The Side Project
Copyright© 2026 by The Side Project
Chapter 2: Reed
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2: Reed - A couple of normal, if irreverent, middle class guys get the opportunity to answer the age old question: What would you do with your life if money was no object? A collaborative writing project written from multiple character perspectives.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Humor Cheating Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Exhibitionism Oral Sex Squirting Voyeurism Slow Illustrated
A Rematch and a New Match
I was standing in my kitchen Monday morning, finishing my coffee and about to walk out the door, when I noticed a text from Katrina.
‘Still up for the Wednesday rematch? Natalie’s in’
I smiled and downed the last of my brew.
Sunday had been fun. I liked beating Jimbo. I liked seeing him lose his cool. I was looking forward to seeing him at the office. The unexpected part was how much of a bombshell his wife was. Not only was she attractive, we seemed to have some sort of undercurrent if I was reading things right. The timing of her text reinforced my feelings: this wasn’t a weekend text. This had the feel of something sent as soon as Jimbo closed the garage door in whatever rich suburb they lived in. And it was just to me, not a group text with Kyle.
That was interesting.
I checked the time, set the mug down, and typed back without hesitating.
‘I’m very much looking forward to it.’
I handled things like this by acting normal. Showing up. Not overthinking it. Overthinking was how you let something carry more weight than it deserved. I texted Kyle that we were on for Wednesday.
I didn’t overthink my actions, but Katrina did linger in my mind for the next two days.
I ribbed Jimbo a little bit at the office, striking that fine balance between taking pride in winning while still protecting his fragile ego. He was already demanding we schedule a rematch in the next few weeks.
On Wednesday I had to be slightly cautious getting changed from my work clothes to my freshly laundered all white outfit and making sure Jimbo didn’t see me with my tennis gear. It would have invited questions I did not want to answer.
Kyle was already waiting when I walked out of my office building. He was sitting behind the wheel and spinning a tennis ball in his hand like he’d rediscovered a nervous habit from high school.
“Ready for another big match with the lovely Katrina?” Kyle asked, flashing his usual troublemaking grin when I got in the car.
“Try not to sound so excited,” I said, tossing my bag into the back seat.
Kyle laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be a good little boy and treat the boss’ wife the way she deserves.”
“Careful,” I said. “That woman is married to a senior partner. Try to keep at least one foot in reality.”
Kyle laughed. “That’s rich coming from you. You saw the way she looked at you.”
“I saw the way she was polite,” I said. “Polite does not equal attraction.”
“Come on,” Kyle said. “You don’t think there’s anything there?”
“I think she’s smart,” I said. “And I think she’s married. And I think Jimbo signs my performance reviews. And I think you enjoy stirring things up far too much,” I said.
On the drive Kyle talked about how his forehand felt better than he expected, how clay slowed things down just enough to make him dangerous again. It was good to see him like this. I listened, even if my attention kept drifting elsewhere.
“This girl she’s bringing, very attractive,” I said.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Natalie,” I added. “I checked her IG.”
“Interesting information.”
The racquet club came into view a few minutes later, perfectly manicured landscaping and quiet money, set far enough from the downtown that it felt insulated from anything messy or inconvenient.
We parked, did the front desk check in and moved toward the courts as if this were all perfectly ordinary for us.
The women were already there.
Katrina stood near the bench, chatting with a woman I assumed was Natalie. She looked much the same as she had before: polished, athletic, but today her white sports top seemed to hug her curves even more. I had to tear my eyes away. When she saw us, she smiled. It seemed like a genuinely happy smile to me, not the one she used when introduced to people at the company Christmas party.
“Reed,” she said. “Kyle. Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kyle said, already grinning like an idiot.
Natalie stepped forward before Katrina could say anything else. She was shorter, louder, and more physical, touching my arm as we shook hands. I liked her immediately.
“I’ve heard all about you two,” she said. “Apparently you embarrassed Jimbo so badly he’s still sulking.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “That’s not fair.”
“It absolutely is,” Natalie said. “You said he’s been unbearable since Sunday.”
“He’s been demanding a rematch when I see him at the office. Claims he had a bad day,” I noted. The idea of Jimbo sulking about losing a match and annoying Katrina over it was interesting to me.
“God, what a tool, getting his panties all twisted over a friendly little game of tennis,” Natalie scoffed. It was obvious she was not a fan of Jimbo. More interesting information. How friends feel about your spouse was telling, in my experience. I wished I’d paid more attention to Kyle when I was dating Alayna. Then I might have not ended up in such an awful marriage.
“Oh what kind of panties does he prefer? Is he a big mankini guy?” Kyle asked. Damn shit stirrer.
Natalie snickered. “Maybe this is why you keep losing underwear, Katrina.”
Katrina couldn’t help but laugh. Another interesting data point. Katrina was not offended by her husband being mocked. I sensed there was a real opportunity here, but I had to be extremely careful.
