Chapter 33

Scrambled eggs, bacon and toast prepared in the kitchen greeted Joe and guests from the Marriot. Joanne had heard the cars arrive, and started things. After introductions, including the kids, to whom the ladies from New York and San Francisco found charming little angels as most people did, the kitchen filled with the sounds of eating, a couple on stools having their breakfast at the dividing wall between kitchen and living room, the shutters open to make things less claustrophobic.

Joanne rushed off immediately afterwards. Later than usual to work, it didn’t really matter because she was the boss. But she liked being there at a specific time. Self-motivated discipline.

Norma used the master bath to shower and do whatever else needed to be done to make herself feel presentable to the world. Cheryl waited until the shower ended before taking hers beside the studio in the basement. Leaving Joe to entertain Julia and Moe, but mostly the kids doing the entertaining. Nigella had joined them for breakfast, but headed to the basement afterward. About an hour later, after nuking the remaining eggs and finishing the coffee, Eddie joined her, Sam trailing behind him. Introductions were brief and perfunctory, though Eddie definitely noticed Julia. Who wouldn’t? Since she sat opposite Cheryl beside Joe, both close to him, before she stood, he flashed Joe a look that said, “Another fucking hot chick, you fucker.”

“He always that rude?” asked Norma.

Joe shrugged. “He’s not quite the best friend he used to be.”

“Joe’s going to work on it,” said Cheryl. “Right Joe?”

“I’m going to try,” he said.

Jennifer, the director arrived not long after. She and Moe and Joe went out to the patio, Jennifer waving off an offer of coffee.

“How do you want to be involved with the play?” Jennifer asked Moe.

“I’d like to direct it,” Moe replied, “but I want to get the dynamic of the group first.”

“You’ve acted?”

“In high school.”

“I think you’d be perfect in the Beth role.”

Both Moe and Joe laughed.

“What’s funny?” Jennifer asked.

“Just ... Beth is a total bitch,” said Moe.

“And she’s based on a total bitch,” Joe added.

“Nevertheless you have a strong presence. Beth is no doormat. It’s hard to direct and be in the play.”

“It may actually be necessary,” said Moe. “It’s going to be a relatively small group. I think the idea is to have more than one role. I mean...”

“Everyone acting, but also doing the other stuff,” Jennifer interrupted.

“Yes.”

“So you’ve studied the play?”

“I’ve read it a couple times.”

“You need to get to know it intimately, Moe. Every line. Every stage direction. Then put it away for a week or so. The longer the better. Then pick it up with fresher eyes, and get to know it all over again. Did you find anything you wanted to change?”

“Joe’s ... a really good writer.”

“Yes he’s talented. A lot better than expected considering his age. But this an opportunity, more for him than you. For you it’s a class. You’ll probably not continue doing theater.”

“Probably not.”

“But you can learn things from it anyway. The dynamics of people. Interaction. Listening. Getting people to do what you want without crushing their fragile egos. And of course acting, which has to do with some of those things and other things.

“For Joe though, it’s invaluable. I’m the first director to direct his play that isn’t him. A playwright has very little perspective directing, even if he’s the one with the original vision. Theater always involves collaboration. Which also means compromise. And that often means what works best in the given situation, including changes in the script. If you work with a dead playwright’s work, you can do things like tightening things up, even skipping scenes, but you don’t fuck with the lines. The language. But if you’re premiering a play, it’s a whole different thing. It’s like a first draft, no matter how many drafts Joe had before giving it to us. So definitely don’t be afraid to tell Joe a line or even a scene doesn’t work. Here,” she ended, pulling out his full length play, full of changes.

“Joe told me you planned to change genders,” Moe pointed out.

“I definitely don’t want to use this as some kind of guide for what needs changing,” said Jennifer. “I do want to show you how aggressive you can be. Joe may balk at these things, and be adamant about it, but that creates the dialogue you need. And makes Joe think about what actually might work better. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“You want to go somewhere to look it over. Joe and I need to work on his one act.”

“I think I’ll be okay here. I’d like to see the process.”

“Up to you,” Jennifer smiled. She pulled out the shorter play. He had her earlier corrections in hand. The two began working on it immediately. He hadn’t had much time working on it, but enough. Mostly during plane trips.

