by Erin O'Riordan
(01/02/08)

Evan was looking for his car keys.

"Look under the newspaper," Patrice told him.

He lifted the sports section; there were the keys. As he turned to kiss Patrice, his tie fell on his plate, flopping in the raspberry jelly on his half-eaten toast. "Fuck," he said.

Patrice handed him a paper towel. He wiped at the jelly, but it left a stain.

"Just laugh about it," Patrice said. "What else can you do?"

Evan shrugged. "I've got to go. Where's Marcus?"

"You know Marcus," she said to her husband's back as he opened the door to the garage. "Probably out for his morning run."

Evan took off his tie, tossing it onto the center of the table. "'Bye!" Evan yelled. Then he was gone.

Patrice sat down at the table. She swallowed her prenatal vitamin with a glass of orange juice, but it still tasted awful.

After doing the dishes, Patrice went out to the garden. She unlatched the gate, swung the heavy wooden door open, and knelt to fill her watering can. As she came around the tall trellis that the bean plants climbed, she was surprised to see Marcus sitting on the bench.

The tall tree shaded him, but Patrice could tell that Marcus had worked himself hard on his morning run. Sweat darkened his gray T-shirt and white shorts. He didn't notice her at first. He looked down at something small on the palm of his hand.

"Meditating on the secrets of the universe?" Patrice said.

Marcus looked up, not startled at all. "Caterpillar," he said.

Patrice came nearer. She looked at the little creature in Marcus's hand, brown and white striped with golden-orange legs. The caterpillar twisted its head left and right.

"Do you know why I love caterpillars, Patrice?" Marcus asked. She started to answer, but the question was rhetorical. "Because they're proof that butterflies are fucking."

Should she laugh? Turn and walk away? Or run?

"I've never seen butterflies fucking," he went on. "I bet it's beautiful. I bet they do it in midair."

She held the watering can in front of her. "I should water the vegetables."

Marcus lowered his eyes. "You're afraid of me."

"No. You've been staying with us for two weeks, and you've never been anything but a gentleman. You're the perfect guest, Marcus." She started toward the tomatoes.

"Evan knows how I feel about you," Marcus said. He stood behind her. "Brothers talk about everything."

"I don't need to know," she said.

Then he said what Patrice was hoping not to hear. "He told me that he cheated on you, Patrice."

So many bad memories came up, and she had to push them all away. "That was three years ago, Marcus."

"But I know about your deal," Marcus said. "Evan said you're allowed one affair; that was only fair. I just want you to think about it, Patrice. Think about letting me be your one."

She dropped the can, splashing water on her shoes. Marcus bent to pick it up for her.

"You don't understand," she said, looking him in the eyes when he stood up. God, his eyes looked just like Evan's, only bigger and darker. "I don't care what Evan said; marriages don't work like that, Marcus. I've had to work hard at this marriage for three years, and now I have the baby to think about. Even if I wanted to be with you, I couldn't take the chance of screwing up what Evan and I have."

"Do you want to be with me?" Marcus asked, holding out the watering can for her.

She snatched the watering can from his hands, then turned away. She wouldn't answer the question. Her answer wouldn't matter anyway.

"I'm going into town in an hour," he said. "I have a job interview. I won't bother you again."

"Good," Patrice said as she sprinted toward the house.

Evan came home at the usual time, while Patrice was peeling potatoes for dinner. She told Evan everything, even about the caterpillars. "He said that the two of you talk about everything," Patrice said as Evan massaged his temples. "So, what did he tell you about me?"

Evan crossed his arms and exhaled loudly. "Marcus thinks he has a crush on you," he said. "I can't say I don't understand it. There weren't a whole lot of women in the Army with him. And now he spends the day alone in the house with you." He pushed in the kitchen chair in which he'd been sitting and leaned against the counter beside her.

"He asked me to think about having an affair with him. He's your brother, Evan. Doesn't that piss you off? Are you sure you don't want to punch him in the mouth or something?"

