The older one, her hunky bisexual boyfriend, was sitting on the other’s chest with his knees pressing down on his arms. “Go ahead, say it,” he said, finally hearing the word he was waiting for. Then, “I win.”

The older one leaned down then and covered the mouth of his combatant, taking things to the next level.

She was enjoying this little scuffle of theirs, all the more so since they were both naked, with hard-ons to light up the night sky. What a good idea she’d had to suggest her boyfriend invite one of his clubbing buddies up for a romp. All for her pleasure, plus apparently, more than a little of their own.

She had asked him before how it was different, making love to a man versus a woman. “It’s rougher – more like two animals,” he had said. She wanted to see for herself.

When the younger one had arrived at her loft earlier that night, she knew right away this was inspired. He shimmied out of his jeans and already his thick cock was arching upward. He was slight and a little androgynous, but his cock reminded her of one on a horse, too big for his coltish body. She could imagine making quick work of it but had already been warned that the young one wasn’t interested in girls.

Her boyfriend displayed his elegant, tapering version that looked more like a Roman column.

They started out pulling off each other’s T-shirts, tugging them over their heads with a shake, revealing glistening chests – one lean and toned, the other muscular and bulked up.

Her boyfriend reached around to the back of the younger one’s neck and pulled him to him. He stopped with his face just inches from the other’s for a split second before opening his mouth wide and yanking the other’s mouth to his. It looked more like devouring than kissing.

She went over to turn on some music and hit “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.” She wasn’t sure of the choice; it sounded kind of boy-girl. But as the two men started swaying together to the beat, her boyfriend turning the younger one around and pulling that lissome back and ass into the curve of his crotch, she couldn’t help but notice the song’s words:

“Ain’t no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed /’Cause we were barely 17 and we were barely dressed.”

How doubly blessed her boyfriend was – to enjoy the pleasures of both men and women.

From behind, he reached his hands around to the younger one’s chest, grabbing his nipples and tugging them. Then, starting at the nape of his neck, he ran his tongue down the man’s spine, ending in the dewy small of his back. He paused there, caressing the orbs of the younger one’s buttocks.

Who better than a gay guy to be an ass man.

The younger one then pulled away and reached over to his jeans, now crumpled on the floor, pulling out a condom. He placed the package between his teeth and turned to the older one mockingly.

“Oh, now you’re getting cocky, huh?” said the boyfriend. “You’re lucky I even chose you tonight from that crowd. There were a lot of hot guys checking me out. It’s just chance I picked you, you stuck-up prick.”

“Yeah? Then how come I felt your eyes on my ass the whole evening – glued there, every move I made on the dance floor?”

“You think that’s what I was doing, huh,” said the other with a big grin on his face, grabbing the younger one around his narrow hips and tackling him to the floor. “Maybe I’d just never seen someone wiggle their butt so much when they tried to dance.”

Then they were on each other, laughing, legs wrapping every which way, almost crashing into the coffee table as they tumbled together. She had to resist stopping them. After all, no one was going to get hurt.

Then, “Uncle,” and the fighting turned into kissing. She moved to the platform bed nearby to watch.

Her boyfriend looked down at his vanquished foe, bent the younger one’s legs up in the air and pulled them on either side of him. He knelt between them, pausing there a second, and locked eyes with his prey. He grabbed the condom and opened it with his teeth, smoothing it onto his cock with a squeeze of something from a tube as if he were presenting a short piece of performance art.

Then in one motion, he slammed his cock into the younger one, who arched his back and groaned loudly. He barely had time to catch his breath before he was pounded again and again.

She could see the younger one’s engorged fire hose jutting up. She got wet just looking at it, and her cunt throbbed watching the two men slam together. It was all she could do to keep from rubbing herself.

Her boyfriend tilted the younger one’s ass up closer to him and pulled himself further between the other’s legs, thrusting harder and faster. Sweat was dripping from his chin now and the air held the damp scent of men. They were grunting together like a runaway train chugging out of control.

Then, just when she expected a crash, her boyfriend pulled out. He tugged the younger one up and, digging his elbow into the other’s back, flipped him over onto his stomach. They meshed together, two matching curves on the floor. The boyfriend pulled up the other’s hips and maneuvered himself between his cheeks. He resumed the rhythm then, but it was more sensual, a sinuous wave that pulsed through both their bodies at once, rising in frequency until her boyfriend stretched his upper body up and away from the other in a gasp toward the ceiling, while the younger one buried his face in the rug with a moan.

It was over. Before she knew what was happening, the younger one had pulled on his jeans and shirt and was heading to the door. “Next time,” he said on the way out.

Her boyfriend came over to her then – standing at the foot of the bed still naked, still half-erect. He started crawling up her body.

