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Seconds later, his phone buzzed. MMM. ME 2! WHILE UR AWAY WITH UR WIFE, HOPE YOU’LL BE THINKING OF MY TONGUE WEDGED IN BETWEEN THE MANLY GLOBES OF UR ASS AS I’M STROKING UR DICK IN MY SOFT HANDS. MY PUSSY IS SO WET THINKING ABOUT IT
“Fuck,” he hissed, pressing his legs shut, then spreading them open; he fanned his legs a few more times, the inner part of his muscular thighs pressing into the thick width of his dick; cramped up in his boxer briefs, like a caged beast desperate for release.
Kendall felt his scrotum swelling with lust. He hadn’t nutted in almost—he glanced down at his Tag Heuer watch—eleven hours. He knew if he didn’t end these sordid text messages soon, he’d wind up having to slip into one of the stalls in the men’s bathroom and rub out a quick nut, before they were shuttled to their plane, just to ease the pressure.
/> His balls were heavy and tender and begging for release.
That’s what sexting with her did to him. Wet his drawers with his arousal, with his hungry need and freaky want for her.
Persia.
He didn’t necessarily consider her a sidepiece, although they hooked up at least once or twice a month over the last two years, but they were definitely friends, of sort, with benefits. Though he didn’t have feelings for her (other than having a fondness and mutual respect and admiration for her sexual confidence)—or at least he didn’t think it was any more than that—they shared a special connection. Their sexual chemistry was intense. She was sexy as fuck, freaky as fuck, and chill as fuck.
Everything his wife wasn’t.
He’d met Persia nearly three years ago when she’d replied to an sex ad he’d posted on a sex site called Nastyfreaks4u.com looking for an open-minded woman for no-strings, stress-free freaky fun that included sucking his dick, licking his ass, and stroking his prostate—yes, he was a heterosexual man who enjoyed having his asshole licked. What was the problem with that?
Nothing, he thought.
But his wife, and so many other closed-minded women like her, didn’t share that same sentiment. They saw a man enjoying ass play as being either gay or on some down-low shit. That was some straight-up bullshit. He couldn’t speak for anyone else, but he was neither. And, he learned that he wasn’t alone in his desires. There were other straight women-loving men out there, like himself, who enjoyed having their assholes licked and their prostates stroked.
So he would post ads from time to time—not anymore, though, since he and Persia connected. But, in the past, when his dark desires crept up in him and they needed to be indulged, he’d post an ad; like the one he’d posted the day he’d met Persia.
And out of all the responses he’d received, she’d been the only one who captured his attention. And held his interest.
And she’d kept it since.
NO DOUBT, he finally replied back. DEF GONNA KEEP THAT WET TONGUE N THEM SEXY LIPS ON THE BRAIN
“Who is that you’re texting?”
Shit.
“It’s work,” Kendall lied, glancing up at his wife, who was wearing a frown on her smooth brown face. Krista wasn’t the prettiest woman, but she wasn’t butt-ugly either. She was simply unassuming. Plain-looking. However, what she lacked in the looks department, she made up for in other areas.
Krista huffed. “Don’t they know you’re on vacation?”
He looked over at his wife, sheepishly, as she plopped down beside him. “I’m not officially on vacation—if that’s what you wanna call it—until we board the plane.”
Krista rolled her eyes. “Well, you need to officially let them know that you’re off duty for the next six weeks, starting right now. And I mean it, Ken.”
Krista snatched open her pocketbook, and pulled out her own cell to check for any missed calls or messages. There were none. “You’re the one who convinced me to go on this couple’s retreat for six damn weeks—having me use up all of my time at work.” She shook her head, trying to bite back her annoyance.
This whole idea of Kendall telling her he wanted more intimacy, more excitement, between them was a bunch of foolishness. As far as Krista was concerned, Kendall got more sex than most married men, so what more did he want from her?
How more intimate did he want her to be? Did he want her to fuck him upside down from a chandelier? Swing from a damn stripper pole? Invite another woman into their sacred bed? Suck and swallow his damn dick?
No.
She was not about to ratchet up her sex life to appease some selfish-ass man, who couldn’t appreciate all the good loving she’d been giving him. Letting him use her body up. Fuck her pussy inside out whenever he wanted. Hell no. And she knew good and goddamn well—even though he’d hinted around the subject several times over the course of their marriage—Kendall wasn’t even thinking she was going to consider letting him stick his fingers in her butt, or lick her there. It was nasty. And unnatural for a man to want his tongue wedged in the crack of some woman’s ass. And she wasn’t even about to go there with him.
Her asshole was off limits.
Krista looked over at Kendall. “The least you can do is disconnect from work and that damn phone.”
Krista was right. He had been the one who broached the subject of taking part in a couple’s retreat with two other couples on a remote, private island in the middle of the South Pacific Ocean. Krista had been reluctant, more like resistant. But he was persistent, and still very patient, presenting it like a chance of an opportunity to take a long-needed vacation. But secretly, he hoped that working with a sex therapist/relationship coach might help loosen the screws on his wife’s prudish ways.
“I don’t need no damn therapy,” she’d said to him when he’d approached her with the idea of doing couples work. “Are you unhappy? Because if so, then you’re the one who needs the therapist.”
