Hunting A Homewrecker

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The woman they were after was in a house shrouded by pines. Rather, the woman after his, but the reversal in their minds was natural enough, given the last few days. Or was it?

As Russell edged their car around the gravel lane banking the lake, in the heatered air of the Honda he could feel Lauren’s muscles coiling beside him. She was tightening, her slender legs pressing together, arms crossed under her breasts, shelving them in a way he could never ignore, finger twisting a lock of chestnut brown hair. For a sullen moment the thought of her trying to talk him out of this in Tyra’s own driveway threatened his mind.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said in a way he knew to mean ‘No, but ask me later.’

They pulled up in front of the house, eyeing the dark windows in the mid morning costal haze. Russell killed the engine and was met by a silence so complete it felt loud. His own stomach tightened, and he sensed Lauren’s eyes on him. He could see the nerves he was showing in her gaze.

“Are you all right?” she asked, and smiled.

“I… I’ve never had to do anything this with a friend. Some jackass at a bar, sure…” he said. They smiled, remembering the date so long ago where he’d fended off a brooding lush. This is different.”

“We don’t’ have to do this,” Lauren offered, with a smile shy and hopeful. “We can still go.”

“True.” Russell rolled the idea in his head, but it was soon buried by the remembered motivations drawing them here. The image of Tyra’s lips brushing behind Lauren’s ear came onto his mind’s center stage, even though he had not witnessed it, and Lauren’s flushed embarrassment, giddiness, as she revealed Tyra’s indiscretion and said she hadn’t provoked it. She said Tyra claimed it was a birthday kiss. At that point it seemed like a sweet opportunity.

Then Russell’s own memory, of Tyra’s hand finding his on the patio banister at Lauren’s 34th birthday party. Her green eyes locking on his, steady with her special self-possession, daring him to leave his hand and daring him to take it. When Lauren’s mother saw him, he jerked it fast. He saw through his flushed haze Tyra’s smile, holding not amusement, not regret, not pity, not promise, but somehow recalling all those things. At that point, it seemed like a head game, or worse.

“I don’t really know how to go on with this… the way it is,” he said. “She feels like a third person has shoehorned into us. Ask your mother,” he added, as a pale joke. Her hand curled into his, a hot, svelte shimmy of fingers lacing between his. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” Lauren said, then surprised him by cracking her door open and lifting out. Russell exhaled and followed.

They walked steadily up the pebbled walk to front door, and smelled the rain that was coming after the mist. Lauren watched the windows, slowing her nervous stride so Russell could stay at her back. She wished they’d come at night, and she’d worn better than hiking pants and a sweater. She wanted to be in a dress and perfume, and she wanted to not be there at all. Before she knew it, she’d rapped on the window of the oak front door, and was in one of those moments, less and less frequent in her tenth year of marriage, when it seemed anything could spring from the upcoming minute.

Russell came up behind her, curling his arms around her, a palm on her stomach, a bolstering kiss on her shoulder. Lauren wondered what Tyra would have seen had she opened the door at that moment: Russell clutching her, Lauren’s nervous breathing, the way his grasp tightened the sweater fabric over her breasts. They spent most Sunday mornings in languid, caressing moods like this, but today they pulled themselves from bed for this grim task.

Before he could detangle, Tyra opened the door. Not exactly the front of rigid indignation they hoped to project.

Lauren could feel Russell’s frame stiffen behind her.

“Hi,” Tyra said, a lick of red hair pressed to her forehead, shoulder draped in a purple towel, the smell of the shower on her. Her smile changed. “Russell, you look like someone just stole your wife.”

In an instant, Lauren felt like a mouse between two ally cats. Russell’s chest and legs became like wood behind her.

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

Tyra’s smile widened and curled, “Yes. Why?”

Russell made the choice between silence and a naked unpleasantness, and held in.

Tyra stepped aside and knitted a curious frown. “Come on in.”

They stepped into the foyer, unsteady on where to head. Russell was feeling more wound by the moment. Lauren tried to start softly.

“Tyra, we…” she trailed off.

“I was just making some coffee,” Tyra said. She lifted the towel from her shoulders, rubbing her hair, flashing the perfect angles of her collarbone, the entwined muscles capping her arms and back. “Lets go into the kitchen.”

She lead them into the kitchen facing the lake, bright with white appliances, a windowed roof, and the gauzy light of morning sun shot through fog.

