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Subject: Pushing the Envelope, 3 (Jordan Shelbourne)[MF]
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			  Pushing The Envelope

			   Jordan Shelbourne

Copyright 1997 Jordan Shelbourne; please do not archive without
explicit permission; Eli and the ASSM archives have that permission.
Send requests and comments to jordan@u36.com.

		 CHAPTER THREE: Interlude, with Coffee

(Paul)

What makes a man willing to cheat on his wife?  I don't mean what makes
him think about it or jerk off to pictures of another woman.  I'd had
those thoughts for years but I never meant anything by them.  I mean
what really makes up his mind?

I know when I decided to cheat on Kim, but I'm not really sure why.

				 * * *

Thursday, Kim and I had a serious, knock-down drag-out fight about
nothing at all, which is the way it's been going lately.

So Friday I made sure to leave the office on time and got home spot-on
five-fifteen, but you couldn't tell we'd ever had a fight.  She was
happy and content, humming to herself as we made dinner and got the kids
under control.

We've been married sixteen years and that day, it was like I was at home
with a stranger.

On the quiet, I checked the liquor cabinet, because lately Kim's had a
tendency to hit the sauce while I'm out.  Usually that's in the evenings
but you never know.  The Amaretto bottle didn't look like it had been
touched.

I got the boys packed up for karate class and when we got back, she was
just getting off the phone with Inez, her best friend.  Isn't it funny
how women keep having best friends as they get older, but most guys
stop?  I don't have anyone I'd call my "best" friend.

We got the boys off to bed--Trevor gets to stay up later, but in his
room so there's less arguing--and then we had some time to ourselves.
You know, she was so content, she had me spooked.  Usually, that means
she's made up her mind about something but I couldn't figure out what.

When I went into the kitchen to get us coffee, I checked the liquor
cabinet again, but she hadn't had anything.  Back in the family room,
she thanked me for her coffee and then went back to her book.

"What are you reading?" I asked her.

"Oh, just female pornography," she said and held it up.  I laughed,
because it was one of those romances with a long-haired bare-chested guy
on the cover.

"Getting any ideas?" I asked her.

She smiled.  "A couple," she said.

"Involving me, I hope."

"Of course," she said.

I bent over and gave her a kiss.  She snaked her tongue inside my mouth,
which was a surprise, and a pleasant one.  I keep wishing she'd be a
little more forward when it comes to sex, you know?

I pulled back and gave her a look.  "Somebody's hot tonight."

"Are you saying you're not?"

Something about her tone just about killed the mood for me right there,
but look, if I turned her down _every_ time, she'd never start anything.

"That's not what I'm saying at all." I sat on the arm of her chair and
soul-kissed her, exploring her mouth.  Our tongues met.  I pulled mine
back, willing to let her lead, but she didn't.

Frustrated, I pulled her shirt up to expose her bra.  I remember a time,
before the boys, when she didn't always wear a bra.  Sometimes she talks
like she's mad she has to wear one now, but personally I like the
feeling of discovery as her bra comes off.

I was about to start kissing and nibbling her breasts through her bra,
but she reached up and unhooked it, letting them free.  Kim has great
breasts, full and soft and warm, they even smell warm, if you know what
I mean.  Since the kids, the sag of her breasts pulls the circles around
her nipples into teardrop-shapes, which I think is exotic and very sexy.
It makes them look bigger without making them bigger.  Just looking at
her breasts fascinates me and makes me think horny thoughts.

I lifted one breast and licked the underside all the way up to the
nipple, then popped the nipple into my mouth.  I sucked on it for just a
moment, feeling it harden between my lips, and then let it fall out.
Before I could go to the other one, she cupped her breasts in her hands
so both nipples were at my mouth.  I was surprised -- and excited.

I sucked on them, trying to keep them both in my mouth even though they
were slippery with my spit.  She moaned.  Just the sound of that moan
made me hard.  She moved her hands and one nipple popped out of my
mouth.  I reached up to gather it in again.  I squeezed her breasts in
my hands.  She shifted a bit and moaned again.  I squeezed again and bit
gently on her firm nipples.  I lifted my head to see her breasts bulging
around my fingers, the big dark nipples all puckered and hard and
spit-shiny.

