One night in Ottawa

At their house, a large golden retriever bounded towards us and began sniffing me as soon as I walked in the door. Jean playfully pulled the dog away and led him off to some other corner of the house. When he returned, Diane disappeared, leaving Jean and I alone together. "Hey, come to the kitchen," he said. "I'll get you a beer."

"Do you have anything stronger than beer?"

He looked at me, and after a moment's pause, we shared something of a nervous laugh. He put a hand on my shoulder. "It is awkward, isn't it?" he said. "Let's drink whiskey instead."

As Jean took some glasses from the cupboard and poured the drinks, I drummed my fingers on the kitchen countertop. "Hey Jean, look, are you comfortable with this? With me being here?"

Jean handed me a tumbler of rye, coke and ice, and clinked his glass against mine. He shrugged, and took a drink. "It is Diane's fantasy. She has been thinking of this so intently the last few months, in some ways I feel like it has to happen just so she will stop talking about it."

"Yeah, well. I don't know. I guess, just let me know if I do anything you don't want me to do. I don't want to get in the way, or be something I'm not supposed to be here tonight."

Jean clapped my arm slightly. He nodded his head back towards the living room. "I think we should just drink a lot and let things happen as they will. And I almost forgot, I wanted to show you something." In the living room he led me to a wall of framed photos. He pointed to a somewhat grainy colour photograph of a few people on bikes, in fairly dated cycling outfits. "That's me," he said, pointing to one young cyclist amongst the group. "Do you recognize that summit?"

I shrugged. I had a pretty good guess it was one of the famous European mountain climbs, used in the Tour or the Giro or the Vuelta, but you couldn't tell from the picture which one it was. "It's Alpe d'Huez," Jean grinned. "1993. I was 25 or 26 years old."

I was genuinely impressed. "Really? That's amazing. How was it?"

"Painful," he laughed. "Oh God it was painful. All those bends..., or, what is the other word..."

"Switchbacks."

"Yes, all those switchbacks, and the grade."

"It's like 8% all the way up right?"

"I don't know, but it is terrible all the way up."

"You must have been a really serious cyclist. Do you still bike now?"

Jean turned, and I followed him to the couch in the middle of the living room. "No. I biked in my 20s. A student, you know. A friend had an idea for a summer trip, so a few of us trained so that we could do the mileage, and we all went. But no, I was never much more than a daily bicycle commuter, and I even gave that up after graduate school."

"So you did Alpe d'Huez - what about the rest of the trip, any other big climbs?"

Jean was about to answer, but then both of us were distracted by Diane re-entering the room. She was naked, save for a pair of lacy black panties. She strode towards us, and reached down to the coffee table, picking up my glass of rye and coke, and drinking it slowly, emptying the glass.

"Holy sweet God," I muttered. I knew this woman's body intimately, but this entrance nearly took my breath away.

"Jean," she said, looking down at me, the fingers of her right hand impatiently stroking against her right thigh, "I want to kiss him."

"You should kiss him then," Jean answered softly.

Diane stared down at me, and taking the hint that I should stand, I stood up, and moved around the coffee table to stand before her. She placed her hands on my shoulders, as I placed mine on her hips, and she leaned in to me, pressing her mouth to mine. We kissed, softly, delicately, Diane radiant and nearly naked, me in jeans and a black dress shirt. Diane broke our kiss and eased back a bit from me. "I suspect you are holding back," she said, eyeing me intently.

"Maybe a bit."

"Don't."

My eyes slid towards Jean, and I watched as he stood up from the couch, walked behind his wife, and took my wrists, sliding my hands from Diane's hips to her ass. Diane murmured softly, her head sinking towards me. I gathered some courage, and gripped her ass more firmly, as Jean caressed his hands over his wife's bare back, and leaning in, began to drag his lips over her shoulders. I kissed her neck, left side, and smelled her hair, just as Jean kissed her just below her right ear. Diane's fingernails dug into the back of my neck, pulling my head tight against her neck. "You're going to fuck me, right?" she hissed. "You're going to fuck me tonight?"

