by Cyan
Copyright 2007 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.
I wondered how long Emma would keep reading. It was late, we were in bed, and I was tired, but Emma likes to read before she goes to sleep. I considered whether to go get a magazine or something, or try to get to sleep despite the light and her rustling. I paused to look at her, silhouetted by her reading light. Emma wore what you might call ordinary nightgowns: not overly modest, but not obviously sexy. Emma turned my way, catching me looking, and smiled. Marriage certainly had its pleasant moments. "I have a question for you," she said.
"Yes?" I said.
"Were you ever with a man?"
Now that certainly wasn't what I expected. "Are you serious?" I said.
She waited just a moment, then said. "Yes." Then, "I'm not sure I ever asked you before, you know."
"Well, no," I said, truthfully. Of all things for your wife to ask you!
"Never?"
"Never," I said.
She looked thoughtful. "Ever have a thought?"
"No!"
"Really? Not even a touch of curiosity about what it might be like?"
"Definitely not. What's with this line of questions?"
"It's just that I never asked you, really. No stray thoughts when you happened to see some man naked?"
"No. And the answer to any more of these questions is no."
"You must have felt something, at least once in your life."
"No. Do I sound like a broken record?"
"Yes you do. No stray, unbidden thought about some man you admired?"
"Listen, how long are you going to go on with this?"
"Is that a no?" She looked just a little sly.
"Yes, that was a no," I said, trying to sound definitive enough to put an end to this.
"Not even a thought about being dominated by some forceful man?"
"No!"
"Not even something when you were a boy? Getting together with another boy and just looking or something?"
"That's all," I said, and turned away. "No more questions."
For a moment, she said nothing, apparently not moving. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she finally said.
"I wasn't uncomfortable," I said, without facing her. She laughed just a little bit, and I turned back to her. "Really," I said, "what is this about?"
"It's just interesting," she said. "Two men together, the idea is naturally intriguing. Lots of women are turned on by the idea."
"Oh really?" I asked. Not in my experience.
"Sure. Don't men get interested in women getting it on?"
"Well that doesn't prove anything," I pointed out.
"Well why shouldn't it turn me on?"
I considered. She looked insistent. This was truly silly, this whole conversation, as well as this pose she she was taking. "The truth," I said. "What put you on this."
She hesitated. Then she said, "Veronica said her boyfriend has been with men." Veronica, Emma's confidant. And Emma always listens to her. I always felt you wanted to watch yourself around Veronica, and this certainly confirmed that. "It turns her on," said Emma.
And when Emma hears something from Veronica, it automatically becomes more interesting. So Veronica has a bi boyfriend and is turned on by the notion? I didn't like this, since Emma was sure to talk to Veronica more, no matter what I might say. They went way back. Before me, even. "I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable," said Emma, sounding sincerely contrite. I didn't bother to correct that point. "It's not like I'm asking you to do anything; I'd just appreciate you opening up to me. Just think about it, OK?"
Think about it? About what exactly? She went back to reading her book, but when I turned to give a try at going asleep, she put the book aside and turned out the light. "Sorry," she said, more quietly.
It was two days later that the subject came up again. "What do you think of him?" she said. We'd just run into one of my coworkers.
"What do you mean?" I asked, innocently.
"I think he's hot. Do you?"
"Well I wouldn't be a judge," I pointed out.
"I mean, does he make you think about the idea? Put thoughts in your mind?"
The light bulb finally went off. "No!" I said. Now we were in public, having this conversation!
She laughed. I said no more, wanting the conversation to be ended.
Another time, at a movie, she leaned over during one scene and whispered: "he's hot." Such a comment at such a time was not usual for Emma, though I certainly knew that there were stars that she found appealing. "Does he make you want it?" she asked.
"No!" I whispered in her ear, trying to make it perfectly clear with what tone a whisper could carry, that no variation on these questions was going to receive any other answer.
