Kinky Confessions

“That girl isn’t boy-crazy,” I said to Christy as I helped her onto the wing.

“She’s plane-crazy.”

“I wasn’t boy-crazy at her age either. That happened later, when I met you.”

I grinned and climbed up after her.

“Now I’m sex-crazy.”

I lowered myself into the cockpit. “Didn’t you get enough this morning?”

“You know me.” She sank into the seat and closed the door. “My metabolism and libido. Speaking of which…” She triumphantly pulled a baggie of grapes and cheese from her jacket pocket. “Now, if only someone could satisfy my carnal desires.”

“If only,” I muttered as I reached over her head to secure the door.

“You keep me very satisfied,” she said with a laugh. “Mmm, very, very satisfied.”

“I might not survive, though. You’re like a sexual vampire.”

“I vant to suck your cock.” She grinned and popped a grape into her mouth.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“Mmm, but a cute monster. Will you take me to your lab? Strap me to a table? Do naughty experiments on me?” Her eyes flashed. “Ooh, ooh! I know! Throw me in the dungeon and use me in perverted sex rituals. Over and over, till I succumb to your dark desires.”

“Ha!”

“I was on a roll. So sue me.” She batted her eyes and nibbled a cube of cheese. “Or use me, Dr. Penis-stein.” She collapsed in a fit of giggles.

I shook my head in amusement—with her and at her—and started the engine.

“Oh, I love you,” Christy sighed through the intercom when she recovered enough breath to speak.

“I love you too, but… you make me a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“You like sex as much as I do.”

“Maybe more. I’m an overachiever, you know.”

“Help,” I said plaintively, to no one in particular.

Christy ate her cheese and quietly radiated happiness.

Life continued back in the real world, which was how I’d begun to think of Knoxville. Christy focused on her Kanagawa series with new energy. In a single day she created a clay maquette of thirty-something Delilah’s body with middle-aged Sayuri’s features. I was on schedule with my own project, but I needed to pick up the pace if I wanted to finish early so we could spend one more weekend in Snowshoe.

Trip and Wren were just as busy, although dinner with Christy and me had become a semi-sacred ritual, even if we had to run out for pizza at nine o’clock. Our first order of business was to make plans for spring break. Wren wanted the four of us to spend a week at her family’s condo on the beach in Florida. Her parents rarely used it anymore, she said. Her father was busy with his new mistress, a woman only a few years older than her, while her mother and special friend hardly ever traveled.

Wren tried to act blasé about her parents’ relationship, but it bothered her that they’d grown so far apart and now led mostly separate lives. I thought theirs was a practical arrangement, a lot better than a divorce and court battle over money and business interests, but Christy disagreed.

“I don’t ever want to be like that,” she said later, in the privacy of our bedroom. “I love Wren, but I’d never choose her over you.”

“Well, lucky for us, you don’t have to,” I said.

“Thank you. But just so you know, you’d win.” She finished with her lotions and potions and gave herself a critical look in the mirror. I hid a smile when she lifted her breasts and released them to see how much they sagged.

(Answer: not much.) She looked at them in profile and frowned. Then she turned the other way to get a different perspective. She was far more critical of her body than I was.

“You’re beautiful,” I reminded her. “And not just on the outside; on the inside too.”

She blushed when she realized I’d been watching. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, come to bed.” I set my book on the nightstand and scooted over to give her room.

She turned off the light and slid under the covers. “Mmm, I love doing this. I feel all tingly and warm when I take my clothes off and climb into bed with you every night. I still can’t believe I don’t feel guilty. Part of me thinks I should, but…” She shrugged. “I haven’t told Marianne we’re living together. She thinks I still have my own room and we only spend the night together once in a while.”

“It’s none of her business,” I said mildly.

“I know, although I’ll tell her eventually. Speaking of which… I don’t want to be like her and Harry either. They only have sex two or three times a week. I haven’t had the guts to tell her you and I do it that many times a day.” Her hand found my dick. “What can I say? A girl has needs.”

“Some more than others,” I chuckled.

“I still prefer when you take charge,” she said as she began massaging my cock, “but I know you like it when I make the first move.” She concentrated on making me as hard as possible, which didn’t take long. “And… I’ve been thinking. I’m ready. To go all the way, I mean.”

“You’re ready?” I said, half in shock.

“Yes.” She blocked my grab with a playful laugh. “Not tonight, Mr.

Eager Beaver.”

“More like Eager for Beaver.”