How Serious Are We? Mature

How Serious Are We?

by Adam Gunn

My chest was heaving, I could still feel the tingly in my balls as my girlfriend stroked me down there. I reached over and caressed the exposed breasts and belly, slick with sweat.

It had been a marvelous fuck, I’d been surprised when Anita dragged me into her bedroom not ten minutes after I’d arrived. I quickly understood our intended activity dinner and a movie would be abandoned. And that evening, she’d been on fire, offering herself to me orally and in several positions. I’d had to work hard not to come too early, I realized she was needy (although I didn’t know why,) and several times I brought myself back from the brink until finally she told me it was okay.

So, there we were, lying on the rumpled sheets, a wet spot developing where our groins had linked. I knew we’d be changing the bedding.

After we were done wheezing and our blood flow was beginning to slow, she gazed into my face and asked, “How serious are we?”

It was one of those questions that stops you and makes you ask, ‘where is this coming from?’ We’d been dating a little over four months, the relationship at least so far had been torrid. Even though we were both eligible for medicare, neither of our libidos had diminished. And we got along, pretty well, outside the bedroom. We both liked movies, particularly those of our youths; we had the same favorite toppings on Detroit style pizza; pickleball had become our goto exercise. In fact, it was on adjoining pickleball courts where we met.

Another shared pleasure we had was porn. The photoplay we liked was a little straight around the edges. Usually, there was one man and one woman, and although Anita relished the reveal of a raging hard on entering a silky passage, we stayed away from bondage or humiliation. And, yes, we screwed like rodents when we played that hobby.

But the item being discussed was, ‘How serious are we?’ In true male fashion, I dodged, “I think it’s been going pretty well, so far. What do you think?”

“Oh, you’re getting pretty meaningful to me. But…” She hesitated, and I could tell by the way her eyes fluttered that there was something else on her mind.

“What?”

“Well, are you seeing any other women?”

Was that it? Was she reaching for monogamy? It called, I thought, for a straight forward answer. “Not since a couple weeks before we met. I told you about Julie, that it was pretty much over between us. And after that first night with you, I never called her again. So…”

It was nothing close to a marriage proposal, it wasn’t even an offer to go steady, but I thought she’d be satisfied with that. I could tell by her skittish glance she wasn’t.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I like you… I like you a lot,” she admitted. I waited for her next sentence through a heavy sigh, then she just came out with it. “I’m sorry, I haven’t told you this, but there was a guy I was seeing about the time we met, Eddie. Well, he texted me and asked if we could get together.”

This was startlingly similar to a situation I’d been in a decade previously. I’d enjoyed that state of affairs, and always wondered if, maybe, I could get back to that I only needed a willing woman with a bent for exotic behavior. Before this night, I’d never considered Anita someone who would go for that but I’ve been wrong before!

“Would you like to get together with him?” I asked in as nonthreatening a tone as I could muster.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, although I noticed her eyes didn’t meet mine.

“Did you guys get along well?” I’d never heard of Eddie before.

“He wasn’t my cup of tea in many ways we didn’t like the same things, but…”

“But you had pretty good with him, huh?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “That was pretty much everything we had. And when you came along, and we were so good together right off the bat, well…”

“Okay.” I turned on my side towards her, sucked on her nipple to bring it to attention and rubbed the entrance to her pussy. She moved her groin, letting me know she liked it. “Okay. So he was good in bed. Have you been in bed with him since we met?”

This time she did meet my eyes, and the look was one of remorse. “Once, a couple weeks after our first date.”

“And not since then?”

“No. I put him off for a couple weeks, and then he stopped texting. Until just yesterday.”

“So he wants to take you out on a date.” She shook her head up and down. “And if you went on a date with him, what would happen?”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “Probably drinks or something.”

“Or something… you mean ?”

Again I got the “I don’t know.”

“Well, why not?” I pressed.

Her response was almost shrill. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you, of course!”

“And you’re afraid that if you slept with someone else, that would hurt me. I’ll tell you something, I’m not sure it would. It might, might not. I haven’t thought about it. Do you mind if I consider it for a little while?” Then I kissed her, one that brought with it erotic undertones, and we proceeded to drop that subject, and recede back to our previous endeavors. I wasn’t surprised when she climaxed again.