She already had her slacks unbuttoned and unzipped, and I could see her
knuckles working under her red panties.  I guess I stared because she
pulled her hand out, sucked on her fingers and then skinned my shirt off
me.  I could smell her, pungent and animal-smelling.  Aroused.

Sixteen years of marriage and the smell of her still turns me on.

I squeezed her breasts again, rougher than I ever had before.  They were
harder and firmer than usual.  She sighed, almost moaned, and I
reluctantly let go of her breasts to grab her wet shiny hand.  She
looked at me from under half-closed eyelids as I sucked her fingers
clean.  She tasted musky and sharp and pungent like when a spade first
cuts into grass and fresh loam.

Kim half-smiled and placed her other hand on my crotch.  My cock was a
hard lump there, held folded over by how I was sitting.  She rubbed it
with her thumb.  "Ohhhh," I said.  "Uh-huh." I stood up and she
rearranged my cock, pointed it straight up in my shorts.  It kept
getting harder.

"You like that?" she asked me.  I nodded.  She ran her fingertips along
the lump of my cock.  "_I_ like that," she said, and she took hold of my
zipper.

"Mom?" came Trevor's voice outside the door.

I whirled around as Kim pulled her shirt down over her breasts.  I
perched on the arm of the chair again so Trevor couldn't see his
mother's open slacks and her damp red underpants.

"Yes dear?" Kim called in a quavery voice.

He poked his head in the doorway.  He made a face when he saw us
together, "being mushy." He said, "I forgot to tell you.  Auntie Inez
called this afternoon, she wanted to know how your day went.  You should
give her a call."

Kim said, "Thanks, Trevor.  I've already called her." Her voice was
steady now.

I said, "You should write down the messages, Trev.  We've talked about
that."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said for the millionth time.

"Go back to your room, Trev," said Kim.

"G'night," he called as he thumped up the stairs.

Kim and I looked at each other and laughed.  "You think he noticed
anything?" I asked her.

"You're not wearing a shirt and you've got a railroad spike shoved in
your pants.  I think he noticed."

I kissed her again; her tongue slipped easily into my mouth, and we
kissed for a long time.  I felt her breasts through her shirt.  Her
nipples were hard again.

"We better go to our room," I said.

"I suppose," she said.

I grabbed my shirt and her book and pulled her to our room.  Once we had
the door shut, I peeled off her shirt and began to suck and kiss her
breasts again.  While I was doing that, I shoved her slacks and panties
to the floor.  The smell of her horniness hit me again.

I began to kiss my way lower, to eat her, to make sure she was ready.
She tugged on my shoulders, pulling me up.  "Not tonight," she said.
"Tonight I want you in me.  Now."

I still managed one quick lick.  Jesus, she was wet.  That must have
been a hell of a book.  She quickly unzipped my pants and pulled them
off me.  My cock fell out of the fly of my boxers, stiff and ready.  I
hadn't been this hot for her in _years_.

"Come here," she growled as she grabbed my cock, pulling me towards her.
Her touch was electric; every hair on my neck stood up.  I pushed her
back on the bed and fell between her spread thighs.

And just as I was about to enter her, I remembered.  "Ooops," I told
her.  "Condom." I rolled off the bed and started searching through the
drawer of my bedside table.

I felt so stupid standing there in my boxers, looking for a condom.  She
really was right, I ought to get the vasectomy.  I didn't mention it,
though.  "The mood" is fragile.

I fumbled through the crap in my drawer -- I should clean it out, she
was right about that too -- and came up with a condom.  My fingers were
still slippery from her so it took me three tries to tear the plastic
open.  I was hoping she'd volunteer to put it on me but she just watched
me.  I couldn't read her expression.  Finally I unrolled the cold thing
over my cock and smoothed it down.  It warmed up pretty fast.

"Now we're safe," I told her.

"Sure," she said.

"Where were we?"

"I think you were _here,_" she said as she patted the bed between her
thighs.  Her lips were all spread and puffy and shiny.

