The Morsel

Literotic asexstories – The Morsel by FlirtyWordy,FlirtyWordy
“Oh, no!” Emmie cried out from the bedroom.

“What?” Chris said, pausing the hum of his electric toothbrush, immediately aware of his body bracing.

“Oh … nothing really. I just saw that my friend Steve got divorced,” his wife said from the bedroom. “Aw, that makes me so sad. They were so perfect together.”

Chris clicked the toothbrush back on. Steve … Steve … Maybe he remembered the name, but that was all. But he had learned over time not to let his “man memory” hang out there too nakedly. Emmie seemed to remember everything, in every detail, while Chris frequently forgot entire episodes she considered important. When he did remember, often it was in only the broadest outlines.

He finished brushing, rinsed and pushed hair out of his eyes. He’d avoided going to a barber during the pandemic, then let it go after noticing a crop of curls and a partial return to the sun-bleached gold of his youth. He grimaced briefly in the mirror at the memory of his father’s voice … like a goddamn girl… you some kind of fruit now? … an embarrassment to me and your mother….

No wonder he was anxious. But the old man was dead, he reminded himself. And I like my hair this way. So does Emmie.

Crawling up next to her on their rumpled, king-sized bed, he noted the furrows in her forehead. She tossed him a perfunctory smile, face illuminated by the white glow of her laptop and gray-streaked brown curls tumbling enticingly over her forehead.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I’m so upset about Steve! You remember him, don’t you?” she asked.

“I think I do…”

“The Morsel,” Emmie clarified.

Right, The Morsel, he recalled. Because she found him so cute and cuddly. Gay. Former housemate, he thought. It was always easier to remember Emmie’s nicknames.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he said, though he couldn’t picture the guy’s face or anything.

“I think I only met him once.”

“Yeah, at the fall music festival,” Emmie said. “He was with his husband, Nico.”

“Oh, right,” Chris said. Now he could picture him.

The Morsel was maybe just under six feet with brown, wavy hair, icy, light-blue eyes and the taut fitness of a typical Boulder runner, climber or cyclist, all of which he was. He’d been wearing a slightly tattered, flannel shirt in an artful green-and-black plaid pattern, jeans with holes in the knees and Teva sandals, your basic hip-outdoor guy from 20 years back (which Chris still wore himself). He remembered thinking how “normal” The Morsel looked, how “not gay,” as if there was a “look” that every gay guy shared. Jesus, he thought with a flash of embarrassment. Still with the shame. At your age.

“They just seemed so happy!” Emmie said, affecting an exaggerated frown. Ever the romantic, she was always rooting for couples, as if their success somehow fortified her own union, and any failure posed a threat. Her eyes lost focus and she said, “God, I was so in love with him!”

“In love? For real? Do I know that?” Chris asked, knowing he was probably supposed to. “Is he bi or…?”

“Oh no, he was a total gay. But when I lived at The Place, we used to get so high and then just lie around together in bed, arms wrapped around each other like lazy cats,” Emmie said dreamily.

The Place was Emmie’s name for the creaky Victorian owned by her ex-kinda-sorta boyfriend Carter, a bookish, aloof, Pied Piper with a strange power to lure “alternative” types into his orbit and make women (and, Chris had heard, more than one guy) fall in love with him. The big house’s rooms and nooks, even the attic and basement, were inhabited by five or six such denizens at any given time, including, briefly, Emmie.

Years ago, Chris had been unimpressed with Carter, who had abused Emmie’s desire for love in their intermittent relationship over several years; yet the guy seemed to hold some allure for her even now. Some of it was jealousy but he no longer had the energy for such youthful indulgences.

“I guess I don’t remember you talking about this,” Chris said, pressing closer to Emmie. Athletic and healthy, she’d kept more than fit, biking, playing tennis and teaching dance twice a week. The gradual invasion of her silver streaks only made her sexier, he thought, kissing her hair.

“No, probably not,” Emmie said, voice a little higher than usual as she grabbed and squeezed one of his hands a little too tightly. “I mean, I wouldn’t have back then, because I think you would have gotten jealous.”

“Moi? Just because you liked to get baked and snozzle with your gay friend? I doubt even the dumbest version of my younger self would have been too threatened by that.”

“Except,” she said, “it was more than that. I also used to blow him.”

Chris scanned her face and saw she wasn’t joking. Immediately, a spark of arousal ignited in his belly, the usual forge of his lust. Oh, how far you’ve come, he thought.

“Your story grows interesting,” he said with an exaggerated leer. “Leave no detail behind!”

It had taken years, but Emmie had become more comfortable telling him about her sexually adventurous past, having gotten past her fear of hurting his feelings as he grew older and less hung up. Chris had always found her reticence curious, given that she’d been raised in a religion-free home with a vigorously “sex positive” single therapist mother and when being funny proudly declared she’d been a “total slut” in her youth.

As indeed she had. Starting with girls at age 12, she’d had girlfriends, boyfriends, casual sex with men more than twice her age, with strangers, with a female cousin, threesomes, foursomes — and she cursed like a sailor. Chris, meanwhile, had mindlessly followed the path laid by his Catholic upbringing, trudging into a life of mostly vanilla serial monogamy that felt constraining, yet imperative.

“We loved each other,” Emmie said, not taking her husband’s bait. “I mean, really loved each other. Like, if he hadn’t been gay… He used to date women, but found vag too wet and gooey; I used to laugh at the grimace he made whenever the subject of came up. But he sure didn’t mind that I sucked his dick.”

“Gee, shocker,” Chris said, propping his head upon one elbow and feeling himself hardening inside his loose-fitting scrubs. “I mean, you do know what to do with one, after all … So, did he have a nice one?”

