The ritual

It has become close to a ritual now. Every month or so my wife takes a long weekend off, flies off on Friday to visit her family, and then flies back home the next Monday. I drive her to the airport, and on my way back I pick up her cousin JJ, to help me with the kids while my wife is away. On the following Monday, I drive JJ back home, and go pick my wife up at the airport.

Today is Friday. I just left my wife at the airport, and I'm now waiting for JJ to finish getting ready. I sit in the car, wondering if she realizes how precious she has been for me and my wife, and I'm not just talking about her bright personality (of which I'm not sure how it correlates to her metal­head past), or her love for the kids and the love the kids have for her, or how helpful she is in these long weekends. To wit, I wonder if we would have even survived the relocation when we moved here a few years ago, hadn't it been for her assistance.

Moving is hard on its own, moving to a different country with two very young kids is much, much worse. The amount of practical things that need to be done, while taking care of the kids at the same time, is simply overwhelming. But JJ not only offered to help us move, she even revealed she was planning to relocate with us, which turned out to be an exceptional deal for all of us.

During the move, and for nearly a year after, she lived with us, which allowed us all to settle in with less effort, while giving her time to find her own place and means to live here. That's also how she developed such a good feeling for and with our kids, who were actually sad when she finally moved to her own place. Yet it was quite understandable she'd need her own space, despite what had developed between her and us in the meantime.

I'm startled by the car rocking as JJ pulls open the back seat door, drops her duffel bag, slams the door shut again, and sits down next to me with a cheery «Heyo, cousin, wanna make out?»

«Please.» I roll my eyes «I'd rather get home before the kids have time to raze it.»

«You're no fun.» she buckles up. I look at her from the top of my glasses. She has her mocking grin up.

«You're suspiciously cheery today.» I smile.

«I have a big surprise prepared.» she touches the tip of the fingers of one hand with those of the other.

«All right, now I'm worried.»

She keeps rocking the fingertips one against the other impatiently, as her grin widens, if at all possible. I'm glad the drive is short, I'd worry about her face bursting if it got any wider.

The moment we step through the door, the kids are all over her. «Auntie!» «Niblings!» There's shouting, there's jumping around, there's rolling over, and not just from the kids. I get out of my outdoor clothes, set to get an hour of work done before dinner, knowing that I won't be disturbed and the kids will be safe and happy.

The show

Shortly before dinner, I take a quick shower, and then pass by the living room to signal JJ that it's nearly dinner time, so she can get started on defusing the kids' enthusiasm and give them the bedtime bath while I set up dinner. She's impressively good at it, and they all walk in the kitchen just as I'm starting to set up the table. The kids proudly show JJ that “they help”, and likewise they go out of their way to help put things away after dinner.

I thank them for their assistance, and then jokingly suggest she should come over for every meal, because I can't say they are always so willing to give a hand. I kiss them goodnight, and let JJ put them to bed as I finish up in the kitchen and then move to the master bedroom. Time to see how my wife is doing.

I set up the laptop at the foot of the bed, lying down facing it, and check that the external webcam is working as I wait for her to come online. Soon enough, she calls me, and we exchange the usual salutations, followed by the usual status updates on her family, on the kids.

~«JJ?» she asks.

«Putting the kid to sleep.»

She smiles. ~«I miss you already.»

«I miss you too.»

~«Wish we could cuddle right now.»

«Wish I could eat you out now.»

She laughs. ~«You would?»

«You know I would.»

She sets the tablet she's talking through down between her spread legs, then she lifts her nightgown. She's naked underneath.

~«I know you would.» she pauses «And I would like it very, very much.»

Her hands run over her thighs, meeting at the end, then away again, and up once more. She lingers there, softly caressing her labia with one hand, gathering some saliva with the other to lube herself with.

~«Can you see me?» her voice is low, distant already.

«Quite clearly.» mine isn't much more than a whisper.

We don't talk anymore now. She's setting up a show for me, and there isn't anything else to be said, just the natural noises of her growing pleasure as she runs her fingers between the folds of her sex in a slow, deliberate motion. She spreads them lightly, the fingers slipping down to gather her glistening wetness to rub it over her most sensitive spot. I can see the restrain in her trembling finger as the refrains from insisting too much on the little nub, to prolong her pleasure, to prolong the show.