Over the next couple of days, I thought about it, I assumed she did too. I felt I was on the cusp of finding something I’d had once, and lost. And in those eight years that I didn’t have it, I oftentimes missed it. If there was a chance of getting something similar back, I wanted to give it every chance.

I knew that although this was my desire, it had to be Anita’s as well. She couldn’t just go along with it, particularly if it was simply for my sake, she had to welcome it, lust after it as much as I did. Otherwise, I didn’t think it wasn’t worth doing it at all.

And I had to be subtle. We’d never confessed our sins to each other, but I thought Anita felt she was inexperienced. She’d told me her husband was her first lover, and the only one until they wed. In the fourplus years since she’d been widowed, I got the sense there were a few men in her life, but nothing that lasted.

I considered how I might bring out the beast in her. We didn’t see each other for three days, but I texted her often, sending her emojis of smiles and affection. She sent the same back, I felt sure she wasn’t worried that she’d offended me.

I remembered a foreign film I once watched that could lead to a discussion, found it on one of those streaming sites that no one would ever pay for. On the third night, she came over to my place and we made a meal of Alfredo and mushrooms. I complimented her looks more than enough (I thought), concentrating on her legs which are her best feature, slim and long. Then she cuddled to me as the actors spoke French (with subtitles, of course.) It was a plot where a woman is trying to balance two men, both her lovers, both knowing the other exists. Plenty of nudity sparkled through the movie, writhing bodies were viewed. Only some cautious editing kept it from being xrated. By the third act, the activity on the couch was as torrid as that on the screen.

Without rehashing the movie, we fell into my bed, cuddled, slept. We’d gotten into a routine where we often spent the weekend together, and long after noon we headed for the Rusty Bucket. It being one of those places where the noise level is just a little too high, that let us talk to each other frankly while sitting on the same side of a booth.

“That movie last night really got me going,” she confessed.

“I think I noticed. What did you like best about it?”

“Well, the , obviously.”

“Which guy did you think was handsomer?” I needled.

“Oh, Henri! His dark hair was just so enticing.”

“And he had a nice dick.”

She ducked her head. She knew I knew about her enjoyment of , but at the same time she felt if she admitted it, it wasn’t ladylike, I guessed. “Yeah,” she finally allowed. Then, “I wish they’d have shown it when it was hard.”

That brought a laugh from me that disturbed the next table. I put my hand on her leg below the hem of her shorts, let it creep up. She didn’t stop me, no one was going to see it.

“You know the thing that amazed me?” she said. “It was that Séraphine didn’t seem to have any compunctions about having two boyfriends.”

“Why? It wasn’t like she was cheating on either one of them. They both knew about the other guy.”

“Yeah,” Anita agreed. “But do you think she was serious about either one of them?”

“You mean, did she want to marry one or the other?”

“Umhmm. Or just live together, or something like that.”

“I got the idea from the end of the movie that she was about to make a decision on that, one way or the other.”

“Really!” Anita was astounded. “I didn’t get that. Of course I was distracted.” She laughed.

“And would it really have been a problem if she’d married Maél? I thought she was leaning that way. But what if she had moved in with him, and still dated Henri?”

“That would be wrong!” I had a feeling that her opinion was based on rectitude, not necessarily conviction.

I took a beat, I was trying to get her to think about it, not simply react. “What if Séraphine loved both of them, and Maél didn’t object. Would it be wrong then?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I let the subject drop, we ate and played pickleball with Mary and Jack. The idea wasn’t brought up the rest of the weekend.

In fact, it was almost three weeks later before any more progress was made, and I made sure it was Anita that raised the issue. “I don’t want to hide anything from you,” Anita told me one night as we were sitting with each other.

“Thank you. Are you hiding something from me?”

Again, she ducked her head in embarrassment. “Not really, but… Well, Eddie’s been texting me.”

“Does he still want to go on a date?” I cooly responded.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you? If you’re telling me about it, you must want to.”

Her eyes were downcast, but her voice was steady. “I still don’t know how serious we are. I like you, I want to see how far we’ll go. I don’t want to mess that up.”

