Chapter 2: The Interim

Jason spent a long time in the shower that night. Ordinarily, he's fairly quick, and I began to worry about him after forty minutes or so. I knocked on the door and called his name, but he didn't answer, so I went in to check on him.

I found him standing under the showerhead, leaning into the spray with both hands pressed flat against the wall. A bottle of body wash lay empty on the floor at his feet.

"Jason?" I said. "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

Finally, I opened the door and stepped into the walk-in shower fully dressed. I stood beside him and touched his shoulder, and he jumped. "Fuck," he breathed, dropping his arms to his sides. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I knocked, and I said your name twice."

"I didn't hear you."

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You've been in here forever."

"Yeah," he said. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing."

I raised my eyebrows. "You've been in here thinking about nothing for forty minutes?"

He looked at me, surprised. "Has it been that long?"

"Yes," I said, nodding for emphasis. "Have you just been standing here the whole time?"

"No..." Now he noticed my clothes. "Why are you dressed?"

"Because I was worried about you. I didn't want to take the time to get undressed before I made sure you were okay." I stroked his black hair, and he tensed. "You're not okay, are you?"

He looked away.

"Jason?"

"I feel dirty," he said quietly. "I tried to get clean, but I can't."

I'd heard of this sort of reaction among rape victims, but Jason hadn't been raped. He'd been a willing participant. Maybe that was the problem. "Look, we all had a good time tonight," I said, hoping to appease his conscience. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, I do," he informed me.

Finally, I asked flat out, "Jason, are you homophobic?"

"What?" he snapped. "No. You know I'm not." Actually, I had always just assumed he wasn't, because his younger brother is gay, and they get along fine.

"Then what's the problem? Why are you having so much trouble with this?"

He looked at the tile floor and said at last, "Because I lied to you."

"When?"

Now he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I've been lying to you since we met."

This scared me, because I thought he was about to announce that he was gay and had only married me as a cover. "About what?" I asked warily.

He looked at me again. "About my sexuality."

Here it comes, I thought. Pack your bags, bitch. My boyfriend's moving in.

Instead, he said, "I've been curious about fucking a guy for years. The real reason I talked you into the whole swinging thing was so I might get a chance to try it."

"Oh." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I should have," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

Stepping into the spray, I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him. "I forgive you," I said. "Just please don't keep anything else from me, okay? You can tell me anything."

"Okay," he said and finally smiled. "I've always wanted to fuck in the shower."

I let my jaw drop in mock surprise. "Oh my," I said. "I had no idea you were such a pervert."

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. "Takes one to know one," he said. "Besides, you're going to have to take off those wet clothes sooner or later."

"So you think now would be good?"

"I think now would be perfect." He dipped his head and kissed my neck, quickly unbuttoning my shirt. He pushed it off my shoulders and moved on to unfasten my pants, then knelt in front of me and peeled them down, taking my thong as well. I held onto his head while I stepped out of them. Squinting up at me, blinking to keep the water out of his eyes, he slid his hands up my legs and pressed his thumbs against the outer lips of my pussy, then spread them apart and stuck his tongue in between.

"Oh, Jason," I moaned. "God, yes."

I've always loved seeing those gorgeous green eyes looking up at me from between my legs, but I found it even more exciting this time, with his long wet bangs sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face. He lifted my left leg over his right shoulder and shoved his tongue up into my hole, licking deep inside me as he had earlier in the evening. I thought of him lying on his back with Kiera on top of him, riding him. Then I thought of Ryan jerking him off, and I wondered which had excited him more, which might cross his mind now.

Abruptly, he ducked under me and turned around so that he was kneeling behind me. "Bend over," he said. I did and grabbed my knees, pushing my ass back as far as I could without falling on him. Holding my hips, Jason kissed each cheek, then pressed his face between them and licked that hole, too. He couldn't get in as deep in this position, but it still felt wonderful.

After a few minutes, he slid three fingers into my pussy, then moved one to my asshole, and I remembered watching Ryan bury his face in Kiera's ass while Jason fingered me like this. Then I wondered if Ryan would lick Jason's ass if he got the chance, and I enjoyed that mental picture immensely.

I was snatched back to reality when Jason suddenly pushed a second finger up my ass. "Oh my god!" I cried. "Jason!"

"Is it okay?" he asked, and I nodded emphatically. "Good," he said. "Because I want to fuck you in the ass."

"What?"

"I think you heard me."

"Oh god, Jason," I said. "I don't know..."

"Will you at least let me try?" he begged, peering around my thigh to give me the sad-puppy eyes. "Please?"

I couldn't resist those eyes, and he knew it. I sighed heavily. "All right," I conceded. "But you have to promise to go slow."