She starts rocking her hips, pushing against her own hand, then away, then up again, her heavier breathing coming whistling through the microphone. I shift slightly to find a more comfortable position for my erection. I find myself humping the bed ever so slightly, wishing I could be there with my wife, even just to lap up the wetness her sex is drooling, if not to find my way in it, through it, in the pulsating warmth of her pussy.

The surprise

JJ silently glides into the room, wrapped in her bath towels. She winks at me, but I barely give her any notice, transfixed as I am by my wife's masturbation. JJ climbs onto the bed to straddle me, throwing away the towel, leaning over until her breasts rest on my back, watching from over my head. She soon starts to push herself down towards my tailbone, then back up, then down again, but slowly, as if trying to hide her humping from me.

~«This … is … so … good …» my wife pants, her motions more intense now, yet still holding back to avoid going over the edge.

«You don't say.» JJ whispers; yet her voice gets through, and my wife sits up, startled.

~«JJ!» she bursts «How long have you been there?»

«Oh, I just got here. Did I spoil your fun?»

My wife is obviously flustered, but it's hard to see how much of the redness of her cheeks is from the arousal, how much from the embarrassment.

~«Just warming up.» she smiles «Waiting for you.»

«Do you want to go on?»

~«No, I want to watch you guys now.»

«I actually have a surprise today.»

~«What is it?»

JJ leans over, lowering her voice again, as if to tell her a secret, even though I can clearly hear everything: «Safe. Days.»

~«Oh my,» my wife has a short burst of hysterical laughter «you're seriously going to let him go raw?»

JJ nods enthusiastically «Absolutely.»

«I like the part where my opinion wasn't even inquired.» I try to interject.

«Oh, shut up,» JJ sits up, grabs my hair «as if you wouldn't want to.»

«Well, I might want to be sure to avoid hmfmf» JJ covers my mouth preventing me from finishing my defense.

~«You're a crazy girl.» my wife comments, shaking her head «But can you please let him do your ass first? I would really love to watch that.»

«Of course!» JJ dismounts, pushing me as she rolls on her back, legs spread inviting me over.

The dive

As ready as she might be, there's very few things I can resist harder than eating out a willing woman. Be it to warm her up, starting with slow kisses down her thighs and over her closed clam, be it just to taste the flavour of her wetness when she's already aroused and open, I would gladly spend my whole life there, kissing, licking, lapping, nibbling, sucking.

I love to slowly separate the folds of their labia with my tongue, I love to close them again between my lips in a toothless bite, then spread them again to taste the uncovered meat, all the way up to their pleasure button. I love wrapping it with my tongue, teasing it by exploring the little folds around, pressing against it giving it a soft, wet massage, sucking it in gently between my teeth to keep it still while my tongue draws small circles around it.

Often, I don't even use my fingers, grabbing my lover by her waist, or sometimes running my hands up to her breasts, flicking her erect nipples. But I'd gladly smash my whole face on her pussy, run my nose from her wet hole to her hardening clit. I would gladly drown on their fluids.

And I do all this for my own pleasures, because there's very little more worth it than bringing your lover towards the edge, feeling her growing arousal, sensing her muscles tense as she start pushing against your tongue, against your face, and even greater pleasure is holding her back, letting her ride the edge, giving her almost what she wants, but never enough, so that when she finally grabs you will all her strengths to push herself over, it's for the most intense and durable of orgasms.

But that's not what JJ wants today, not now. She does let me eat her out, for mine and her own pleasure, but she doesn't let me bring her over the edge. She grabs my hair while I suck her labia, her clit, rubbing my tongue against the nub, pressing it against my teeth, but suddenly she pulls me away.

«Stop,» she pants «stop,» even as she lifts her hips as if to press them against me, yet not reaching «not like this.»

I lift myself, scooting closer. She grabs my erection. «You're dripping.» «You know how much I like to eat pussy.»

~«Hey, let me see.» my wife's voice. JJ takes the webcam, trying to point it to her groin, as I lean over to open the nightstand drawer.

