fantasy.”
He caressed me as he spoke, and I relaxed into the cushion under his hand. “It was really the way you were describing it, Ry.”
“So let’s not describe it. Let’s try something they don’t cover in Cosmo. But it’s up to you, honey.”
“Am I interrupting?” Jack’s tall, muscular body was silhouetted in the doorframe.
The tree frogs sang into the silence. Ryan squeezed my hand, but otherwise he was still.
“Not at all, Jack. Come on back and join us.” I was amazed at how steady my voice sounded.
Our friend came over and stretched out beside me. He slid his right arm under my neck, so that my head was pillowed on both of their arms.
“Ryan?” said Jack in a whisper.
“It’s all good, man,” replied my husband.
Ryan had gone back to tracing circles on my stomach, outside my shirt, as soon as I’d invited Jack to lie back down. Now Jack’s free hand ran lightly up my arm and over my neck to my cheek. He traced my eyebrows, the line of my nose and the curve of my jaw. It felt good, but the contrast between his tentative motion and my husband’s calm assurance was disconcerting. I shifted and Ryan sat up in response.
“I’ve got an idea.” He took off his T-shirt and used it to blindfold me. My heart skipped a beat. “So, Mrs. Crosse, here’s the game. One of us will touch you. You’ve just got to guess who it is.”
A smooth hand touched my knee. “That’s Jack.”
Another hand, this one with work-hardened fingertips, touched my arm. “Ryan.”
They started mixing it up, taking several turns in a row, or getting up and making noise and then sneaking back to the futon in an attempt to fool me, though the scrape of Ryan’s cast against the deck made those attempts futile. I didn’t miss a guess for the first ten minutes.
But it stopped being entirely innocent in short order. Jack’s hand crept under my shirt to rest briefly on my stomach. Ryan’s calluses gave him away when he touched the soft inner skin of my thigh, and again when he traced the outer edge of my ear. Jack’s skin was smoother, but his hands were just as strong as Ryan’s when he massaged one of my feet for a minute.
Then I started guessing wrong. It wasn’t Jack kissing the palm of my hand, or the hollow of my throat. And the first person to run his tongue along the edge of my ear wasn’t Ryan, but Jack, who did it exactly the way I like it best—slow, barely breathing, with a little flick on my earlobe at the end. That was the moment when I finally, truly believed that Jack was my lover in another world. The only person I’d ever told how much I loathed hearing someone breathe loudly in my ear was my husband. Apparently I was consistent across space and time.
Someone pushed my shirt all the way up, and with a wet little finger traced spirals on the exposed curves of my breasts. I was about to guess that it was Ryan touching me when I felt another wet fingertip on my stomach, slipping under the waistband of my shorts. My pussy clenched in response.
“Not fair. I can’t guess if you’re both touching me at once,” I protested. They both chuckled, and I realized they’d gotten back into their original positions, with Ryan on my right and Jack on my left. They were quiet for a moment.
Then I felt a hand on each of my knees. The men were perfectly matching their movements, and they slid their hands up my legs. They moved their palms firmly over my shorts with their fingertips grazing my mound. When they reached the bare skin of my torso, they slowed their speed to a crawl.
When those warm, strong hands finally reached my breasts, I moaned. Both men flinched, and I heard Jack swallow hard. But they still kept their motions exactly matching one another, and each slid a hand inside my bra. My nipples were gently tweaked at the same time, and I arched my back in delight.
Ryan untied the makeshift blindfold. “It’s covering too much of your beautiful face, babe.”
I looked up at him, his
He caressed me as he spoke, and I relaxed into the cushion under his hand. “It was really the way you were describing it, Ry.”
“So let’s not describe it. Let’s try something they don’t cover in Cosmo. But it’s up to you, honey.”
“Am I interrupting?” Jack’s tall, muscular body was silhouetted in the doorframe.
The tree frogs sang into the silence. Ryan squeezed my hand, but otherwise he was still.
“Not at all, Jack. Come on back and join us.” I was amazed at how steady my voice sounded.
Our friend came over and stretched out beside me. He slid his right arm under my neck, so that my head was pillowed on both of their arms.
“Ryan?” said Jack in a whisper.
“It’s all good, man,” replied my husband.
Ryan had gone back to tracing circles on my stomach, outside my shirt, as soon as I’d invited Jack to lie back down. Now Jack’s free hand ran lightly up my arm and over my neck to my cheek. He traced my eyebrows, the line of my nose and the curve of my jaw. It felt good, but the contrast between his tentative motion and my husband’s calm assurance was disconcerting. I shifted and Ryan sat up in response.
“I’ve got an idea.” He took off his T-shirt and used it to blindfold me. My heart skipped a beat. “So, Mrs. Crosse, here’s the game. One of us will touch you. You’ve just got to guess who it is.”
A smooth hand touched my knee. “That’s Jack.”
Another hand, this one with work-hardened fingertips, touched my arm. “Ryan.”
They started mixing it up, taking several turns in a row, or getting up and making noise and then sneaking back to the futon in an attempt to fool me, though the scrape of Ryan’s cast against the deck made those attempts futile. I didn’t miss a guess for the first ten minutes.
But it stopped being entirely innocent in short order. Jack’s hand crept under my shirt to rest briefly on my stomach. Ryan’s calluses gave him away when he touched the soft inner skin of my thigh, and again when he traced the outer edge of my ear. Jack’s skin was smoother, but his hands were just as strong as Ryan’s when he massaged one of my feet for a minute.
Then I started guessing wrong. It wasn’t Jack kissing the palm of my hand, or the hollow of my throat. And the first person to run his tongue along the edge of my ear wasn’t Ryan, but Jack, who did it exactly the way I like it best—slow, barely breathing, with a little flick on my earlobe at the end. That was the moment when I finally, truly believed that Jack was my lover in another world. The only person I’d ever told how much I loathed hearing someone breathe loudly in my ear was my husband. Apparently I was consistent across space and time.
Someone pushed my shirt all the way up, and with a wet little finger traced spirals on the exposed curves of my breasts. I was about to guess that it was Ryan touching me when I felt another wet fingertip on my stomach, slipping under the waistband of my shorts. My pussy clenched in response.
“Not fair. I can’t guess if you’re both touching me at once,” I protested. They both chuckled, and I realized they’d gotten back into their original positions, with Ryan on my right and Jack on my left. They were quiet for a moment.
Then I felt a hand on each of my knees. The men were perfectly matching their movements, and they slid their hands up my legs. They moved their palms firmly over my shorts with their fingertips grazing my mound. When they reached the bare skin of my torso, they slowed their speed to a crawl.
When those warm, strong hands finally reached my breasts, I moaned. Both men flinched, and I heard Jack swallow hard. But they still kept their motions exactly matching one another, and each slid a hand inside my bra. My nipples were gently tweaked at the same time, and I arched my back in delight.
Ryan untied the makeshift blindfold. “It’s covering too much of your beautiful face, babe.”
I looked up at him, his
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