Not long after that, I came home one day to find Veronica in our kitchen with Emma. That was hardly unusual, but what I did find a bit disconcerting is that when Emma's attention was elsewhere, Veronica's eyes found mine, and she wore what I can only describe as a mysterious smile. Then, when Emma's attention was back to us, Veronica was instantly her usual self.
I mentally shook myself. It was unlikely Veronica would come on to me, and the smile didn't quite look seductive. In fact, I was uncomfortable with the situation, and not quite sure why. Veronica repeated her little performance again and again, and then when Emma was out of the room for a minute, I decided to have it out. "What's with you?" I said, pointedly.
Veronica laughed lightly. "I never have trouble getting my own men to sleep with men," she said. "Doesn't even matter whether they actually want it."
Time was limited for this conversation and I ignored that. "What are you saying to Emma?" I asked.
"Hm," she said, "perhaps you should be my next project. If you were mine, I'd have you sucking cock in no time flat."
I struggled to remain in control: this was not the time to explode. I laughed. I did my best to make my laugh say nothing other than that her ravings were amusing and nothing more. Later, when Emma was back in the room, Veronica managed to wink at me. I fumed.
It was that same night, when Emma and I were in bed, I'm sure of it, that she said, out of the blue, "Now if I had an encounter with a woman, would you be willing to do the same with a man?"
"This is Veronica!" I said without thinking. "Did she put you up to this?"
"Veronica is merely interested in these things. She hasn't asked me to do anything," said Emma. Veronica was clever; I knew that well enough. She had neatly trapped me into having to hear about this subject, and I had no means to escape. I knew I would have to be patient. "Well, would you?" said Emma.
"Would I what?"
"Be with a man if I were with a woman?"
I sighed. Well, two could play this game. "Are you saying you are attracted to women?" I asked.
"I'm not afraid to discuss it," she said. "As it happens, I'm not."
"But you would tell me, if you were," I said.
"Sure."
"None of your friends turn you on?"
"No."
"What about that singer?"
"No."
"The golfer?"
"No."
"You haven't seen a woman's body and just wondered? Not even the merest stray thought? Now I recall that you were wanting me to be perfectly honest."
"Nothing," she said. "Except," she added as if she just recalled, "there is this one woman I see at the spa." She looked to be in thought for a moment, during which a torrent of thoughts crossed my mind. Had I inadvertently struck pay dirt? And all these discussions now had trapped Emma into opening up about this? Or, on the other hand, was she making up something? No, I sensed she was revealing something real. "I don't even know who she is, or her name, and I'd never have the nerve to talk to her." She said no more, but looked lost in thought.
"Well?" I prompted.
"That's it," she said.
I thought about it. "Anything specific you feel like doing with her?"
"That's just it," she said. "I get that feeling seeing her, like it would be heaven to--but really, I haven't had like any specific fantasies about her."
"Just that you want her?" I said.
"I don't want her. It's just, well, an attraction I can sense. Nothing will ever happen."
And that was it for that particular conversation. But I found it in my thoughts: Emma lusting after some beauty at the spa with a hot body?
But I still needed to get these questions to stop. I thought it would be wisest to be elsewhere when Veronica was around, at least for some time. If I were out of Veronica's mind, she might not continue bringing this subject up with Emma. A week went by, and I sensed it might finally be over, though I certainly had had a couple of thoughts about Emma's spa friend.
Then, Emma presented me with another surprise: "I met her," she said one evening. "The woman at the spa."
"You mean..."
"Yes," she said, grinning, "but really, this is going to be an anticlimax for you, but she's sweet, her name is Diane, and now that I really know her, it's not the same."
"Not the same?"
She took a moment to think, then said, "Maybe it was because I didn't know her, that I merely saw her and could only wonder about what she was like. Or imagine her to be totally sophisticated or something. But now that she's someone who's told me about her Mom and her vacation to Florida, well, the feeling I had is gone."
I thought about this. "Are you sure?" And even after I said it, I had second thoughts about whether I should be pursuing this topic.