She grabs my arm, the webcam rolls away: «There's no need. Do me now.» I wouldn't call it desperation, but there's a clear determination in her tone, maybe even haste. I position myself better, slide my erection through her labia, pushing against her nub. «Fuck, stop this, fuck me.» and I know she'd like nothing more than to feel my erection entering her pussy now, but she knows better than to go against my wife's wishes. She grabs my erection again, pointing it at her anus, rocking her hips against it.

She's in a hurry, but I'm not. This is not just about her, or me, this is also about my wife. I grab hold of the webcam, pressing it against my stomach and pointing at our groins, so that my wife can get a clear view of JJ's ass, glistening from the juices drooling out of her pussy, and my erection against it.

Then, I start pushing, ever so slowly. JJ wasn't joking when she had said she was ready. Her legs spread, pulled against her chest, she's totally exposed, and fully open. I meet very little resistance as I push against the tight ring of her anus, and I feel it surrender easily, letting my through, making it harder to not just push myself all the way in in one go. I control myself and work my way in slowly, with small circular motion to test the ring's resistance. Yet it's so soft, so incredibly smooth inside.

«You lubed already.» I remark.

«Of course … I did.» her eyes closed, she's focused on the feeling of my erection inside her ass. I pull away slowly, until I feel again the ring of her anus pulsating around the head of my cock, then I push forward again. It's getting harder to keep it slow, as JJ meets my motions with her rocking hips, as my pleasure takes over. The only thing holding me back is the webcam in my hand. I put it down on the chair, finding a position where my wife can still get a good view, then I lean over, propping myself up with my arms, as JJ lifts her legs further, giving me even more room to push inside her.

The soft, tight smoothness of her lubed canal is irresistible. I start moving faster, pushing harder. I find myself wiggling to sense more, and getting closer and closer. «I'm almost …» «Do it,» she interrupts me, panting «give it … give it to me.»

Not that I needed any encouragement. I push myself as deep as I can inside her, as I start coming. I'm not very vocal, but a moaned «Ah» escapes me, immediately echoed by her own, as I feel her anus contracting around my spurting erection.

Goodnight

«Fuck.» she whispers.

«Did you … did you just … come from … me coming … in your ass?» I ask, trying to catch my breath.

«Maybe? I think so.» she tries to burst in laughter, chocked by her own lack of breath.

~«That was so hot!» my wife's voice. I pick up the webcam, keeping it at arm's length, pointed at me. «Hey honey.» I ask, still panting «Did you have fun?»

~«You have no idea.» I watch over to the screen. She's showing us her glistening fingers. «I'm completely out. I'll try to get some sleep now. Don't overdo it.»

She winks, sends a kiss. I lift the webcam, as if to kiss it, then turn it towards JJ. She waves: «Goodnight, cousin.» We hear the hangup chime, I put down the webcam.

In the moments of silence that follow, I can still feel the contraction of JJ's anus. «Are you still hard?» she asks, mildly surprised, as she lowers her legs, crossing them with mine behind me.

«I think so. Your ass, it's keeping it up.»

She has a short burst of laughter. «Seriously?»

«Seriously. Same principle as the cock ring, prevents blood from flowing back out. Plus, your contractions are quite stimulating.»

«Like this?» she tries on purpose, but it's nowhere near the sensation her involuntary contractions.

«Sorry, not the same.»

She shrugs. «So, can you actually keep going?»

«I can try.»

We stand still for a moment, then we both laugh at my realization that she was actually suggesting I do. I lean over again, and start moving slowly, only pulling back briefly, then pushing forward almost tentatively. I must say I don't trust my erection much now, and the sensations, while not as intense as I feared, are weirdly un-arousing, a superposition of numbness and stimulation that my brains fails to interpret correctly.

Yet, she seems to enjoy it, and her revamped arousal is contagious enough to drag me on a more passionate approach. I find that she seems to have a particular preference for when I'm deepest inside her, pressing against her groin. I try to keep myself there as much as possible, with small circular motions in place of the more classical back and forth. She shows her appreciation by grabbing on to my shoulders, grinding against me.

