Castaway Wife, Part 4

[photo: VictoriaAndrea]

This isn't a standalone story. If you haven't started it, go back and read part 1. Trust me, it's worth it.

9. Last day at Rescue

“It felt like the final day of college, you know?” Chelsea began. They’d shut the TV off, and Andy had refilled their glasses of wine. Chelsea sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, staring into her glass as she gave what felt like a final confession. “We were saying goodbye to our friends and acquaintances, knowing that we may never see some of them again. I know it sounds weird, since we weren’t together for that long, but it was still…”

“I get it, Chels. You all had an intense experience together. Makes sense to me.”

“It wasn’t just the other contestants, but the crew as well. There was this one producer, Camila, who I basically talked to every day that I was there. She was the only one I told about you, but I needed that release valve, and… and it was sad to say goodbye to her.” She shook her head. “But it was more than that. It was saying goodbye to the whole production, the whole experience. There were definitely things I was happy to leave behind, like feeling dirty and hungry and paranoid every waking moment, but you know what? That was part of it, too.”

“It was the experience, all of it,” Andy said.

“Yes.” Chelsea took a deep breath. “Okay, so that last night…”

***

That last night, they’d gotten together as a group and had one large, final meal. Drinks flowed. Food was consumed. Everyone congratulated the finalists. Some attempted to bury bad blood, anticipating some of what would be aired when the show went live. Tensions that existed from the beginning were put on hold for one night as everyone let their hair down.

Chelsea was feeling good as she floated away from the main group. She’d been forced to live with all these people for the last month, and for an introvert, that was exhausting. As much as she didn’t want this to end, she was looking forward to getting home and seeing Andy.

Rescue was a nice resort villa. Located on a more populated island, the Castaway headquarters was closer to the tropical paradise that Chelsea expected when she thought about the Caribbean. The three story villa had a beautiful pool in the courtyard, balconies all over the place, a kempt lawn that tapered out to a long, white sandy beach.

Chelsea had explored the space in the last few days since she’d been cast off. It gave her space to be by herself and be alone. She sought that now, although she was torn. This was a time to be with people. To enjoy these last moments.

She turned away from the view of the evening grounds and the solace that it offered and headed back inside. Deciding to grab something from her room, she wound her way through the grounds to her wing of the villa. Unfamiliar with the space, she got turned around and lost. Just as she realized that she was in the wrong part of the resort, she heard it.

“Oh!”

The sound was unmistakable—a woman’s cry of pleasure. For Chelsea, her body reacted like a starving woman seeing a plate of food for the first time in weeks. She hadn’t had sex since Andy, and hadn’t dared even touch herself while she was still on the show. Now, she was drawn to this sound, which took her right to an open door on the top floor of this building.

“Uh! Uh! Uh!” Definitely a woman, definitely having sex. She could hear the wet slapping of skin on skin.

Chelsea knew this went on at the resort. There were readily available condoms in all of the bedrooms, and she’d heard whispered rumors of cast and crew hooking up. She hadn’t asked, being a private person, but she was curious. So curious. Curious enough that she tip-toed right up to the edge of the doorway and looked in.

She recognized Kyle immediately. Like most of the guys on the show, Kyle had tattoos. His were understated, but she’d come to see the yin-yang tattoo on his right shoulder as part of his surfer-guy persona. That and the shaggy locks of golden hair that fell around his chin. He was hot, and she’d looked at his chiseled upper body with hungry curiosity more than once.

Seeing him, she expected to see his showmance girlfriend, Brooklyn, in bed with him. And she was, she just wasn’t being fucked by Kyle. No, she was beside him, on her hands and knees, as one of the other contestants, Isaiah, a 22-year-old black personal trainer from Chicago, fucked her from behind.

But that wasn’t the most shocking thing that Chelsea saw as she looked into the room. No, that came when Brooklyn shifted slightly, giving Chelsea a glimpse of the woman Kyle was fucking. There, on her back with her dark hair damp with perspiration, was the host and showrunner, Molly Reynolds.

