Page 48 of Smut Lovers

I found myself at Penn’s Landing. It’s my favorite place in the city.

Jesse and I both grew up in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, right across the street from each other.

Him, the single child in a loving two-parent family.

Me, in a foster home with six other kids.

My parents lived and died in Camden when I was nine, side-by-side drug overdoses.

I come to Penn’s Landing to stare across the Schuylkill River to Camden and talk to them.

But I didn’t do that. I sat there and unblocked Jesse’s social media pages and looked at their pictures.

Rob and Jesse were currently in an undisclosed location in South America.

Jesse was working and Rob was taking a much needed break from delivering babies for the rich and famous. Jesse and Robert, looking so in love.

Both loved the philanthropy work of Doctors Without Borders for different reasons. Jesse cared about the patients. Rob cared about the accolades and looking good doing it. They were four months into their nine month assignment.

I hated how happy they were. Anger filled my chest looking at picture after picture.

“Fuck that,” I murmured to myself.

I went to Rob’s website and found what I was looking for, his emergency contact information. It was an out-of-body experience as I dialed his number. The ringing echoed through the car speaker.

His voicemail came on. “ This is Doctor Robert Delaney of Delaney Medical Associates. Currently I am out of the country on sabbatical, and will not be returning until April of next year. If you are a current client, please call Dr. Spencer Kipton, who has taken over your case. If you are looking for an obstetrician, please dial the main office. Be safe and be well .”

There was a click, then a beep.

“Hello, Robert,” I started. “It’s Beau. Bonito DeRossi.

We haven’t spoken in… God I don’t even know how long.

Five years? Seven years? Wow. Well I wish this was a social call, but it’s not.

It most certainly is not,” I said, twirling my wedding ring around my finger.

“You see, Rob, twenty-two months ago, my husband Greg… you remember him? Well if you didn’t, you will now…

because Greg, my husband, and Jesse, your husband, fucked. ”

I laughed humorlessly. “They met at Ariana and Azan’s wedding in Casablanca after years of not seeing each other and decided to fuck.

And no, they weren’t drunk, because Greg doesn’t drink on his meds.

They weren’t high. There was no cosmic or life changing event that brought them to that decision.

They just both decided to say fuck their vows and fuck us as the loving, doting, devoted husbands waiting for them back home, and finally give in to what they wanted to do back in college.

Because I don’t know if you know this...

but your asshole husband is in love with mine. ”

I sniffed as my eyes pooled.

“He’s always loved Greg, since freshman year.

But Greg didn’t want Jesse. Greg wanted me.

Greg has always wanted me. And Jesse… he just couldn’t handle it.

And he tried to force Greg to make a decision.

But I put a stop to that. Because there was no decision to be made back then.

Greg was mine. And I told Jesse that. That Jesse could not give him what he needed.

That only I can. And Jesse agreed. And then he went behind my back and …

fuck it. It doesn’t matter what he did back then.

What matters is what he did in a hotel suite in Morocco with my husband.

And I know my husband. He can’t resist someone who comes onto him.

Man or woman. So Jesse… your fucking husband …

must have came onto my husband … and my weak, pathetic, whore of a husband didn’t even attempt to resist.”

I laughed again as the tears fell. “I’ve spent the last twenty-two months ignoring how I feel.

This… burning in my chest. The hurt. The pain.

The rage. The betrayal. And I can’t do it anymore…

” My voice broke at the end. “I should leave him …. that’s what I should do. I should just fucking leave him.”

I wiped my tears. “Or I should do what he did. The night he came home, he went to sleep early, then woke up from moaning Jesse’s name.

I thought I had dreamed that. But I didn’t.

He went to the bathroom to compose himself, then told me he couldn’t sleep, that he was jet lagged, and needed to go for a drive to clear his head.

When he came back in the morning, he smelled of sex.

He smelled of pussy. Jet lagged my ass. He wasn’t jet lagged.