I get the point. I free a hand from my weight, bring it down between our groins, find her clitoris with my thumb. Her «Fuck yes» as she drops back to the mattress is confirmation enough. I straighten up, focusing on masturbating her. I don't need to move anymore, the rocking of her hips to meet my hands and the wiggling of my erection inside her as she moves are enough, with a stimulation which is just as physical as it is visual.

As her orgasm approaches, I feel her clitoris retreat; I chase it with a thumb, pressing it against her body, slipping the other thumb inside her drooling cunt, and suddenly a spasm, her whisper again «Oh fuck» and those contractions, as if her ass was trying to pull me in. I comply, leaving her pussy alone, leaning forward again, propping myself up. I'm getting close too, and my rejuvenated erection gives me new vigor for long, satisfying strokes, which find a natural synchronization with her contractions and her repeated «Oh fuck, oh fuck».

And then it gets too satisfying, I lose control, I find myself pushing harder, faster, deeper, and suddenly exploding again, deep inside her, with no forewarning.

Recovery

«Wow.» short of breath, I don't have strength for much more.

«Okay. That was … fuck … that was … amaz… amazing.» she needs to recover too apparently.

As her contractions subside, so does my erection. I finally slip out.

«Had … enough?» she laughs.

I take a deep breath, but abstain from responding. I doubt I could go on, but why preclude possible futures?

«Uh-ho.» she rolls over just enough to grab the towel she had thrown away; she folds it quickly, and sprawls herself on it. I meet her gaze. We both laugh. «The unsexy part of sex.»

«Not for some.» I comment.

«What, you want to give if a try?» she hints a rollover to offer me her bottom.

«Not really, I don't trust the lube you used.»

«That's what's holding you back?» we both laugh.

Not even a handful of seconds of heavy breathing later, she suddenly stands. «I think I'll do that bathroom run after all.» And she's out, leaving me alone with my recovery thoughts.

As with most of the time in the “after”, past the heat of the moment, I'm left wondering the ‘why’s of these “close encounters”. Well, I mean, in some sense they are pretty obvious: the sex is good when it's not amazing (and today I would most definitely rate it on the amazing side), yet it's not something I would have ever sought out. She's not close to anything I would consider my “type”, be it physically or psychologically, she's not someone I feel emotionally affine with.

And it's quite apparent, in the “during”, but especially in the “after”: there's nothing akin to the connection I have with my wife. I honestly don't mean it in a particularly romantic sense, there's no contemplative gazing into the depth of each other's eyes when I'm doing it with my wife, it's still first and foremost a quest for reciprocal pleasure, with its fair share of passionate, even frantic gymnastic to match the slower, quieter rocking of our connected bodies we opt for in other occasions. And sex with either of the two can leave me gasping for air, but only making love with my wife gives me that thorough sense of satisfaction, of closure. And it's all in the little details, the timing, the feeling, even just the cuddling afterwards, in the being there for each other, not just for the sexual release.

When JJ walks back in, I've nearly dozed off, dreaming of or maybe wishing for the warmth of my wife body against mine.

«So much for my beautiful surprise.» JJ complains, jokingly.

My gaze follows her as she moves to the bed, crashing over the towel as before.

«How so?» I ask, even though I'm pretty sure of what's to come.

«Well,» she sighs «for starters there's no way I'm going to let that thing» she points at my soft penis «into my magical mystery box after where it's been.»

I snort. «All right, all right.» I get up and go to the bathroom.

Taking care

I actually have a special soap just for that, and by that I mean specifically cleaning up after anal sex. Sulfur-based, highly disinfectant, with the correct pH and all that. Short of bleaching my poor penis, I doubt I could do any better. Science, making sex better by removing the worries for the after-effects since the seventeenth century (ok, maybe these things are more of a nineteenth century thing). What a wonderful world.

See, this is exactly what I'm talking about, I say to myself as I sit on the bidet soaping up thoroughly. The little things are what make the difference. Had it been my wife, this would have been a moment of play, foreplay; she'd be here helping me soap up, making it clear with the motions of her hands that it wasn't just for my (and her future) hygiene, that we were combining business and pleasure. I wash up as thoroughly as I soaped up, chuckling at the realization that just the thought of playing with my wife is enough to wake up my desire again.