“Fuck her, Kyle,” Brooklyn encouraged. Her own blond tresses were still back in a ponytail and her forehead was dappled with sweat. “I know how much you’ve wanted it.”

Brooklyn was playing with Molly’s tits, Chelsea noticed, tweaking the other woman’s dark nipples as she came loudly.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck her. She’s so hot when she comes.” With that statement, Brooklyn leaned over and kissed Molly on the lips. It was neither unwelcome nor unexpected, as Molly quickly returned the kiss, her hand curling behind the blond’s neck to pull her even closer.

“Aw, hell yeah!” Isaiah moaned. He brushed his hand along Brooklyn’s ass as he buried his dick to his balls and came.

Chelsea couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She’d only watched a few pornos and had never seen other people having sex before, let alone a foursome. Abstractly, she knew that these sorts of things happened, but until she saw it with her own eyes, she never really believed it.

It was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. She practically shook with lust as she listened to their moans of release. She craved to feel that. She watched Brooklyn and Molly come and wanted more than anything to feel that.

When Isaiah pulled his cock free, Chelsea’s mouth fell open. The black dick was huge, even limp, burdened by his used condom. At the same time, Kyle pulled his own dick free of the Castaway host, and while his dick wasn’t quite as large, it  was big enough to make Chelsea gasp. She clapped her hand over her mouth, her face burning with the fear of discovery. The foursome didn’t see her. They were so focused on Kyle as he tore the condom off and came all over Molly’s washboard stomach and smooth, hair-free mound.

Brooklyn crawled down between Molly’s legs, their eyes meeting before she started to lick her boyfriend’s come off of the older woman. Isaiah grinned, stretching his arms over his head. He started to turn towards the door. 

Chelsea ducked back just in time, her nerves jolting, every pore in her body crackling with electricity. Shit. Shit, shit. That was too close.

“Get that dick up here, Isaiah,” she heard Molly say. “Fuck my face while this slut eats me out.”

Was this really the host she’d admired for so many years? She didn’t hate the discovery, no matter how shocking.

“Mmm, yes,” Molly slurped. “This may be the best… season… yet…”

Chelsea was away before she was tempted back in. Her nerves couldn’t settle. Breathing became difficult. Even walking felt erratic. She was so horny. So fucking horny. Before she knew it, she was back to the hall where she was staying, where she’d meant to go in the first place. 

All she could think about was getting inside and burying her fingers in her pussy. She was so singularly focused on it that she literally ran into Todd.

“Chels!” he said, catching her. She was vaguely aware that his hair was wet and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Over the last month, on the show, this seemed so normal. Here, in the resort, societal norms were slowly returning, but she wasn’t there yet. “You look like you saw ghost. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I…” The scene was still so raw, burned into her brain. She couldn’t speak. She could still see their naked bodies, see the muscles, the men, the cocks.

Todd mistook her shock as some kind of trauma. He gathered her in his arms, saying, “Hey, hey…”

His arms were strong, his body as solid as the side of a mountain. This man was a fireman, and embodied that stereotype in all the sexiest of ways. Chelsea still remembered how, during one of the physical challenges, he’d carried her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, an exhilarating feeling for a tall girl. 

Now, though, she felt that torso and those arms for what they were—the body of a sexy, willing, and available man. She’d been flirting with him for weeks, and had been fantasizing about him for almost as long.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, pulling back, but not away.

Todd ran his eyes over her face, over her lips, all the way down into the cleavage her dress offered. “Hell yeah, you are.”

It was a dumb joke, a totally throwaway line. It was the kind of banter they’d been exchanging all season long, mostly for the cameras, but later for each other. Chelsea should have rolled her eyes. On the show, she had.

But the cameras were gone. They were alone. No one was around. No one would ever know.

She wasn’t sure who started it, but the next thing she knew, they were kissing. Like all of them, he’d cut weight over the last month, but his core was still strong. He was still a man’s man in a way that she never thought that she’d be so turned on by. 

But holy shit, she was so turned on. Her hands were all over him. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop touching his bare chest. He was hairless there—another thing that she found hot despite never really giving it much thought—hairless and so chiseled.

