I’ll be your superman

“Fingers just aren’t the same, are they?” He worked her clit faster now. Her thighs were trembling. “And a dildo isn’t the same either, is it?” Her juices were

flowing down over his hand and wrist, and she was gripping the headboard so hard it rocked along with her, banging into the wall with her movements.

“A big, hard cock…” He twisted his fingers inside her. “Hot flesh driving up inside of you…filling every part of you…”

“Oh, please,” she begged, slamming her body down onto his hand, his fingers working her clit in fast circles. “Oh, Evan, use your tongue.”

“Tell me you want it,” he said. “Tell me you want to be fucked. Tell me the truth.”

“No,” she pleaded, trembling on him. “Please, don’t…”

“Tell me.” He teased her clit for a minute with just the tip of his tongue and then pulled it away.

She moaned. “Oh, God!”

“You know it’s true.” He did it again, just a tease over her clit, his fingers moving slow now, the wet squelch of her pussy filling the room.

“Oh, fuck!” She shuddered against him, grabbing his head, trying to get him to put his tongue where she wanted it.

He jerked back. “Tell me you want a cock inside you, Stef.” He felt her relent, her muscles going slack. She stopped fighting him, fighting it, whispering, “Oh, I hate you for this.”

“No, you don’t.” He feathered kisses on her clit now. “Tell me.”

“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes! I want to be fucked!”

Her admission sent a jolt through him as she went wild, gasping and moaning, thrusting her hips against his face and tongue until she came, her muscles fluttering around the fingers plunged deep inside her pussy.

When she was spent, she crawled off of him and buried her face in her pillow. He thought he heard her say, “I hate you,” but he wasn’t sure. He used the incredible strength in his arms to move himself up onto his elbow beside her, stroking her long, sweat-dampened and tangled blonde hair.

“I’m going to invite Ben to dinner,” he said.

Stef turned her face to him. “Is this what you really want?” He leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “It’s what you need.”

* * * *

“More wine,” Stef said grimly, holding her glass out to him.

Evan filled it without even raising his eyebrows, knowing how much she hated the stuff.

“How’s the roast?” He watched her down the liquid with a grimace and a shudder.

Putting her glass down on the table, she turned to the oven, bending to open it just a crack. He admired the way her green dress pulled across her hips and rode up her thighs when she did, knowing just where her black thigh-highs ended and where the crotch of the matching black panties began under that dress. The thought made him dizzy with lust.

Stef slammed the oven door shut with a gasp when the doorbell rang.

Evan whirled his chair around expertly, heading to answer it. She grabbed the handgrip on the back, and he looked over his shoulder at her.

She was shaking her head, her eyes wide. “I can’t do this.”

“No backslides.” He grinned.

“I’m not kidding!” She pinched his shoulder and made a face.

He pushed off again toward the door, calling back, “It’ll be okay.” When he and Ben came back into the kitchen, she was pouring herself another glass of wine, but the roast was out of the oven and ready to be carved.

Evan saw the awkward and slightly fearful, but definitely excited look that passed between them as Stef leaned in to kiss Ben’s cheek and hug him hello.

He noticed his friend’s hands linger a little longer over her hips, and the flush in his wife’s cheeks that hadn’t been there five minutes ago, wine or no wine.

“So how’s business, Ben?” Evan watched Stef turn back to the roast, grabbing the knife out of the block. She took another sip of wine before she started carving.

“I’m tired.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs with a sigh, running a hand through his brown mop. His cheeks were scruffy and he rubbed them as he watched his friend’s wife. “This time of year, it’s constant.”

“Feast or famine,” Stef remarked as they both watched her struggling with the knife. “Seasonal work is always like that. You’ve got a good tan going, though. There’s a nice perk.”

Ben smiled, standing and coming up behind her. “Do you want help with that?”

She didn’t turn, but she handed him the knife. “Thanks. Do you want something to drink? Wine, beer?”

“Wine would be great.” He started to make quick work of the roast. Evan sat back in his chair and watched his wife pour the wine, noticing the slight tremble as she handed the glass to Ben, their hands touching briefly.

“So how’s your latest idea coming, Ev?” Ben transferred meat from roast pan to platter.

“Great, actually.” He tipped his wine glass toward Stef. She filled his glass.

Half the bottle was gone already. “Been pounding out a good four to five thousand words a day.”

“It’s really good.” Stef’s eyes moved lovingly over her husband’s face. “You should read it.”

“You’re the only one who gets that privilege.” Evan winked.

“I see.” Stef was staring into her wine glass. “That you’ll keep between us?”