A subtle sense of guilt worms its way into my mind. Is it more disrespectful to my lover or to my wife that I find renewed sexual energy in thinking about the latter while preparing for the former? Then again, is it even disrespectful at all when all of this happens with my wife's blessing?

Yet, when I walk back into the master bedroom and JJ comments «Somebody is happy to see me …» spreading her legs farther and caressing her slit, I don't have the courage to tell her that it's actually a salute to the love of my life, my wife. But it's JJ waiting for me in bed, legs spread invitingly, and I'm glad to dive between them to eat her out for the second time tonight.

«No. Way.» she grabs my head, pulling me away. «I wouldn't enjoy it now.» she forces me on my back, straddling me. «Plus, I want to feel you come inside me.» she grabs my erection, and guides it inside.

She starts to move slowly, eyes closed, with tentative motions, seeking the right rhythm, the right spots. Her movements grow progressively more intense and focused. She settles in, sliding forward and backwards, grinding hard against my groin, her breath getting deeper.

It's not unpleasant for me, far from it in fact, but my two previous orgasms have left me with a diffuse numbness that prevents me from enjoying her body fully; I'm far more aroused by her search for pleasure than the physical stimulation. I grab her by the waist, meeting her thrusts by pushing further against her: if despite her words this is going to be about her pleasure more than mine, I might just as well help her be selfish.

And she picks up the challenge. Her pacing gets faster, her sliding movements turn to circular grinding motions. She leans over, as if to present me her breasts. I comply by grabbing a nipple, twisting it between my finger, sucking the other into my mouth, biting it in kind. Her breathing turn to gasping. «Ah fuck, ah fuck.» and she's over the edge.

I don't give her time to settle. I lift myself up, trying to keep her previous rhythm, and as unsuccessful as I might be, she still seems to enjoy the effort. The numbness from my previous orgasms is starting to dissipate, I feel my erection getting harder in her gripping pussy. She feels it too. «You're not … let me catch … my breath …» she protests, yet still pushing her hips against mine.

But I think I can do that for her, let her catch her breath. I grab one of the cushions, dragging it over next to us, then push her to the side. «What …» she's startled, as the falls on her back, her ass propped up by the cushion. For a brief moment we're disconnected, but I'm quickly on top of her. «Wait, I'm still …» I don't give her the time to finish, plunging deep into her open cunt in a single stroke «Oh fuck, that's good!» she changes her mind.

Her legs spread as far apart as she can, she grabs onto my buttocks, holding me against her, matching my grinding hips with hers. So much for catching her breath, I would think, but my mind is now just focused on her enthusiastic reaction, which is affecting me again more than I would have thought. Her verbal encouragements, the tightness as her legs find their place behind my waist, the way she's almost dragging me further inside, it all suddenly becomes too much, I come again without any sort of warning, and yet she accepts it in the most inviting of ways: «Oh fuck, come, come for me, come in me!», which only serves to prolong my orgasm, the overwhelming, liberating sensation of ejaculating inside her welcoming cunt.

Afterglow

The afterwards is always clumsier with JJ. Her hands run over my chest, as I straighten myself. We both need breathing space, but I don't want to pull out, it's too comfortable in her warm wetness.

«Happy?» I manage to interject between a gasp and the next.

«That … was crazy … good.» she pants. I can't hold back a nod, but it's not to myself: I'm glad she liked it. I find myself caressing her legs almost unconsciously.

«Comfortable?» I ask.

«This … is actually good for my back.»

Our gasping breaths regularize, I start to lose my erection and slip out of her, unwantedly.

«Oh, I liked it.» she complains.

«Sorry.» I'm still somewhat short for breath «I liked it too.»

«How come you could stay in my ass seemingly forever?» she props herself up by the elbows.

«I told you.» Breathe in, breath out. «And it's not forever anyway.»

She drops on her back again, pulling the cushion from under her ass. «This is yours now.» she says, handing it over to me. I take it, fluff it up, hand mine to her, and lie down, just to stand up immediately after. «I need to rehydrate.»

