Eyl 30

The Seduction Game

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Damn, she was close.

Tia’s shoulders were bare, the milky, abundant flesh pressing hard against the straps of her softball tank top, inches from his sweaty body. But it was the proximity of her irrepressible hips that made Alonso move his linen napkin to his lap in an attempt to cover up the rising bulge there. She wasn’t looking at him, thankfully, as she relived the evening’s triple play for everyone’s amusement at the pub booth. He tried very hard not to look at her. Or at least not to look like he was looking at her.

The Growlers were formed on the internet, like many informal softball teams. Nobody knew each other outside of the team, but they spent a fair amount of time together. Their stories were similar: Athletic types not quite good enough for the pros or even the minors, drawn to office work for the money, yet missing the thrill of the game they had enjoyed in school. Most were married, including Tia and Alonso, but the spouses seldom showed, shooing the weekend warriors out the door while they settled down for a quiet evening of Netflix with no interruptions. That generally suited Alonso fine. Generally.

He had, of course, seen Tia checking him out on a fairly regular basis. This was not unusual, since the other ladies on the team did likewise. His Spanish heritage and strict workout regimen set him apart from the other men on the crew, and indeed from many other men in town, so he was used to that. It helped him get priority status from female business clients, for sure.

But in a lifetime of getting ogled, no one’s attention had ever gotten to him like Tia’s. Her smile and eyes were bewitching enough, but set atop that voluptuous body, which her clothing struggled to contain, she was a force of nature. He knew enough about her husband to know she’d married for money, and could well imagine that there were unmet needs steaming beneath those thin shorts.

However, Alonso Echeverria was not the man to meet them. He had married for love, eschewing the many opportunities for simple lust that had presented themselves throughout his school days. His wife’s mind was a constant source of interest for him, and they often talked late into the night about topics that would bewilder most people. Despite this, their sex life was middling. Not bad, certainly, but not nearly as explosive as the intellectual sparks they threw. The things he did with his wife almost always originated with his thoughts of what he would do with Tia. It made him feel guilty.

To calm his nerves, he ordered another beer. He would never have risked impairing his judgment in such a situation even a few months ago, but it had been a year now, and Tia had never even remotely attempted to break any barriers. He could not blame her for his body’s reactions any more than he could blame himself for her eyes’ occasional wandering to his muscular backside. They were two members of a mutual admiration society. Adults, thank you very much.

Alonso continued to reassure himself with that thought when he felt her warm hip press against his in the booth. She was laughing now, and paying him no attention as Ray told one of his many goofy coaching stories across the table. But damn, she was close. Her silky shoulder now touched his, and there was no way he could stand up now, not without introducing the entire group to his raging boner. It wasn’t her fault, it was a cramped booth, and everyone was caught up in post-game euphoria. Alonso was probably the only one freaking out. He took another pull of cerveza, and told himself to calm the fuck down.

That worked for a few minutes, until he felt something. At first he wasn’t sure if it was what he thought it was. Surreptitiously, he cast his eyes down and confirmed the reports from his nerves: Tia’s smooth hand had come to rest atop his thigh.

It was not a suggestive move, really. She still wasn’t looking at him, and everyone’s limbs were all crammed against each those of their neighbor anyway. Alonso writhed inside, cooked by his own private torment. Half of him wanted nothing more than for her to move her fingertips a few inches downward, to discover what her body was doing to him. The other half was mortified at the prospect that any such revelation could occur, and his mind searched frantically for a countermeasure. Desperately, he scooted his own hand between her digits and his aching crotch. It was as close as he could get to chastity belt on such short notice.

Lightning shot through Alonso’s nerves when, in response to his move, Tia’s ivory hand slid over and very delicately laced its fingers through his.

He was a complete mess now. Just inches to his left, Tia’s face betrayed no hint of what she had done. Gesticulating with her free hand, she did an impression of their curmudgeonly umpire, eliciting laughs all around. A big basket of home fries concealed her machinations below the table. Alonso dared not break contact with her flesh, for fear of alerting anyone else to what was going on. He Travesti downed the rest of his beer and took deep breaths, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible until they could have a moment alone so he could sort this out. He took commitment very seriously, and was not about to violate his wife’s trust.