"I think I was." I pushed off my boxers and scrambled back onto the bed.
This time she let me guide myself into her.  What with her juices and
the condom's lubrication, there was no resistance as my cock slipped
into her cunt.  The only cunt I've ever fucked, I suddenly thought, but
it felt wonderful anyway.

Kim moaned as my cock entered her, then inhaled as though she could suck
in my cock that way.  "Mmm," she said when I was all the way in her.
"Nice." I thought that was an understatement but still good to hear.

Slowly I worked my cock in and out of her, grunting with the effort of
doing it slow.  I was so turned on, I could have finished in a minute of
hard fast fucking, but I wanted it to be good for her, too.

She crossed her ankles behind my back and said, "Deeper, Paul."

I grabbed her asscheeks in my hands and pulled, hauling myself deeper
into her.  My face was buried in her throat and hair, my chest was
pillowed by her breasts.  My cock was deep inside her; it felt huge, not
like she was tight but instead that I was filling her.

Like I say, I wanted it to last for her, I wanted it to be good, so I
kept trying to slow down, take a break for a moment so I didn't come too
soon.  Every time I tried, Kim dug her heels into my back and spurred me
onward.

"Come for me, Paul," she gasped.  I heard her voice through my body, not
my ears, and Jesus, she was sexy.  Her hips came at mine, my balls
slapping against her and I kept pushing myself into her until I was
nothing but pure hard-on, and then I came, feeling it with my whole
cock.

I was still hard after that and I kept thrusting.  I felt her shove her
hand between us and work her clit like she hadn't done in years and then
she came too.  She gave a couple more hip-twitches and then she settled
down; I stopped too, and started to feel that nice drained feeling of a
good orgasm.

The nice thing about condoms is that you don't have that unromantic
moment of passing your wife a tissue to catch the gob of come that's
about to leak onto the sheets.  I cleaned up -- you know, peeled the
condom off and wiped off my cock and wrapped the condom in the tissue
and threw it in the trash; by the time I got back to bed, Kim had picked
up her book again.

Normally I'd turn on the TV, but instead I just watched her reading.
Kim's still beautiful, you know?  I mean, I've been going to seed, but
Kim, she gets better-looking every year.

I should have told her, but I didn't.  I'm no good with words.  I just
watched her and I ached inside because she was so beautiful.

"Hey," I said.  She looked up again.  "Everything you do," I told her.
"I appreciate it."

She frowned so I tried to explain.

"The kids, you know.  You take care of the kids and you keep the house
even though you didn't want to, and, shit, I don't know.  Everything.
You're special.  You're _good_.  You're better than I am by a long
shot."

"You mean I'm too good for you," she said.

I grinned at her because she'd caught it exactly.  "Yeah."

She shook her head.  "When are you going to take me off this pedestal,
Paul?"

"I'm not--"

"Yes you _are_," she said.  "You've got me up here where I can't do
anything."

I was desperately searching my mind for whatever I'd done that had
triggered this.  "You can do anything you want," I told her.  "You can
go back to work if you want.  I told you that was okay with me.  The
boys are old enough."

"Not work, Paul.  Jesus," she said, and rolled over.

I lay there in the dark, after the best sex we'd had in maybe ten years,
wondering what the hell I'd done wrong.

What I'd done wrong this time.

				 * * *

The next day I left work early.  It's one of the perks of being the
boss; I try not to do it very often.  I've seen bosses who do, they
figure they worked seventeen hours a day in the early years so they
deserve some time off.  That kills your relationship with the new
employees, the ones who weren't there in the early years.  I try to work
a full day or more; that's one of the things that Kim hates.  She's
always early to things, I'm always late.

I was intending to go home and surprise Kim but I grassed out at
the last minute.  I was circling the part of town where the strip
clubs are but had kind of decided against that when I spotted Gil
Freeman going into a sex shop.  Gil pulled me out of the last strip
club I was in, just the week before.  I quickly parked and followed
him in.

