DITW 10-7 Gravitation

The tidal draw toward his wife, the woman he loved, pulled him closer with irresistible lunar power. Where Kimmy traveled, he would follow. And when Kimmy stilled, they would connect. If she voyaged, he would splash and swirl in her traveled path, looking evermore to reconnect.

The terrible thing that never happened, that neither of them could ever acknowledge, now seemed distant and foggy with her hand on his naked erection. Kimmy’s sexual touch reminded him of uncomplicated times, almost archaeological times, ossified into happy monuments prominent in his memory. Of asking her to marry him. Of their wedding. Of their honeymoon. Freakier ones, too. The first time she put her mouth on his cock. That incredible feeling the first night he’d made her orgasm. Happy pillow talk, naked in the dawning light. Tiger Bites. The terrible afternoon she told them they lost their baby.

He touched her beautiful face, and she closed her grip on his erection. They kissed. This time, love bloomed again in the plump osculation, their soft lips squashing one another. He tasted her tongue, his heart aching with the relief from clenched pain. It became too much emotion to bear, and it scared him into retreat. He shrank from their connection, timid, like a child afraid of the stove that had burned their hand.

Kimmy’s mouth shrank, then relaxed, and he adored the supple way her lips worked together. She was truly a gorgeous creature, so much about her elegant and graceful; a purity to her simple angular construction; an armature of long bones, sharp angles and swooping curves, exquisite muscle and ligament holding it all in lithe place; skin so soft and smooth, blushed in the butterscotch colors reserved for big cats or birds of prey. And those black eyes, deep with love or foreboding or maybe both. She’d never said a vicious word to him, never insulted him or hurt his feelings. Only ever offered support and care. But in eyes those black, any mysterious creature could swim; dark and unimaginable cosmic horrors, monstrous beings that would flay your flesh away from your soul.

She said, “Josh, you’re all I ever wanted in my life. I have everything I want in you.” Her hand caressed his cock, underhanded, coaxing, yet without fever.

Would her hand stay timid on Devlin’s mighty totem of enormous sexual power? In his sickly early-summer tent-dream, Devlin had put that veiny beast in his hand. Had he felt Devlin’s masculine force? Had it really been in his grip?

Had Kimmy held that titanic male organ throbbing with vitality, wicked sperm thrashing in Devlin’s huge balls like shark-infested waters? Had she succumbed to its power?

The thing Kimmy gripped now in her lukewarm marital bed paled in comparison. If the thing neither of them would ever acknowledge did happen, how could she return to her meek husband? How would she turn her back on a vigorous man like Devlin Stone?

He cupped her cheek, his heart growing heavy again, sinking like a rock in his wife’s mysterious gaze. He said, “I’m sorry I ever made you play that game.”

Her mouth creased, just for a second, before plumping again. “No apologies, remember?”

He nodded, whispering, “Yeah.”

She dipped her face to meet his lowered gaze. “It goes for you, too, Josh. No apologies.”

A terrible sadness seized his chest as he realized his penis had lagged in her hand, gone floppy and shrinking. Kimmy squeezed it with two fingers, trying to plump it. The smaller he felt in her hand, the more his hardness faded and the smaller it became.

She sighed—comforting, not disappointed—and she said, “We don’t have to tonight. It was a long flight. I know you want to sleep.” Or maybe she he disappointed her.

But how could any man not want to make love to a woman like Kimmy Chang? Naked and eager, trying to manipulate his organ into hardness. Devlin would say a woman like Kimmy Chang required a man who satisfied her. Never failed her. Never let her down.

Devlin wouldn’t shrink in her hand. Both of them knew that, but neither of them would say it. It just hung in the air like an unacknowledged noxious smell.

Maybe that’s why the thing that never happened had happened. Maybe Kimmy Chang didn’t get what she wanted from Josh Waters.

Maybe Devlin gave it to her.

His cock returned to full hardness in his wife’s warm hand. Kimmy moved quicker, pleased with the renewal. Wanting it. Not doing her husband a favor, no, Kimmy was a woman with needs as large and complicated as his own. She wasn’t his subjugate wife; they were a partnership, and each of them had desires and capabilities they brought to the bargaining table. If he offered his floppy penis in a bargain, negotiations might break down.

Under Kimmy’s inexorable sexual pull, he moved into her, wanting to satisfy her before she sought satisfaction elsewhere. The challenge thrilled his heart. But the proximity of an aggressive and much larger challenger scared the shit out of him. Shrank his balls and his confidence, and frightened away his masculine stiffness.

It was erotic and terrifying.

But a game they had to stop.

His mouth crushed hers, his eyes squeezed shut; he flexed every summonable pelvic muscle, forcing his erection to stay strong.

Don’t flee. Please, don’t flee.

He got over top of her, and Kimmy was willing, going to her back, long arms slinking around him, her limber legs opening, allowing her husband access to pollinate her dusky little flower, to deposit his seed.

She even told him directly now, her hands cupping his jaw, looking into his eyes, her black gaze frightening in its illegibility. “Come inside me, Josh. I want to feel you come inside me.”

He didn’t know how to respond.

Kimmy urged him. “Please, Josh. I need it. I need to feel you come inside me.”

A demand.