The check arrived, and one by one, the other Growlers made their goodbyes. As was traditional, Tia stood to give them a big hug as they departed. While grateful to have the tension on his lap relieved, the bubble of her smooth and voluminous ass in his face was now even more torturous than usual. Alonso excused himself to the restroom, and splashed water on his face.

“No,” he said to himself. “No, no, no. This is not going to happen. Tell her.”

Stepping out, he found Tia waiting for him in the hallway, somewhat abashed. He steeled himself, but she spoke first.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, notably not with embarrassment, but with sincere humility. “Not without asking.”

“Tia, I…”

“I would never, EVER cheat on my husband, Alonso,” she said, with surprising firmness. “Even with you.”

He was confused now. “Okay, but…”

“It’s just that…” she said, with a sigh. “Did you ever play dress-up?”

Now Alonso was totally baffled. “Dress-up?”

“Yeah, like…pretending to be someone else? Playing like something was true even when it wasn’t?”

“I mean, sure, but…”

“Why do we stop doing that when we’re adults?” she asked, in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice that, in Alonso’s estimation, was totally at odds with the situation. “Why do we think we only have to show exactly what is?”

He blew out a breath. “Because in my experience, adults seem to be pretty goddamned terrible at keeping fantasy separate from reality.”

Tia laughed, without guile, but causing Alonso’s heart to skip a little. “Many adults do, yes,” she said, sighing a little as her big brown eyes searched the wall for her next words. “Can I be honest for a minute? Ben and I used to have…well, a pretty crappy time together in bed.”

Alonso leaned against the wall, almost fearing to hear what would come next.

“…and I’ll be real, I thought many times about getting someone on the side. But I’m very big on promises. Probably too big. Anyway, a few years ago, I went to a costume ball. I dressed as Morticia Addams, and there was a man there dressed as Gomez. Ben couldn’t make it, so I danced with this guy all night…it was pretty amazing.”

Shifting a bit, Alonso fidgeted with his keys in his pocket. He had the uncanny feeling of being swept downstream, which kept him on edge.

“I mean, the thoughts my mind was spinning as we twirled around that floor…I thought, this is it, this is when I finally crack. But at the end of the evening, the man simply bowed, released me and then took off with his boyfriend. I was gayjacked!”

Despite himself, Alonso chuckled. Tia was being Tia, frank and hilarious. It was hard to hate her.

“So I went home, and…well, let’s just say Ben never knew what hit him. I did things that I didn’t even know I wanted to do…”

Her eyes got dreamy, and Alonso bit his lip hard to keep himself in the here & now. Which got more difficult as she turned the heat of her gaze to him.

“Alonso, I have a theory,” she said, suddenly serious. “If married people aren’t given the chance to feel the thrill of a stranger’s touch, they will either drive themselves completely crazy or they will go do something regrettable and ruin their relationships.”

The gist of this theory dawned on him, and he stiffened noticeably.

“I know, I know,” she said, quickly, keeping a safe distance. “I know it sounds like the stupidest and most self-serving load of crap imaginable, but I tell you it saved my marriage.”

He shook his head. “Sure, it would work with a gay man…”

“And with two other straight ones,” she added, raising her eyebrow slightly. “We kept it safe, and it raised all boats.”

Alonso’s eyes boggled. “Safe how?”

Tia allowed herself a satisfied smile. “Holding hands, being close. No kissing, no groping. Just feeling the thrill…and then taking that charge home and unleashing it on our spouses.”

The thought enraptured and horrified him. Such restraint didn’t seem possible. Not with this woman.

“Tia, I…” he began, slowly, expecting to be stopped. But she merely gave him a patient smile, allowing him to speak his piece. This was even more unnerving somehow.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he continued, “But you…I don’t think you understand what you do to me.”

The deep, piercing understanding in her eyes shredded his resolve. She knew damned well what she did to him, and he had clearly been doing the same to her for nearly a year now. She could have taken him months ago, and she knew it. His promises were worthless against a woman like her.

“Take a few days to think about it,” she said, backing off appreciably, Ankara Travesti though the devilish spark at the corner of her mouth didn’t quite go away. “And I am sorry, I really should have had this conversation with you before having a bit of fun.”