Tyra poured three cups, nimble hands moving over a cream and sugar tray, while Lauren Gaziantep Mutlu Son Escort took a seat on one of the tall stools at the counter. There was a silence they all considered while Tyra handed them their mugs. Russell took his, and somehow the edge was coming off, and he felt like a dupe. If a man had done this, he’d know exactly how to handle it, and of course Lauren wouldn’t even be here. But there was another possibility…

Tyra plunged in. “So what brings my favorite married couple this morning?”

Russell calmed himself before he spoke. “I think you know.”

Tyra’s smile returned in its most wicked form. “Goody.”

“What?” Russell said loudly. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am,” Tyra shot back.

“Then how could you do that to me?”

Tyra looked at Lauren, who sipped her coffee and tried to keep a sulk from her features.

“Do what?”

Russell tried to resume his calm. “Friday, you made me look like a letch at my Lauren’s party. Her mother was right here, when you put your hand on mine to show your little faux romance.”

Tyra’s smile drifted to a confused worry. “And that’s what’s pissing you off?”

“Yes. Making my wife’s mother think I’m fucking around on her daughter pisses me off. It has the tendency.”

“Now wait a minute,” Tyra started, “I…”

“And Lauren’s little birthday kiss?”

“What about it?” Tyra asked. She looked to Lauren.

“Well, it made me feel a little uncomfortable,” Lauren said.

“That’s not the impression I got at all,” Tyra said. “And I’m a smart girl.”

“Well, not so much the kiss,” Lauren allowed, “but that with this thing with Russell.”

Tyra looked from one to the other. “That was an accident.”

“Look, there are few secrets here,” Russell said. “We’re all friends. We all know what we’ve done and what we like. Tyra, Larry’s told me a few things we didn’t know. I’m not even sure I believe this, but we wouldn’t be the first couple you broke up. Given what’s happened, if you’re our friend, I think you have something to say to me.”

“The Hell you wouldn’t,” Tyra said. “You’d be the first marriage, and the first couple I’d intended to break up. Russell, I do have something to say to you. I’m not a goddamn home wrecker.”

There was a rough silence. Russell said nothing. He wasn’t eager to push in for a kill.

”Besides,” Tyra went on. “Have you known Larry to be honest about all things? Never slanting what he says with Larry’s brand of self-interest and… I’m not going to say obsession because he’s our friend. What I will say is not all men take rejection gracefully.”

Lauren stiffened at this, “But we saw this ourselves. You should have heard what my mother called me about yesterday. She gave me the number of a divorce lawyer.”

Tyra smiled, and seemed to see something. She leaned in, as if to have her words secluded not by eavesdroppers, but by what might be coming, and what those in the world outside might eventually think if they found out.

“Let me put it this way,” she said. Something in her voice, in the way she smiled at each one with a flirting eye, cut through the rising defenses. “Maybe it was my mistake to send my little messages while you were in different rooms.”

“We…” Lauren finally said. “Oh.”

Russell sipped his coffee, and it was very good. “Hmmm.”

He eyed Tyra, and saw Lauren lean back the way she did when she considered big news.

“Things may have just gotten a lot more interesting,” he said.

“Didn’t they?” Tyra smiled.

“Oh my,” Lauren said. They all laughed, and the residual tension broke like a champing flute.

The laughing continued. Coffee, three waffle breakfasts and more coffee were consumed in an atmosphere closer to the 3 a.m. hour of a high school slumber party than a formless Sunday morning. Tyra ate and watched Lauren and Russell exchange giggling looks, flinging her their most endearing smiles, then laughing at each other as they did it. Lauren then Russell tried and failed to bottle mood in a sentence that would express what they were beginning to feel.

“Sure, Russell and I have talked about this,” Lauren revealed. “Me more than Russell if you can believe it…”

“Another reason I married the greatest wife in history,” Russell said, and they all laughed.

“And I’d won’t lie and say you had never come into our speculations,” Lauren went on. “But we, maybe I, never really believed we’d… it just seemed to stay in fantasy. I never had the courage to try to pull it out of pillow talk. Whenever we really thought about doing it, the possibility for jealousy, regret, let down seemed too much. Who would we do it with? A friend of his, of mind, someone new… who could we trust. It seemed like chaos we didn’t want to inflict on our marriage.”

Tyra wound her hand through the orange juice cups and syrupy plates on the kitchen table. Lauren felt Tyra’s lacquered nails slip under the pads of her own fingers, and the back of Tyra’s small, strong hands warm her palm.

“And now here we are,” Tyra said.

Seeing this, it really came home to Russell. “From that to this. It’s like a tornado blew through a quarry and built the Louver.”

“A line like that, and you’re not even drinking,” Tyra said, her hands clasping and stroking Lauren’s. “One reason you always impressed me.”