Emmie flashed an affected, toothy grin and nodded quickly, like a schoolgirl admitting a crush.

Chris had spent years trying to hide his fascination with big dicks from his wife, worried what she would think. But he’d gradually let on and, to his relief, she didn’t seem to mind. She even indulged his fantasies of threesomes with her and a nameless, faceless “guy” with a well-developed upper body (her thing) and a very big dick (his).

“You know, he did,” Emmie said, and he knew she wasn’t kidding.

“Bigger than mine?” Chris asked. She always said she didn’t need anything bigger than his, though he sure wanted to see her try.

“It was pretty big,” she said, as if she’d come across a long-forgotten letter from an old friend. “About the same as yours, actually. It was a good one, too, just my type…” Emmie slid a hand down Chris’ stomach and found what she was looking for.

“Umm hmm, sugar,” he breathed, voice husky. “Tell me more…”

She did.

~~

Chris came in from a run a few days later and heard Emmie on the phone. Her tone and animated movement around the house told him her old friend Laurel was on the line. She’d lived at The Place, another of Carter’s broken hearts.

“I can’t believe Mr. and Mr. Morsel are no more. Uh-huh, me too, they always seemed so perfect for each other,” Emmie said on the phone from the kitchen. “I guess Nico just turned into a boring old bald guy who couldn’t be bothered with sex any more. No, I know, he was hot, but he really does look like a dumpy frumpster, now. But The Morsel still looks so yum … how does that happen?”

She waved and smiled to Chris as he headed upstairs to shower, listening to the conversation.

“… and Nico, I never knew this, was super controlling. … Yeah, totally divorced so now The Morsel picks up all these hot young guys and takes them to Europe and the Caribbean and wherever the fuck and they have massive sex. Totally! Gay-cations; hilarious. But who can blame him?”

After showering, Chris went back down to make a smoothie. He hoped Emmie would make it; she was much better at it.

“Did I hear you say that Ste… sorry, The Morsel, might be coming to visit?”

Emmie laughed. “I love that you just adopt all my names and words. That’s so sweet! No, I doubt it, but I guess maybe. He still has all that money from selling his software startup, so he picks up young bucks and takes them on vacation” — air quotes — “and wines and dines and fucks them all over the world.”

Chris had never stopped marveling at the contrast between Emmie’s ability to talk about sex in this semi-raunchy, voyeuristic way, as long as it was someone else’s sex life, like she was a comedian or something. She didn’t seem to understand the effect she had on him in that mode. He tried to remember The Morsel, and experienced a surge of arousal at the thought of him having his way with some naked bronzed 23-year-old in a tropical paradise, ceiling fan lazily swooping overhead…

“Good for him,” he said.

“I know, right?” Emmie said brightly. “OK, I’m heading out soon. I have a class at the beach at 11.”

Chris had several work calls to make but found himself distracted by images of a much younger Emmie sucking off her gay friend, who was really just a vague blur in his imagination. The thought of his wife, still so sexy, though not as uninhibited as she once was, going down on any man was hot.

But it wasn’t just lust, he thought, staring out his office window to the beach and flat ocean. He winced as uncomfortable memories surged into his mind unsummoned.

His idiotic affair with a woman at a conference (Jesus you idiot), more than a year of therapy, and it seemed they were now on the road to a better, more honest marriage. Emmie was still not quite over it; maybe she never would be, not fully. Chris felt queasy, fearing they would never be truly whole again. God I hope not, he thought.

Fearing he could never unring that bell or truly make amends Chris felt his heart rate rising. So stupid. He closed the file he was working on, paused for ten seconds to summon up The Morsel’s full name, and tapped his name out on his keyboard. Damn, he thought, gazing at a social-media profile pic; still good-looking, but not in a showy way. Friendly, no airs at all, he remembered, no wonder Emmie liked him.

He scrolled past photo after photo of The Morsel with much younger, good-looking guys in London, St. Thomas, Phuket. He’d expected to see some kind of sleazy Lothario, slick and selfish, arrogant and rich, but he just looked … nice.

Unlike you, a silent voice echoed in Chris’ mind. No fuck that I fucked up it was wrong but it doesn’t mean I’m…

Trying to silence the harsh, haranguing voice that did him, did Emmie, no good at all, Chris clicked away. A little porn ten minutes tops. His tastes had evolved over the years and now his favorite was “cheating” wives, “hotwives,” threesomes, group sex and really anything that purported to show women embracing their lust, though almost all the video was fake bullshit and the stories poorly written. He soon settled on a short clip of a pretty, heavier middle-aged wife slowly stroking her husband while regaling him with details of a night with her lover.

Chris unzipped his shorts and began to stroke slowly, letting arousal wash over him. Post-affair, he rarely masturbated, choosing to focus that energy on Emmie. But the sensation of his brain marinating in what Emmie called “sex chemicals” was soothing and mesmerizing, like a drug, priming him for their next time together.

But instead of watching, he closed his eyes to savor a strange mélange of images in his imagination … pretty, lively younger Emmie going down on The Morsel … The Morsel being the “man gay” with his golden boys, taking the reins with the young … or the curious.

This time, he was too turned on to stop himself.

~~

In Chris’ experience, most women were not like men when it came to sex outside of marriage. They were far shyer and more conservative. It made sense, evolution-wise.

Emmie was as progressive as they came, a fierce advocate of women’s rights, gay rights, trans rights, animal rights, everyone’s rights and she seethed over religious busybodies nosing into other people’s sex lives. Yet she had always insisted she only wanted him. When Chris had first dared to share his fantasy of watching her with other men, she worried what it meant about her. About him. Them.