Her apology was legitimate, he could tell. “Thanks,” he said, lamely.

Turning to go, the image of her glorious buttocks jiggled painfully against his retinas. He averted his gaze quickly, which was lucky, because she turned back around almost immediately.

“I don’t wreck homes,” she said, with the firmness she had used before. “Least of all my own. Trust in that.”

And with no further ado, she was gone.

Driving home was murder. The merest possibility of access to that heavenly flesh now controlled his mind’s every crevice. His hard-on grew, and by the time he pulled into the driveway, it was ridiculously out of control.

In the window, he saw Fiona’s shadow. His wife was certainly attractive, repping the skinny nerdgirl thing with aplomb, and in his current state, the thought of burying himself in a warm female body was intoxicating. Locking the door, he stepped into the bedroom where she lay reading in a t-shirt and panties. Sensing his arrival, she looked up through her horn-rims and appraised the look on his face.

Alonso raised a finger to his mouth gently, and crept like a jaguar towards the bed. Fiona’s eyes shot open wide, and within seconds his mouth had descended upon her inner thighs, gently but insistently. Gasping, she dropped the book and caressed her husband’s dark hair as he raised her body temperature with every lick and stroke. She dared not speak, but let her eyes wonder aloud at the unexpected fervor of his attack upon her nether regions. In short order, her panties were off, his face sinking deep within her soaked folds, demanding her surrender. Throwing her head back, she gave herself to him.

Once, twice, three times she came upon his voracious maw, and when at last he rose to unleash the splendor of his straining girth, the anticipation nearly drove her insane. The teasing of his tip was too much, and with a vigor that startled them both, Fiona reached up and grabbed his taut ass, plunging the whole of his shaft deep within her superheated pussy, causing them both to cry out. His eyes wide, he took her cue, and thrust zealously, hands commanding her hips, pulling their bodies over the cliff into blinding, blissful oblivion.

With a great shout, she came again, legs twitching against his relentless pelvis, which could not, would not be stopped until they were both cross-eyed and senseless. At last, with a great lunge, Alonso heaved into her undercarriage, setting off a deafening cacophony of cries, wordless grunts, and colossal breathless moans as they both climaxed harder than they’d ever dreamed possible.

Completely spent, Alonso collapsed in a panting, sweaty heap beside his stunned, tingling wife. Her inquisitive blue eyes asked the question, and he offered only a wicked smile in response, pulling her close for a deep, long kiss. Fiona’s body knew all that it needed to for the moment, and she buried her head in his neck as he passed quickly into sleep.


Within moments of their eyes meeting in the parking lot outside the practice diamond, Tia knew. Alonso did not attempt to deny it, and wore his glow proudly as he raised his hand in a salute. She smiled, a grin pregnant with a little glow of its own, and Alonso’s mind reeled at the thought of what she might have done to Ben while thinking of him. At any rate, she was right. This was a very good idea.

After practice, they waited till everyone was gone, and sat in the back of her pickup, hands clasped, looking up at the stars. Her head of luxurious brown hair upon his shoulders was heaven, as was the warmth of her incredible body against his.

“I can’t even believe this is possible,” he marveled, after they had sat in silence for quite a while, both still a little bit shocked at their audacity.

“Not everyone can pull it off,” she admitted. “I did have to put the brakes on one guy last year. It was painful.”

Alonso could very well imagine. Hell, it was painful for him, lying here next to the most amazing female form he’d ever encountered, diligently not fucking the shit out of her. But he kept his eye on the prize. His wife had savaged him three times since that first night, and it had been damned good. A cork had been pulled out of the bottle of her sexual appetites, and she was becoming more adventurous.

Still, realities warped in the throes. Just last night, his cock deeper in Fiona’s throat than it had ever been, he had thrown his head back and imagined Tia’s perfect lips working their magic upon him. He fought against the image now, this goddess’ hands mere inches away from the danger zone.

“So…” he said, hoping to derail his mind with conversation. “Is there, like, a safe word?”

Tia laughed deeply, a sound that rumbled İstanbul Travesti through his ribcage with cruel familiarity, making him want her even more. Smoothly, she sat up, releasing her grip on his hand and giving it a friendly pat.

“I think that was it,” she said, with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, I’m there, too. Time to take it out on the old ball & chain.”