“Take me like you did him,” she said. “Rough, I mean, like an animal.”

“I don’t need to take you like a boy. I want to take you like a woman,” he said.

She spread her legs and lifted them into the air. “How about a little of both?”

The minute they closed the door to the bedroom, she set upon the fly of his jeans. His erection was already straining at the worn denim. She unzipped him and swooned over the gorgeous sight in front of her. So smooth and pink, it looked ready for a photo shoot for a glossy magazine.

Instead she went to work, swirling her tongue over his velvety head and spiraling her hands around his shaft. Even though he suggested at one point that she stop if she wanted him to fuck her, she wanted to finish him off with her mouth. She knew how much he liked it and she liked hearing the moans and exclamations he made then that he didn’t make when he came inside her. He didn’t object a second time.

Sure enough, he lost all coherence as she sucked on his hefty balls and ran her tongue up the seam between them. He even let the word “love” tumble out of his mouth at one point, though she wasn’t sure if he said he loved her or just loved what she was doing. She took it all with a grain of salt at this point. She finished him off with a concentrated assault on the head and some vigorous pumping on the shaft as he grabbed at her hair and groaned with abandon.

“What about you?” he asked afterward. “What would you like me to do for you?”

“How about you just lie back and I’ll show you what I like?” she suggested.

They’d had sex several times, and he had been eager to please her each time. But there were always tricks that only a woman knew about herself and what brought her pleasure. And she’d had so little good sex for so many years, she had caught on early that the only way she’d be satisfied is if she took matters into her own hands. Those hands had gotten pretty skilled over the years.

“God, I love seeing you touch yourself,” he said. This seemed to be a new thing for him. Maybe most women didn’t have to do this if they had a guy around. Lucky them. Maybe they just felt self-conscious. Well, she’d gotten past that, hadn’t she?

He was already grinning as she lay back on the pillows, unbuttoned her blouse and revealed a lacy demi-bra, black with pink rosebuds. She ran her fingers over the scalloped edge of one cup, down the gentle slope into her cleavage, already dewy, and up the other side.

She skimmed her hands down over her breasts, leaving on the bra to get her money’s worth out of it. She moved lightly down over her stomach, past her belly button to the edge of her jeans. She scooted the waistband down to show the matching string bikini. She toyed with the lace there and lifted her eyes to him in a tease. He was already hard again and his eyes were dancing.

“I can’t believe you,” she laughed.

She returned to business, slipping her fingers under the panties and up and over her mound, light with hair. She was already aroused from her oral exploration of his cock, so the second she got to her clit, the electricity was on. She knew she had a head start on things and it wouldn’t take long to complete this little lesson for him.

That first delicious sensation was enough to elicit a sigh, and that was all it took for him to spring over to her and start kissing her on her stomach. He kissed around the sides of her breast and pulled down the lace to suck at a nipple.

“You drive me crazy,” he told her.

“Thanks. But just watch for now,” she said.

He leaned back again, and she removed her panties so he could see her hand in motion. She first put two fingers on either side of her clit and rubbed up and down. As the feeling spread, she began making circles around a larger area. In their previous times together, he had always paid attention there, but often he would poke at the thing like it was the on/off button on the TV. It wasn’t quite the action she needed, but she decided to show him a more effective alternative rather than say anything.

As she got more aroused she let her head tip back. In between the circles, she ran a finger down to the entrance of her vagina, circled it, then returned again to her clit, pushing down harder and moving her hand faster. Her hand swept over the whole area now, pushing into the bone that sheltered that exquisite font of pleasure.

She opened her eyes to look at him and saw him stroking his hard cock, murmuring encouragement to her. She closed her eyes for the final stretch, picturing him with his cock in hand and thinking of his excitement growing along with hers. If she were alone, she could conjure up scenes from their previous lovemaking. As she got close, she would often think of him and the things he said right before he came, always full of more passion than sense. That surrender was usually enough to push her over the edge.

But today she just had to think of him there next to her, so excited by watching her, and she felt the warmth start to spread in that wonderful moment when the mind can let go and let the body take over. Her orgasm washed over her and she gave herself up to it, arching her back and pushing into her hand. As it subsided, she removed her hand, wet and slick now, leaving behind even more wetness that – judging from the leer in his eyes – would not go to waste for long.

All he’d had to do was call her, just like he’d said he would. He’d been the one to ask her out, after all.

He could have emailed; she had three accounts. Or there was texting. How hard was it these days to get a message to someone that you couldn’t make a dinner date?

But there’d been no call or message. When she finally swallowed her pride and called him, no answer. Her email the next day, lightened with a touch of humor, went unanswered. How stupid she felt at this point in her life to be checking the phone, checking her inbox. This was just what she’d told her teenage daughter not to do – sit and wait for some guy to call.