I nodded. "I will."

She undid the buttons of my shirt, and ran her hands over my chest as I shrugged my shirt to the floor. She fumbled with my belt, my button, my zipper, and when my jeans slid to the floor she reached into my briefs, and gripped my hardening cock in her hand. She pushed her mouth back against mine and began stroking me inside my briefs. I kissed her hungrily, my tongue against hers, my inhibitions lost now in the heat of what Diane was doing to me.

Diane ripped my briefs down to my thighs and then turned around to her husband. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him as hungrily as she'd kissed me. I pushed my briefs down, and then hooked my fingers into her panties, and kneeling, dragged them all the way down, helping her step one foot and then the other from them. She undressed Jean the way she had undressed me, fingers fumbling at his clothing, leaning in to kiss his bare chest, his shoulder. I stood back up, sliding my right hand up the inside of her legs, fingers stroking over sensitive skin. I cupped her sex in my palm, massaging warm into her, making Diane jolt, and put her hands on Jean for support.

"Part your legs," I whispered.

She stepped her right foot a few inches further to the side, her forehead pressed to Jean's chest, as I gripped my now fully erect cock and stroked it up the inside of her right thigh, against her sex, and down her left thigh. And again. Over and over. Caressing my warmth against Diane as she cooed and moaned and held onto her husband for support.

"Diane," I whispered. "There was something you wrote about in your emails. A position you wanted to do. Do you want to do that now?"

She nodded. "Oh God yes," she muttered. "Yes. Jean, sit on the couch baby."

Between the three of us, the coffee table was pushed brutally out of our way, and Jean was soon seated on the couch, Diane on her knees before him. She had her hands on his bare thighs, caressing her hands up towards his waist, and then back down again. They were staring into each other's eyes, Jean not yet touching her, but seemingly waiting for something. I stood behind them, a few steps away. I knew what Diane wanted me to do, but it didn't seem time yet. I was waiting for something as well.

Jean was fully erect, his beautiful naked wife almost purring in his lap. She gripped her hands on his hips, and touched her lips lightly to the underside of his cock, which was pointing almost back towards him, as he sat leaning back against the back of the couch. She stroked her lips lightly up his length time after time, then caressed one cheek then another against him. Finally, she looked up at him, and whispered "Thank you baby," and then dropped her mouth onto his swollen head, sucking his tip lovingly.

Locks of her long dark brown hair traced against his thighs.

Her fingers pressed firmly into his flesh.

Rocking forward slightly, sliding from her left knee onto her left foot, her gorgeous bare ass teased up towards me.

I knelt behind her. I touched my fingernails to the outside of her thighs, and dragged my nails up against her skin, tearing slightly.

She slid her mouth further down onto Jean's cock. Jean leaned his head back fully against the couch, and slid the fingers of his left hand into Diane's hair, holding his wife's mouth to him.

I pressed my cock down, and then let it spring up in between Diane's thighs. I pressed my pelvis warm and full against her ass, caressing the long length of my cock against her pussy. My hands on her sides, I slid them up and then under, and cupped her breasts warm in my hands. I squeezed them. Squeezed her firm full breasts as I ground myself against her ass, feeling her grind back against me.

She pulled her mouth off of Jean's cock. She gripped him in her left hand and licked her tongue wet against his length. "Take me," she whispered, without turning to me. "Take me."

My left hand on her left hip, I gripped myself in my right hand, and touched my tip to her slit. Stroking for a moment, making her tremble as she crouched awkwardly on her foot and knee. I pushed deeper, and slid my purple head inside her, filling her. Both hands on her hips now, I pulled myself deeply inside Diane, making her moan loudly as she took Jean in her mouth again, stroking her mouth down on his cock as I stroked myself deeply inside her.