Evan wrapped his arms around Patrice's waist, burying his mouth in her hair. "He's just being honest, Patrice," Evan said gently. "Listen, I know you think you're never going to take me up on my offer. That's really noble of you."

"You made a mistake," Patrice said. "If I were to cheat on you now, it wouldn't be a mistake. I would know exactly what I was doing. I can't be that kind of person, Evan. I wouldn't want that kind of person to raise our baby. Would you?"

He kissed the top of her head. "That's really noble," he repeated. "But if you were ever going to cheat on me, I would rather have it be with Marcus than with some stranger. I know Marcus, and he has a good heart. He would never hurt you, Patrice."

"You're wrong," she said. "What he's suggesting would hurt us. It would make everything so complicated."

She peeled the last of the potatoes and turned on the water to rinse them.

Evan sat back down at the kitchen table. "You're right," he said. "It would be complicated."

When Marcus came home that evening, Evan asked him how the job interview went.

"Great," Marcus said. "The guy that would be my boss, Mr. Stevens, was in the Marine Corps. Just got out of the reserves two years ago, in fact. Loves to work with ex-military. I can practically count on it."

Evan smiled. "I guess you'll be looking for an apartment in town pretty soon." He looked over at Patrice, who was folding sheets.

"Yeah," Marcus said. His eyes followed Evan's. "Pretty soon."

Patrice pretended not to notice as Marcus stared at her. She kept her eyes on her sheets. But she wondered if Evan had really meant what he'd said earlier. Would Evan understand if he knew that right now, she wondered how it would feel to kiss Marcus? Could he really forgive her if she got up in the middle of the night and wandered into Marcus's room?

Patrice slept uneasily that night. The next day, Patrice was putting away the laundry. Evan had been at work for about an hour. She went to put the towels in the guest bathroom while Marcus was still out for his morning run.

She opened the door to the towel cabinet before she saw Marcus's sweaty T-shirt, lying on the floor. His running shorts were nearby.

Marcus stood in the shower, behind the frosted glass. The water wasn't running. His hand moved rapidly up and down the shaft of his cock. His eyes opened, and he saw her.

"I'm sorry," Patrice said.

"Don't go," Marcus replied.

But she was already gone. Her basket of clean towels lay, overturned, on the floor by his shirt. By the time Marcus got dressed, Patrice had left the house.

She didn't know where she was going at first. Her car seemed to head downtown, and she let it. She went to her small town's library, where it would be quiet, and settled into a comfortable chair. After a while, she flipped half-heartedly through a parenting magazine. But mostly she just sat and thought.

What's the matter with me? Patrice thought. I've known Marcus for years, and I've never been attracted to him before. I meant what I said to Evan -- I don't want to be that kind of woman. So why can't I stop thinking about what Marcus looks like in the shower, naked and wet? Evan practically gave me his blessing to explore...but I can't.

She argued with herself all day. Yet each time she closed her eyes, she pictured Marcus pleasuring himself. And she had to admit that it turned her on.

When she grew tired of contemplating life from the armchair, Patrice thought of some errands she could run.

She stopped at the market for a cooked chicken and made sure that she had it home in time for Evan's arrival. She was pleased to see that Marcus's car wasn't in the driveway. She wasn't ready to be alone with him again.

Evening was even hotter than the day had been. Patrice lay in bed that night, sweating under the thin sheet that covered her and Evan.

"Are you still awake?" Evan asked her.

"Yeah," she said.

"You're not still upset about what Marcus said to you in the garden, are you?" he said.

"No," she said. "I'm lonely, Evan. I missed you today. And it's hot in here."

He rolled over to face her, smiling gently. Patrice leaned closer and kissed those lips. Her fingers ran down his bare chest; his skin was as hot as hers. She reached for the waistband of Evan's boxers. As she closed her eyes, Patrice felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She realized that she was thinking of Marcus again.

In the morning, Evan left for work. Patrice waited for Marcus to come back from his run. She lay across her bed, staring out the window at the bright blue summer sky. She heard Marcus open and close the back door. She listened for him to come upstairs, then the sound of the water running. The guest bedroom -- Marcus's, for now -- was two rooms down from where Evan and Patrice slept. Marcus's bathroom was just on the other side of her bedroom wall.