In the back of her head, she knew that this was so, so wrong. But the ever-present cameras were gone. The pressure was finally off. And flashes of that orgy were still strobing through her brain. 

Her dress hit the ground as they entered his room, leaving her in her bra and thong. The bed was there, a little unkempt and oh so tempting, but she turned them to the loveseat instead. The loveseat was safer; so she told herself.

Todd was wearing swimming trunks, she finally noticed. Not the ratty ones from the show, but a newer, cleaner pair that sat low on his hips. Beneath, she saw his erection bulging. Again, she couldn’t stop herself. Before she came to her senses, she slid a hand beneath his waistband and touched his cock. She loved how he groaned. She loved how thick he felt. She loved that she turned on this total stud.

He popped her bra off easily and dropped his head down to her nipples. They were hard and swollen, a sign that Todd took as an invitation. As his mouth touched down on her, she nearly came. It had been so long. She needed this.

Todd’s free hand slipped into her thong, skimming along her smooth mound. Every nerve ending was bared to him. The fat pads of his fingertips felt so good. “Oh, yes!” she cried. He pressed two fingers into her, and she twisted and writhed on his palm. “Ngh!”

She stroked his dick, jerking him off awkwardly in his swimming shorts as he fingered her. Frustrated, she tugged at the trunks. He got the message, helping her by kicking them off. Like that, she was alone with a naked man who wasn’t her husband and who definitely wanted to fuck her.

She needed to get out of there. She knew how wrong this was. She knew that lines were already being crossed. But then Todd leaned in and kissed her, and his muscled body was there and she silenced that little voice of conscience.

“You’re so fucking hot, Chels.” He nipped at her ear. “I wanted you as soon as I saw you on that boat.”

When he pulled her thong off, she knew what was about to happen. Alarm bells were going off, but still she stroked his dick. This wasn’t sex, she told herself. Not technically.

He pressed his body to hers, trapping her hand between them, still wrapped around his cock. He was as bare as she was, either he’d shaved after coming to the resort, or he’d lasered it before the show. Didn’t matter. It was intoxicating.

Their kisses grew more heated. He started grinding on her, rubbing that big, hard cock against her tummy. His balls teased her exposed clit.

“Ngh!” she cried, squeezing that throbbing man meat.

Todd ran his hand down her body, along the outside of her thigh. Instinctively, she lifted it, caressing the inside of her knee along his hip. She felt her body open to him. She felt him shift lower, that thick column of flesh dragging along her sex. She felt every vein, every hard imperfection. She felt the crown of his cockhead catch on her clit. She gasped.

His cock was against her opening, stretching her. She tossed her head back, clutching at his shoulders. He pressed in. She nearly screamed. He felt huge and so good and so different. He was new. He was wrong. This was wrong.

“No,” she managed to say. The word came like something squeezed and desperate. “Todd… we can’t…”

To his credit, Todd immediately pulled back.

“Right, sorry. Let me grab a condom.”

She checked him out as he reached for one of the lacquered boxes that discreetly held the condoms. From his tattoo sleeves to his cut upper body to his large, fully erect cock, he was a specimen of masculinity. He was the guy she never thought she could have, and here he was, ready to give her what would be the fucking of her life. And no one would have to know.

“Todd, I’m… I’m married.”

He paused, his hand frozen as he held the square condom foil. She hadn’t told anyone about Andy. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I… I led you on.” She winced, not sure where this would go. He had every right to be pissed off. “It’s all… complicated.”

Instead of blowing up at her, he took one last look at her naked body, seeing the hottie that Chelsea always tried to hide. She was drop-dead gorgeous, and in the next few months, all of America would see and agree.

Instead of getting mad, Todd simply grinned and said, “Lucky fucking guy.”

Chelsea wanted to laugh, but the guilt stymied that. “I don’t know about that. What we just did’s not exactly a thing most husbands would want.”

“Then it’s our secret.” He moved close to her and kissed her one last time. She so easily could have just finished the deed. Her pussy ached for that cock again, but no. “Maybe I’ll see you around at one of the watch parties.”

