Elliot worked up some spit and let it drip slowly on to the head of his erection. Even in the pre-dawn summer night, heat pressed around his naked body, squeezing out a light sweat. He stood in a coccoon of bushes between his swimming pool and a backyard fence falling apart in sections. Shaggy shrubbery running the length of his yard kept the fence from falling completely over. The house on the other side had been vacant forever.

He'd rather be having sex with his wife, Carolyn, but anything resembling physical affection had become a dusty myth. Their three young children were proof they had once done it. They and the memories he carried in to the back yard with him several times a week.

Almost three years ago Elliot was tired of catching flying elbows with every advance he made. They argued bitterly.

"If you want sex so bad," she said. "Why don't you just jack off?"

Elliot lied horribly, therefore dropped the idea of cheating on Carolyn. He thought briefly about divorce, but as much as he loved sex with her and as much as he missed it, it seemed like a foolish thing over which to end 13 years of marriage. Besides, he thought, their marriage had grown warm and comfortable in other ways. We're young, too, just thirty-five. She'll snap out of it one day.

He fantasized about her now as his dick grew harder and longer. The pre-children/one-car days when he'd pick her up from the school where she taught, and once home they'd never make it to the bedroom. Clothes torn from each other inside the front door of their apartment, they'd spend the night exhausted and slick on the hardwood floor. They screwed behind the desk in her classroom and on the beach at sunset. They blindfolded and tied each other to their bed, employing silk and ice.

Elliot remembered this now in the bushes. Two apartments and a house ago, Carolyn had tied him spread-eagle face up with scarves and blindfolded him with an old tie-dyed bandana. She licked and kissed and sucked him from his toes to his eyebrows. Gently she traced her nipples along his torso, stopping to squeeze and pump his dick between her generous breasts. Her breath became edgy as she paused, and he heard the squish of her lips as she fingered herself and thumbed her clit. Weight on the bed shifted. He levitated in anticipation. Her wet hand slapped on his sternum and nails dug in. The other hand grabbed him, hard and ready like a machine. Carolyn allowed a small moan as she lowered herself on to him.

In a few grunting thrusts, mouth dry but shaft slick, Carolyn's breast lips ass clit flashing a zillion frames a second, he came in arcing jolts which landed on the grass like hail.

A leaning section of the fence shook, bouncing the shrubs. Elliot jumped, shrinking rapidly. Quick footsteps faded in the yard behind his house. Possum, he thought, amused at being startled. He left his leafy grotto and slid in to the warm pool, washing off and studying the moon. In a few nights it would be full.

Later that day Carolyn called him at work to ask if he would pick up some lemons on his way home.

"And I forgot to tell you," she said. "That house behind us finally sold the other day." She followed the neighborhood real estate market like a soap opera.

"Really? Who bought it?"

"A couple. No children. No new playmates for the kids, unfortunately." A sigh. "You'll have to replace that fence now."

Three days later his balls ached again, but he didn't bother to touch Carolyn. Tampon wrappers sat like cicada shells in the bathroom trash. After grabbing a squeeze bottle of vegetable oil from the kitchen, he slipped out of his boxers and walked naked through the yard to his spot, enjoying the ivory light on his skin.

In the thick grass he lay down, knees parted widely. He drew a line of oil from the tip of his thumb to the tip of his index finger. His last look of Carolyn before he left the bedroom was of her sleeping above the sheets, a t-shirt rumpled just below her breasts, bare legs parted invitingly, wild jungle hair pushing from her plain white panties, and this is what started him stroking.

"May I suck you?" She asked this every time, eons ago, when she gave him her mind-bending blowjobs, grinning and growling as she dragged her tongue to both of his nipples and then slowly to his navel until she grasped and devoured him. She spiraled the shaft, lollipopped the head, then ran it ever so lightly between her teeth. After lubing her fingers in her wetness, she drove her bird finger, her name for her middle one, firmly up his ass.

Elliot ran his thumb over his purple glans at the top of each stroke. The other hand squirted more oil on to his balls which ran to his crack, allowing his own bird finger to slip in and wiggle.

Depending on her former ferocity, a few minutes of sucking plus the anal jiggling would send Elliot over the edge. During the sexless years, ironically, he had taught himself to hold out longer and longer, to hopefully impress her on the day she returned. She mounted him, eyes closed and mouth open in a silent oh. Her hips rose and lowered on creamy thighs. She ground her clit against him. Carolyn's phantom face, twisted in pleasure, framed in sweaty hair, crashed on to his chest. Her arms snaked around his back, constricting him as she moaned in to his neck.

Elliot's jiggle hand joined the other, forming a slippery tube from balls to head. His breathing echoed to him as her faint cries. He pumped hard, lifting his butt from the grass. The oil and his dick mimicked the music of Carolyn's pussy. A few more. The cries sounded close. His balls tightened.