Gil's a good guy.  He's a salesman, sells envelopes, but he doesn't
_act_ like a salesman--some salesmen, every meeting's a great meeting,
every guy's a great guy.  Gil's not like that.  He'll sell you something
cheaper if it meets your needs, and he'll tell you to your face if he
thinks you're making a mistake.  I'd figure he gets the women --he takes
care of himself, he's friendly, and our receptionist Maria likes him,
which is usually a good sign.  I like him, too.

It was a pretty nice shop, all things considered.  It was clean and
bright.  A pock-faced girl in a pink blouse was behind the counter, and
Gil was chatting to her.  There were a bunch of boxes on the counter.  I
held back a moment because it could be business for him; I mean, hell,
even sex shops need envelopes.  Plain brown ones, I'd guess.

When he had the girl bring down a box from behind the counter, I was
pretty sure it wasn't business.  "Gil," I said.

He seemed surprised to see me, but he shook my hand and said, "Paul." He
turned to the girl and said, "Barb, this is Paul." She ducked her head
by way of "hello."

I picked up the box: it was a butt-plug.  The box said so; it looked
like a partly-eaten Popsicle to me.  Atomic blue flavor.

"For you?" I asked him.

He shook his head.  "Not this one," he said.  I laughed.  I wouldn't
have been that surprised if he'd said it was.  I knew Gil was a man of
the world.  That's part of the reason I liked him: he did things I would
never do.  "It's a gift," he explained.

"Not a guy, I hope," He shook his head.  I waved my hand over all the
stuff.  "You sure know some interesting ladies." Barb behind the counter
was looking at me like I was behaving badly, which kind of annoyed me.
I wasn't the one working in a sex shop.

"That's true," he said.  "I do." He turned to her and asked, "What do
you recommend for lube?"

I just stood back and watched.  I mean, I go into these shops once in a
while for a magazine or something but Gil was doing serious shopping.
He bought two vibrators (one shaped like a dick, one not), a
double-headed dildo, another dildo that was huge, and a bunch of little
metal clamps and rings, plus the stuff he'd already had set aside when I
came in.

She started ringing it up.  "If you spend more than a hundred dollars,
you get a complimentary copy of _Swing_Set_, the local magazine." Gil
spent almost four hundred bucks.  He couldn't use four copies of the
magazine, so she threw in a box of nudie playing cards too.  Gil fished
them out and looked at them, then chuckled and tossed them to me.

"They're yours if you want them, Paul." He paid cash and then asked her,
"Where does the serious bondage trade go?"

"Bound for Glory," she said.  "It's a leather shop up in the north end.
They do a lot of custom work."

"Thanks," he said.

She said to me, "You buying or just looking?" The way she said "just
looking" made me feel dirty.

Gil gave a cheery good-bye to Barb and I followed him outside.

"You know her?" I asked

"Just met her," he said but didn't say anything more.

"This friend of yours--she's got expensive tastes," I told him.

"Well," he said slowly, "she's got a lot of tastes."

"Client?" I asked him.  I know I was being nosy, but I wanted him to
talk about it.  If he talked, then I could talk to him about Kim.  He
was the only person I could think of that I could tell, since I couldn't
tell anyone in the office.  You start talking about your personal life
at work and they bleed together.

"No," he said.  "I don't do my clients."

"Oh," I said.  There was a diner across the street; I said, "Look, you
want a coffee?"

He sized me up, then said, "Sure," and put the bags in the trunk of his
car.

It was a little hole-in-the-wall place, open five to five for the
factory crowd.  The Formica on the counter and table-tops was peeling.
You wouldn't be able to sell them on building improvements unless the
health inspector was on their asses.  Gil ordered us both coffees.  He
remembered what I take in mine--one sugar, two cream--which I always
think is a very salesman thing to do.

"Look," I said again.  "About last Friday--" I shook my head.  "I hope I
didn't say anything...stupid."

"You were fine," he told me.  "I had a nice chat with your wife and then
a cab took me back to my car."

"Oh, you met Kim?"

He laughed.  "She's nice."

"Yeah."

"You're a lucky guy."

"I guess," I said.  "Who's this woman you've got?"

"I can't say," he told me.

"Come on."

