CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revisited // Montréal // 3.6

Geoff was a nurturer. It was so fucking obvious, sitting on the dock with an exhausted daughter on his lap. Rocco was slumped in a Muskoka chair set in the thin strip of beach with a beer in his hand. Dino sat sideways on an idle Jet-ski bobbing in the water, hunched over, tight mid-section bunched up, big round shoulders. Maria lurked on the upper deck with Rocco’s kids, Stacy as well, up there with her and Dino’s kids. Dealing with the chaos while the two men did their easy man-thing.

Geoff loved to take care of his women. Without them, he’d be nothing. He would do anything for them. Anything. Nia had disappeared in the house with Rocco, and they were gone for a long, agonizing time. Nia could do what she wanted. If she wanted Rocco to fuck her down there, to slip away during this family time and take one in her wet pussy, if that made her happy and turned on—if that satisfied her—Geoff was all right with it. He would even cheer her on, support her. Support her even as the blurry edge of doubt frayed the erotic excitement of another man satisfying his wife. He’d support her even though this was a dangerous path for them. Rocco was married. He had a family. His wife Maria was alert to Nia’s presence. You found that out this afternoon, didn’t you? Nia wasn’t some benign presence in her husband’s life, and Maria was on to her. Of course she would be—besides Geoff, who wouldn’t be worried about their spouse spending every day alone with an attractive member of the opposite sex? Of course Maria would worry and monitor her husband. This might be bad indeed.

He rested his chin on Odie’s head and looked over at Nia. She was sitting like him, on the side of the dock, legs over the edge, feet dangling in the water. They faced Dino on the water, talking to his brother and some of his friends on the beach. She had her palms resting on the cedar, her shoulders up, still in that hot fucking bikini. Her tits swung gently while she talked to them, ran her hand through her hair, gestured . . . Her tummy was tight and flat, her long legs pressed together. Nia had an audience, and she knew it—knew it and liked it. She’d drawn a lot of boys. Rocco in his chair, Doug, some other husbands who were going to fucking hear about it from their wives on the drive home. And Dino, surly Dino, a chip on his shoulder, hunched shirtless on a Jet-ski. His shoulder muscles were big and round, cut striations in them. He flexed them as his hand worked at peeling the label off his beer bottle.

Odie was pressed to her dad, fast asleep. She dripped wet. She straddled his lap, little butt on his thighs, little feet on the deck behind him. Her arms were around his neck and her head pressed to his narrow chest.

He watched his wife entertain her group of admirers. Nia was very different around men. Not his meek couch partner of the last nine years. In the last four weeks, she’d changed. She was reverting to normal, or at least what was normal when she was twenty and on the prowl. She hadn’t been this sexy in a decade. Maybe it was the external stimuli and not her natural state. She wasn’t naturally like this. It was just the environment she existed in now. Just like when Nia was a hot twenty-year-old, she was like a delicate flower and all the bees would just show up, no invitation necessary, they’d just buzz around her pistil, want to stick their big stinger in her hot little stigma. Not that bees had sex with flowers. But they helped flowers get it on with other flowers—and Geoff was a flower near Nia.

Nia, being back in this ultra-male environment, brought out all the bees. It brought out the female in her too. Not the kind, matronly female, but the engorged sex, vital, looking-to-mate female. It suited her. She shone with a light he hated to think he might have dimmed, keeping her locked up in their happy household. He watched her, ran his hand over the back of their baby Odele while she slept, and he watched his wife flirt with half a dozen men. All of them—every one—would sacrifice a lot to sleep with Nia. That’s how fucking hot she was. And the more he let her go, the more he let her explore this sexual viability, the hotter she got. Nia in a bikini—shit, he thought, eyes poring over that perfect female form—she was getting to him, and he was her fucking husband. He could legitimately, right now, reach out, tweak that turquoise triangle to the side and clamp his mouth on one of her perfect tits, suck that nipple into his mouth, and she would close her eyes and run her hands through his hair and moan and encourage him. What was her presence doing to these men she was flirting with? She probably had them aching. Everyone else here could only dream. Shit, well, Dino’d had her. And Rocco was going to. But these other guys? Ha ha, bite it.

Yeah, Nia thrived in this stimulus while most girls would shrivel.

Rocco said, “I’m not budging,” sitting low in his chair, enormous feet buried in the fine sand.

Dino huffed, still looking at his bottle, said, “Some fuckin’ brother.”

“It’s a steal already,” Rocco said.

Dino wanted to buy a houseboat Rocco had up for sale. Rocco didn’t use it anymore since he bought the cottage, and Dino wanted it for his family.

Dino mumbled, “I’ll still have to think about it.”

“Just fuckin’ buy it already. Stop fuckin’ around,” Rocco growled and took a swig of beer. “How ‘bout you, Geoff, how’s the book business? All the girls talkin’ about seein’ you on TV.”

“It’s all right,” Geoff said, glad Odie was sleeping through the foul language.

“Nia tells me you got some book comin’ out soon.”

Nia said, “Sequel to his big one. Comes out in two months.”

“Book about trains,” Dino grumbled into the water.

“Yeah. Book of Choo,” Geoff said.

Rocco said, “So you wanna buy a houseboat?”

Geoff laughed, knowing Rocco was trying to rile his brother. He said, “I think we’re going to do something,” looked up to Rocco’s cottage, then smiled at Nia. She smiled too, and she leaned to him and bumped her shoulder to his with sweet affection.

“Ay, all right,” Rocco said. “Come up to Haliburton, I get to see Nia on the weekends, too.” He looked to Nia, and she rolled her eyes and it made Rocco laugh deep and loud, throwing his head back.

Rocco said, “Dino, worried about a forty-thousand dollar houseboat, wishing he stuck with me and Dad ‘stead of runnin’ off to be a firefighter. Maybe draw some fuckin’ choo-choo trains.”

Dino set his bottle down on the Jet-ski’s footrest and gave Rocco two middle fingers, his face not showing humor, then rolled backwards off the machine and into the water, slipping in without much of a splash. Everyone laughed, looked at Rocco, saw his smirk tinged with a measure of disdain.

They all watched for Dino to surface, and he did. Arcing through the water, like a cresting dolphin, showing them all his ass, swim shorts pulled down. He got rave reviews—laughter and applause from shore.

Below his bare, muscular ass were—unexpectedly—his balls. Pressed between his thighs and thrusting out at them. Both of them were visible for one long and terrible second. Both balls, one on top of the other, like a T. The one below, ovoid, running north-south, the other, sitting on top of it, running east-west. Biggest set of nuts Geoff had ever seen. He looked to his side and saw Nia’s profile as she watched Dino disappear into the water again. She’d seen that lewd revelation. She already knew it though, didn’t she?

Nia laughed now. She’d clapped her hands once in delight at Dino’s bare-assed rebuttal. Her mouth was open in a wide and pretty howl. Geoff felt his heart crack. Dino had man’s balls. Big swollen Grade-A eggs that were double the size of his own two boy-sized marbles. Nia had fondled those things, had them in her mouth, they’d been emptied inside her hundreds of times. Nia knew all about what hung below Dino’s cock, but Geoff was just finding out for real and it hurt.

One time, when they were married, those things had squirted their contents for his wife.