Some of the cast of past seasons would get together for unofficial watch parties, where they’d watch episodes as a group. She’d seen them on the Instagram accounts of past contestants.

He straightened back up and went to his dresser, rooting out a pair of shorts. Right, this was his room.

She grabbed her dress and pulled it back on. “Maybe,” she said.

“If not at one of those, then definitely at the live show, where we crown Jason.”

“We’re, uh, not supposed to talk about how we vote.”

Todd grinned one final time at her. “You’re right. We should always follow the rules.” He nodded at the door. “I’ll go first. You wait here until the coast is clear.”

She nodded. He acted like he’s done this thing before. Chelsea felt out of her depth. “And Todd?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take this to the grave. Goodbye, Chels.”

And he was gone.

10. After the confession

Chelsea was staring at her now empty glass of wine. There were tears in her eyes. Her nose was red. Andy was right there beside her, his pulse throbbing like the inside of a nightclub, the pressure in his veins so high that he wondered if this was what preceded a heart attack.

“If you want a divorce, I totally understand. I… I’m so stupid.”

“A divorce?” The idea had never even occurred to Andy, but now that the word was out there, he wondered if that’s what she wanted. “Do… do you?”

Chelsea turned to look at him, wiping her eyes, looking confused. “What?”

“Do you want a divorce?” he asked. He’d been waiting for this day since the moment she said ‘I do.’ Having it arrive like this made it no easier. For all his cuckold leanings, he did not want to lose her, and asking the question felt like a dagger right into his belly.

“No! Me? No.” Then she understood where he was coming from. It seemed to click into place for her. “Oh, Andy, this has nothing to do with you. I’m the one who… who… who completely fucked up. You didn’t—”

“You deserve someone better than me.”

“What does that even mean?”

What did he mean? He’d had the thought countless times, but never had to articulate it to anyone with actual words.

“You’re… out of my league. When people see us together, they look at me and wonder how I landed someone like you—”

“First of all, no. Just… no.” She emphatically shook her head. “Second of all, you make it sound like I’m some prize to be won. Like all relationships are contests, to the victor go the spoils, and you feel like you’ve somehow… cheated.”

She hesitated at the word, and they both heard the unintended meaning. Shutting her eyes and shaking it off, she soldiered on. “I’m the one who cheated, Andy. I messed up, and I didn’t mess up because I think you’re not good enough for me, or whatever. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. If anything, I don’t deserve you.” Tears were forming again. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry, Andy.”

Andy pulled her close, holding her against him as she sobbed. The crazy thing was that he didn’t feel any anger at her, and other than his chronic insecurities, the last thing that he wanted to do was lose her. As ironic as it was, for the first time in their relationship, he was starting to realize that she wasn’t going anywhere—and it took her nearly fucking another guy to drive that point home.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you, Chels. I love you so much.”

“We can skip LA. I can call in sick. You know I didn’t make it to the final three, so it’ll be fine—”

“No, we can’t do that.” Andy had been anxious to attend the final show, but he’d never considered the possibility of not going. With Chelsea’s confession, he knew now that they had to—that he wanted to more than anything. “Pretty sure you’ve got some contractual obligation.”

“Oh, fuck that.” It was a very un-Chelsealike thing to say, and she seemed to realize it as soon as she said it, covering her mouth. “You’re more important than any of it. You.”

“Then we should go.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be there.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“Seriously, Chels.” Andy was already thinking about watching her and Todd and witnessing all that sexual tension between them in person. Knowing what he knew now, that he’d kissed her, that he’d felt her, that he’d seen her naked, made him so hard. He almost confessed his fantasy right then and there, but the evening was already too packed with revelations. “We’ll talk more later. Right now…” He took her hand. “I really need to make love to you.”

***

Could it be classified as ‘reclamation sex’ if it happened three and a half months after her encounter with another man—and that her encounter wasn’t full sex? Did it matter? Not really, Andy thought, as he dragged Chelsea up to their bedroom.

Chelsea wore cheerleader shorts and a casual blouse that offered a nice view of her cleavage. Andy imagined her the way Todd had, and was all over her. When Andy kissed her, there was as much pent-up need in her as there was in him. They discarded their clothing. They found the bed.