Believe it or not, following that, the two of them became friends, Diane and Emma, and I actually wondered if Veronica would soon be out of the picture. I met Diane, who proved to be a bit thin, but still pretty hot in her own way. And she was quite a talker, at least with Emma.
But one day, I found Emma looking disturbed. I put an arm around her shoulder as I'd often done when work issues get to her, and I offered to listen to her concerns. "It's Diane," she explained. She looked at me. "Now don't start making something out of this. She'd noticed me checking her out back before we became friends. I was sure I was hardly looking."
I tried to think of an appropriate, supportive answer. "If she's your friend now, obviously those moments no longer bother her," I said.
"There's more," Emma said. "I had the distinct feeling she--she would be willing if I was."
Now at that point, I was torn. The fantasy of a lifetime threatens, and yet Emma is upset and I must be supportive. "Do you feel she'd also be willing to put all this behind her?" I said, gently.
She looked at me. "I don't like this," she said. "It made me nervous just to be there with her."
It was the next night that Emma said, while we were in bed, "Have you thought about the idea of being with a man?"
I considered whether to explode, or perhaps even to pretend I didn't hear. "Not this again," I finally said, feeling I had to acknowledge her.
"Since you aren't comfortable with the idea, it would probably be easier if it were someone you didn't know," she said. "Veronica knows men she could set something up with."
"Now wait a minute," I said. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing," said Emma. I stared at her, not believing the conversation-from-hell was back to haunt me. "I guess since Diane told me those things--now I want her again. I really want her."
"You're attracted to Diane?"
She sounded hesitant. "Yes." Then: "We could make a deal. It doesn't have to be oral or anal for you or anything like that. Veronica says sometimes men just masturbate each other, which you surely could stand one time. Or even just watch each other masturbate."
"We are not having this conversation!" I said, finally unable to contain myself. Emma looked startled and I was a bit afraid I'd frightened her. "Look," I said, "you seem to be feeling it pretty strongly for Diane."
She didn't answer, but the answer was clear. I wondered if she were too ashamed to say it aloud.
"You want an encounter with her, badly," I said. "We'll it's simple. I give you permission. It's OK and I won't hold it against you."
She looked exasperated. "It's OK for you, but how about me?"
"I don't understand," I said, honestly.
"How do I get rid of the feeling I'd be cheating on you? Look, like I said, you don't even have to touch the man."
I really was feeling trapped by this conversation. "Well," I said, thinking logically, "another solution is that I--have a date--with another woman."
"A woman!" said Emma, sharply. "A woman? You think I'd just sit by while you go out with a woman? You think that's the same? Like that would make us even?" I stared. She was obviously incensed. All I'd done was bring it up for discussion, and it made a kind of sense. "A woman! How would you like me to be with another man? Would you like that? What would you think of that?"
And she waited for an answer, still steaming. I sighed. "A woman!" she said, still sounding amazed the idea would even cross my mind.
The next night, she was at it again, and she had me at my wits end. "Look," she said, sounding weary. "I can't stop thinking about her now. I think I'm obsessed. At least think about it, can't you? Would you?"
I didn't know what I was going to do about this. After that night, Emma would fold herself into my arms when I got home from work, and somehow I could sense exactly what was on her mind, as if she were pleading with me. Of all the weird situations to be in.
And then one day, I ran into Veronica in a store parking lot. "How are things at home?" she said with a smile. I pondered whether I'd classify the smile as nasty. "Is my project taking root?"
I studied Veronica. Was she somehow behind all this? Or was she merely taking an opportunity to get to me, having been privy to Emma's concerns? Would Emma tell another woman friend about such thoughts? "And I have news for you," said Veronica. "It might start mild, just a bit of masturbating, but it never ends that way. And when a man's macho veneer is cracked," she said, touching my chest with her index finger, "he's never the same man, afterward." She grinned and walked off without awaiting my response.