“No, no, it really is mostly about you,” he said. “I want to see you with a guy or even a girl” –no; be honest — “OK no, a guy, and just, I don’t know … lose control. Embrace your lust. Eyes rolling up in your head, toes curled, moaning, gasping, laughing, screaming, giving me a look telling me, ‘Oh god, I’ve never been fucked like this!'”

What Chris wanted was to see his gorgeous wife unleashed, free from his mistakes, his failures, all the ways he had hurt her in 25 years of marriage. Maybe, just maybe, it might even assuage his guilt, a little, and help him accept himself, flaws and all.

It had taken him a long time to acknowledge to himself, much less Emmie, the second reason he liked the fantasy so much: Chris had known since he was twenty that he had a “bi side,” and the thought of watching Emmie get it on with hot guys and big dicks fed his ultimate fantasy of not just of watching, but joining in.

Fucking scary, he thought, wincing at the memory of telling her. She loves you it’s not about her she accepts you accept yourself accept yourself no one else…

Over time, Emmie’s worries receded, and to Chris’ delight, she started to get into them. Still, once passions had cooled, she would always tell him, “I only really want you.”

But thinking now about the The Morsel, Chris wondered if she might be more willing if it was a guy she was truly comfortable with. That added a terrifying element to the fantasy; the last thing he wanted was to lose her.

“If it was someone you really liked, or even loved, do you think you could?” Chris asked the next night while they lay entwined on the bed.

“Maybe,” she answered cautiously.

“Like The Morsel?”

Emmie was silent. Chris could feel her heart racing faster. He kissed her cheek, then her eyelid, then the corner of her mouth.

“Now you mean? I don’t really know him. I love those memories … it was a long time ago,” she said dreamily. “But I really did love him … it was always so comforting to be with him.”

“You never wanted to fuck him?”

“Oh god, yes!” she said. “But believe me, he wanted no part of a va-zheen.”

“Maybe he would have fucked your ass,” Chris whispered. Emmie always came so hard from anal sex, but they only did it a few times a year because, she said, it was “a production.”

She smiled. “You know I would have, but I just knew he wouldn’t. I get it. He actually is gay, drawn to men, even if he was willing to accept a blowjob from a slutty young thing like me.”

An almost imperceptible shiver ran through Chris. His cock was hardening, pinned beneath Emmie’s knee. Twenty minutes later, he was fucking her slowly as she used her vibrator, conjuring that incredibly hot scene.

“Mmmm, I would watch The Morsel fucking your ass,” he said, throat thick with lust as he approached orgasm. “Maybe you should tell him we really want him to visit….”

“Then he can fuck both of us in the ass,” Emmie replied with that pre-orgasmic quaver in her voice.

“Oh fffuck,” Chris groaned, juddering and gripping her ass cheeks hard as he came, mind afire.

In a rarity, Emmie exploded in a nearly simultaneous orgasm just seconds later. With Chris massaging her G-spot, she came twice more.

“Well, I guess you liked that thought,” Emmie said as they lay on the bed, lightly sheened with sweat.

“Oh man … yeah,” he said with a brief, sheepish laugh. Not gay it’s not that I love you baby don’t be jealous did I just fuck up. “Ugh, I’m sor…”

“Eh!” she said in mock sharpness. “You’re not doing that anymore, remember?”

Chris felt heat pulsing in his face. …you want acceptance don’t fight it be honest… “Yes,” he said. “I mean yeah, I liked it. A lot.”

“I know you did. You don’t have to hide, baby. You’re my favorite perv!”

~~

“Wait, he’s actually coming? When?” Chris asked. …just a crazy fantasy you’re fine nothing to freak out about…

“Yes! In three weeks. He’ll be on his way to France and decided to take a little detour,” she said, excitement beaming out like a searchlight.

“Wow. How did it come up?”

Emmie shrugged with altogether too much innocence. “I don’t know. We’ve been talking about it for a while.”

Chris flashed on the thrill of their recent fantasy. “Is he going to stay here…?”

“Oh god, no. He always stays in an AirBnB.”

Where, Chris thought with just a tickle of arousal, he can bang his boy-toys with abandon.

“Wow, I’m so psyched for you,” Chris said, putting his arms around her and kissing her on the cheek. “You’ll have fun.”

~~

One night, Emmie was especially aroused while using her current favorite toy as Chris’ finger pressed hard on the interior nerves of her clitoris; her “best spot” moved around, and he always enjoyed the treasure hunt of finding it.

“Know what I thought about?” Emmie said, voice quivery and soft. “What if The Morsel fucked you while you were fucking me.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, stroking himself with a well-oiled hand.

The fantasy of being with another man had always included Emmie and was entirely focused on sucking a big, hard cock. …it’s just about cock oral fixation no one cares she doesn’t care you’re bi it’s fine… The two of them, kneeling before that faceless, built guy, his sizeable dick between them their as their tongues intertwined.

But fucked in the ass? Chris had never told her that. How the fuck? So gay she’s going to worry, he thought, teeth gritted, then took a breath. No fuck that forget what anyone thinks it’s not gay not anything fuck labels it’s just you…

He turned his attention fully on Emmie, leaning down to run his tongue up and down that lovely, shadowed crevice top to bottom. She began to groan, then cry out, then her whole body began to shake involuntarily.

“Yeah baby, I love nothing more than seeing your pleasure,” Chris said. …oh god so hot what am I doesn’t matter embarrassing no you can be you… He stroked hard and fast, growling, howling and arching his back as he shot all over her belly and breasts.

“Wow,” he said a moment later as he lay next to her. “It’s like every orgasm rockets me into this kaleidoscope of colors in space, like I literally see it…”

“Mmmm. Did you know I can feel it when you come extra hard, baby?” Emmie said, eyes closed, a light smile on her lips. She giggled. “Wow. Now who’s the perv? No clue where that came from, but I’m glad you liked it!”