“I love thongs,” Andy groaned. She had an amazing ass, full, ripe, and perfect for the sexy underwear. Todd had seen her in that, too, and it was no wonder that he couldn’t contain himself. “You’re so sexy, Chelsea.”

They were on the bed, kissing. Andy loomed over her as he pressed his hand against the lacy gusset of her panties. She was wet, despite the guilt she was feeling. Her story had excited her, and that realization excited Andy. He wanted to probe more. He wanted to ask her about how big Todd was, how good it felt when he entered her. But now wasn’t the time.

Together they kicked off her thong. Andy felt the desperation, once again recalling her story. When she guided his dick to her open legs, he did what Todd had done—he didn’t enter her right away. Instead, he teased the crown of his cock along her slippery mound. She was so smooth, so soft—and another man had felt that, too. She’d let it happen. She’d almost let it all happen.

“Uhhh!” she groaned as Andy finally sank into her.

Andy almost lost it. Her confession was the realization that he wasn’t crazy, that he wasn’t paranoid—and that he really did love the idea of her with someone else. He didn’t want her last day at Rescue to be the end of her story with Todd. He wanted her to have the full and amazing experience.

“Oh, Andy, you feel so good,” Chelsea moaned.

And so hard, he thought. And so powerfully turned on. “You’re a… amazing,” he groaned, having to slow his hips down and make love to her. Any faster and he’d lose it. They’d had a lot of sex since she returned from filming, but this felt different.

He pressed himself over her, wanting to feel her breasts against his chest and feel her heartbeat. He didn’t fuck her. This wasn’t that kind of balls-deep rutting—the kind that Todd probably wanted to give Chelsea back in that room.

No, as he reconnected with his wife after her profound confession, all he wanted to do was hold her, to be with her, to make love to her. The fucking would come. The hard sex was for later. In the aftermath of her story, he needed to reclaim her love first, and to demonstrate that Andy was still Andy.

“I love you, Chels,” he grunted, close. She put a hand on his ass, pulling him into her.

“I need you,” she sighed. Then she repeated it with more urgency. “I need you.”

He drove faster, but with the same tenderness as before. He pulled back, just enough to look down at her, to nuzzle her nose with his, to kiss her as she breathed and gasped. She was on the cusp. So was he.

“Oh, Chels,” he grunted. He shut his eyes and saw her with Todd again, in Todd’s room, naked, kissing wildly, groping. He imagined he other man’s dick, bare and thick and in his wife’s hand, in his wife’s pussy. “Oh, Chelsea!”

He came with one last thrust. Chelsea threw her head back, clenched her jaw, and joined him a moment later, sinking her nails into his ass.

Satisfied, they fell together, still as one. Andy still had a confession of his own. He almost delivered it there, in bed, at the tail end of their ragged evening. But he didn’t. It wasn’t the time quite yet. He needed his own space first.

11. Andy’s turn to confess

“I can’t go,” Chelsea announced as she walked into the house. She was just back from Pilates, wearing tight black leggings and a sports top that left her abs distractingly bare. “I should have never gone on that stupid show.”

“What happened?”

“My instructor hit on me.” She sounded more agitated than embarrassed. Andy appreciated the tone, even as a twinge excitement rippled through him.

“What’s that have to do with the show?”

“Apparently he watched. He told me that he was really sorry that I was eliminated. Then he asked if I wanted to grab a drink with him sometime.”

That twinge of excitement grew inside of Andy. “I mean, the show is pretty popular. I’m sure he’s not the only one to recognize you, and you made it far.”

“He thought I was single. Available. Despite wearing this.” She held up her left hand, as if to prove to him that she still wore the wedding band.

“Some guys don’t really see that as a problem.”

“Right, no thanks to watching me flirt with guys on network television.”

Andy felt his palms begin to sweat and the heat begin to rise on the back of his neck. He needed to confess his own dark secret. He had to before they left LA, if only to get it off of his chest.

“So what did you tell him? Your instructor?”

“What? I turned him down, of course. Told him I was taken.”

“And how did he react?”

