Splick

He sits in a fog that matches his towel. I make out two brown nipples over what looks, from here, a good fifteen feet of mist in between us, like perfect, unmottled skin. A gift to the world in his own packaging, a box of goodies wrapped in a flat stomach and strong thighs. I've been trying to make eye contact with him, unseizing, unblinking. Though he's caught me twice, I haven't looked away, and his smile, the slightest turn of lip in the steam, hasn't shaken my confidence.

My bag rings. My stare turns into a pout, a distant intruder to make me look hard to get. I make eye contact again and cock my head apologetically before getting the phone. He looks unimpressed, ready to wave a hand in dismissal at me, but I smile fully before he can.

"Hello."

"Hey, sweetie. Just calling to see how your meeting went today."

"I don't know, really," I mumble into the fog and the distant techno thump. The phone, noise-cancelling, only passes on my voice. "I thought it went alright. Everything worked, anyway." My conquest now faces me dead on and taps his foot impatiently, looking at the phone, then my eyes, then my towel. "I'll find out tomorrow, I guess."

"Well, it's a relief your fucking PowerPoint didn't blow up, then," she said. "How's the hotel?"

"Typical hotel room, I guess. Two beds. One desk. One movie channel. WiFi."

There's a long pause in the conversation. The conquest digs his knuckles into his bench, looks at me for confirmation, then stands up.

"I've been missing you," she says.

"I miss you too. Been awhile since we were apart like this, huh?"

The conquest walks, all casual and confidence, to me, his feet spreading across the floor. I can do nothing but watch.

"It's been awhile, yeah," she says. The conquest, now less of a conquest and more like my winnings, leans into me and breathes into the non-phone ear.

"Who is that on the phone?" he says.

"My bed is all cold and empty, honey," I say, loud enough.

"The boyfriend," he says. His mouth is hot. He follows with his teeth and nibbles my ear.

"I've been thinking about you all night. I want to do it by phone, okay?"

My gasp answers her. "Put on that babydoll I bought you."

"Oooh. Your man's a dress-up boy, huh?" he says, then runs the back of his fingers down my sides and up my chest.

"Do you have it on?" I ask.

"Yes," she says, panting a little. I can just hear it, the two of them in either ear. He pulls back and straddles my lap, looking over my body and ending at my eyes.

"That's a good girl," I say, pointing my chin at "girl."

He leans in again. "The wife!" he says.

"Now," I continue, "raise that thing for me. I want to see that pussy."

The man looks affronted in a joking way and unknots his towel at the hip. His cock is half up, slightly curved at his thigh. I stare at it.

It really had been a long time.

"Can you see it?" she asks.

"Yes. Now touch yourself. Start slow." The man takes my free hand and puts it on his cock. I'm hypnotized, distracted and falling. I pull it absently, but not from lack of interest, from fascination, as if I'd never seen one before. "Are you wet?"

"Yes. I'm soaking. I want you."

I begin to stroke him earnestly, as if his were mine. Mine is strapped down under terrycloth, edging between thigh and hip. He hasn't looked yet.

"Play with your tits for me."

The man's head is bent back, his neck strong and smooth but for an arête of an Adam's Apple. His lips are open, swollen, as if I'd been sucking on them. His fingers on his left hand sweep his stomach and pinch his nipple. I let go of him for a moment, take his right hand and place it on my towel's knot.

"Do you have it in your hand?" she asks. "Are you stroking it?"

"Yes baby. I want to be inside you."

He unknots my towel with fumbling fingers and finds my cock. My head slams back.

"You are," she says. "I'm fucking myself."

She's got a dildo, a rubbery, translucent one, slightly smaller than me. I imagine it plunging inside of her and stroke the guy faster. He opens my bag. I shoot him a serious look until he fishes a bottle of lube from it. I'm so dizzy I never would've remembered. He flips open the cap, pours a generous amount on him and my open hand, then me, and returns to me, full duty.

"God, that's good," I gasp.

"I want to hear it," she says. "Put the phone next to it."

I exhale, lower the phone to my cock and lean into the man. He kisses me deep, darting a tongue and rubbing my lips with it. I listen for the sound of our hands on each other and hear it in the haze. Splick splick splick. I bring the phone up, the man's mouth leaving mine in steam. My wife is breathing quickly, catching and releasing each breath. "Did you hear it?" I ask her. My body is starting to rumble. So is my captor's.

"Yes baby. You're fucking me so... good."

"You're so ready. You're so beautiful." I look at him as I say this. He smiles, then returns to shaky pleasure.

"Just keep fucking me. My clit is on fire."

The man leans forward and puts one hand on the wall behind me. He's humping my legs.

"Are you ready to come?" I ask.

"Yes."

He humps faster, his stomach curling hard. I slip down his cock and hold for a moment, then up again, a little more with each stroke. I feel a tickle deep inside. "I'm ready," I say.

He fucks my hand and strokes me with the same hard rhythm.

"Ohhh, God," she says. "Ohhhhh, God. Oh! Oh fuck! OH!"

He comes, grasping tight on my cock, trembling, shooting out one, two, three on my stomach. His arm gives and he falls into my lips, breathing my exhales. I don't mean to, but I bite his lip and jerk forward, coming hard, pulling something deeper than usual, coating his stomach, moaning. Moaning loud.