Kevin Has an Idea (Rachel)
I moan in my car, parked in my home’s tiny one car garage. The little vibrator does its job and I squeeze my thighs together. It’s not enough, but anything so I don’t rip Kevin’s head off.
I pull my purse from the passenger seat and head in. Another grueling day at the office has me ready to drink half a bottle of wine. I pass a wall mirror and a haggard version of myself stares back at me. My dyed, dark red hair slips out of my braid in multiple spots and my green eyes don’t sparkle quite as bright as they did this morning. *…This morning. Try the past five years.*
When I get into the kitchen, Kevin stands at the stove with an open box of mac & cheese.
*Are you fucking serious? This again?*
Kevin looks over to me, blue eyes, bright with excitement. His thinning blond hair is combed slightly forward to hide the receding hairline. He’s only thirty-two, three years younger than me, yet he looks ten years my senior. He smiles big and bright, but it doesn’t reach me like it used to. It’s so weird how much it used to send thrills fluttering through my stomach and into my heart, but now, it feels so… useless.
“Hey, hun. I just got home a little bit before you. Thought I’d get something going.” He gestures to the pot.
“Yeah, great. Let me go change.” It sounds hollow, even to me.
“Everything okay?” Kevin frowns.
“Yeah, just a rough day at work.” I smile back at him as I go up the stairs.
I unzip my skirt and let it fall to the floor. Part of me wants to rip my blouse off but I just unbutton it. I used to come back from work and have sex. When I first met Kevin, it was great. Like almost every other partner I’ve been with, Kevin was good in bed. Good, not great. I’ve come to accept that some are anomalies and others shouldn’t be held to their standards. Still, sex is sex and I haven’t had sex for nearly two months. Even then, I had to finish myself off. Again, it was like that with every guy I’ve dated after my first. I’d only kept Kevin around for so long because of how old I am. Turning thirty had scared me. People tell me that I look like I’m in my twenties, but men wanted women who were actually in their twenties.
“Hey,” Kevin says behind me, making me jump from my skin.
I instinctively pull the loose blouse back over my chest but realize how silly that is. Kevin’s seen me naked for the past seven years. Me in my bra and panties isn’t something new. I leave the panties on, they’re fine, but I lose the bra. As nice as it is, after today, the wire in the G-cups is pressing into my skin too much. I toss the work-stained clothes into the laundry basket and pull the hair tie out of my ponytail. A few strokes pull the French braid out.
“Listen, Rach, I…” Kevin huffs and shakes his head. “Look, I know things haven’t been great lately. Really, they haven’t been great for a while, but I want to make things better for us.”
I skip the afternoon leggings and jump straight into pj bottoms, my favorite set when I’m feeling down, the black ones with flames and skulls. The day has been a little too much not to go straight to the snuggly. A momentary debate between going braless versus a sports bra and I choose the bra. The girls still have a grade-A lift to them, how they’ve defied gravity after all these years is a mystery, I’m not complaining, but I’m also not counting on it to continue. Going braless is a surefire way to see them start their inevitable, saggy decline.
“This sounds familiar.” I frown and slip a matching black tank over my head. I pull my hair out the back and turn to Kevin. Without my heels, we’re the same height at five-eight, but for some reason it always feels like I’m looking down at him, like he’s shrunk somehow. “We’ve been through this. It’s…I just don’t think this is working.”
Kevin’s face doesn’t turn sour like it did last time this conversation happened. Instead, his eyes hold a knowing look, and his lips actually slide into a smile. “I’ve been thinking about that. I think that there are somethings that work, and there are somethings that don’t. Come on. You can admit that right? We both have careers. Sure, mine’s on pause right now, but I’ll find work here soon. That’s what brought us together in the first place. We love our work. It’s the bedroom we have our issues in.”
*We?* I mentally scoff.
“I’ve been having some performance issues. It’s hard for a guy to admit that, but I’m willing to admit it. And I think I have a solution.”
*What is it this time?* He tried taking dick pills to make him bigger, he tried taking dick pills to make him stay hard. At least the latter worked, but he still couldn’t satisfy like he used to.
“I was thinking we invite someone into the bedroom.” He spreads his hands in the air as if he’s detailing some master vision of the future. “We love each other, right? I’m man enough to admit when I can’t fix a problem on my own. Like when the garbage disposal broke. I don’t know what to do with that, so we got a plumber to come out and fix it. This problem that we’re having, I tried to fix, but it’s clearly not working.” He moves over to me and takes my hands into his. He looks at me with big eyes full of sincerity. “It’s time to call in some help. I was thinking that we could hire someone who could satisfy your sexual desires.”
Chapter 2: Ready or Not (Rachel)
“What?” I nearly shout, pulling my hands from his. “You want hire a prostitute to fuck me?”