I smiled. “But on the other hand, Eddie’s got something you want.” Her eyes were bright with the thought, if slightly downcast in turmoil. “Okay, let’s figure this out. I like you a lot too. I’m looking forward to going to Hilton Head with you.” We were planning a vacation two months out. “So, I think we’re at least a little serious. You agree?” That got me a head shake. “Now, would you having another lover be upsetting to me? Or you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“If you think you’re ‘cheating’ on me, that’s not going to be good for us.”

“I know. I cheated on David once.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. Tell me about it.”

“If you want to know,” she consented. “We’d been married about fifteen years. David was no saint, I figured out he was having onenight stands every so often. Maybe an affair, I don’t know. We were close to a couple, Jesse and Tim, and then one day she just up and left him for another man. Took their kids with her. Tim was devastated, and he was over at our house all the time. Then David took a fishing trip up into Canada, he was going to be gone eight days. The second night Tim came over, and, well, I didn’t resist very hard. We screwed around nearly every day David was gone.”

“How did you feel about that?” I interrupted.

“Every morning I’d wake up and ask myself what the hell I was doing. But every night I looked forward to being with Tim. He was a different kind of lover. So needy. And for the first time I found a guy who liked to give me oral ! That was beautiful.

“When David came back, we had to quit of course, at least we thought we did. But I couldn’t stay away. I’d sneak over to Tim’s place and we’d spend an hour or whatever. It lasted for not quite a year, and then I just got tired of having to lie to David. So I told Tim it was over.”

“Did David ever find out about it?”

“Yeah,” she told me. “After I’d stopped, I got a little depressed and David noticed it. He asked me if I was still ” Tim. He could be a little crude sometimes. He told me he didn’t mind, if I needed it I needed it. Even told me to go back and get it out of my system. But by that point Tim was dating other women, and it just wasn’t worth it.”

“Sounds like you had a rough time with it. I’m sorry. Do you think that if you knew David knew about it, and told you it was okay, that it would have been easier on you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That was years ago, I can’t remember what I felt. Maybe. I don’t know.”

A tear or two was leaking from her eyes, I held her and comforted her. After a few minutes it turned sultry. We started undressing each other, slipped into the bedroom. She started by swallowing my cock, letting it just linger in her mouth while she licked it hard. From time to time she’d bob up and down on it, getting it harder and harder. I felt the cream rise. “If you keep it up, I’m going to come pretty soon,” I warned.

“Good,” I heard her mumble, and she sucked even harder. I laid back, let the tension roll over me and then out of me into her eager mouth. When I was fully satisfied, she smiled and we kissed she knew by that point I wasn’t opposed to tasting my own cum. Then I slid down, got between her legs and first opened the orchid of her flower, finding the jewel of her clit, dipped my finger inside to coat it with her natural juices, flowing heavily, then kneaded the button. I heard her gasp, the prelude to her excitement, then bent my lips to the stud, sucked on it, grazed it with my front teeth, licked it hard. She let herself go, moaning, then turning to ooohs and arrghs as the exposition hit. I loved watching her face, framed by her breasts, as she let it go. When she’d settled to heavy gasps in the postlude, I joked, “Am I as good as Tim was?”

“Oh, god,” she wheezed, “turns out he really wasn’t very good at all. It was just that he was willing to do it when David wasn’t. You’re great, you know that!”

“How about Eddie? Am I as good as Eddie?”

She gazed at me for a second, wondering how I’d be so flippant about comparing myself to another man, then laughed. “Oh, he’s good too!”

I reached over, grabbed a slim vibrator that she really loved, slowly inserted it into her while we watched each other, turned it on, started licking the sensitive hump again, she responded gaily, went into her second orgasm of the session, something she didn’t always have.

A few minutes later, as we laid under the blanket, her head on my shoulder, her teat in my hand, my dick being gently massaged by her palm, I decided I’d make one more effort at the obvious point. “It seems to me that if David had told you he knew about Tim, and that it was okay to have the affair, it would have been a lot easier, wouldn’t it?”

She didn’t respond immediately, for at least four or five minutes we didn’t say anything to each other, and at last she responded. “I guess so. Probably. But I don’t know, there was this subcurrent of excitement, too. That I was getting away with something.”