“Embarrassed and apologetic. See, that’s the problem—”

“It’s not a problem.” Andy stepped up and collected his frazzled wife in his arms. “Not for me, anyway.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I know how you get…” She gritted her teeth. “Never should have gone on the show.”

“Hey, hey.” Andy dipped his head down to look her in the eyes. “I told you to be single, remember? I knew what I was signing up for.”

She blushed and glanced away. “But you didn’t. Not really.” Todd. She was talking about Todd.

Andy’s turn to gulp. Andy’s turn to feel his face burn. “Maybe I did.” He winced as her eyes returned to his. “Maybe I kind of hoped?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It… um…” He laughed nervously. “This is hard to say.”

She suddenly looked scared. “You’ve reconsidered. You want me to… you want me to leave.”

“I want you to fuck Todd.” There, he’d said it, forced out before this thing spiraled again. Now he had a new thing spiraling out of control. Chelsea’s eyes went wide, her mouth slightly slack. He rushed on. “I have this fantasy…”

She just slowly shook her head. This wasn’t going at all as he’d hoped. Then again, he never thought actually confessing this was a good idea.

“I have this fantasy,” he repeated, this time finishing the thought. “Of you with another man.” Saying those words out loud was a huge weight off his shoulders.

“Oh, Andy, you don’t have to… I’m the one who messed up—”

“It’s not a reaction to that. This started long before Todd. I don’t know when, and… and I don’t really, like, totally understand it, but…” He sighed. “You want a drink? I want a drink.”

“Um, yes. Yes, that sounds good.”

He turned and headed for the kitchen, happy to feel Chelsea just behind him, rather than fleeing out the door, or worse, just standing there speechless. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon from the upper cabinet and two glasses. Chelsea retrieved a couple, large ice cubes from the freezer as he poured.

“To finally coming clean about things?” Andy offered in toast.

“To the truth.” Chelsea looked nervous as she tapped her glass to his. They both gulped down the entire first pour.

Andy refilled as Chelsea studied him. “So you have a fantasy of me being a hotwife.”

The fact that Chelsea knew that term floored Andy. He glanced up at her so quickly that he ended up spilling some of the bourbon. “What?”

“That’s what it’s called, right? A hotwife fantasy?”

“You’ve… heard about that?” In all the fiction that he’d consumed, all the stories that he’d read and short films that he’d watched, it was always the husbands educating the wives.

“Yeah. That producer I talked with on the show, Camila, told me about the fantasy. She’s dated guys who have it, and I guess like to hear about any hookups while traveling. And she’s interviewed a few contestants who’ve mentioned it.”

“That…” He didn’t know what to say. “Really?”

“She thought that’s maybe what you were trying to tell me when you said I was single on the show,” she said. Andy colored. “Were you?”

“I don’t… well, maybe?”

“I didn’t believe her,” Chelsea said. “And I’m not using it as an excuse about what happened with Todd.”

“But maybe it was there, subconsciously?”

“Maybe, but it’s still not an excuse.” She was clear on this.

Andy swallowed more of the chilled bourbon, feeling the cool burn down his throat. “Look, I’ve never been honest about how I feel, even with myself. At first, I was scared that it would just happen. That you’d wake up and realize that you could have so much more.” He held up his hand as she began to protest again. “But later, the thought started to turn me on. Thinking of you with other guys, getting all that pleasure that I can’t always give you…” He shivered.

Chelsea was there, arms around him. “You give me so much pleasure, honey.”

“I know, but…” He ran his hands along her body. Her sweat had cooled on her exposed skin, and when he kissed the spot behind her ear, she tasted salty. “Tell me honestly, was Todd bigger than me?”

“Andy…”

He lifted her up onto the counter. She went with a yelp. Grasping her leggings, he peeled them down, noting the workout thong she wore. Noting that she was wet with excitement.

“It’s okay, Chels. You can tell me.” He opened her legs and buried his face between her thighs, lapping along her smooth gash.