They discussed his disagreements and his additions. She had other changes as well. She was surprisingly open, though managed to hold her own on some things. Mostly he accepted her argument. A couple things they agreed to disagree, but he let her have it. He needed her to own it. To make it hers as much as his. Maybe more.

“Thanks,” he said when they were done, shaking her hand.

“Thank you Joe. I enjoy your work.”

“Enough to work on future work?”

“Let’s see if Moira’s version makes me want to reconsider it and create another iteration. And yes, please send me whatever you do.”

“That was very cool,” said Moe, handing her back his play.

“Keep it Moira,” said Jennifer.

“But...”

“It’s a copy.”

“Okay.”

“I should be in New York in November. And I’ll definitely see the show at the Public.”

“That’s great. You need my number?”

“I have...”

“It’s new.”

“Yes.”

Jennifer handed the legal pad she’d used to make notes, and Moe wrote her number at the top.

“Joe said you’d be intimidating,” Moe told her.

“I suppose I can be. But like I said, you’re strong.”

“I’m the bitch,” Moe laughed along with Jennifer and Joe.

“Yes you are, sweetie,” Jennifer said and embraced her. She looked at Joe after. “So this is it?”

“I have a number you can contact me if you need to ask anything,” he said. “But pretty much yes. I’ll definitely catch the show.”

He gave her Maxine’s two numbers. They looked at each other and nodded. He trusted her. She would do all she could to validate his trust.

In the living room, Cheryl said, “Get dressed.”

“Yes boss.” Joe headed towards the study.

“Upstairs. Your clothes are set on the bed. I won’t be here when you’re done.”

“Getting traditional?”

“Yep.”

Joe saw Tom, the sort of butler from Constance’s mansion, arrive.

“Hi,” he said.

“Looking after the kids,” Tom shrugged.

Upstairs Joe found his Harlem jacket with the red threads and the shirt, pants, shoes and tie that worked with it according to Constance’s expert sense of fashion. The silk boxers made him laugh. A deep red.

Finishing his ablutions, he came out to find Joanne in her bedroom. “Zip me up,” she said. She wore a very pretty medium blue dress of a light cotton. He did, and she watched him dress, inspecting and adjusting afterwards. “Very handsome,” she approved.

“And you look beautiful.”

“Thanks. But wait until you see Cheryl.”

When they headed out, he noticed a small bus out front, but decided not to comment. Joanne placed Essie, looking even more angelic than usual in a pretty little yellow summer dress, into the safety seat in his car and strapped her in.

“Ready?” he asked when Joanne settled into the passenger seat.

“Ready. Nervous?”

“Very.”

“Here.” She handed him a silver flask. He drank the fine brandy.

“Armagnac,” she told him.

“Nice,” he smiled and took another gulp.

At the courthouse, a valet actually took his car. Obviously hired for the occasion. “Who?” he asked as they stepped out and after Joanne gathered Essie.

“Jonathon via Constance,” said Joanne.

“One of his boys?”

“Probably.”

“What’s going on?” he finally asked.

“Cheryl wanted surprises. And me and Constance worked with her.”

“Too bad Constance isn’t here, but I’m happy she’s with Maxine and Caroline.”

“Me too,” Joanne said.

They walked to the judge’s office and they followed him to a smallish room. A government version of a chapel. The room already had people in it. It was full. And maybe select for the number it could contain. Joe’s mom and sister were there. Simon who became his best man. Freddy. Lori, which surprised him, but she did want to attend. Her friend Jack photographing the event. A petite teenager who looked enough like Cheryl for Joe to guess it was her sister. And Julia in a dress that matched her hennaed hair.

And Cheryl beside her, also in red, but much lighter colored. It set off her hair as well. And the basically transparent shawl that didn’t really cover the cleavage the plunging neckline revealed set off her eyes. And the dress looked completely custom made to her curves. She’d never looked sexier, cuter or more beautiful. Her expression of delight seeing him matched his.

“You clean up nice,” she murmured when he stepped beside her.

“You do too,” he said.

After the judge said things, Cheryl and Joe exchanged the vows they wrote. Both completely unorthodox, full of innuendo, blatancy being inappropriate to the setting, a couple lines making the audience laugh, but utterly honest and from the heart. He had a lot harder time saying his, not because he couldn’t remember them, but because he choked back tears, which amused Cheryl, but in a good way.