I let it drop, my point had been made. I knew from experience that if I tried to harass her further, she might back off.

This time, it took her only four days. We’d been to a folk concert at a small hall, we were driving to her home we seemed to choose where we’d be almost at random. “So, lay it on the line,” she pronounced, “would you mind if I dated Eddie, or not?”

I turned to her, smiled. Perhaps she’d describe it as a leer. “A question first?”

“Okay.”

“How serious are we?”

A quarter of a mile slid past before she replied. “I want us to be pretty serious.”

“And so do I. But one of the challenges of a serious relationship is communications you know that. I don’t think you should hide things from your significant other. Do you?”

“No, of course not.”

“The fact that David cheated on you was pretty hard on you. Would it have been easier if he’d told you he had a girlfriend?”

“Or twenty!” came the sharp reply. “I never would have given him permission. And he’d have just done it anyway.”

“I understand. Okay, let’s look at it this way. What would happen if you hid the fact that you’re dating someone else from me?”

“But I didn’t! I told you I was thinking about it.” I waited for a few moments until she reconsidered. “Well, I guess if I did it, and you found out, we’d be done.”

“Or something.” I agreed. “It sure wouldn’t be any fun. So if you decide to date Eddie, I’d want to know about it. Before the date, if possible.”

“You mean you’d know I was with him? Wouldn’t that be hard on you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I won’t know until it happens, will I? But I think it’d be better than wondering what was happening.”

“I see your point.”

We were just a few blocks from her condo, and we stayed silent as I pulled into her driveway. As we brushed our teeth and changed into nightclothes, we let the topic simmer. But when we were lying in bed, we resumed. “So, you’re saying that if I date Eddie, you want to know about it beforehand.”

“I’d like that, yes.”

“And do you want to know if we go to bed?”

“Well, given the tone of what’s been going on, I’m sort of going to assume you two will be having .” She nodded. Right then, I judged that before too long she’d be seeing another guy. “Is there anything else?”

I got the sheepish, almost hidden glance. “I’m worried about one other thing… It seems that if I go to bed with Eddie, you might decide to go to bed with other women.”

“How would you feel about that?” I asked.

“I don’t think I’d like it. I was very jealous when I thought about David screwing around.”

“And you’d be jealous with me?”

“I think so.”

“Well, let’s let this one go, for now. Tell you what. I promise you I won’t see other women, not until we’ve talked it out, even if you go on dates with Eddie.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “but that doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“What’s fair in this life? Don’t worry about it. And I promise you this. If I’m getting jealous or something, we’ll talk it out. How’s that?”

She thought for a few seconds, then said, “I still don’t think it’s fair.’

We slept on it that night, it didn’t seem she wanted just at that moment but we cuddled peaceably. Nor was anything mentioned the next morning, when I made her coffee and toast before seeing her out the door on her way to work.

Nine days went by, a full weekend together when we went out with a group of married couples at a restaurant, a long drive in the country through the fall leaves. I could tell there was something on her mind was it Eddie? Had she already ‘dated’ him? But she didn’t reveal anything, didn’t even hint, so I couldn’t ask.

Then, the next Friday night, I had the salmon ready to broil when she arrived at my place, she seemed to enjoy the wine, she was all smiles. While I was cleaning up, she disappeared without a word, when she hadn’t shown up fifteen minutes later, I assumed it was a call of nature and in my living room I opened a book.

My bedroom door opened, she walked to me with fresh makeup, earrings and a necklace, in a negligee and a matching thong of leopard print I hadn’t seen it before and she walked to the patio door, closed the drapes, and turned to me. “I want to make love with you,” she said, although it didn’t seem news to me.

There on the couch, she attacked me. We progressed through the litany, she undressed me with kisses, sucked on my nipples before she ripped the top off and put one of hers in my mouth. She made me sit back on the couch, took my dick into her mouth. This time when I said I was near coming, she stopped, we played some more. For some reason, she didn’t want me to go down on her, but she sat on my lap, her back to me and while I kissed her neck and pinched her nipples, she rubbed my prick around her groin, letting me enter every once in awhile and then pulling back. I got the feeling she was thinking about something other than just making love, and whatever it was excited her, just as porn will do.

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