“Are you flirting with my husband?” Lauren said with a playful indignation.

“Wait your turn honey. I’ll get to you.” Tyra said, displaying the subtly dominant persona which attracted them for so long.

Two of Tyra’s fingers smoothed over and pinched the skin of the back of Lauren’s hand. She squirmed and let out a little squeal. Silent, Tyra brought the back of Lauren’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss against the spot. Russell saw a comeback die on Lauren’s tongue as Tyra’s lips stayed pressed to her hand, curling around to the heel of her palm, then the tickling skin on her wrist.

The kitchen got very quiet. Russell could only hear Tyra’s kisses on Lauren’s hand, quiet with their soft suction, and Lauren’s breathing slowing and deepening.

His chair creaked, sounding like a shotgun. Tyra pulled back and stood, keeping Lauren’s hand in hers. Their fingers folded together, and she began to pull Lauren up. She gave Russell her best come hither eyes.

“Wait your turn honey. I’ll get to you.”

The front of Tyra’s bedroom was glass, a perfect transparent rectangle facing the lake. When they walked in, the glowering light from outside, the mist, heavy and falling, leeching the sky of yellow light, made the peach walls look slate orange. Not that anyone noticed.

Tyra walked into the bed and turned, her calves brushing the quilt. Lauren stepped close while Tyra held her hand out to Russell.

“When’s your birthday,” she said, bringing her lips teasingly close to his. All he could do was let out a small laugh from his throat as she curled one hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. At the same moment, Tyra let go of Lauren’s hand and moved her fingers up Lauren’s arm, around her throat, and let the tips of her nails trail up and down the soft hairs on the back of Lauren’s neck. Lauren inched closer, her breasts pressing the sides of her husband and her friend.

As Russell and Tyra broke their kiss, closed with the smack of one of those sweet, sucking kisses, Lauren saw the redness on Tyra’s chin and upper lip she herself got when Russell’s whiskers were like this.

The thought was gone when Tyra’s lips pressed her own. They were so much smoother than Lauren expected, feeling like a hot blush pressing, opening, tweaking and pushing against her mouth. She opened her own, and drew Tyra’s tongue in with flicking licks. The kiss grew, and Lauren splayed her fingers open and slid them into Tyra’s hair, pulling her closer. She felt another sensation, the pillowy pressure of her breasts pressed on Tyra’s. Tyra shifted, and Lauren could feel one breast press the cleft between her own, her left breast mashed softly on either side. Her other arm curled around the small of Tyra’s back in a new greed, and Lauren pulled her closer.

She was lost in the kiss when Russell pressed up behind her, his familiar chest firm against her back, his touch light against her skin as he brushed aside her hair and found the soft neck just under her hairline with his kiss. The contrast of the two types, one soft and new, the other firm and loved and known pushed a long moan out of Lauren.

Russell knew her messages, and what she wanted. He slid his hands around her pelvis, thrilled by Tyra’s stomach and crotch against the backs of his hands as he unbuttoned Lauren’s jeans and peeled them open. He slid them down as far as he could. Her shoes were still on.

Lauren could feel him rise again behind her, his bulge pressed perfectly in the division of her ass as his hands slid up her side, then around her front, palms pressed to her stomach and moving up, sliding between the crush of breasts as he undid her sweater buttons. When his fingers brushed past her nipples, Tyra’s teeth pulling softly on her lower lip, Lauren wondered if she would faint.

Almost like they’d choreographed it, Russell stepped back and Tyra broke their kiss. They knew Tyra had been with at least a few women, and Lauren took it as a good sign she was panting as she pulled back.

“This is going to be much better than I thought,” Tyra grinned.

“How good did you think it was going to be?” Russell asked.


Lauren felt her bra open behind her, and Russell’s hands curled around again, bringing her into a hug as his hands slid the lacy cups off her breasts. Tyra bite her lower lip, her eyes looking to Russell. He pulled away, and Tyra’s hand lifted before Lauren’s nipple. The brown smoothness of her areola knitted and crinkled like the skin of an orange while Tyra’s fingers were still an inch away. Lauren groaned as she felt the shaft of her nipple puff in Tyra’s gaze.

Tyra’s hand moved over the heavy curve of her breast, up to her shoulder, finally cupping her skin where throat and shoulder met. She pushed Lauren onto the bed.

Lauren saw them both standing over her, a wanting smile on Tyra’s lips and over her shoulder the same smile on Russell’s mouth. Tyra began unbuttoning her shirt. Behind Tyra, Lauren could hear the zipper of Russell’s jeans. Then she stopped thinking altogether.