I wobble my way to the kitchen, find a bottle and two glasses, and start for the master bedroom again, stopping as soon as I notice the door of one of the kids' rooms is ajar.

«What's the problem, cub?»

The voice that comes through is still half asleep. «I heard a noise.» I try not to chuckle: «That was nothing, I was just thirsty, go back to sleep.» I watch over the shadow as it leaves the door for the bed, listen to the rustling of the sheets, then move in to check that the kid is asleep again and well covered.

I close the door behind me, and come across JJ as she walks back from the bathroom. «We were too loud.» I whisper. She muffles a laugh: «Your fault.» «My ass.» «No, my ass. Your dick.»

Rolling my eyes, I hand her one of the glasses as she sits down on the bed. «Actually, I think we woke them up this last time.» I pour the water for both of us.

«Well, sorry for enjoying it so much, then.»

«Not at all, be my guest whenever.»

Her smile broadens. She waggles her eyebrows: «Wanna have another go now?»

«Eh. Appreciate the thought, but I doubt I could make it.»

She chuckles. «Ah, I even wonder how you managed this much, really.» just to mock me right after «Not that there was that much in the end.» she concludes in a laugh.

Overthought

It is surprising indeed, now that she points it out. I have had sex more than once in the same day in the past, even if probably not as often as I would have liked, and that's without even considering masturbation. Heck, if I were to consider that too, even back-to-back orgasms wouldn't be big news, especially when I was half my current age. But three times in a row with barely any recover in-between, now, with the same partner? Well, it is rather surprising.

I don't keep tabs, but I can't actually recall ever managing this before. Not with her, not with my wife, not with any of my previous partners. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a personal record of mine; and yet, I don't feel any pride in it, as glad as I am for having managed this tonight to both mine and JJ's satisfaction. If anything, my habit of overthinking things is now challenging me to find an explanation.

Is this a one time thing? An exceptional occurrence? Or is this a good sign of things to come, another milestone in the improvement I've been experiencing in my life? Because one thing's for sure, my sex life has been getting better in the last couple of years, but not as a thing of its own: my whole life, or rather our life, mine and my wife's, has been nothing but a long string of improvements since we relocated.

My new job, while technically not much different from my old one, is considerably less stressful, despite being as challenging as ever, if not more. And we live a healthier life, eat healthier food, have more outdoor activities, and more relaxing moments in general. The kids are growing fast, and the most physically demanding period of looking after them is past. Of course in all this the benefits have trickled down to our sex life as well. More time for each other, more time to talk, more relaxed evenings to play and explore, all the way up to JJ's involvement, proposed by my wife, a thoroughly unexpected surprise.

Now that I think of it, I can recall at least a few times when I've had sex with both my wife and JJ one after the other, the very first time I got involved with JJ being a perfect example, what with my wife wanting to be present —as a means to verify if her own jealousy would have triggered and changed her mind— and then demanding attention for herself right after we had finished.

Honestly, I had never given much thought to my ability to follow through and comply with such requests before, dismissing it as the well-known Coolidge effect. And let's be serious, who would spend more than a passing thought to the causes, when the effects are plenty of satisfying sex, a hornier wife, and finally the possibility to do what she'd rather not —with her blessing, even though with someone else?

Reprise

«Are you fucking kidding me?»

I'm startled by JJ's sudden outburst. «What?»

«You've got a hard-on again!»

Well, it's true. I shrug «Seems so …»

«How the fuck can you still …»

«I don't know, I was just thinking back to the other times …»

«Seriously? Just remembering? After we've done it three times already?»

«What can I say?»

«And I suppose you now expect me to take care of it?»

«Actually, not …»

«Oh, shut up.» she straddles me, but rather than taking me in, she just sits on it, pressing my erection between my groin and the warm, wet folds of her labia «Shut. Up.»

She starts moving ever so slightly, almost without actual intent. Staring straight into my eyes, with the most serious of expressions on her face, she asks: «Are you treating my cousin properly?»

«What?»

«Are you holding back on your wife?»

«What? What the … of course I'm not. Why would I?»

She keeps looking at me, her eyes reduced to inquisitive slits, trying to determine if I'm lying. She seems satisfied with her analysis after a few moments, during which she doesn't stop grinding against me.