Alonso sat in awe of her restraint as she stood and nonchalantly hopped out of the truck bed. But he dared not let on that his resolve was considerably weaker. Following her lead, he jumped out on the opposite side, giving her a lopsided grin.

“By the way,” he offered. “She doesn’t know it, but the wife says thank you.”

“Go wear her out, tiger,” Tia winked, hopping into the driver’s seat and cranking up the engine.

Like a man possessed, he charged home and laid waste to Fiona’s quivering frame. In thrall to this new force in her life, she said not word one to break the spell. Whatever had come over her husband, doubting its provenance would risk bringing it to a screeching halt, and that had to be avoided at all costs.

Still, after he had pounded her into a million pieces and finally passed out, Fiona did take a cursory trip through her husband’s call and text history. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she left the gift horse’s mouth be and snuggled up for another night of the soundest sleep she’d ever experienced.


Weeks passed, and Alonso’s life took on a dreamlike quality. It was as if the roles of his wife and his softball crush had traded places within his fevered imagination. Now he and Tia were the ones chatting the night away, and the drive home to Fiona was filled with anticipation of what devilish acts she might subject his eager body to next.

The fall softball season ended, and with it a regular excuse to see Tia. As the cold weather encroached, Alonso began to fear that his fantasy world might contract likewise. Absent games and practices, he had to invent boys’ nights and such…to actually lie to Fiona about where he was going, which filled him with guilt and dread. Someone would see. Someone would know, and tell his wife who he was with and where. And in such an eventuality, the truth was far more unbelievable than any lie he could possibly concoct.

In the chill of November, he pulled as quietly as possible into a grove of trees near the lake. From the bed of her truck, Tia’s chilled face smiled at him from beneath a crocheted white toboggan. Ringlets of thick brown hair framed her pale face, and Alonso’s breath failed him. She was a flawless snow angel, straight from a dream.

Cuddling up next to her beneath an old blanket, Tia’s warmth suffused his body in an unearthly cocoon as her cheek nestled against his shoulder. The scene was ridiculously sublime, and he blinked in disbelief that it could actually be happening without endangering his wedding vows.

Clasping her soft hand in his, he detected a faint tension in her grip. Brushing it off as the effect of the cold around them, he buried his chin in her mane. This caused her hand to grasp his more firmly, and he noticed her legs fidgeting next to his. He straightened a bit, giving her room. Alonso felt a low moan begin in his chest, but it was not his. Tia’s head began shaking, and within seconds, she flung the blanket off and got to her feet clumsily.

“FUCK!!” she shouted, more to herself than to him. In fact, she would not look at him.

Stunned, Alonso frowned in concern. “You okay? Did I…”

“No, Alonso, you didn’t,” she spat, frustrated. “This is me. This is my weakness, not yours. GodDAMMIT!!”

Clarity piercing his dreamy fog at last, he nodded. “It’s hard, I know. We don’t have to…”

“We can’t,” she said, firmly. “Not anymore. I’m sorry, Alonso, but if I touch you again, I will fuck you. You won’t have a choice in the matter.”

Wickedly, this caused his boner to rage harder than ever. All this time he thought that she was the strong one. Now to find out that she had been that close to losing control, part of him regretted what strength he’d shown. But somewhere inside, he knew he would be sorry if they did what they both so clearly wanted to do.

Standing, he resisted his urge to comfort her with a hug, and hopped gingerly out of the truck bed onto the damp ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” she repeated, shaking her head as her fists balled up. “It’s never happened before, not to me…it’s not your fault, Alonso. I mean, apart from walking around with those fuck-me eyes, god they make me want to tie you up and hump your face for a week…shit, I’m sorry, my twat is a fucking bitch. Dammit!”

As her titillating imagery buffered against his reeling nerves, a desperate thought fluttered through the wisps of hormones and disappointment. “I have an idea,” he offered, tentatively.

Tia drew a deep breath, steeling herself to deflect an end run around her resolve. “Okay, shoot,” she said at last.

“This may sound kind of cheesy, but…what if we wrote each other?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wrote what?”

“About what we would do. You know, if we could.”

Tia rolled her eyes. “No way I could touch you again after that, Alonso.”

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