him to participate in this way. His smaller erection furiously hard against her-how it felt to be sacrificed: scary and exciting at the same time, the fear losing out to the exquisite letting-go thrill.
“I want it,” she gasped, “inside me.” Nicky grunting, taking this on board. “I want you to put it in me.” He moaned at her ear, a lost sound. “Will you do that? For me?” She felt him nod, unable to speak but sufficiently under the spell that his saner impulses were being thwarted from interfering. “Hold it for me.”
Lifting her thighs, her hands clasped behind Donny’s neck. His hands beneath her haunches, lifting her. The movement forcing Nicky’s hand out from between them. She reached down, a little frantic, groping for his wrist, pushing his hand back in underneath her. Lifting herself higher, the thing trapped against her belly. Donny lifting her, Nicky’s hand going in between her thighs from underneath. She could feel the thing move and shift as he took it, pulled it down toward the place she needed it. Holding it still for her so she could fit herself to it, find the position. Then relax onto it, settling. Donny’s hands under her thighs relaxing slightly, settling her down on it. Nicky’s hand getting in the way now, withdrawing. That was fine-he’d done the thing he needed to do. The thing that sealed them into this new relationship-there’d be no going back from here.
“Hold me,” she gasped, her weight making the thing bulge smoothly up into her, that delicious stretching she’d never felt with Nicky, that he couldn’t make her feel. That she was entitled to. He knew that now, yes? That was what this meant, his role in the rite, yes? “Just your hands. Just-yeah, like that.” All intently focused on Donny as she spoke, but Nicky seemed to understand. Just lightly holding, hands at her waist. The need for him to keep contact, feel how she strained to lift herself on the penis, then settle down a little more.
How it was, that second time, then: Nicky lightly holding her waist as they fucked. Donny’s strong hands and forearms supporting her, helping her, sliding her up and down on the big rigid pole of flesh between them, the electric zizzing pleasure thing. A difficult position, fairly awkward in fact, but all brought about by the spell and exciting, too exciting to stop, move out of the pool, anything sensible. An odd, awkward-straining fuck, their need making them struggle furiously for the friction they needed. To make it hot. To make the cock slide in her, fuck in her. Come in her. Her own orgasm triggering it at last, all brought on by the thought of him coming in her while Nicky held her like this, lightly and lovingly. Loving her like this as Donny’s grunting deepened and became that agonized sound and pre-orgasmic rigidity came on in the cock. Plenty of warning for what was going to happen, plenty of time to relish it, try to add her own straining motion to the lifting of his hands. So Nicky would feel her straining for it and hear her sharp cries, God, now, yes, Donny, do it, god, and the sharp climax seizing her cunt like an electric shock, like nothing she’d felt before, sudden and intense. And Donny feeling it and letting it trigger him, letting it release the pressure intolerably built up to jet himself inside her. Big jerking thrusts, his spine rigid, leaning back to push as deep as he could, and she could feel it jerking in her through her own sizzling tingle, the liquid heat of it releasing into her as her cunt spasmed and fluttered against the heavy pulsing, still hard, the delicious resistance sparking more spasms and making her squeak and tremble and clasp him with her thighs, toe tips curled tight and goosebumps breaking out all over.