«Is she treating you right?» she asks then.

«Are you trying to say that I don't have enough sex?»

She leans over, brushing her breasts on my chest. «Well, somebody isn't living up to its full potential, judging from what we have here.» she lifts just enough to allow a hand between her legs, grabbing my erection and helping it in, slowly lowering herself on it.

«Not that I'm complaining.» she remarks, letting out a sigh of satisfaction, eyes closed, reprising the grind «Just wanted to be sure you weren't stupidly saving yourself for these moments.» she chuckles, opening her eyes again.

I grab her waist, guiding her rhythm. «Rest assured I don't let chances go by.»

«Ah! Ah …» she starts a short laugh that quickly turns into a moan. She seems to be getting more into it. I know I am. «It's a good thing» she finds her voice again «I'm here,» she marks the word with a deep stroke that drives me fully inside her «to give you more chances.»

«I really,» I hold her waist tight, pressing hard against her, driving deep inside her again «really» again «appreciate it. You have no idea.»

«Oh, I do» she likes the game, stressing words with the deepest thrusts «have some idea. And I love it.» she leans forward again, her voice lowered to a whisper «I love this.» her moves get wilder, almost violent.

«Wait,» I try to hold her steady, but it's hopeless «this is too good, I'll …»

«Do it,» she pants «do it, fill me up. I want to feel it, I want it erupting inside. I'm there, I'm …»

Her mouth finds mine just as I'm grabbing her ass to push as deep inside her as I can, my erection twitching in the tight, warm wetness, letting go the last remnants of my seed. She meows her pleasure, grinding against me to meet mine.

Hints

She rests on top of me as we both catch our breaths. She's heavy, but I don't mind. The seconds tick by, I go soft but she keeps me inside her. Her face is buried in the cushion when she finally speaks.

«Sorry,» she begs «I got carried away.»

«I don't mind.» I assume she's talking about the kiss, but I'd rather not force her into admitting it, it would probably be even more embarrassing.

This is actually the first time I can think of that our lips met, let alone our tongues. It's not that in our arrangement kissing was banned; rather, we never talked about it at all: our whole arrangement has been more a “going with the flow” thing right from the start, with the first encounters as guidelines about what was within my wife's comfort zone (easy to gauge, since she was present), and an implicit assumption that everything else was best avoided. In this sense, my words don't carry much weight: it remains to be seen whether she minds or not. But JJ has already changed subject; she props herself up, and looking straight at me she complains:

«This has been a waste of surprise.» she grimaces «There wasn't much this time either.»

I roll my eyes with a smile before asking: «Really, what did you expect? I felt completely spent the second time already. I'm actually surprised there was anything at all.» she laughs at that, I insist: «It's actually painful at this point, you know?»

«Seriously?»

«Seriously.»

Leaning back just enough to have a comfortable hold on my testicle, she mocks me: «These poor things …», but I'm not lying, and her caresses are somewhat soothing, so I let her be. «Still, what a waste of surprise.» she smirks.

«If you like it so much, why don't you go back on the pill?»

She sighs. «Yeah, I probably will.» she says. There isn't much enthusiasm in her voice.

«Why did you even stop taking it?»

«Meh, was a waste of money.» she shrugs «Until now.» her eyes meet mine again, and she stares at me as if to gage my reaction, but I'm too tired, too disconnected to follow. She sighs again, and with a yawn rolls over to the side, dismounting. «Long overdue time for some shuteye for me.» She leers at me from over her shoulder: «Unless there's some more surprises from Mr Not-satisfied-yet?»

«No more surprises. Good night.» I give one of her buns a quick grope, then turn my back at her. She's not the only one “long overdue for some shuteye”.

Realizations

It's only during the restless hours that follow, as my brain wanders, slipping in and out of sleep, leaving me wide awake at times, dragging me into unconsciousness the moment after, that I start putting the pieces together, and the implications of what JJ hinted during our last brief conversation finally hit me.

There's one thing on which she's obviously right, for example: even though I've never withheld sex from my wife, and neither has she, it's undeniably true that my wife's libido has never been on par with mine. But even with that, I can't say I've ever gone unsatisfied for long, except in the more troubled periods of our marriage.