She was already angry when she pulled into the parking garage at work and started unloading some boxes of magazines from her trunk.

And she just got madder: Here she was in a new outfit that she’d picked out with him in mind, imagining how he’d react to the ribbed top that hugged the gentle curves of her breasts and waist. All that ending in a low-rise miniskirt and a pair of high-heel boots. God, what a waste. She could feel her nipples grow hard – either from the chill of the garage or the thought of what he would typically want to do at such a sight.

She leaned into her car trunk to reach one last box, making her skirt ride up and exposing her thighs.

“Can I help you?” said his voice behind her.

* * *

She had read that one reason women keep going back to men who mistreat them is that the makeup sex is so good. These guys knew how to turn on the sweet talk and flattery and promises. This wasn’t abuse exactly, but it was rude, thoughtless, heartless even. He must have known she was hurting, waiting for an explanation that never came.

Or could he really just have been busy? How was she supposed to know whether she was overreacting?

“You said you’d call,” she told him. “This was something you said you wanted to do. But you didn’t call and I felt forgotten.”

“Look. Here’s what happened,” he said. “I thought I’d have time after my son’s lacrosse game. But then the team went out for pizza, and I was going to call you from the restaurant, but it was loud, and by the time we got home it was late.”

She still suspected he had just forgotten.

Another flash of anger ran up her body. She closed the car trunk and marched off. Those boots sure were made for walking, and she bet they looked damn good walking away from him. Oh, where she’d like to put this pointy toe right now.

“Please don’t walk away,” he said. “I’m hard just talking to you.”

That weakened her knees right there, but she wasn’t going to give in. She turned to walk into the building, but he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear. But it wasn’t the words that got to her. It was his breath gentle on her face, that sweet breath that brought back a rush of their closest moments together. There was nothing but good in those memories.

He pushed the button for the elevator. The doors opened right away and he pulled her inside, pushing the bottom button. Within a second of the doors closing he was on her mouth, his hand moving up her thigh and under her skirt. Just as fast, he was into her panties and pushing a finger up into her cunt like he was staking his claim. As soon as she gasped, he pulled out, smoothing her skirt as the doors opened to the garage basement, dim and deserted except for voices and laughter floating down through the stairwells.

They walked behind the elevator shaft, where he kissed her again, taking her lower lip gently between his teeth. She felt herself soften to him, her body opening up in warmth and wetness.

But first, she wanted to make her point. She leaned back against the concrete and lifted her foot slowly, pushing him back with her boot. She pressed the pointy toe against the fly of his jeans, then moved it under his balls while she looked him in the eye.

“You treat me like that again … .”

She pulled him back to her and reached inside his jeans for his cock. She noticed he wasn’t wearing underwear. Sexy. Or was that just another divorced dad thing – less laundry to do?

She wet her index finger with her tongue and ran it slowly around the rim of his thick cock. His eyes glazed over and his head tipped back. She bent down to see a shimmering bead of liquid. She loved that visual evidence of his desire for her and its salty smell. She licked up the underside of the shaft to the ridge just under the head, making her tongue hard there, then soft as she swirled around the head. If this was the last time, she wanted to give him something to remember her by.

She cupped his balls, tugging them gently. She reached underneath them to massage her knuckle into that soft spot just beyond, eliciting a moan. Then she reached down instinctively to press against herself in rhythm with her mouth on him, building her own excitement by watching his.

He pulled her up to him and hoisted her against the concrete column with her legs around his hips. He pushed into her and started to raise her skirt when she spotted a security camera overhead.

“We might have spectators,” she said, and pointed up at their electronic intruder.

“We don’t want to end up on YouTube,” he laughed. “I can just see the title: Hot parking garage sex.”

He took her hand and led her deeper into the basement, past old desks, filing cabinets and broken swivel chairs. He stopped in front of a drafting table and spun her around to face away from him. He circled her breasts from behind, then grazed her waist, pulled up her skirt and ran his tongue along the small of her back. She bent over the table, knowing just what awaited her. Her breathing got faster as she spread her legs, pushing her ass up in the air for him.

In a second, he unzipped his pants, pulled aside the crotch of her panties, spread her cunt and plunged into her with a groan. “Oh God,” was all she could say, over and over, as she spread her arms out in front of her, grasping at the table as he slid in and out. She stretched one leg back and wrapped it around one of his to improve the angle.

He reached around to press his fingers against her mound, sending shivers up her body. He rubbed her that way, pounding his cock into her faster and faster from behind until she exploded in waves that shook her so hard her hands clutched the table for balance. A second later his head fell forward against her neck, wet with sweat.

“You feel so good,” he growled. “But I want to fuck you again face to face so I can kiss you this time and watch you come.”