Best man and maid of honor had the rings, which soon adorned their left ring fingers. Their kiss probably lasted longer than usual. By the time it ended, it made people laugh. Then they did something completely unorthodox. They kissed all who attended. The cheek from Joe for his mom and sister and Simon and Jack. The rest got the full treatment, lips to lips. None lingered too long. Cheryl kissed everyone on the lips.

“You done?” asked the judge who took the weirdness in stride.

“Yep,” said Cheryl. “Except you.”

“That’s okay,” he laughed.

“You sure.”

“Yes I’m sure. Follow me.”

The newlyweds did, back to his office where they signed the document that made it official. Joanne, coming with them, signed as witness.

They met the attendees outside the courthouse door. The venue made celebration, like tossing rice or whatever, disallowed. Just handshakes, more kisses and tons of congratulations. Cars came by to pick them up one at a time. Julia entered Norma’s car. When Joe’s bland green Dodge Dart approached, Cheryl stopped him from entering it.

“Not yet,” she said, and they watched Joanne put Essie into her seat, get into his car, and drive away.

“Cool,” Joe said, when he saw the busy valet drive up in Constance’s cream colored Mercedes Sportster.

He handed Joe the keys. Cheryl prevented Joe from pulling out his wallet. “He’s been well compensated,” she explained.

“What’s the next surprise?” he asked.

“Constance’s.”

“Everyone know how to get there?”

“They’ll follow you,” she said, and turned on the emergency flashers. “Just go somewhat slow.”

“Like a funeral procession?”

“You married me.”

They laughed.

“The bus out front?” he asked as he drove slowly forward. We collected cars along the way, all with their flashers on.

“Essie’s birthday. Tom’s driving. They’re having a sleepover with some friends of hers at a friend’s mom’s place.”

“I guess we are too. Having a sleepover.”

“Without the parents.”

“Sorry. I saw your sister.”

“Yeah. Hung over but she made it,” she said.

“My dad?”

“Your mom had the choice between your sister and your dad. We had only so much room.”

“Wow,” he said. “That’s kind of weird, you know?”

“I suppose. Your mom seemed fine with it. I’m sorry if...”

“No, that’s cool. My dad’s been a bigger dickhead than even me.”

“You’re not a dickhead, Joe,” she said quietly. “I would never love a dickhead. A dick doesn’t care what cunt it fucks. You care deeply who you make love to. And maybe it’s weird that’s it’s not just me. But every woman loves you, and you love them. I like watching that happen when I can.”

“And participating,” he chuckled.

“That too,” she giggled. “But I know it’s good. For her. For you. Why would I get in the way?”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty amazing.”

“You are too, Joe. I just wish...”

“What?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t fuck around.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s different. I’m just fucking around.”

“Maybe it is different. But there’s a number of reasons why you should feel free to do it. The most obvious being that I’m fucking around.”

“But...”

“Just hear me out, Cheryl.”

“Okay.”

“The second has to do with my whole philosophy about women. About making them happy. Or making them feel more fulfilled. Or giving them something they always wanted. I don’t know. Whatever it is, you’ve come to enjoy sex...”

“Cum being the operative word,” she giggled.

“And I want you to explore that if it’s what you want. How other men can pleasure you. Maybe give me advice.”

“Like you need any.”

“I’ll always need some. And then there’s the fact that your body, your beauty, and I mean inner and outer, of which you have plenty, is like a gift for any man you are willing to enjoy it. You definitely make things better for them.”

“Not like you do.”

“Maybe. Maybe men are simpler. Just like their orgasms, the connection doesn’t need to be deep.”

“It usually isn’t,” she giggled. “Not as deep as yours. But it’s more than the tall cock. It’s like you fuck me to my soul.”

He laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“You ever see Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s this moment when Udo Kier says something like, to create life you have to fuck it in the spleen.”

“Ish,” she laughed.

“It’s an intentionally ishy film. 3D. Hilarious. It’s one of those movies Eddie’s brother snuck us into.”

“Sounds like the kind of movie Eddie would like.”

“It’s one of his favorites. Mine too. I don’t know if there’s a video of it, but you’d have to see it in 3D.”

“Who’s Udo Kier?”

“He’s this really cool character actor. I don’t know if he’s done anything in Hollywood, but he’s been in a bunch of European films.”

“You really know a lot of obscure stuff.”

“Is that annoying?”

“No. I like it. I’m so narrow-minded in my knowledge.”