It's just as obvious that my wife's lesser appetite, her lack of adventurousness have been largely affected by environmental causes, as the last few years have shown: the way things have changed since our relocation are nothing short of a miracle —a miracle which, I have no doubts, was catalyzed by the woman that is now lightly snoring by my side.

Leaning over lightly to her side, I whisper a «Thank you.», to which JJ responds with a deeper breath, a stronger snore. I puff a muffled laugh: there is nothing sexy about this, and yet, in the right context, it would just be part of the cozy domestic feeling of the life together, romantic in its own way.

I'm all but blind to the appeal of lingerie and provocative poses, but that doesn't prevent me from appreciating the relaxing comfort that comes with intimate familiarity, the port in the storm to rest and recover after adventure and exploration. That's the appeal of plush clothing, fluffy slippers, sofas and quilts, the appeal of settling down to build up.

And now I'm wondering if this is what JJ is going through, if the free spirit she has exhibited in the decade I've known her is now looking for a roost to perch on, or if I'm just reading too much in her words. Yet it seems obvious, or at least plausible: without a stable sexual partner, condoms are the only responsible choice (and as free spirited as she might be, irresponsible she's not), a guard against diseases as much as against pregnancy, so opting for a less protective form of birth control such as the pill would imply a less promiscuous lifestyle.

Given our arrangements, she has always been crystal clear (and I've never had a reason to doubt her honesty) about her choices, not only with us but for her sex life in general. Hence the condoms (not that I would have had it any other way, personally), and the ‘cousin-in-law’ perk of allowing me to bareback her when doing anal —or, as today has shown, in her safe days. And sure enough, going on the pill would allow her to extend the perk to all our encounters, but would that be frequent enough to justify it? “A waste of money” indeed, when otherwise condoms would still be needed.

However, there was something in her demure tone, the lack of enthusiasm in her voice as she agreed to the opportunity of following the hint I had dropped half in jest, that I can't quite decipher, even now —or maybe even more so now, as I'm sure my brain is misfiring from exhaustion. Her attitude could have been anything from indecision to resignation, or even just plain old tiredness, unrelated to her actual feelings.

And of course, for me, the biggest question is: assuming I'm reading the hints right, what does this mean exactly for us? I'm quite content with our current arrangements, the uncommitted, while not exactly ‘casual’, sex, the relaxed, enjoyable companionship, and yes, her precious assistance —and up until now, I could have sworn this was the case for her as well, keeping on living her free life while still having a homebase to fly back to when needed.

If something has changed, if time (age?) has aroused in her other feelings, new needs, it would make sense that she'd quell them at the closest stable source she'd find, but would it be wise? Would it even work in any way, or would the best decision be to drop everything, avoid developments which would be unhealthy in the long run?

The bugging feeling that I might be reading too much in her words, that I might be overthinking it, tides in again. And yet the only serious suggestion I can give myself is to hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. And right afterwards, I scold myself for even thinking in those terms: would it really be “the worst”, her looking for some stability, and trying to find it here with us?

And the truth is, I can't really answer this question, not here, not now.

It's only the next day, when unable to concentrate despite the freedom JJ grants me by taking care of the kids I find myself looking after the house instead of working —and more as an excuse to keep an eye on her and the kids— that I feel like I might have at least a partial answer to my perplexities, in a comment by wife had made years ago, before the big move abroad, and JJ would simply come visit us from time to time as a cousin would do: and my wife, after one of the visits, poignantly remarked how JJ was clearly looking for a family of her own, and in some sense she seemed to have found a surrogate in us.

While I had agreed with her at time, I had done so superficially, as an acknowledgement of the fact, or at least of the verisimilitude of the interpretation. It would then be inevitable that the brief exchange with my wife at the time would come back to mind now, finding a much stronger confirmation in the attitude JJ had kept the night before, or at least in my inability to give it a clear interpretation

The newly gained corroboration does little to pacify my mind, as I'm left wondering not only about the possible shape to give in the future to our relationship, but just as much about the past, the otherwise unsupportable suspicion of an elaborate setup worming its way to full conscience.