"I promise."

"And if I tell you to stop—"

"I'll stop," he said quickly, then added, "I swear." Wishing I'd had more than one drink that night, I nodded and said, "Okay. I trust you."

He grinned like a thirsty vampire in a blood bank. "I love you."

"Only because I'm a freak," I said.

Jason laughed, "Nah, sugar, that's just a bonus."

"Well, in that case, I love you, too."

Now he removed his finger from my pussy and carefully turned his hand over, twisting the two in my ass so that he could stand up behind me. He leaned over me and kissed my back while he slowly worked a third in beside the others, then ran his tongue up and down my spine as he slid all three in and out, again and again. I did my best to relax and enjoy the stimulation. As always, the friction was welcome, but the outward pressure as he spread his fingers to stretch my hole was unexpectedly exciting, and the idea of having his cock up my ass became less and less worrisome. "Ready?" he asked after a while.

I nodded, and Jason smoothly extracted his fingers. I heard the snap of a bottle being opened and, a few seconds later, felt a thick liquid, cool and silky, being injected into my asshole. "Ooh," I said. "That's kind of nice."

"Well, I think it'll work," Jason said. "I'm glad it feels good, too."

A few seconds later, he pressed his erection into my crack and slid it up and down a few times, then carefully positioned the head against my anus. "Here we go," he said and pushed it in.

"Oh," I breathed as it slipped through the opening. Even after three fingers, his cock seemed huge in such a tight space. In reality, it's about average length—somewhere between six and seven inches, I'd guess—but it's thicker than you might expect when you consider the overall size of the man. He's only five-foot-seven, and while he gets plenty of exercise, he doesn't work out, so his muscles are nicely toned but not built up, and he doesn't look nearly as strong as he is.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. "Can we keep going?"

I sucked in a shaky breath and blew it out. "Yes," I whispered. "Keep going."

Slowly, he pushed it in a few more inches and then stopped.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Why'd you stop?"

"I just don't want to hurt you," he said. "If I go in all the way—"

"Do it," I said, cutting him off.

He hesitated. "But I—"

"Do it now," I demanded, and he abruptly obeyed, shoving it in all the way to its base. "Oh god!" I cried.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Jason said, sounding panicked. "I didn't mean—"

"Shut up," I said. "Fuck me."

Again he hesitated, then asked, "Doesn't it hurt?"

Of course it hurt, but it was somehow delicious at the same time. "It's fine," I told him. "Keep moving."

I felt him smile as he kissed my back again. "Okay, baby." Holding my hips, he began to move inside me, pulling out almost all the way and then sliding in to maximum depth once more. Over and over. After a while, the discomfort of the initial intrusion faded, and I was somewhat surprised to find myself enjoying what I had always thought would be painful. In fact, there was still a little pain involved, but the pleasure far outweighed it.

Jason pulled me upright against his chest and kissed my neck and shoulders, reaching down between my legs to gently tease my clit. "This feels fucking amazing," he breathed against my skin. "So tight and hot."

I smiled. "Mm, and so gay."

His rhythm faltered. "What?"

"I don't mean that to sound bad," I said. "Just think about it. This must be how it'd feel to fuck a guy." When he didn't respond, I added, "Like Ryan."

Now he laughed. "Yeah," he said. "Well, I'm not sure I'd want to fuck Ryan."

"Why not?" I asked, reaching back to caress his hips. "He got you off with one hand.

"So?"

"So ... Imagine what it would be like to fuck him."

He kissed my neck. "I'm sure you have."

"Yes," I admitted. "I want to fuck them both."

"I thought so."

"But I also want to watch you fuck Ryan."

"Why?"

"Because," I said, "you're both fucking beautiful. And he got you off with a handjob—which I've never done. God, that was hot."

"You could get me off with a handjob if you wanted to," he said, kissing my shoulder. "But I know you'd rather get it somewhere else."

I looked over my shoulder at him. "Are you telling me you really don't want Ryan?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't know."

"He's got a beautiful ass," I said.

"Mm, not like yours."

"No," I laughed. "His is smaller."

"Too bad you don't have a dick," he teased. "Then you could fuck his ass."

This gave me an idea. "Well, if I did have a dick," I said, "I could fuck yours."

"Mm." It seemed to work. He fucked me a little harder, a little faster.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I asked. "Maybe I'll have to get one." He chuckled under his breath but said nothing. He was breathing faster. It was working, so I decided to continue. "I'd get you down on your knees and make you suck it," I told him. "Then I'd get you on all fours and eat your ass."

He moaned softly.

