Chapter 4

Wednesday

Wednesday evening, she appeared at my door dressed, surprisingly, in sweats. By unspoken agreement, however, we had abandoned pretense and instead of asking her what she wanted to do for dinner, I handed her the room service menu.

After dinner was delivered, she spoke.

“I’m still married, honeybear. I want you. You know I want you. But I’m married and I meant those vows.”

After another moment, she rose from the bed and closed the blackout curtains, excluding any outside light from the room. Then she turned and walked over toward the nightstand beside the bed.

Turning to face me, she skimmed off the sweatshirt and the sweatpants, allowing me just enough time to see that she was completely naked underneath. Then she flipped off the light.

“Get naked and come lie down on the bed,” she whispered. I did.

“You can’t touch me,” she continued whispering. “But there’s nothing saying I can’t play with myself and that you can’t play with yourself.”

The idea of masturbating next to her while she did the same made me immediately hard.

“I have to get myself off a lot,” she said softly. “I think about you a lot when I do it. Do you remember that one night when you came to my apartment?”

I did. It wasn’t a night I liked to think about. I had had a panic attack and fled her apartment, making up some half-baked story about why I had to leave and barging in on her while she was taking a shower to tell her.

“You probably don’t know that I had hoped you would join me in the shower. That you would soap up your hands and run them all over my body. When I touch myself and think about that night, I pinch my nipples the way you would have. I run my fingertips down my stomach like you would have done. I slide a finger inside myself like you would have.”

“Or maybe you wouldn’t have joined me. Maybe I just would have come out wearing a towel ... and when the moment was right ... dropped it and told you to make love to me right there in the living room.”

She gasped.

“Sometimes I have a toy with me ... and I pretend it’s you. I suck on it ... I slide it between my breasts ... would you like that, honeybear? Would you like fucking my titties?”

“Yes,” I gasped out. I was trying not to touch myself, as overwhelming as the urge was. I sensed I was on a hair trigger that would be released on contact, and I wanted to come with her.

“And soon... “ she continued whispering, “ ... I have to slide whatever is handy inside my pussy ... and squeeze it like I would squeeze your cock while you slide it in and out of me.”

“Uhhmm...” I groaned.

“I’m close, honeybear. Are you?”

“Yeah,” I gasped.

“Oh, God,” Annemarie gasped. And then I felt her weight shift on the bed ... and felt her lips on me.

“Cum for me, honeybear. Cum in my mouth.”

As I felt her lips bob up and down, my hand unconsciously drifted between her legs and grazed her clit, and as I let out a guttural moan of release, her body started shaking with her own orgasm.

We lay there, side by side, as we worked our way down from our mutual orgasms. When her breathing returned to normal, she whispered, “Don’t get up.” I then heard her pull her clothes back on and quickly exit the room.