An easy demand, sure, but a fallible task. A challenger loomed behind him, expecting his failure, eager to replace him, eager to send him into the woods with nothing. Take from him a resource he didn’t deserve. A resource meant for better males. Stronger men, more capable ones that a woman like Kimmy wouldn’t deny.

Kimmy would be relieved if he scampered off into the underbrush with his tail between his legs, his softer and smaller penis jiggling between his legs.

And that made him hard as a rock. Because there was no Devlin in this room. Only Josh and Kimmy, married, living together, families connected.

Or did his obligations burden Kimmy Chang?

Did his last name weigh her down? Was Kimmy Chang freer that Kimmy Waters? During the day she was slick and sinewy Kimmy Chang, esquire. By night she was Kimmy Waters, beige and watery, clad in formless cotton, making Tiger Bites for her husband, and weaving cat beds.

The warmth of her interior claimed his hard cock. He sank his hardness inside his wife. Kimmy sighed with satisfaction. She was hot. But barely wet. She didn’t teem. Her interior didn’t welcome him with a gush of sexual excitement. The reception was mild. Disinterested, even. Her words were flabby invitation, polite platitudes meant to charm her husband away from her deceit.

Or she was honest, only timid now, worried the husband she’d pursued to Rome would reject her.

Or maybe she would retell this story to her lover, she and Devlin Stone laughing together at Josh Waters’s expense, the two of them in his bed at lunch, his apartment only a few minutes’ drive from Kimmy’s office. Would she tell Devlin she’d almost lost him from their game—not Josh and Kimmy’s, but Devlin and Kimmy’s? That Josh almost bailed on them and they could no longer enjoy inflicting torment? They would laugh because he was a fool who couldn’t help himself, a worthless puppy dog happy to have any owner.

He withdrew.

Kimmy called his name, tried to pul him back, but he crouched on his knees between her open legs with his penis listing to one side, removed of its necessary steel. He couldn’t satisfy her.

“Josh, what are you doing?”

Kimmy sat up, her thighs closing in on him. She hugged one arm around his neck, her other hand discovering his flaccid member, unable to perform its duty. She fondled his penis, but her hand stilled. Her forehead touched his.

“It’s late, Josh. Would you just hold me? Can we sleep together? I just want your body next to mine.”

He told her yeah, his ego crushed. His defense system worked to blame this on her, show her he was still mad, that the same specter that had haunted him in Rome lurked in the shadows of this room. This was her fault. Sure, he told her he didn’t want an apology, but maybe he deserved an apology. The more this was her fault, the less it was his.

But what if… Maybe he could hear the truth? Maybe she should tell him how far she went with Devlin.

But what would that do to him?

It would murder him. Devastate him. Tear him down to a pile of bloody shreds.

Maybe Devlin only fingered Kimmy. Or maybe less than that. Maybe she let Devlin remove her panties. Maybe she showed Devlin her dusky flower. Maybe he parted her petals.

Fuck.

He grew hard again. Kimmy’s grip expanded to accommodate his hardness’s return.

She snuffled a small chuckle filled with happy relief. Her hand stroked his hard cock. With her forehead on his, her eyes closed, one hand at his neck, her long, long fingers scratched at his cheek and jaw, the other closed around his erection. “I want us to devote ourselves to each other, to our marriage. Okay? No more games.”

He grimaced, his features twisting, rolling his forehead against their small point of contact. A measure of blame pointed his way. Their game. More like his game. It was his game.

She said, “I say we go for it. We buy a house. Start a family. We do it now. Not later. Now.”

How? How would they do that? They had capital, but it wasn’t enough to buy a house around Toronto. They would be down to one job again. But maybe... Maybe she was right. Maybe big things would happen for him. Maybe staying safe made things dangerous. Maybe staying in one place made you a target.

Or maybe Kimmy would tell Devlin she had him right where she wanted him. Monday at lunch, stretched out in his bed, her panties on the floor. Or stuffed in the couch. Maybe they always had sex on the couch. Maybe they both planted the panties there, laughing, wondering if he would find them. Devlin would ask her what if he finds them, and she would say to Devlin, I can convince him of anything. Devlin touched Kimmy’s cheek and admired her cruelty.

His cock leaked slickness into Kimmy’s grip.

He shuddered and pushed away from her, backing off the bed.

She pleaded for him, naked, legs open, one palm shining with his pre-cum. “Josh, come back, please.”

He huffed ragged breaths and felt more panicked than he had ever felt in his life. He ruffled his hair, eyes wild like a frightened animal, his thoughts racing. “I just, I have to...”

He turned then, naked, embarrassed by his nudity in front of his wife, went and hid in the bathroom. Didn’t even turn the lights on. Put his back to the door, twisting his head on his neck, grimacing with intense anguish. Feelings of betrayal, or maybe failure, or maybe lust. His cock throbbed and leaked more pre-cum, running over his scrotum.

He went to hands and knees and snuck across to the laundry hamper. When he’d come in here for his shower, he’d brought only one item from his suitcase. The panties he’d found in Devlin’s couch. The panties she’d hid for him to find because they were playing his game. The panties Devlin removed before he fucked her on his couch that afternoon. Fucked her and come inside her and pushed his fingers into her pussy or maybe her anus, just so he could make Josh smell them when they met for the Jay game later that night.