Russell’s mind was as sensory blasted as his wife’s. Never a voyeur at heart, he was not one of those men rendered slack-jawed by two beautiful women pleasing one another. Nevertheless, over the next half hour he found himself slipping to the side, stretched out on the edge of the bed, letting the sights pour into him; Lauren’s grasping hands pressing over the swells of Tyra’s breasts; their kissing meander from gentle, swirling necking to hard, needful pulling, of opened mouths, nipping teeth, lips stretched like taffee; of Lauren being tongue fucked by Tyra.

And the sounds. Lauren’s familiar purring chuckles; Tyra’s gasps like arrow shots as both her nipples stiffened in the mouths of Russell and Lauren; Lauren’s near howls against Russell’s neck as Tyra closed her lips into a perfect circle over Lauren’s clit and sucked it in.

Russell’s lingering reticence was placated when, after a moment or two out of the tangle, one of both would pull him back in, though they obviously were not wanting for stimulation.

Soon he noticed a familiar pattern rising. While Lauren was never a docile lover, he’d learned over the years her wants were best satisfied when she was moved bodily around, pushed, pulled, goaded to some new delight with hands rather than words. What made her habits new was Russell’s competition from Tyra’s forceful handling. More than once his eye caught hers as Lauren writhed under their lips and hands. For a moment the terrible and somehow apt vision of a lion and lioness flirting with teeth and claws as they devoured the same antelope came to him. The possibility of satisfying another dormant fantasy occurred to him; meeting another dominant and finding out who came out on top.

The thought was most provoked as Tyra sprawled herself over Lauren, twisting kisses between Lauren’s shoulders, her nipples trailing up and down Lauren’s spine. Lauren’s breath was shallow gasps. Russell looked at Lauren’s face on the quilt, her left eye smiling at him through the drapes of her brown hair. He leaned close, his torso and chest pressing her side. His lips pressed Lauren’s back as well, his mouth moving over skin still slick with Tyra’s ministrations.

At this, Tyra’s cheek pressed his, gently but deliberately pushing him aside as her mouth came up to Lauren’s neck. There was a wicked glint in her eye, not a dare to see what he’d do, but an invitation. Russell leaned up, brushing Tyra’s hair away from her neck, and pressed his lips against the skin there. Tyra’s murmur spurred him on, and he slid his right hand into her hair as he did to Tyra what she was doing to his Lauren. Then he closed his hand, bunching it into a fist, pulling at Tyra’s hair just so, bringing out of her a roiling groan. His hand balled, he began to move her off Lauren, rolling her onto he back, as he kissed his way across his wife’s shoulders and flung his own wicked smile at Tyra.

She responded by grabbing a fist of his hair and pulling him over Lauren onto herself. His hand came to her wrist, pulled it away from his head, and pressed it hard to the quilt. When she raised her other arm, he pinned it too. Lauren flipped her head to see what where all the lips had gone, and saw her husband tilt his head towards Tyra.

“Help me,” he said.

Lauren crawled up, seeing Tyra pressed to the bed. Russell ignored Tyra’s smirk and dipped his head to her throat, licking the hollow, feeling Lauren’s cheek slide against his as she pecked up and down the side of Tyra’s neck. Russell could feel her squirming slacken.

He lifted, and placed Lauren’s hands over Tyra’s wrists. By now Tyra was letting herself up for this, and her fingers crossed into Lauren’s, holding her friend’s hands hard. Russell began moving down her body. He loved her curves, similar but different from Lauren’s, fit but with more weight than would make a gym nazi comfortable. He kissed past her breasts, taking her nipple between his teeth for a moment before sliding down further, his thick cock sliding down her thigh, then calf.

His face came level with her pelvis. He didn’t know if he should count it as a dominant victory, but there was a satisfaction as she opened her legs for him. Pressing his cheek against her thatch of red hair, he rested his head there as he smelled her. She was ready for more than his licks, as her foot rubbing purposefully rubbing his cock signaled, but he wasn’t ready to let the pleasure torture end.

Russell smoothed a hand over one thigh, then slid it up to her soft triangle, the pads of his fingers pressing over her soft curls as his hand again closed into a fist. It was a move Lauren rarely indulged him in, but from Tyra’s moan, reverberated through a deep kiss with Lauren, he knew it hit home. He closed his hand further and moved it gently up, pulling her hairs towards her stomach just enough to bring her thickening clit further out of its hood. He opened his mouth over her, breathing heated puffs onto it, bringing rising moans and squirms from her.

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