“Maybe it’s more about me knowing a little bit about a lot of things.”

“And I know a lot about a little thing.”

“It’s important.”

“Is it?”

“To people our age it is. It validates them when nothing else does. What you write about. What you invest yourself in. It’s like family and friends. People sharing values. Immersing themselves in a culture that they create. These local scenes.”

“But it’s dangerous, all these kids without any real mature perspective.”

“I could see you having problems with that.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s so much about the drugs,” he said. “Like the hippies. I don’t think pot is a malevolent thing. Maybe slowing down learning or something. Even hallucinogens, although we’ve lost a few brilliant minds with them going crazy on it.”

“Syd Barret,” Cheryl nodded.

“Roky Erickson,” he added.

“Yeah.”

“But the harder stuff always intrudes. Speed. Downers. Heroin.”

“Cocaine,” said Cheryl.

“You know I did this paper in civics class about it. Before we started seeing how fucked up it can be. You know Coca-Cola used to have cocaine in it.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, they obviously figured out years ago there’s problems. Why else get rid of the ingredient? People knew it’s addictive, even if its not like opium in its addiction.”

“Before that opium was a cure for everything, and I bet if they asked the Chinese they would have found out how debilitating it is when addicted.”

“Exactly. Why didn’t we know how dangerous it is?”

“Maybe it’s because only really old people knew,” Cheryl laughed. “And both the hippies and the punks have trust issues with older people. The beatnicks before those called them squares.”

“Adolescents. Youth. Taking control of culture. Rejecting the past. No adult supervision.”

“Kids have to regulate themselves somehow,” said Cheryl. “You heard of straight edge?”

“No.”

“It’s a Washington DC thing. Hardcore punks swear off drugs. Even tobacco and alcohol. From what I know about it, it’s really not proselytized, like the bullshit fear campaigns at school. It’s like the choice they made. And they leave it to others to join or not.”

“Very cool.”

“Yeah. You’d think it wouldn’t be, but it is cool.”

“Why don’t you check it out?”

“I will when we head east. I’ve immersed myself in New York. I thought after LA I’d head to DC while you guys do your Midwestern tour and end up on the east coast.”

“I’d like to join you there.”

“What about the Monsters?”

“Joanne’s going to get the gigs when they come back here. She’s been sending out the kit. But a lot of places, college towns like Ann Arbor and Yellow Springs already have shown interest.”

“College radio.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were the tour manager.”

“I don’t know if Eddie wants me to be. But really I’ve been more the roaming promoter and advanced guard. And maybe after LA...”

“Or DC? Maybe Baltimore?”

“Sure. But they’ll be okay on their own.”

“You think?”

“I hope. I have better things than babysitting.”

“Speaking of babysitting...”

“Yeah. I hope to get back here as much as I can. It’s really you and Joanne and the kids that are important to me now.”

“Like step in, get a radio gig or a record store or a showcase and step out.”

“I hope so. Join you wherever you are.”

“And the band? You’re going to leave before they play?”

“I think so.”

“Hunh. DC?”

“I thought I’d go there from here, maybe after you’d been there for a week or something.”

“Like usual.”

“Yeah. After that, I’ll be pretty much gone from here until after Europe.”

“Joanne’s kids?”

“Maybe Constance. Or maybe she’ll hire a nanny. We haven’t really talked about it.”

“And when you come back?”

“I’ll stay. Work with Constance on the dance. Hopefully have something new of my own to have produced. Maybe, if you’re not sick of me after Europe, because I don’t plan letting you out of my sight when you’re there because I want to share everything with you, you can use here as home base between investigative jaunts.”

“Maybe you’ll get sick of me.”

“I won’t.”

“Me neither.”

“You sure?”

“Joe, I’ve kind of been stuck by your side for a while.”

“Yeah. It’s the way I see it too.”

“So why put it out there?”

He shrugged.

“How many tangents have we gone from ... what were we talking about?” Cheryl asked.

“Sex.”

She laughed. “Of course. Fucking spleens.”

“Fucking souls.”

“It’s what it feels like.”

“Me too. But, really, it’s always up to you if you want to be with some man.”

“You sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“The only thing that bothers me is I’m not there.”

“Sometimes you may be.”

“Whatever your pleasure, Firecracker.”

“Not yours?”

“Oh, it will please me.”

“Watching me get skewered.”