He shrugged.  "I'd rather not.  You've gotten a bad first impression of
her.  Suppose you meet her sometime.  Instead of talking to her, you'll
be thinking about butt-plugs."

"Nooooo," I said, and then, "well, fuck, yeah, you're right.
Butt-plugs!" I laughed.

"You'd be surprised at the people who use them.  Barb, in the shop, was
saying she's never seen a city where butt-plugs sell so well.  I was
lucky, too, that was the last one they had."

They sell a lot of butt-plugs in my city?  I had to chuckle.  "That's
gonna take me through the next meeting of the planning board, wondering
which of them use butt-plugs."

"You'd be surprised," he said.

He asked me about the business next and next thing I knew, we'd talked
for an hour and I still hadn't mentioned Kim.  I had to get home but I
did want to talk to Gil again so I said, "Look, we're throwing a little
barbecue next weekend, why don't you come?"

He looked a little startled; I guess he hadn't expected that.  "I'd have
to check my calendar," he said reluctantly.

"Your lady-friend?" I asked.  I was cursing myself inside; I should have
thought of that.  You know, I've been to college, I've built a successful
business, and some days I feel like I've still got cowshit on my boots.
"Duh," as Trevor says.  "Look, why don't you bring her?  It's social,
nobody will mind, and"--I held up my hand--"I swear I won't think about
butt-plugs.  And I won't tell Kim, so she won't know."

"It's not that," he said slowly, "it's that, well, she's married." I'd
never seen Gil embarrassed before; I'd somehow thought he couldn't be
embarrassed.

"Shit."

"Yeah.  Shit."

"What the hell are you doing with a married woman?" He lifted an
eyebrow, and I added, "Besides that."

He shrugged helplessly.  "You don't want to know."

"Did you hit on her?" I asked him.

"It's hard to say," he said.

"Bullshit," I told him.  "Who asked first?"

"If you boil it down to that, I asked first.  Then she said yes."

That sort of shut me up.  I mean, Kim gets hit on by guys--particularly
Reg Lewis--and she doesn't say yes.  So it was mostly Gil's fault, but
it wasn't entirely Gil's fault; it does take two to tango.

"Why would a woman do that?"

Gil asked, "Why would a man?"

I thought for a moment.  "For something he can't get at home, I guess.
Sex, maybe."

"I guess," he said, "maybe."

I thought about the best sex Kim and I had had in ten years, and how
that night had ended with me lying sick and miserable staring at the
ceiling.  No, it probably wasn't sex she couldn't get at home.

"Anyway," he said, "it's temporary.  I'll move on in a month or two, and
then it's over." He had a wistful tone in his voice, and I didn't know
if he was talking to me or to himself.

"I guess," I said.  "I guess that's best.  I mean, then it's done and
she's still got all the years she's put into her marriage and maybe she
can go on until things get better."

Gil said, "I think that's what she thinks."

"Well," I told him, "I can understand that.  I'd hate to throw away my
marriage," I told him.  "I wouldn't want to be like Rick Ebersol, who
divorced his wife for a twenty-year-old and four years later he's
separated again and his business associates think he's a flake." And now
I didn't know if I was talking to him or to myself.  "As long as when
it's done, it's done."

"That's one of the rules," said Gil.

I looked at the clock and said, "Shit, I have to be getting home.  Look,
check your calendar about the barbecue and come stag if you want."

He nodded.  "Most married women are busy on Saturday nights."

I nodded too and stood up.  "We'd really like to have you over.  Kim
didn't mention you, so she didn't hate you." I grinned.

He grinned back.  "Well, I didn't hate her."

I dashed out the door and nearly collided with a pretty young redhead on
in-line skates.  She gave me a sunny smile as she swooped around me and
I looked at her, really _looked_ at her.  She was coltish and all
contrasts, bright red hair against her tight green top, freckles against
snowy skin, small round breasts on a lean angular body.  She'd be
interesting to fuck, very different from Kim.

Sometime in my conversation with Gil, I'd crossed that line.  Now the
only questions were who, and when, and where.

 # # #

See The Ivory Gate (http://www.u36.com/jordan/) for more stories by Jordan
Shelbourne.

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