I have always had a vague interest in creative writing but never enough to pursue writing in any serious manner. I know that will completely shock you, a millennial lacking in follow through. I could not handle a life tethered to a keyboard. Blogging is a happy medium – you sort of need a moderate level of socializing to have tales worth clicking on. To satisfy my appetite to be imaginative, I will be contributing to “creative writing” category I’ve created every other Monday’s from here on out. These posts will, generally, be longer than my normal 500 word maximum and will occasionally start with a prompt.
Now on to the story…
Putting down roots back home was not a priority to me. I was perfectly content laying in my bed night after night – managing to lose most of the day to seasons at a time. Emphasis on “content.” I certainly was not unhappy but I cannot say it was the life I expected to be living just a few months after leaving the rubber-padded playground that is college. However, after meeting my blue-eyed beau I have fallen back into the wine soaked evenings I remembered fondly.
While she worked, I agree to attend a time-old Midwestern tradition, a bonfire. The company would be fairly foreign to me but still, I pack a lawn chair and start my car. Within minutes of my arrival the converstation turned political. The opinions of other bleeding hearts made me feel instantly at home. The night was fun. An easy gathering. But as the guests left one-by-one, my night took a turn.
I found myself led through sliding glass doors, through a shabby chic kitchen, and to the doorway of a dimly lit bedroom claiming itself home to a queen sized bed and steel grey walls. Nervously, I listen to compliments and a myriad of requests. Thoughts of fantasies past race through my head. Never one to turn down an opportunity to experiment with my sexuality, I was trapped between right and wrong. It would be wrong to sit on that bed. What came after would feel right.
“Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.”
– Marilyn Monroe
As the buzz of one too many hoppy beverages blurs my decision making I agree to enter the bedroom. The door closes behind me and the gravity of my situation sinks in. He comes closer to me and reveals how badly he wants to kiss me. To touch me. I resist. A mental check mark flashes through my subconscious. I was denying the pulses from my growing libido and listening to my morality. I knew I should leave but, still, I found myself standing there. When I put on this black leather jacket my intentions were harmless – to be warm. As I am told how flattering and seductive it is I realize the effect it has had.
She wanders into the bathroom of this master suite and I am left with her boyfriend. I bring up any subject in attempt to keep his wandering eyes from getting too ambitious. My thumbs dance across the screen to inform the right girl that she can go to sleep. That I will be staying the night here. My lust was winning the battle – loyalty be damned.
The bathroom door opens and my heart skips a beat. She has ditched the ponytail and blue jeans for something much more… exciting. My gaze explores her dark hair as it meets maroon colored lace. My eyes are captivated by cleavage once hidden under layers of fleece and cotton. Mere inches of fabric protect the truly shocking parts of her body from bursting out. Whatever qualms I had about being here, about agreeing to stay the night in the steel room, they are increasingly difficult to remember.
“Some of the best moments in life are the ones you cannot tell anyone about.”
And then she asks me the question that breaks my stare and snaps me back to my senses. “I want to watch you with him. Will you do that for me?” Cuckold. I was ask to stay behind so that I could have sex with this man while she watched. Was the idea appealing? Sure. But I quickly realized that my attraction was to her and not to the boyfriend whose gaze had gone from flattering to mildly unnerving. The magic was gone as quickly as it began.
My drive home was lacking in the regret I expected to feel from missing out on a sexual “no-no.” One of my largest fears had been conquered and the satisfaction I felt from that outweighed the pleasure of awkward thrusting. I was not a cheater. I was not disloyal at the first appealing opportunity. Being invited into their relationship for a night gave me confidence that I was happy in my own.
Tell me readers, have you ever been tempted by a wildly unexpected opportunity like that? Would you have done it?
Until next time,
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