“Watching you go nuts because of it. I certainly won’t care about the other guy.”

“Me neither, except his cock and whatever skills he might add to things. What about blow by blow descriptions, so to speak?”

“I’d rather it be how you’ve done it before. Encapsulated. Just whatever you might have learned.”

“Yeah. Me too. Maybe if some guy has a kink I might like to try with you. Or some fantasy.”

“Sure. Same for me?”

“Yeah. We’re totally married.”

“Well yeah,” he said, looking at his ring and glancing at his beautiful wife in her beautiful dress.

“I mean, it’s just the two of us, both looking our best, and sex seems to be only a matter of discussion. A most comfortable discussion.”

“As always.”

“It’s just that it’s never been all about pawing at each other constantly.”

“I love pawing you.”

“Yeah, well me too. But it’s not the be all and end all. It’s not the substance. It’s more the gravy I guess.”

“The dessert.”

“Yeah. But though the pleasure of sex is the most intense, there’s a more sustaining pleasure just sitting here with you talking.”

“I completely agree. Like you’ve said, it’s how it began.”

“It’s why I want to stay with you. Why it’s not so crazy and impulsive that I asked you to marry me. Maybe that you agreed and we did it, but...”

“You think everyone but us thinks we’re crazy and impulsive?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Everyone but us.”

“You caught that?”

“Hard to miss.”

“You’re stuck with me, Firecracker, for better or worse.”

“In sickness and in health. Yeah, yeah.”

“You forgot the important one.”

“As long as we live. Promise?”

“Promise.”

She’d had her legs tucked up under her, adorably, for most of their conversation. She settled back and sighed. “You’re such a great guy, Joe.”

“You’re a great gal, Cheryl.”

They didn’t exchange the word love. Didn’t need to.

They remained silent. She brought her petite hand to him and he took it, interlacing fingers. They remained that way as they finished the long drive to Constance’s rural mansion. He’d glance over. Whether she glanced back or not, he loved the view.

“What now?” he finally asked as they followed the long driveway.

“Listen,” said Cheryl.

“Okay,” he smiled. He heard Eddie and the Monsters doing sound check.

After they parked in the garage and he shut off the car, Cheryl told him to pop the trunk. In it were their luggage. “I have a flight Sunday morning,” Cheryl said. “Along with Jules.”

“She’s...”

“Moe and Norma have a flight a little later, but they’ll drive Jules there and hang out until their flight.”

“So you have a similar departure as Julia?”

“Same one. I decided to spend some time with her. Help her move into the house with her fellow students in Palo Alto. Catch a show with her if there’s anything on Sunday. Hang out in the bay area for a few days, then head up to Seattle at the end of the week.”

“You didn’t say.”

“Didn’t want to talk about leaving you, Joe.”

“Okay,” he said, and hugged her. She sniffled. He kissed the top of her head.

“Right,” she sighed. “So, you’ll just need your shoulder bag.” She pulled out her own, and he found his.

“Which room?” he asked.

“Constance’s.”

“Ah, the huge bed.”

“Yep,” she giggled. “Come on. I’m horny.”

“Coming,” he said and actually made her hurry. He hadn’t been hard until that moment, but became instantly erect.

In the bedroom, they stripped as quickly as possible, though he had to delay a moment helping her unzip. Once naked, she bounced her luscious body on the bed on her back, her tits adding extra bounces. “Just fuck me, Joe,” she ordered.

“Yes boss,” he smiled and crawled between open thighs. Her hand gripped his cock, rubbed the moisture from her leaking pussy to wet the glans before setting it at the slit. He pushed slowly all the way in, whereupon their eyes looked up from the entering and locked on each other. They closed soon when he bent low for a kiss. Which became several kisses. Lips. Nose. Cheeks. Neck. Ear. And back to lips, where it remained as they slowly fucked. Made love. Her legs embraced him. His arms embraced her. Just holding her. Her hands stroked his hair, his neck, his back, his ass. They remained gripping the last.

It wasn’t their longest fuck by any stretch, but may have been the most loving. Maybe ten minutes of love made physical. Inevitably she pulled on his ass and clutched his thighs in an unmistakable demand to give it to her fast and hard. Only then did their lips separate. Eyes watched faces getting pleasured. Finding ecstasy. The connection absolute, when he shoved deep and erupted, she came with him. Her interior throbbing from both genitals. Their bodies writhing from absolute pleasure.