While gross, the idea of getting some kind of stud to fuck sounds nice. Maybe after I finish the breakup, I’ll look for someone like that. A real stud in his early to mid-twenties who has a MILF or mommy fetish.
“Not a prostitute,” Kevin says. “Well, we would be paying them, but not like an *actual*, *professional* prostitute. Just someone that we meet, someone you feel comfortable with, we tell them we want to spice things up in our relationship, so they know that we’re the couple and they’re the add-on.”
“The last guy I dated suggested the same thing.” I cross my arms under my breasts. Out of the other seven men I’ve dated, it wasn’t just the last to suggest it. Four of them had asked. Though, I was never with any of them as long as I’d been with Kevin.
“But you said you’ve never tried a three way,” Kevin says with an almost ‘got ya’ attitude. “Maybe this will work.”
“No. I don’t think fucking you and someone-”
“No, no, no! I wasn’t suggesting at the same time.” Kevin places soft hands on my shoulders with a comforting squeeze. “I can be in the room or not, whichever you prefer. The idea is, the only real thing wrong with our relationship is the sex. I’m not performing to a level that satisfies you.”
*You and every other guy I’ve dated since college.*
“But if you were satisfied, you’d be so much happier. The little things wouldn’t get to you so much. We can work.” He smiles at me with real hope in his eyes. “We just need a little help.”
I hadn’t considered him not wanting to participate. Maybe this could be the answer to my curse.
After my first boyfriend, I’d never found someone who could keep me satisfied after that initial new phase. It didn’t matter what I tried, new positions, toys, movies, nothing. It was like my pussy sucked their ability to fuck out of them and they always started to fail. Maybe if I just hired someone to fuck, I could have that new phase over and over with different men while still having Kevin as my actual partner.
The idea suddenly sprouts legs and runs wild in my head. *This might work, except…*
“What about pregnancy?” I’ve been off the pill for years and had no desire to go back onto it or any form of birth control. They always fucked with my hormones too much and the UID I had one time caused me to have a fucking seizure. Besides, I might look like I’m in my twenties but I’m not. My biological clock is ticking and that little girl I’ve always wanted is slipping through my fingers.
Kevin nodded and leaned in for a kiss. His lips press against mine, but I don’t feel like this is the right time for one, so I give the needed amount of pressure back so he doesn’t question it. “As far as I’m concerned, any child you have is mine. We can tell the other person that as well. Any pregnancy that comes of this, and if you decide to keep it, will be my child.”
“What if I fuck a black guy and have a little black baby?” I’ve always been called ivory skinned, but Kevin looks like Elmer’s glue.
“Well…uh… I would take the child as my own.” His hesitancy screams every white guy’s insecurity about black men. “I thought you weren’t into black guys.” And there it is out loud.
I nearly laugh out loud but manage to reign it into a smirk. “If it’s just a fuck buddy, maybe I wouldn’t mind. They pack a lot of heat.” That’s not true. I don’t care about size anymore. In my youth I bought the lie that bigger is better, but after dating bigger and bigger, I found the men only got lazier and lazier. I just want to toy with Kevin for a moment. After watching the struggle in his eyes, I give him a pat on the arms. “So. What now? We go on craigslist and find an *escort*?”
“W-well, we can. But I know how you are, Rach. I figured you might want to choose someone you know.”
That did sound better…and worse. Better because it wouldn’t make me feel like such a whore to fuck someone I’ve never met before but worse because I’m going to drastically change my relationship with someone I know. *Who can I even choose anyway? Most the men I know are married.*
The doorbell ringing through the house pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Oh, that will be the food,” Kevin says as he turns and leaves.
We pause the conversation for the rest of the evening. After Kevin saw how I looked at the mac and cheese, he’d ordered some Chinese. We don’t eat in silence, but I wouldn’t recall the conversation if someone asked me to, my mind races with the idea of another partner. A sexual partner only, while Kevin stays my life partner. Could I actually do it? Would it work? I’ve had a few casual encounters or flings, but whenever I’ve been with someone in a relationship, I’ve always been monogamous.
While watching tv after dinner, I flip through TikTok seeing every guy as a potential candidate. None of them really catch my eye, but with my brain moving at mach speeds, I can’t help it.
Just as it’s time for bed, I do my usual last three swipes to break the addictive hold the app has on me. Three: A girl riding a bike with no hands in slow motion to a popular song. Two: A dog looking weirded out but then doing a ridged backflip suddenly. One: A guy—
*Holy fuck!*
I fumble my phone and it clatters to the floor.
“Whoops,” Kevin says with his toothbrush in his mouth. “Did it crack?”
I gently pick the phone up, not because I don’t want it to break, but because I don’t want the app to close and lose the video I saw. I turn the screen over and there he is. Kyle Brenson, my first boyfriend.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/vp1xbm/15_years_later_ch_12_plot_no_sex