“Yeah, I guess I was jus…” Chris began, giving in to the old impulse to apologize for his lust, his sexuality, his body, himself.

“Shh,” his wife interrupted, putting a finger on his lips. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I know you know about my crazy oral fantasies…” he began.

“Did you really just say ‘oral’?” Emmie said. “That’s not you, baby, that’s just churchy shit from your past. Right?”

“Right,” Chris said, flashing on the twelve-year old boy looking at himself naked in the bathroom mirror, the reverie, joy and thrill of unsullied pleasure … and the door opens. Yelling, covering himself, begging her to close the door, so embarrassed to go upstairs later. I certainly hope you don’t grow up to be like other men…

“But you know I wouldn’t really, right?” he said, thinking he sounded just like Emmie. “It’s just a fantasy….

“Shh,” she said. “It’s just me.”

Chris snugged up closer to her warmth.

“Thank you,” he whispered, which is all he had needed to say all along.

~~

For a guy with so much money, The Morsel seemed impressively normal.

He’d flown coach, rented an economy hybrid and driven himself to a decent, but modest, AirBnB on the beach. Now he sat on Chris and Emmie’s porch, bare feet perched on the edge of the railing, sipping a margarita.

Chris couldn’t help but compare his own physique to The Morsel’s. Chris kept in decent shape, but he was five or six years older, and The Morsel was frankly a golden god. Cycling, climbing, windsurfing, backcountry skiing, weightlifting — the guy clearly was not about to let age snatch away his good health and fitness.

Corpulent old slugs don’t catch the lads, Chris thought with a mental grin. Though intrigued at the thought of his life as a rich, gay hedonist, he didn’t want to come off as too interested.

“God, all those pictures on your page with your yummy boys,” she said cheerily. “You cradle robber!”

“What can I say? I like what I like,” The Morsel said with a laugh.

“Where do you find them?” Chris asked, the question leaving his lips as if of its own free will. He glanced at Emmie, but her full, rapt attention was on her friend.

“Dating apps. People complain about them, but it’s better than the old meat-market scene. I’m too old to be going out, anyway.”

Chris got up to check the fish sizzling on the grill. As he flipped pink slabs of salmon, he realized how much he hoped something would happen with The Morsel, even if it was just Emmie falling into her old habit of giving him a blowjob. No way, not like her, he thought, then grimaced at unbidden memories of his father’s unkind innuendo.

Gee, thanks Dad, he thought, wondering if he would have been more adventurous if not for all that shame. But he knew who was holding him back now, and it wasn’t a man who’d been dead for 25 years. He felt a sharp, literal pang of regret in his belly. Still afraid; still ashamed.

Looking through the screen door he witnessed the love — sweet, comfortable, familiar — that still flowed between Emmie and her old friend. She was sitting next to him on the rattan couch, a knee touching his bare thigh.

For a moment, Chris felt a surge of sadness, remembering how he and Emmie had been before the affair. … so fucking stupid what were you thinking not worth it that woman was so wrong dumbass… They were almost all the way back, thank god, but he envied the unencumbered connection between them. He took three deep breaths, turning toward that old fear of being left out. …god I should just go let them be give her a break from me … yeah you fucked up but it’s over she loves you don’t hide…

Chris flipped the salmon onto a clean plate, heart hammering, and stepped through the sliding door to rejoin the world.

~~

After dinner, Emmie and The Morsel smoked a bowl of top-notch weed. Chris declined, wanting to be fully present for what was happening … what might happen… He watched them melt into each other on the “squishy” couch, like the two-person puppy pile Emmie had described. Soon she was straddling his lap, pulling off his shirt to reveal a still-tight stomach and smooth brown chest.

OK man yes my god front-row seats do it baby do it… Chris felt heat rising in his lap.

“Come on, honey, sit with us!” Emmie said, primly patting the cushion beside her. She knew him well. He moved to the far end of the couch with a half-embarrassed smile. … fuck he was right pervert fag nope nope nope you’re dead …

“You’re good Chris,” The Morsel said easily. “Come join the fun. You’re invited.”

Chris’ cock twitched incongruously at the word: invited, part of, wanted. This guy. He liked this guy. He was decent, friendly, and Jesus he hated the word but almost cuddly.

“Fun, fun, fun,” Emmie sang briefly, in a Beach Boys falsetto. “God, we had so much fun at that crazy house, didn’t we?” She smeared a big kiss on The Morsel’s stubbly tanned cheek.

“Aw yeah,” he said, snapping a millisecond wink at Chris.

Chris watched from the end of the couch, wondering. What had she told him? Did The Morsel know about their fantasies? Chris’ infidelity? … oh christ but we’re good better than ever it’s fine… A sigh welled up out of him like a cold ocean current. …so exhausting hiding pleasing lying… He held his breath as he watched his smiling wife put a hand on The Morsel’s bright-yellow cargo-style shorts. …oh fuck left hand wedding ring my god so hot…

“Yeah, baby, we had so much fun,” she said with an extravagant wink, slowly unbuttoning and unzipping her hot friend’s yellow climbing shorts. “Too bad you weren’t there. Oh, well.”

The Morsel shrugged innocently and winked at Chris.

“She asked if I wanted to relive some old memories. You don’t mind, do you?” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkled mischievously behind his old-school wire-rimmed glasses.

Chris could not hold The Morsel’s friendly gaze as a knot of embarrassment, arousal and brittle uncertainty tightened in his stomach. …don’t hide don’t run away now’s your chance… Still blushing, he scooted tentatively toward The Morsel. Face flushed, Chris focused on Emmie’s hands and began unbuttoning his own shorts.