"I'd start giving you fingers. One at a time. Until I had them all inside you." He moaned again, and I reached over my shoulder and grabbed his hair, pulling his head onto my shoulder so I could whisper in his ear. "And then I'd slide my cock up your ass."

"Oh god," he said, and I knew he was about to come.

"Yes," I breathed at the corner of his mouth. "You want me to fuck you in the ass. Feel my cock deep inside you."

He came then, pumping hot fluid into my bowels, and I came a moment later. Then we stood there for a minute or so, his arms wrapped around me, both of us shaking in the warm spray from the showerhead. Finally, he kissed my cheek and carefully pulled away. No longer erect, his dick slid out easily, and he smiled sheepishly at me as he reached for the bottle of body wash on the shelf. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to give you an enema."

I shook my head. "Don't be sorry. It felt great."

"Did it?" He raised an eyebrow while he poured soap into his right hand.

"Well, it made me come."

Now he grinned. "And so we discover another of your kinks."

"And yours," I said.

"Mine?" He rubbed his hands together and lathered up his cock with one hand, my ass with the other.

I nodded. "Yeah," I reminded him. "You obviously like the idea of being on the bottom."

"Yeah, with you," he said. "Doesn't mean I'd like Ryan fucking me."

"Well, how can you know?" I asked, turning around to face him, putting my arms around his neck. "How can you know without trying it?"

For a long moment, he just stared at me silently. He was done soaping himself, so he used both hands now to wash my ass. Finally, he kissed me and said, "I guess I don't."

"So are you willing to try it?"

Jason smiled. "I'm willing to think about it." He'd have a few weeks to consider it before the opportunity arose, so I let it drop. We finished rinsing off just as the water began to turn cold.

I called the county health department the next morning, and we had our blood drawn during Jason's lunch break. We were told that a letter would be sent out within two to three weeks to inform us of the results. In the meantime, they made sure we had plenty of reading material to keep us busy.

Of course, they considered us low risk because we were married and therefore presumably monogamous, and because neither of us had been to Africa or used intravenous drugs. So we needn't worry about the results of the test. However, they said, it might be wise to use condoms until we got our letters—just in case.

"Do you want me to pick some up on my way home today?" Jason asked me when we left.

"What for?" I returned, giving him a don't-be-stupid look.

"Well, you heard what they said."

"Yeah, and I think it's fucking stupid." I kissed him. "If either of us was infected, don't you think we both would be by now?"

He shrugged. "Probably."

"Okay then. Get them if you're worried," I told him. "I'm not."

He came home that night without condoms.

A week later, Jason and I had dinner at a local diner, and I noticed an attractive young man—perhaps in his late twenties—who couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from our table. I managed to make eye contact once, and he smiled, then picked up a National Geographic from the seat beside him and apparently found something fascinating in it.

"What do you keep looking at?" Jason asked me after a while, turning to look over his shoulder.

"There's a guy over there who's staring at us," I told him.

"Oh," he said knowingly, giving up the search. "I'm sure he's staring at you, sugar."

I shook my head. "I'm not so sure."

"Well, maybe he's blind and he's not really staring at all."

"No, he smiled at me."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Well, there you go. Like I said, he's staring at you."

I glanced at our admirer again. "Well, he's not now."

"So forget him."

"Now he's definitely looking at you."

He frowned. "Where is he?"

"Third booth from the end," I said. "Black hair, black tee shirt, tattoos."

Finally, he turned to look, and the guy smiled at Jason, too. Jason raised his hand a little and gave him a discreet wave, and our friend dropped his gaze back into his magazine. Jason looked at me and laughed softly. "Oh my god," he said. "What the hell is he looking at me for?"

Grinning, I said, "Probably for the same reason I look at you. Because you're such a hottie."

"Shut up," he said, and tossed a sugar packet at me.

"I'm serious," I said. "I think he's interested."

"Oh boy."

"Well, what about him? I think he's really cute," I said, then I leaned forward and whispered, "Would you do him?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"I would," I said, and Jason's mouth fell open. "Well, look at him, Jason. He's gorgeous."

He turned to look again, and our admirer made brief eye contact with each of us before examining his water glass. We both kept looking for a minute or so, checking him out for real this time.

His hair was a little longer than Jason's but cut in a similar punk rock style—meant to look shaggy and tousled. His skin was pale, too, like Jason's. But his left arm, from his wrist all the way up under his shirtsleeve, was covered in tattoos. There was at least one on his right bicep, too, as well as each of his fingers. I also noticed something on the right side of his neck, but his hair covered most of it.

Jason has no tattoos; he's afraid of needles.

"He's a little scary," Jason remarked, turning back to me.

"Scary?" I repeated, incredulous. "Look at his face, Jason. He's beautiful."