This was definitely out of hand, and I needed to put a stop to it. Emma wasn't saying anything out loud about it and I didn't want to bring it up, but finally I did. "Listen, Emma," I said, "say it."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me again what's on your mind."
She seemed to be sizing up my mood for a moment. "It's just that I can't stop thinking about it," she said, quietly. "With her." She looked forlorn.
"And you're talking to Veronica about these ideas about me, right?" I said, not ready to back down.
"She's not making me do anything," said Emma, almost whining. "It's just she tells me what--how--we could manage to do things."
What could I do? Tell her not to talk to Veronica anymore? Try to convince her that I had uncovered another side of Veronica?
"Please," Emma said. Just one simple word, but she said it like this was killing her. I caved and put my arms around her. "Look," she said, "you don't even have to masturbate. You could just, maybe sit close, naked, or you could shower together. The other man will be pretty normal too, just like you. Please?"
I didn't have to call a halt to that conversation because she said no more, leaving things on that note. The next time she brought it up, she amazed me again. "Look," she said, "I need this, I really do. If you have things you are interested in doing with me--I'll do them willingly. Anything that's just the two of us. I'll do it--willingly."
But later, once I saw her looking forlorn and tried to put my arms around her and she held me away. "Do you really love me?" she said, angrily. "Look, I know this isn't normal for a marriage, but I really thought we had something more here. I expect you to understand me."
It was a couple of days after that that she first hinted at leaving me. "Emma, this is ridiculous," I said.
"Is it?" she said, facing me. She'd been moping for the couple of days after her last outburst, and though I'd faced anger, now I felt I was facing something colder.
"Look, it's you and me you're talking about. Forever and ever, remember?" I said.
She looked at me, her eyes never wavering. "Do you really love me?"
"Of course I do!"
She walked out of the room. Later I found her sniffling. "I really did think it was forever and ever," she said. "I never thought I'd be thinking of leaving you. Can't you show me you love me anymore?" The fact that she finally let me hold her didn't make me any more comfortable. I was beside myself wanting to know what to do.
* * *
There would be no talking. Emma had made herself scarce, to make it easier for me. He already sat on the couch when I walked in the room: I hadn't even see him arrive. Details had been negotiated through Emma and Veronica, to a ridiculous degree. I looked at him: if I passed him on the street, my only reaction would have been that he's not a whole lot different than me.
No clothes were to come off. I sat. All we were going to do was touch: each touch ourselves, pants still on, nothing uncovered. Just five minutes, nothing expected but rubbing, lightly. It was actually happening, Emma's scenario. Or, more likely, Veronica's scenario. I recalled Veronica's prediction, which I found disturbing, but I knew that her implication that more things were inevitable was a deliberate lie. She was just really good at getting to me. The reality was just five minutes.
I nervously eyed him. I recalled what Diane looked like: she was definitely hot. It was actually going to happen: Emma and Diane, together.
* * *
She sat at the end of the living room, in her favorite stuffed chair. Her glance at the ottoman was a subtle instruction and I came in and sat. Her smile turned friendly just for a moment, acknowledging my response.
"OK," she said, "tell me. How did his cock taste tonight?"
It was her inevitable theme, the oral, at least each time she began the inquisition. "He wanted me naked," I said.
"Of course," she said, her smile spreading for a moment.
"And my wrists bound."
"It's better that way," she said. "And was he satisfied with your progress as a novice cocksucker."
Now how could I answer that? He never ever said to me anything about an improvement on my part. "I--don't know," I said, cringing at the thought of the incomplete answer I was giving.
But she laughed. "By the way, I enjoyed a little visit with your ex and that pretty little partner of hers, Diane. I gather I'm the only third they involve themselves with. Your ex really loses it when she's in lust."
I waited patiently for her next question, but she went on: "Diane showed me how much Emma likes it when her nipples are pinched. Emma obviously didn't want me to know that, but we each had a turn with her. Diane knows how to finger Emma to really get her going and when I pinched her nipples while Diane worked on her..."
Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.