Jean remained with his head back against the couch, and his eyes closed, as I rode his wife. Perhaps this was how he always was, or maybe he simply didn't want to see his wife taken by another man. But his closed eyes made me bolder. I fucked Diane forcefully, rocking back and forth behind her, driving every inch of my dripping wet cock deeply inside her pussy. When I came, I simply came. My cock shuddered, and I continued to thrust as I pumped gush after of gush of cum inside Diane. At the end, she gave up on Jean's cock, and simply held onto her husband's waist, pressing her face to his stomach, as she felt me empty heavily inside her.

And when it was over, I showered, got dressed, and left.

A taxi. A hurriedly arranged motel room. The next morning, the first train back to Toronto.

*

Toronto.

Work.

My daily routine.

Flirting with one or two of the girls who worked at reception.

Riding the bike.

Jean's closed eyes that night. His inability to watch what was happening. His silence. My silence.

*

[Conner] : Hey, we should probably talk on the phone sometime. Before you come to town again.

[Diane] : Sure? What's up?

[Conner] : I'll tell you when we talk. You have time now?

The text pulsed on my phone for a few moments, and then my phone rang, a call from Diane.

"That seemed ominous," she said. "What's up baby?"

"Diane, that night in Ottawa, with Jean, how was that for you? Was that what you wanted?"

"Yes." She hesitated, but didn't follow up on a thought that seemed to have almost come to her lips. "Why? It didn't work for you?"

"Physically, in the moment, it worked for me. But it kind of freaked me out too."

"Why?"

"Jean. He's a good guy. It freaks me out - knowing him now. Even just a bit. Knowing him and knowing that he's a good guy. And sleeping with his wife. Being the guy who has been sleeping with his wife - it really rattles me."

"Conner, he was a good guy the whole time. He was a good guy the very first time we slept together."

"Yeah, but I didn't know that. I didn't really know that." I leaned my head forward towards the glass window of my condo - the Toronto city lights shining in the darkness down below. "Diane, after having met Jean, I am having a really difficult time imagining being in bed with you again. I'm not trying to be an asshole or anything, but I feel like we need a break."

"Jesus. Really? Are you sure?"

"No. No. I'm not sure. I can barely explain what I'm feeling here. But for the moment I'd like to try this. Try taking a break from the sex. I guess I need to breathe a bit. Get some distance from this."

"Well, damn. I don't really know what to say."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. This is awkward."

"I guess...," a pause. "I guess, thinking about that night... Jean was very passive. Barely going through the motions. And you came, but it wasn't the way we are when we're alone."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not placing blame, or faulting you, or anything Diane, but I don't think I was the right guy for that night."

"Merdre," Diane swore softly. "I'm sorry, Conner."

"You don't need to be sorry."

"I feel like you're all wracked with guilt now."

"I'm just, well, yeah, maybe some guilt. Let's not psychoanalyze it too much. I'll recover."

"Maybe I'll let you go. Look. We can still have coffee though right - when I come to Toronto? Maybe have dinner? Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Yeah that's all good. We can do that."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Well baby, have a good night."

"You too Diane."

I ended the call, and stood for a while looking down at Toronto. King Street, Adelaide, Richmond, Queen - the big east west streets burning brightly down below. I tapped the knuckles of my right hand against the window - a soft thung ringing for a moment.

The time she'd knelt below me in the shower and given me oral.

The time we'd gone to see La La Land and her face had simply glowed the entire time. I kept looking back and forth between her and the screen, mesmerized by how beautiful she was.

Once we'd been eating Chinese food at my place, and she said something that made me laugh so hard that rice had come up into my nose.

Goddamnit.

If we'd met somewhere, both single. If she'd been my age, or at least a bit closer.

Her hair. The way she'd turn her neck towards me, begging to feel my lips.

I was going to miss touching her. Sliding my fingertips over her skin.

It's startling - what a huge difference it made to me - simply to have met him.