“Eh! You just watch,” Emmie said pushily, like a preteen girl testing out her power. “No touching, not me, not you and definitely not The Morsel … this is my show, baby.”

…not rejection a game sexy hot play along you asked for this enjoy…

“You all right?” The Morsel said softly to Chris as Emmie began to unzip him, as if from offstage, from outside the scene.

“Uh huh,” Chris said, carbonated with sensation: fear, jealousy, frustration, arousal, desperate anticipation to see what his wife was about to show off to her husband. …you could be friends for real with someone like this you could…

“Oh yeah!” Emmie squeaked happily as she loosed The Morsel’s cock for all to see. “I’ve missed you!”

Despite what she’d told him, Chris thought it might be a little bigger than his, a little girthier, truly beautiful. He let loose a low, involuntary groan as she lightly gripped and began to stroke that cock. …the ring oh god so fucking hot… Maneuvering expertly, Emmie slipped from The Morsel’s lap and began tugging at his shorts.

“Come on, Chris, don’t be lazy … help!” she said. She so rarely used his name, unless she was very serious or very angry, but now it drew him into presence. …you’ve wanted this her gift his gift just be yourself do what you want… Hands shaking, he pulled on the right hem as Emmie pulled on the left. The Morsel lifted his hips, bringing Chris closer to another man’s hard cock than he’d ever been. The shorts fell to the floor.

“Oh my god it really is delicious,” Emmie said, like a child at play. “And so fucking big!” She leaned down and kissed the tip with a big “mwah!” Chris’ own cock twitched, even as he felt a jolt of jealousy, even fear….no no no way it’s an us not a them he’s cool she would never…

“She used to be an amazing cocksucker. Can she still bring it?” The Morsel said, beaming at Chris, not the hot mama about ready to suck his cock.

Wait, wait, what? Chris suddenly saw what he’d been missing all along …wow you’re dense they planned this oh fuck it’s your fucking dream you and Em and a big, beautiful dick…

Lost in a stampede of thundering thoughts and sensations Chris couldn’t answer, and knew he didn’t have to. He leaned in, hypnotized by the sight of his wife taking her gay friend’s cock into her mouth. Chris moaned and pressed one hand hard on the straining bulge in his lap.

“Ungh ungh!” Emmie mumbled, then pulled her mouth of the glistening dick. “You have to do exactly as I say. You wait! No more interruptions, either…”

The little faux scolding sent shivers up and down Chris’ body as hot flashes of anxiety and impatience became fuel for the heat in his belly and cock. This was Emmie’s show, but what kind of show? Choreographed retribution for the hurt he’d caused … grace forged in the fires of his own, most vulnerable, taboo dreams … reclaiming her power? All that? More?

It’s fine you are fine it’s a gift sucking cock for you, he thought madly, then laughed: a whole new kind of love language.

“Damn, Chris, you enjoying this as much as I am?” The Morsel said as Emmie’s beautiful lips slid up and down that unbearably delicious cock. “Oh Emmie, I’ve missed you!”

The Morsel let his head roll back as Emmie moved her mouth faster on his shaft. Chris stared, ready to explode with aching desire … Emmie’s show oh god it’s happening and I love it I fucking love it… When The Morsel’s body went rigid, Emmie pulled away, to watch his orgasm splatter across his tanned stomach and chest.

Later, after The Morsel had left and Emmie had gone to bed, Chris tiptoed to the bathroom for a quick jerk session. But just as he was getting hard, he stopped, choosing — for the moment — to savor the delicious agony of frustration and ponder the intoxicating possibility that next time, he would be more than a spectator.

~~

The Morsel texted in the morning to say he rented a bike to ride a 25-mile loop around the island.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Emmie said. “He’s probably going to pick up some young hottie and fuck him behind a tree.” It was the kind of cheery, casual remark she often made about other people’s sex lives.

“More power to him,” Chris said, cock twitching. Do you really not know what you do to me, baby?

“Bet you’d like to see that,” Emmie teased.

“Well of course,” he thought. “Wouldn’t you?”

She gave a quick, shy nod and placed a hand briefly over her eyes. “Jesus, my girlfriends and I used to watch gay porn at The Place. Laurel, who as you know is a total perv, loved it.”

“And you?”

“Well, we always ended up making out, if that tells you anything.”

“OK, you have definitely never told me that,” Chris said following her toward the stairs.

“I’m sure I did,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything you don’t know about me.”

“You still surprise me here and there. And I’m ten-billion-percent sure I would have remembered that,” Chris said. He hesitated for an instant …say it don’t hide… “If I had known, you know I would have asked to watch some man porn together by now.”

“That’s for sure. I guess you’re right,” Emmie said, spinning to circle her arms around the small of his back. He loved the feel of her, no matter when, no matter where.

“I’d do that sometime,” she said, kissing him.

“I guarantee,” he said after kissing back, “I will be cashing that check very soon.”

She took his hand and they started up the stairs.

~~

“Did you like my little porn show last night?” Emmie said, gently pushing Chris to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. She quickly undid his shorts and pulled them off.

“You have no idea…” Chris said as she began petting his already-hard dick. “God you know how long I’ve wanted to see that… I sure never imagined it would be a gay guy!”

“Pervert,” she said stroking him slowly. “What kind of man likes to see his wife go down on a big, beautiful gay dick?”

“Your kind, obviously,” Chris said. …she sees me… “And you guys planned that all out…?”

“Of course! For you, baby. But he loved it when I asked him,” she said. “You know I would never leave you out. It was like the first opportunity I’ve ever had where I could see myself doing it without feeling incredibly self-conscious or awkward.”