He was guilt-ridden. So to make himself feel better for sleeping with a man—the ONE thing I made him promise not to do when we got married— he cashed in his hall pass and found a bitch, or two, or three, and spend that whole night fucking women so he would forget what a shitty husband he is. ”

I shuddered. “Yeah… I should do the same. I should find the first man I see tonight and fuck his fucking brains out. Or better, I should let them fuck me. Or maybe you should do it. Fuck me hard with that big dick you like to talk about. Fuck me raw. Do a whole lot of nasty shit to me. Things I would never let Greg do to me. Tie me up. Fuck my mouth until my throat burns. Burn me with wax candles, then fuck me until I can’t walk anymore.

And when I go home limping, bruised up, maybe bloodied, and I crawl into bed next to him smelling like another man’s cum, then maybe…

maybe he’ll get an inkling of how I felt that night when he moaned your husband’s name. Twice.”

I sniffed again, wiped away more tears. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know. Go on, ask him. Let’s see if he’ll keep lying to you. But you need to know. Your husband is a cheater. And a liar. And I hate him. And if I ever lay eyes on him again… I just might kill him.”

I pressed the end button and stared out the front window for a long time.

When I got back to the house it was well after the kids’ bedtime. Greg was waiting for me in our bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed. I stood in the doorway.

“Do you want to know now?” Greg asked quietly without looking at me. “How it started?”

I didn’t answer.

“We talked about the past. Things I didn’t know. Things he didn’t know. We talked about whether we should have chosen each other back then. Then he kissed me. And I kissed him back.”

I raised my head to the ceiling. I wanted him to stop talking. But I also wanted to know.

“After he kissed me, he told me he was still in love with me, after all these years. He told me that he should have kissed me back then. And should have sucked my dick, then let me suck his. That he should have fucked me, and let me fuck him. And now it was too late.”

“Did you tell him you love him back?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Because I don’t. Not back then. Not two years ago. Not now.”

I lowered my eyes to him. “Then why did you do it?”

Greg slowly shook his head again. “I don’t know. I heard myself saying…” He sighed. “I heard myself say, ‘Well you kissed me. What comes next?’”

Hurt. Pain. Rage. Betrayal.

“So? What came next?” I heard myself asking.

Greg turned to me. He stared at me in the doorway for a long moment, then stood up.

Greg came in front of me, then he slowly got on his knees.

I didn’t stop him. Just like he didn’t stop Jesse.

He slipped down my khakis and underwear at the same time.

He took a moment to breathe on my genitals.

Greg doesn’t do that. He immediately goes for it, as if he couldn’t wait to put my cock in his mouth.

But he took a moment, before he lifted up my flaccid cock, and engulfed me.

I knew what he was doing. Instead of telling me what they did, he was going to show me.

I closed my eyes and became Greg. I visualized Jesse below me.

How exhilarated that must have felt to him, to have Jesse on his knees like that.

Worshiping his cock. Greg was deep throating over and over again like he wanted to swallow me whole, his lips touching my groin every time.

I held onto the doorframe to steady myself and groaned.

I felt Greg take my other hand and place it on the back of his head.

I obliged, pushing his head down every time he came up.

Then I used both hands, forcing him to take the thrusting I was giving him.

I felt my body flush and knew I was going to cum. I tried to pull back some, but Greg suddenly grabbed both my butt cheeks to hold me steady. I came hard, right down his throat. I forgot we had small kids in the house and growled out a loud moan.

I let Greg’s head go and stepped back, over the threshold, my pants still around my thighs.

Greg had tears running down his face, and it wasn’t from the face fucking I just did. He looked up at me and said, “Want to know what we did next? How Jesse fucked me?”

Hurt. Pain. Rage. Betrayal.

I stepped back into the room and slammed the door shut.

He was completely malleable as I lifted him up, and pushed him facedown on the mattress, his feet still on the floor.

I spread his cheeks and ate him out, stroking myself back up to hardness.

It didn’t take me long. He laid still as I grabbed the lube and put it on me, then rammed myself inside of him.

I pushed his face into the mattress and jackhammered into him.

Hard and fast. Greg moaned and moaned and moaned.

Anger fueled my intensity and duration. I wanted him to know that whatever happened between them next, it was nothing like the pounding I was giving him.

It took me a long time. When I finally did cum, I got off him and left him there on the bed, going right into the shower. I stood there under burning hot water, trying to drown myself. Knowing how it started did not make me feel better.