--Tanya Decides, Finale--

She was worried. It was a week or so after the night in the pool, and despite how nice he’d been about Donny coming over and all, he’d been acting pretty glum and reserved since then.
It was frustrating. She had thought this was settled between them, that he had shown he understood. But apparently it wasn’t that simple.
She tried not seeing Donny for a few days, but he wanted her and there was something that happened to her when she was with him that was completely out of her control. It felt so different with him. There was something physiological as well as psychological about it. She felt a completely different kind of sensation. That sort of full-blown vaginal orgasm had always been a rarity for her, something confined to the early encounters in a relationship if at all. Whereas with Donny it was easy, it just came on, no stopping it-something like what she imagined a man must experience. Multiple orgasms of that kind when he took her, leaving her exhausted and blissful and… It wasn’t just how big he was or what he did, though his size was part of what she was experiencing. Or even the interracial thing, though clearly that was part of it too. No, the real dark truth was that he was Not Her Husband and it just seemed to make her a thousand times more sensitive and aware of everything he did when they were together. That was a little hard to face--that part of her was responding to the wickedness, the sinfulness of what she was doing wtih Donny--but it was true. Who could have imagined there was something so… physiological about that. Something just inexhaustibly electrifying.
Having experienced this, was she going to be able to just put it aside? Was it fair, really, for Nicky to expect or demand that? Especially when there was this other rich and mysterious sense of possibility opening up, of adventures dark and alluring and wicked and real.
She didn’t want to leave him. He must realize that. She wanted to have what seemed to be just within her grasp. How could it be wrong when it felt so expansive, so limitless and thrilling?
She knew he felt that, sensed it. He certainly had experienced it a bit the other night by the pool. Obviously it was more difficult for him-the role he had in all this, that particular avenue into the special place. She understood, truly she did. But that couldn’t stop them, it mustn’t.
Explaining this to him, finding the terms to break it gently. To be loving-to break him down with loving, understanding, yet firm attention. He never could resist her sexiness, that wild state that she could get into. And yet they’d been losing all that, getting all humdrum and married-couplish. This was a way to get the old thrill back, keep it fresh, let it grow and bloom and take them where it would. He had to trust her, let her lead in this, have faith that it was okay, that if it made him feel something like what she felt, that it would be fine, it would be good for them, strengthen them, bring them together not push them apart. There were ways she could touch him, things she could do to him while explaining all this that made him accept-at least in the moment-the truth of it. Those moments helped erode this other, stubborn self that struggled to control him, to not let go the way it should, the way it must. Her hands teasing and stroking while they discussed these matters. Nicky’s expression, reluctant, lost, helplessly letting go when she made him orgasm like this. Beautiful.
She had a couple of dates with Donny during this period-about two weeks-of Nicky’s initial reaction and her efforts to slowly bring him around.
“How’s he doing,” Donny asked during one of their lunchtime encounters. They were in his car, parked down a dirt lane by the reservoir near their office.
“He’s a little… I mean, on one level it excites him terribly. But for a man, after all-I mean, you can imagine, it’s a little hard to get used to.”
“Maybe we should do it again. Have me come over.”
“Well I’d like it, that’s for sure. It was so hot, that way before. And it was good for him too, I think he’d be okay with it if I work on him a little.” They were in the afterglow of sex, her skirt still tossed in the back so it wouldn’t get mussed. Her hands were idly playing with her lover’s body: his chest; his flat belly; the big thing that had given her so much pleasure, now semi-soft in his lap. “You didn’t mind, did you? When I had him… help.” Lifting it, toying with it a little.
“You being so bad, so hot like that. Turned me on, baby. Great for me.”
“I mean the other thing though. I know for guys that kind of touching is like... pretty taboo.”
“Um. Guess it made me hot. I wasn’t in exactly a thinking state.”
She played with him a little more. They didn’t really have time for another, but he was stiffening again. Such a fascinating process. Leaning down, she began kissing it, tellng it with lips and tongue and fingers how much she appreciated it, what it did for her. Just playful kitten kisses and licks. Satisfying her own curiosity rather than trying to arouse him. While thinking about something naughty, and nasty and very wicked indeed, at the same time. Unlikely, perhaps. Taboo, perhaps-oh very much so. And so interesting to this new part of her that seemed to be coming to life. Maybe something that couldn’t happen, but maybe it could. Perhaps just the perfect thing to bring Nicky around, to bring home to him that things were new and different now and he needed to fully accept it, become part of it.
It was just a thought. They didn’t have to do it. But if it could happen, if it did work out that way, well…. Maybe they had to trust her in this too. Maybe they both did.

A week later. At their house. First time Donny had been back since the other time. On her knees to him, with Nicky watching.
It had taken a little doing to talk him into letting her have Donny come over again. All those mixed feelings he had about what had happened the first time. But she had the sense he wanted to be convinced
“Let’s just try it,” she’d cajoled. “Let’s just see. If you can handle it. Maybe not touch yourself or anything for a couple of days, so you feel less… so you don’t have so much thinking about it. Maybe if we don’t let you, you know, have your release. For a few days, a week maybe. So you’ll be more in touch with your feelings and less… I dunno, fussy about things. I can make you feel nice without letting it go too far. So the part of you that likes this gets to have a chance, you know?”
And it seemed to be working. Pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to himself, and it had affected him the way she said. He’d been so hot that afternoon, knowing this was the night, both of them all wound up with anticipation. “If you’re sure,” he’d said a few days ago. “That it’s not about moving us apart. That we can be together still, even with… with all this.” It had really felt like a breakthrough. The way he’d been so good about not having an orgasm all this time-that was different for a guy, something really built up in them. Especially with her checking him all the time, seeing how he was doing, all up and throbbing but not getting to release all that. His words reassured her that there really was a part of him that understood, that this treatment was helping to bring him in contact with that place in himself. They just had to keep finding ways to do that, keep working at it. So it became predominant. Permanent. That’s what this was about. He knew it, on some level, and it was exciting him. Helping her with her things, watching her get ready, the new and gratifying look in his eyes.