Love, Chris thought, that was the key ingredient. He leaned back on his elbows, lust churning as the scene from the night before scrolled across the dark screen of his closed eyes.

“I have to have you, Em” he said. “Now.”

“Oh, really?” she said with a wink, then began pulling her shirt over her head.

“That was so hot to see, baby. But you know my favorite place is inside you, don’t you?” he said. It was true. And, he knew, a defense against shame and fear of judgment, a justification, an explanation.

“Of course,” she said, pushing him back. “But you don’t have to explain anything to me. I thought you were kind of cute, staring at us in wonder, like a little boy seeing boobs for the first time.”

“I was mostly watching you,” Chris said.

“It’s OK, honey. You really don’t have to pretend with me. The Morsel truly has one of the best dicks I’ve ever had; who wouldn’t stare at it?” she said. “But don’t worry. I still like yours best.”

She rode him hard for the 30 seconds it took for him to explode in orgasm.

~~

The Morsel called Emmie after his ride.

“Holy shit, the humidity here would kill me if I had to deal with it every day,” he said. “How does Chris run in this soupy air?”

The three of them went to the beach for the afternoon, then The Morsel insisted on paying for dinner at one of the better seafood places. Not one of the super-expensive old-school, dark-paneled, vaguely Mafia places with dark wood paneling and crusty-old-man waiters, but a hipper spot with an outdoor patio where they could watch the sunset.

Emmie asked The Morsel about Nico.

“It was great, until it wasn’t,” The Morsel said, gazing across the inland waterway. “It’s so weird how you can just be so perfect together for so long and then, phssht, the air just goes out of it.” He paused to take a sip of his margarita. “Not saying it wasn’t my fault, too. But I do kind of think he just stopped caring. Even about himself, which was not attractive to me. Or I don’t know, maybe he was just bored. I miss what it was, but not what it had become.”

After dinner, Emmie and The Morsel dropped Chris at home and went off to see a friend’s band. Unlike Chris, her gay buddy was a dancer (“He gets down!” Emmie said). He wished he had a switch to flip, but Chris was still too self-conscious to enjoy public dancing, and he often wound up feeling like his nerdy junior-high self standing at the back of the gym with the other locked-hip losers.

Good thing he’s gay, he thought, sitting in the hot tub as evening fell. He’s got a sweet personality, he’s fit, has a big dick and he’s not hung up like me. And no baggage ugh…

That woman, why? he thought with deep, cringing embarrassment and shame. She was so not what Chris needed. So wrong in every way Emmie was so right. He had nearly destroyed the best thing in his life in exchange for mindless, half-drunk, terrible sex, followed by lacerating guilt and several days of increasingly deranged texts, which Emmie had caught him reading.

Chris closed his eyes and listened as frogs sang and a barred owl hooted from the nearby woods. Hot tears squeezed between his eyelids as he tried to imagine Emmie running away with The Morsel, a better man, a kinder man, a less flawed man… …no stop it just a man like you like everyone flawed you’re fine she loves you proud of you us working so hard not everyone would…

He dunked beneath the hot water, then whipped his long gray-blond ropes of hair from side to side. Having washed those thoughts away, he summoned an image of The Morsel banging Emmie against the car….

Ha, you wish, he thought, wondering if was just going to be the Emmie and Morsel Show again.

~~

They came in a half hour later, two hours before Chris expected them.

“Eh, they were just OK, kind of boring. Anyway, we have better things to do,” she said melodramatically, rising on her toes to kiss The Morsel’s stubbled cheek and lovingly twist one of his brown curls.

“I may be the gayest gay ever, but the ladies just can’t resist me,” The Morsel said, then surprised Chris by pulling him into a three-way embrace and pecking him on the cheek. “Too weird?”

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed The Morsel briefly on the lips. It felt good, not the kiss, but the brief exhilarating moment of just not giving a fuck.

“Oh my forking god!” Emmie said, jaw hanging. “Did I just see that?”

“What can I say?” Chris said “The guys just can’t resist me.”

Emmie laughed. “The plot thickens. How about you make us some drinks, baby?”

~~

Chris blended up three fruity, frozen rum drinks very slowly, wanting to give them time. Delicious agony, dangerous, momentary needles of jealousy stitched into pure arousal.

When he entered the room a few minutes later, Chris stopped in his tracks at the sight of his fully clothed wife on her knees, sucking The Morsel’s thick dick as he sat naked …beautifully naked it’s OK you’re fine… on the edge of the bed, one palm resting gently on the back of her head.

“This girl’s on a nostalgia kick, Chris,” The Morsel said with a sly smile.

Chris laughed. This guy really was funny. And just so normal, this whole thing, somehow normal, comfortable, friendly, fun. More like a backrub than a blowjob. He laughed again, imagining what all the “normal” people …the boring-ass people… would make of this scene.

Emmie cast a side glance at her husband and gave a jaunty thumbs-up while maintaining the sexy cadence of her lips sliding up and down the slick cock.

“Come on Chris,” The Morsel said. “You’re invited.”

Chris set the drinks on the dresser …fuck fuck fuck fuck yes yes yes… and moved as in a dream toward the bed, heart quivering, breath coming like a metronome.

“Come in,” The Morsel said, ticking his chin toward Emmie. “You should really kiss your wife.”

Chris blinked for a moment, trying to find that well of courage. …you want this her gift you want this how long you’ve wanted but am I really… He kneeled tentatively next to Emmie, then flinched when The Morsel’s hand gently tousled his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK. Kiss your wife for me,” The Morsel said (How the fuck does he do that? Chris thought in genuine wonder.) “You’re good, man, really. This is all about love. It really is. Promise.”