“Ok, if we’re done making fun of my husband, shall we get to the game?” Katrina asked.
We warmed up, traded easy shots, and settled into the rhythm of tennis. Katrina insisted that since Kyle and I were the visitors again we serve first. I let Kyle serve this time. His first serve was a missile right down the center that hit perfectly just left of the ‘T’. Katrina had no chance. It was an ace.
“Nice serve dude,” I told him as we got in position for the next point.
“I may have practiced a little after work yesterday,” he said. That explained a lot.
We won the game easily, with Katrina, in particular, struggling to even make contact on Kyle’s first serve.
“Little trouble handling the heat there, Katrina. Guess you don’t get that when you play with Jimbo,” Kyle teased during the changeover. He was pushing the limits.
“Oh let me tell you, our dear Katrina can handle the heat. She may not get it from Jimbo, but I’ll have to tell you guys about my first sorority social with her sometime. She taught me a thing or two.” Natalie leaned right into Kyle’s double entendre.
Katrina blushed, but didn’t protest. If anything she looked a little bit wistful. She caught my eye and there was a hint of a smile there. I wanted to know more. I sensed she wanted to tell more, but by virtue of our respective stations that would have been inappropriate.
Katrina served to Kyle first and uncorked a rocket almost as hard as his serve had been. He failed to return it.
“Oooo, now who can’t handle the heat?” Natalie mocked. Kyle flipped her off. I liked the girl more and more with every point.
Katrina unleashed several more excellent serves and Natalie proved to be a competent player. I had a poor service game and Kyle missed some volleys he probably should have gotten, putting us down 2-1 at the second changeover. I sensed the change in his demeanor. His competitive side was ticking. That was fine by me, his pot stirring was funny, but not always conducive to me working my game. And I knew my game was good. Maybe Katrina was off limits, but Natalie wasn’t.
Over the next few changeovers we got to know each other a little, lingering for a minute or two longer to sip water and chat than was typical. Kyle picked up on what I was doing pretty quickly and dutifully played wingman for me, talking up what a good friend I was while I was in California and how bad my marriage with Alayna had been.
We learned that Natalie had been Katrina’s sorority little sister when they were in college at Arizona State. Natalie continued to drop innuendos about how wild they had been in college and in the years after. Katrina didn’t contradict her, but she didn’t embellish either. She smiled, shook her head, occasionally added a dry aside. Watching her, I couldn’t tell whether she was amused, embarrassed, or simply used to Natalie doing this.
We lost the first set in a tiebreak 7-6. Kyle was frustrated. He was playing well, but so was Katrina. I wasn’t. My mind was preoccupied trying to figure out the dynamics of this Natalie-Katrina relationship and where I stood with them.
“You know what women don’t like? Losers,” Kyle whispered to me once the set was over. “Get your head in the game. The big one, not the little one.”
He had a point. I was more focused in the second set and we won 6-3. It wasn’t an easy win, but it was decisive.
“Picked up your game that set, Reed, very impressive,” Katrina commented while we took a break.
“Thanks, I know how to focus when I have a goal in mind,” I said, deliberately holding eye contact with her. I noted a brief charge of recognition, then she looked away. Not sharply. Not guiltily. Just ... carefully.
“You know, in the past this is where we might have made a fun little wager,” Natalie said.
“Oh, I like fun wagers, put your money where your mouth is,” Kyle said. This was perfect for him, where his competitive side and pot-stirring side met.
“Well, we can’t make really fun ones these days like we used to, with Katrina being married and all,” Natalie said, using a pouty voice.
“Like having a boyfriend stopped you when we bet flashing our tits on a game of beer pong with those Sig Chi guys your freshman year,” Katrina pointed out. I fought to keep my expression neutral, it was the first explicitly risqué thing Katrina had said.
Natalie laughed. “I was an impressionable freshman trying to keep up with my big sister!”
“Well we won, so it didn’t matter anyway,” Katrina said. “We were very good at beer pong back in our day.”
“I bet you would still be good with a little practice,” Kyle said. “I hadn’t played tennis since college until Sunday. Just have to knock the rust off.”
“Oh my gosh, the idea of married Katrina playing beer pong is just too funny!” Natalie cried, and laughed.
“Oh hush, just because I settled down and got married doesn’t mean my ability to have fun was surgically removed, contrary to what you seem to think. You know at some point you may want to get hitched too,” Katrina said lightly.
“I wouldn’t plan on it, you ruined me, I just want to have fun now,” Natalie said.
“Well we have had two competitive sets so far. It would seem fitting we have a friendly wager on who wins, even if certain fun options may no longer be available,” I suggested. I was curious exactly what sort of ‘fun’ these two had gotten into in their younger days. And what they still might get into.
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