“Ha!” she gasped. “I should… ahhh… take a shower…”

He didn’t relent, and she didn’t push him away. One thing he was good at, and it was eating pussy. But he also needed answers. The smell of her, mixed with the booze and all this heady talk, had consumed him. “Was he, Chelsea? Tell me. Please.”

“Yes!” she groaned. He wasn’t sure if that was a cry of pleasure, or an answer. When she clarified, he almost came. “Yes, he was bigger.”

Andy pushed his fingers into her as she admitted it and zeroed in on her clit with this tongue. She tossed her head, moaning as she leaned back on the counter.

“And that was exciting,” he said between licks.

“Mmm…”

“Different,” he pressed, just before pressing a third finger into her pussy. She was tight, but accepted it with a loud cry. Thinking about Todd’s cock, about how he’d felt just before she’d told him to stop?

“Yes! He felt… he felt… so different…”

“And it turned you on.”

“Uhh, Andy!”

He wanted an answer, but she was already gone, her orgasm overwhelming her. Her thighs squeezed around his face, trapping him as she worked her hips up against his mouth. He rode the storm, working her pussy, imagining her imagining Todd.

Chelsea shuddered when she finally released him. “So good…”

He stood, kissing her abdomen, her ribs, the hem of her exercise top. As he tugged that off, Chelsea recovered enough to reach down and rub his erection through his pants.

“You’re so hard.”

“Thinking about you and Todd.” She was finally starting to believe. “I get so hard every time I think about the two of you kissing.” Andy kissed her, and she kissed him right back, despite tasting herself on his lips. “I get so hard thinking about how you touched his dick.”

Chelsea unzipped Andy’s pants and pulled him out.

“You almost fucked him,” he breathed.

“Yes.” The apologetic tone was gone. “I almost fucked him.”

The counter was a good height for oral sex, but terrible for fucking, and the bedroom was just too far away. Andy glanced towards the living room, to the sofa. He couldn’t wait even that long, and neither could Chelsea.

He pulled her to the floor, laying on his back on the hardwood flooring as Chelsea straddled him. She lined him up, needing to feel him as much as he needed her.

“Ah!” she cried as he pushed into her. He stared up at this vision of a woman, all those curves rising above him, tawny and voluptuous.

“Andy… Andy, fuck me!”

He fucked. He held her hips, guiding her bounces, thrusting up to meet her. “You almost fucked him,” he gasped. He couldn’t let it go, and Chelsea finally seemed to accept it. “And that is so fucking hot, baby.”

“Uhh!” She played with her nipples, eyes shut. Imagining him? Andy played with her pussy as she rode him, rubbing her clit with his thumb, his other fingers braced against her smooth, hairless mound.

“Imagine if you hadn’t stopped him, Chels,” he said. She only rocked her hips harder. “Imagine if you knew that you could do whatever…” Andy’s own breath caught. “You… wanted… with him.”

“Oh, uhhh!” She was there, grinding her hips into his, her pussy taking every inch of his cock. But she also wasn’t there. She was with Todd. She was imagining a much bigger dick, about being with a much different man.

Andy joined Chelsea, unable and unwilling to hold back any longer. He caressed her hips, holding her steady as he flexed his core and pumped his come into her warmth.

Chelsea folded herself on top of him, sighing happily. She seemed to recognize their surroundings for the first time. “Did we….? Did we just have sex on the kitchen floor?”

“We did. Like a couple of horny newlyweds.”

Chelsea giggled. “Pretty sure we never had sex on the kitchen floor. Like ever.”

“And that’s a shame.” Andy rolled her into her side, so that her skin touched the floor. She shrieked as he said, “Who needs a mattress when you’ve got cold hardwood like this.”

“I think I see some old lettuce over there.” She was looking along the baseboard, beneath the counters. “It really is romantic down here.”

They shared a final laugh before things got inevitably serious. But the kitchen floor wasn’t a place to talk about any of that.

“Come on,” Chelsea said, starting to rise. “Take a shower with me. That’s something we’ve never done, either.”

Next week, we pick things up in LA, where the final, live show is just wrapping. Now that we know where Chelsea and Andy are coming from, we can finally learn where they're going.

Part 5 releases Friday, May 10, 2024