Chris took a deep breath and looked into his wife’s eyes, cock straining like a ravenous, caged animal, as turned on as he’d ever been. He said nothing, but she knew anyway.

“Yeah, baby, love,” Emmie said after schlupping her mouth free. She touched his cheek. “But you don’t have to if you don…”

“No,” Chris said firmly. “I want to. I do. I have to.” And he did have to. Right now. Right here. …accept accept myself accept grace this love her love his love our love the key…

Chris kissed Emmie deeply and fiercely, doing as he was told, tasting cock …The Morsel’s cock… on her tongue, a thrill he’d imagined so many times, and what mattered most was the presence of his beloved, her invitation. He reached a shaky hand toward The Morsel’s offering, his gift, feeling a surge of lust at the sight of his wedding band on that big cock. …so wild… A sizzle like electricity rippled through his entire body. A married man, playing with his wife’s gay boyfriend’s cock …modern love!… while she cheered him on.

…… my god am I doing this I am so wrong so right make her proud modern love…

Chris kissed the tip of The Morsel’s cock as he’d long imagined he would, noticing the cool wetness left by Emmie’s lips. He opened his mouth and took the head in, then more, adoring this moment, adoring his wife, this man, this moment, the alchemy. …why did I wait so long just look at her she loves this she loves you she’s proud of you…

Emmie began licking the shaft, meeting her husband’s lips in the middle.

Chris moaned involuntarily as The Morsel began moving his hips slowly, pushing his cock to the back of his throat. And as Chris had always known it would be, what mattered was that she was there, she approved, she accepted… Fueled by love and lust, he began sucking that gorgeous cock eagerly, with abandon, never looking away from her adoring eyes.

“Now that’s a beautiful sight,” said The Morsel, smiling down on the familiar sight of a man sucking his cock. “Em, you’re fun, but the sight of a married man on his knees, oh, man!”

“Do you like it, baby?” Emmie asked.

“Ungh hungh,” Chris said, smiling at her with his eyes. …I’m a cocksucker I’m your cocksucker baby your proud cocksucker and I fucking love it…

He felt Emmie unfastening his shorts and tugging them just enough to free his cock, as hard as it had ever been. Chris momentarily lost focus on the task at hand as his wife began to oil him up.

“Don’t stop on my account, baby,” she murmured sweetly.

“All right kids, I like it. Hot couple on a date,” The Morsel said, his poise beginning to fray as Chris brought him closer to ecstasy. “Aw jeez, Chris … you’re a good cocksucker!”

The praise caught Chris by surprise, rocketing him into the stratosphere. On Emmie’s next down stroke, he began shooting streams on the floor.

“Aw hell yes, when a guy comes with a cock in his mouth you know he loves it,” The Morsel said, grunting. “So hot taking your cherry, Chris, I’m gonna … I’m OK, yeah, here it is … oh fuuuuhhhhckk….” He pushed his cock deep into Chris’ mouth and held it there until it had stopped pulsing. Chris barely felt the strange sensation of warm jizz running down his throat.

“Whoa!” Emmie said, and Chris could hear her genuine awe. “You guys are fuckin’ animals!”

Chris pulled away in a daze as The Morsel flopped back on the bed, breathing hard. …she saw that she saw me…

“That was … wow,” Emmie said, then kissed him. “How are you, dear?”

Chris felt a little dazed, even shocked, as if waking from a mad and thrilling dream. Scanning his wife’s’ face, he saw … love.

“Yeah, I’m good, baby. I’m great,” he said, kissing her back, hard. “How about you? It wasn’t too mu…?”

“Never,” Emmie said, pressing a finger to his lips. “That was seriously one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.”

~~

“Aw, I don’t want you to leave,” Emmie said. “This has been so much fun.”

“I’ll come back,” The Morsel said. “And there’s still tonight.”

“I know, but I wish you lived nearby,” Emmie said. “Don’t you, dear?”

Chris’ mind raced, remembering the feel of The Morsel’s cock in his mouth. He had liked …no fucking loved like you knew you would just own it… it, the pure wild lust and cock-hardening taboo of it all, of being a cocksucker … with his wife, for his wife. And that was the most erotic part of all: Emmie was there, and The Morsel, and there was love. Chris marveled at this transformation, this deep and unshakable sense of pride, even joy.

And this time, no bitter voice rose to challenge him.

“You know I do, baby,” he said without blushing.

~~

The night before had gone much same as the first, only this time Chris gave Emmie more attention. She had gotten the best of two worlds when he began to swirl his tongue up and down both sides of her pussy, setting her nerves afire as she rubbed her friend’s smooth, tanned, muscular chest.

It had ended with Chris fucking Emmie on her back, with Emmie gazing up at her favorite view, his muscles rippling as he slow-fucked her to perfection, only this time with a twist: Chris’ mouth full of The Morsel’s perfect cock.

Now, on their last night, Emmie was naked, lying face down, when Chris brought the drinks in. Fully dressed, The Morsel was massaging coconut oil into her back and shoulders — Emmie’s favorite — and only occasionally trailing his fingers lightly across her very white, very female ass.

Chris knew The Morsel had once dated women, but how long had it been since he’d touched a woman like that? And how long had it been since another man had touched his wife that way? Chris set the drinks down, lowered himself quietly into position on the chair, head spinning. …no way no fucking way but man if they…

“Hi baby,” Emmie said lazily, dreamily, face pressed into a pillow. “I’ng getting massage.”

“I can see that,” Chris replied, voice hoarse with arousal.

The Morsel grinned over his shoulder. “How about I do both of you?”

Chris dropped his shorts and pulled his t-shirt over his head, the one Emmie had given him for his birthday: Ask My Wife, I Don’t Mind. His cock was flagpole straight, almost painfully hard, as he lay down next to his wife to watch.