She reached down again to his jeans and couldn’t help but wonder:

How hard was it?

But that day, as she sat at her desk at work, the sun came through the window, lighting up the soft blond hairs against the tan curve of her arm. How summery and sexy it looked, she thought. But how much longer will she look this way? she wondered. And most puzzling, how could she be married to a man who never noticed things like this about her?

Her husband wasn’t a bad guy. But he wasn’t wired to appreciate sex. At first she wrote it off to inexperience, nervousness, his religious upbringing. It’ll get better when we’re married and finally living together, she told herself. It didn’t.

Now, 15 years later, she realized she had traded away something precious when she married for what she thought were the right reasons. Her husband would go to bed alone or stay up late on the computer, and resist any of her efforts – always her efforts – to make love. The few times a year he would relent, she would reach down after 10 minutes of foreplay to find him limp.

Increasingly, she had sought out what was missing. In movies about mismatched but passionate lovers, books full of steamy, impromptu encounters, and daydreams – oh, the daydreams. In the one that popped into her head most often, she was taken in a moment of uncontrollable desire by some previously overlooked coworker who skillfully displayed his pent-up demand for her in the office supply room.

But one day, what was missing in her life was replaced by more than just daydreams.

Before she realized it, the highlight of her day had become the moment the guy down the hall at work would stop by her desk to ask about her day and compliment her. “Your legs are so tan and toned. Did you go swimming this morning?” he’d ask. It became a joke between them that any time one of them mentioned a favorite restaurant or museum; the other would say “It’s mine too!”

She thought of him even away from the office and would feel one corner of her mouth curl up into a smile. People started asking why she was so happy. When she got to the office he would look at her with eyes that sparkled and she would melt inside.

“Does that guy have a crush on you?” her boss asked. She denied it with a scoff but realized immediately the truth in it. The next day when he stopped by her desk, she asked him not to anymore. She thought he’d figure out why, but he pressed for an explanation. “Because I’m starting to look forward to it a little too much,” she said and walked out of the room to the terrace outside, tears stinging her eyes.

She leaned on the railing, looking out at the planes landing against the sunset. Suddenly she was aware of someone behind her, and before she could turn around, she felt strong hands on her shoulders, rubbing up the back of her neck. She instinctively leaned back into his body and closed her eyes as his arms wrapped around her. She became aware that he was growing hard against her. She glided her hands along his forearms up to where his sleeves were rolled up before he spun her around to face him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. “Yes,” she answered. He moved his face toward hers and, with a second of teasing hesitation, hovered over her lips. Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue pressing into her with urgency. He pulled her left leg up around his waist, bringing his erection hard against her so she almost lost her balance. Before she could recover, his hands were reaching up the back of her thighs under her jean skirt, pushing under her panties to cup her on both sides, pulling her toward him.

“I want you,” he said, and it didn’t take a moment’s thought for her to echo, “I want you too.”

He took her hand and pulled her a few yards away, around the corner where no one leaving the building could see them, and pressed her up against the wall with his body. He pulled up her skirt again, leaned down and kissed her bare stomach. “I saw you wal k in today in your short skirt and your tight T-shirt and I knew I had to have you,” he said. “You are my fantasy.”

A smile escaped from her lips at that, but it turned into a gasp a second later as he reached into her panties and slid a thick finger into her in one motion. She moaned, half expecting it to hurt, but realizing she was already slick inside. He pushed up into her several times, making her head fall back in surrender. Then he vibrated his finger inside her as the rest of his hand pressed against her and she cried out. Just when she felt like her knees were going to give way, he pulled her through a door and into a small office.

‘This is how bad I want you,” he said and placed her hand gently onto his erection. She couldn’t help but stroke the length of it as it strained against his jeans. He sat down in a desk chair, opened his fly and pulled out a cock about half again as thick as any she’d seen, its velvety h ead glistening. She didn’t wait to be shown what to do next. She swung a leg over his, lifted her skirt and tugged away the crotch of her panties before lowering herself over him.

‘Are you sure about this?” he asked. She just nodded. With one thrust from him, she slid down his length. She stopped to catch her breath, and he lifted up her chin to look into her eyes. Still looking at her, he thrust into her again as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. They moved like that together, with one or the other shifting angles for a whole new rush of pleasure, laughing sometimes as the wheeled chair tried to scoot around under them.

They rocked together faster and faster. As he started to moan, she took his hand and pressed it hard against her and felt a wave roll over her, finishing with a jolt to her whole body. He arched up into her and squeezed her tight against him. Then their bodies relaxed as he rubbed her back. She felt him still hard inside her. She smiled at him in question, and he said, “I’m going to stay hard as long as I’m around you.” And, as subsequent encounters in various private and semi-private spaces in the building would prove, he did.