Sighing, Patrice turned the doorknob and walked into the guest bathroom. She kept her eyes down, watching the worn blue vinyl.

"Patrice?" Marcus said. It was hard to hear him over the sound of the water.

She nodded. "I've been thinking about what you said," she said, loudly and clearly. "I've been with Evan since I was eighteen. I never thought I'd be with anybody else. But I need to know what it's like. I need to know before the baby is born. And I want to be with you, Marcus."

She slipped out of her house shoes. She looked around. For Evan, she supposed. But he wouldn't be home for hours. She unbuttoned her blouse, unzipped her skirt.

He turned the water off.

"You don't have to stop," she said. "Do what you were doing yesterday."

He smiled. He looked so much like Evan when he smiled, if Evan worked out more and got a tan.

"I can't," Marcus said. "Not if you're going to take your clothes off. If you're naked, Patrice, and I touch myself, I'm going to explode."

She felt shy, like a teenager again. This is Marcus, she told herself. He's seen you in a bikini. This is only a little different...

She slid out of her panties, unhooked her bra. She opened the shower door and took in the full sight of him, standing there naked, wet and hard. Marcus. Her husband's brother.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked. "When I caught you?"

"You," he said. His voice cracked. "I've wanted you ever since I came back. When I got off the plane, and you were there, I fell in love with you, Patrice."

"Love?" she said. "How could you possibly?"

"I don't know." He reached out for her, put his hand on her hip. He pulled her closer. The side of his hand brushed the slightly rounded arch of her belly. He went to kiss her, but she turned her face away.

She wasn't done looking. Patrice was fascinated by Marcus's cock. Was it her imagination -- the idea that the grass is always greener -- or was Marcus's cock really bigger than Evan's? It looked longer, and it was definitely fatter. It quivered as if it were thinking, too.

"What were you thinking about?" Patrice asked again, bringing her mouth very close to Marcus's ear. "Tell me exactly."

She turned the water back on, watching with interest as the black hairs on Marcus's belly stuck to his skin. She put one hand on his arm to steady herself as she let the water wash over her, getting her hair thoroughly wet. Her wet hair hung straight down over her breasts, covering her nipples. Only then did she let her other hand touch Marcus's cock. He gasped softly.

"Tell me," she repeated.

"You were on the bed," he said, as if he couldn't help himself. "On your back. I got on top of you, on all fours, with my dick in your face and my face between your legs."

"You want to sixty-nine?" she asked. She took the bottle of body wash (her body wash, the one that Marcus and Evan wouldn't use) and made a pool of it in the palm of her hand. It smelled like strawberries. She rubbed it onto Marcus's cock.

"Patrice, don't do that. You're going to make me come right now." He pulled away from her.

"I want you to come," she said. "I want to suck you off. I want you to come in my mouth. But let me wash you first. I'll be gentle, I promise."

"No," he said. "Gentle is no good. You've got to be rough, like you're going to break it off."

She laughed, but she did what he said. She worked the strawberry soap into a lather, then rinsed all of it off under the water, which was already starting to get cold. Marcus's cock smelled like strawberries now.

Patrice reached behind Marcus and turned off the water. Marcus groaned as the tip of her tongue traced the vein on the underside of his cock.

"I've been dreaming of this for so long," he said. "When do I get to taste you? I want to take you to bed and eat your pussy, just like I've always imagined." He bit his lip as her head bobbed harder and faster.

It took her a long time to answer. "Later," she said. "Come first. I want to drink your juice, Marcus. Be a good boy now and give it to me."

"Can't we go to bed?"

More long, quick strokes. "Later," she said. "We've got all afternoon."

"I always dreamed about you talking like that to me. You talk that way to Evan, don't you?"

Another long stroke. "No." Another stroke. "Never." She was telling him the truth.

Now her strokes were deep and incredibly slow. She was being gentle, not trying to break it off. He lost it, coming in her mouth just like she wanted. Marcus suppressed a scream, biting into his biceps. Patrice enjoyed watching him so tormented.