“Unnngggh,” Emmie murmured. “Feels nice.”

Chris watched the hypnotizing movement of The Morsel’s hands all across his wife’s naked body, consumed with the crazy fantasy of seeing her take that mouth-watering cock. He twitched at the touch of a single hand on his ass. …come on act like you’ve been here before… forcing himself to breathe as it gently kneaded his tight, smooth runner’s butt.

“This might not work, guys,” The Morsel said. “Let’s do one at a time so I can give you my full attention.” Emmie giggled into the pillow. Chris felt a surge of both fear and excitement; they’d planned this, too.

“Do Chris,” Emmie said, rolling up to rest her head on one cocked elbow. “I want to watch.”

Chris did his best to relax as The Morsel’s hands worked their way up Chris’ back, along his shoulders, then back down to settle on his ass. Chris’ cock pulsed beneath the weight of his body and twitched each time he felt his cheeks stretched ever so slightly. The Morsel, a master in the art of driving men crazy with anticipation, lightly brushed his asshole with thumb and fingers. Chris pushed his ass up, hyper aware of his desire …need… for more.

“Wanna help, Em?” The Morsel said. Chris shivered at the sound of her rubbing oil into her hands. He pushed back against the lighter, softer, thrillingly female touch feathering across his asshole, an offering, a demand. …fuck she’s never done this before…

Quivering in anticipation, Chris heard the faint sound of The Morsel disrobing and Emmie whispering something inaudible, then the slick happy sound of her oiling up that big hard cock. …am I really going to let a man fuck my ass yes fucking crazy yes I said yes I will Yes…

“What a pleasure to have both my boys so worked up,” Emmie said. “I know what you want, baby, you can’t hide it from me … Come on, up on your knees … that’s right, let me get a good look at my favorite cock.”

Chris’ whole body quivered as his wife’s well-oiled hand stroked him slowly, giving his desperate cock a few friendly strokes before pulling maddeningly away.

“Isn’t it a beauty?” Emmie said.

“It is,” The Morsel replied.

Without a word, Emmie firmly pushed Chris back down on all fours, then patted the pillow where he was to lay his head, leaving his white ass in the air, awaiting its fate. Chris nearly melted at the sensation of a cockhead pressing into his eagerly anticipating asshole, then flinched at the first searing inch of penetration.

“Oh fuck,” Chris groaned, cheek pressed hard into the pillow. …you want this let it happen I can take it baby watch me…

“Shh, baby, just relax,” Emmie said sweetly.

“Relax,” The Morsel said soothingly, even as he pushed his long, thick cock in another slow inch, making Chris wince with the electric pleasure of pain.

“Go slow, go slow….” he said.

“Don’t worry, Chris. I’ve fucked a lot of virgin asses; I know what I’m doing. I’ll make sure you enjoy it … you just let me know what you need.”

Chris squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to relax.

“That’s it, that’s right. You still good?” The Morsel asked. “I’ll just go in slowly…”

“Oh wow,” Emmie whispered. “I … have no words…”

Chris groaned and strained to relax. He took deep breaths, zeroing in on the pleasure just beneath the discomfort, the pleasure of knowing this was happening, really happening. … fucked in the ass crazy crazy… As he began to relax, The Morsel pushed his well-lubed cock a little deeper, then drew out, back in, gaining just a little each time.

“Oh fuck Em,” Chris said in a quaking voice. “It feels … so fucking … gunghgunghgungh … so fucking good. God I hope it’s this good when I fuck your ass, baby!”

The Morsel began pushing a little faster, a little deeper, pulling Chris’ pale ass into his cock as his beloved wife looked on.

“Oh god honey … I thiinnnk … I think I like thiiis … just a little too much,” Chris mumbled, suddenly noticing how his own thick, rigid cock slapped against his stomach with each thrust. “Ohfffuck I like that … see my cock … oh yeah … oh baby, hold my hand!”

She did. And her hand felt … safe. …oh baby never let me go…

“You two,” The Morsel growled happily, pulling Chris hard onto his glistening cock.

“Doesn’t he have the softest ass?” Emmie cooed.

And suddenly, without warning, the pain melted away like frost on a sunlit window, giving way to a pleasure more intense than anything Chris had ever felt. Behind closed eyes, his world now expanded into visions of infinitely deep, black-purple spaces studded with diamond galaxies and shot through with pulses of silver-blue electricity.

“…beautiful…” Chris sighed, matching The Morsel’s rhythm.

As Emmie’s other hand closed on his hair-trigger cock, his desperate need propelled him to the brink of a madness from which he wasn’t sure he could return.

“Oh Em, Emmie, Emmaline, I can’t take it baby, please oh god uh huh,” Chris begged, then unleashed a deep, leonine roar as his entire being seemed to contract around The Morsel’s relentlessly thrusting cock and began shooting thick streams of come.

“Oh yeah kids, here we go!” The Morsel said, slapping his hips hard against Chris’ ass. “Crazy good uh-huh ohhhhh….” He arched his back and let loose a whoop of joy, triumph and laughter.

Chris opened his eyes as Emmie lightly kissed his cheek, wet with tears and a few drops of wayward come. … oh you maniac you perv you did that my god with her you let him fuck you I love it she loves me who gets this lucky…

“Baby, we’ll never forget this,” Chris said drunkenly, eyes half closed, exhausted smile on his lips, as if he’d just finished a tough marathon. “I need you fuck me like that. Will you?”

“Of course,” Emmie said, drawing one of his hands toward the slippery crease between her legs. “But I’m not through with you yet, so do as I say…” Chris felt himself begin to swell.

“Ah, love,” The Morsel said, sounding very far away.