“Open them Joe,” she moaned, when his eyes must have closed. Concentrating is great, but watching her ecstasy matching his was much better.

“Oh Joe, my beautiful husband.”

“Oh Cheryl, my exquisite wife.”

They kissed, several soft kisses, until ecstasy abated.

After a quick shower to wash off the sex juices and sweat, they dressed casually. His usual khakis, but instead of the buttoned shirt, a black Suburbs t-shirt. Hers advertised the Dead Boys, and she wore a sexy soft skirt that barely made mid-thigh. They went downstairs and out the back where hugs and kisses ensued from friends who hadn’t been at the wedding. Cast members. Kids Joe grew up with. Simon’s two ladies. Even a buzzed Rachel, who tried to linger as long as possible on Joe’s kiss.

“About time,” said Eddie into his mic. He and Belle and Nigella had been noodling around in a sort of soft jazz, with Constance playing an electric piano. Joe walked up to him. They had set on a gentle knoll in front of the little apple orchard.

“Fuck you,” Joe said near the mic, so it could be heard, and then embraced Eddie.

“You’re a crazy motherfucker,” Eddie said.

“It takes one to know one,” Joe returned.

“Brilliant repartee,” Eddie chuckled.

“I miss my friend,” Joe said. “Can we work on it?”

Eddie looked at him and nodded. “Go dance with your lady.”

Joe’s new wife stood in a space encircled by the partyers. “Another surprise?” he asked her.

“Yep,” she said.

“As far as I know,” said Eddie, “This is Joe’s favorite song. And I should because he and I worshipped at the altar of my turntable. But this one made him happy, and even made him dance.”

Then he went into an incredible version of Otis Redding’s Too Long to Stop Now, Monterey Pop version. Joe couldn’t punch the air like he used to at the stops because he was melded to his much shorter sweetheart. But they did make him smile.

After came her favorite. Without You by Harry Nilsson. Another great singer Eddie was equal to. Eddie could sing.

A Monsters concert followed. Interspersed with requests. Sex Pistols and the Clash. Kiss and even Abba, which Claire knew and Eddie figured out. Joe requested Stardust. A break for the rest of the band except Nigella and Belle accompanying Eddie, with him playing Claire’s electric piano. He followed it with Unchained Melody, a sweet duet with Belle.

Joe had danced with a lot of the women there. Rachel included, though only because Joe could see her making a scene. When she clung to him, he made sure she heard, “I’m not interested.” Surprisingly she nodded sadly and walked away mid-song.

Five of the ladies, as if instructed, kissed him at the end of their dance with him and whispered into his ear, “Later,” with a wink. Norma. Moe. Joanne. Julia. And surprisingly Lori. Her boyfriend noticeably not there.

He danced with Freddy, intimate but not close. Somehow she’d gotten Luke to come, though they kept their distance from the others. He did congratulate Joe. Joe used the moment to find any jealousy in his eyes, since Joe fucked his girlfriend. Joe saw only respect within his shy demeanor. He decided to hug him, stiffly on Luke’s part, and whispered, “Frederica’s an amazing woman. And lucky to have met you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he smiled. Joe kind of set that up.

“Yes you are,” Joe said.

Food had been made available casually on a picnic table. The wedding cake, a simple three tiered vanilla, though delicious with a hint of lemon in both the cake and icing, had been cut ceremoniously, with a pause in the music. The casual situation made it easy for Martha, but she had her daughter and friend, Jesse and Britney helping. He got a kiss and hug and later a dance with each, but no “Later.”

Cheryl and Joe slipped out as unobtrusively as possible after Unchained Melody, and went to the giant bed. “Later?” he asked her as they got naked.

“You’ll see,” she giggled.

They made love. Like they had before, but with more fun and less intensity. He lasted a lot longer. She rode him at the end and didn’t get her cum until then. It was a long build for both of them, and explosive when it arrived. Simultaneously again. As if she waited for him. Or he waited for her.

“Thanks for this wonderful day,” he told her as they settled into a post orgasm calm.

“It’s not done yet,” she giggled, and as if on cue, Moe joined them sporting a cock. Cheryl winked at him and lowered, taking his wet, flaccid penis in her mouth. Joe watched Moe slick up the dildo and push it into his wife’s pussy. “Mmm,” Cheryl buzzed his rising penis.