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"David, I'm not fucking him. I'm not lying to you. I'm really not."We were sitting outside in our screened lanai on a hot, summer, Sunday afternoon. Linda lay in the lounge chair beside me nursing her second iced tea. I pretended to be immersed in a new paperback, but couldn't take my eyes off her. Her pale skin didn't tan well, but on weekends she poured herself into these tiny little shorts, I was sure just to keep me horny.Sex on Sunday afternoons had become a ritual for us - for her, really. I'd watch while she pranced around in front of me for half the day, then wait for her to slither next to me and slide her hand up the leg of my shorts. It hadn't come to that yet, but it was only a little after noon.A small tuft of hair escaped the inner leg of her shorts along with a portion of plump labia. She rarely shaved down there, and I wondered how many others would be blessed with the same view before summer's end.I had made her a few crop tops from some of her worn out T-shirts. The colors had been bleached to pale grays and whites from years of her daily runs, and many of the seams had opened into ragged holes, so she refused to wear them any longer in public. Now they were cool and comfortable around the house in July and August, and she knew I loved seeing her in them. The bottom edges where I had cut a foot of material Ataşehir Escort away continued to fray, making them shorter and shorter over time. I loved the way they exposed the lower curves of her breasts, and then much more when she reached for a cup or dish from one of our kitchen cabinets.I took a chance and asked again. "So, if you didn't fuck him, and haven't since that night, then at least tell me more about him. How did you meet Stephan, or find him, or whatever it took to get him to agree to something like that?"It was one of her secrets I hadn't felt comfortable asking more about, but half a year had passed since that night, and seeing her there half-naked beside me had me wondering just how much of her he saw in that infamous hotel room. Had they fucked or not? She still hadn't committed to an answer that wasn't sometimes vague or misleading."I don't think you're fucking him. I'd just like some straight answers to a few honest questions. Finally. After all this time. I don't need to know - I want to know. It's old baggage - I can take it."She turned her head and studied me for a while, sighed, then told me, "Okay - I guess it's time.""Stephan isn't Stephan - he's Michael, an old friend from college. And I mean 'friend'. We met at a campus campfire when I first started Ataşehir Escort Bayan back then in the fall. He was an upperclassman when I was a freshman, and he kind of took me under his wing. He was a big deal on campus - class president, wealthy family, and the ultimate catch for all the prissy sorority bunnies. I'm not sure what he saw in me - we just kind of clicked. I think he majored in both English and business, but he wanted to be an actor. I heard he moved to New York and almost made it off-Broadway. Later he moved back and opened his own publishing house here in the city. Our company does art layouts for his books and publications. I met him again two years ago at a job fair. I was working our booth when he happened by and he took me to lunch. We see each other now and then through work.""So how does Stephan, or Michael, or whoever, go from being just an old friend to fingering you in front of me in a public bar?""David, he and I fucked a few times in college, but mostly we were just friends. Nothing's happened since. He's still a close friend. When I found the pictures of Joanna I was devastated. I needed a friend, and Michael was there for me. One day at lunch I told him that I was so angry it would serve you right if I did the same to you. When he asked if I Escort Ataşehir was serious, I was shocked. He's still a gorgeous, sexy man, and it was tempting, but I just couldn't fuck him out of anger. He said he'd done some acting, and that he could make you believe I had fucked him out of spite if I thought it would help me heal. I turned him down - I was afraid of what you might do. But later, when I found the pain wasn't going away, I asked him to help. It was either that, or leave you.""And, how did he help? I can imagine a few ways...""And you'd imagine wrong, David. He wrote a script. That was his doing. We rehearsed. I wanted him to fondle me in front of you. I wanted it to be so real you'd choke on it. So we did all that together, just a few times until I remembered most of the lines. He was much better at it than I was, and he promised he'd prompt me when the time came to do it."I won't lie to you David. There were times when he put his hands on me that I wished he would tear my clothes off and fuck me. I'm pretty sure he felt the same way. The second time we rehearsed I could see he was hard every minute. I tried to remember what his cock was like back then, back when I had it in my hands, and, well, everything else we did with it. He was there, so close to me when we rehearsed, unbuttoning my blouse, stroking my leg - I'd look down at his lap and think there was only a belt and a zipper between me and his hard cock, and that it would be so easy to just take it out, suck it again, and have it in me one more time. But neither of us had that last bit of courage to go through with it. And, I was still hurting so much.