When she'd milked the last drops from his head and swallowed them, Patrice got up and reached for a towel. She wiped every trace of her saliva off his cock with the towel, then reached around to dry the hard muscle of his ass.

Next it was his turn to dry her. She opened for him, slowly, revealing herself in stages. First the clit, standing at attention. He touched it with his thumb, and she shuddered. Then the lips, pink and swollen. Finally, the tiny opening, glistening with a single pearl of whitish moisture. She was wet for him. His dick was starting to get hard again.

"Can we go to bed now?" he said.

She spread herself out on Marcus's bed, arms and legs reaching, mouth ready. She was smiling. He lowered himself onto her, knees bent. She laughed at the unexpectedly smooth touch of his scrotum on her face. She caught his cock in her mouth. His breath was hot on her thigh.

"Now," he said, "would be a good time to be gentle. I'll be too distracted."

She hummed her answer. The vibrations drove him crazy, so he concentrated on her pussy. It, too, smelled like her strawberry body wash. That, but also that sexy womanly smell, like raw oysters soaked in honey.

"You taste exactly the way I dreamed you would," Marcus said.

He licked away the pearl. She hummed harder.

As Marcus licked her, Patrice's mouth got lazy. He nipped at her with his teeth, and she forgot to suck. He bit her too hard, accidentally, and his cock popped out of her mouth. Marcus didn't even care. He ate her ferociously.

"Marcus," she pleaded, "I want your cock in my pussy. Now."

His dismount was awkward. She rolled onto her belly gracefully, got up on her hands and knees. Her cunt, now violently red and soaked with dew, was as beautiful as any flower in her garden.

"No, not like this," he said. He rolled her onto her back, crushed her, pushed himself inside her.

Patrice sighed. She almost told him that he was, without a doubt, fatter and longer than Evan. But Marcus didn't need to know that. All he needed to do was pound into her, just the way he was doing. Not rough. Not trying to dominate her. Just trying to get as far inside her as he could, trying to get at her core, really to know her in every way.

She came just as she finished the thought. Marcus was young and strong, and wanted to keep going and going. When Patrice had had enough, she licked her index finger. She used the wet finger to trace the pink ring around the outside of Marcus's nipple.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She felt the nipple harden in between her index finger and thumb. He liked it, just like Evan did. She pressed her mouth to his chest, found the nipple in its nest of black hair. She sucked at him, and soon he was coming inside her.

"Beautiful," he said as he caught his breath.

"Like butterflies fucking," she said. She laughed, but he was serious.

"Patrice, come away with me," he said. "Leave Evan. Come with me instead."

She shook her head. "I love him. He's my baby's father."

"Love me. Let me be the father. Evan can be the uncle."

"It doesn't work like that, Marcus." She sat up. She thought of getting back in the shower, getting dressed, putting away the clean dishes. Marcus gently held onto her wrist.

"Stay," he said. "Let me pretend for a little while longer."

Evan wouldn't be home for hours. She laid her head back down on Marcus's chest, listened to his heart beating. Soon they were asleep.

Patrice didn't answer when Evan called for her. Somehow he knew where to look.

Evan opened his brother's bedroom door. Patrice got off the bed and went to Evan. He put his arms around her. She was still naked, and her skin felt hot. That beautiful, erotic strawberries-and-oysters scent clung to her. Patrice knew it, and was sad to know that Marcus knew it now, too. She would never again belong to Evan alone.

Evan kissed her forehead, her lips, her chin, and her neck. "Go get dressed," he said. It was a plea, not a demand.

Patrice went toward the shower. She stopped at the bed, where Marcus looked up at her, his eyes bigger and darker than Evan's. She lowered her head and kissed the head of his cock. Kissed it goodbye. She left the room, preferring to shower in her own bathroom. The brothers heard the water running.

"She's having my baby, Marcus," Evan said.

"I know, Evan. You're the daddy. I'm just the uncle," Marcus replied.

Our permanent collection of erotic stories