A Turn of the Screwed (10 page)

After a while, sex alone got boring. It was sadism that put the spice into his life.

As the contest got underway, Keith put Scott down on his knees at his feet, keeping his hand on Scott’s hooded head.

The way Scott leaned in and rested his head against Keith’s thigh felt right, good.

Perfect.

Don’t get your hopes up.

It was hard
not
to get his hopes up. It’d been a long time since he’d felt such a rapport with anyone.

When the contest ended and the winner was crowned, they returned to the room for Keith to remove the butt plug from Scott, as well as so he could grab his implement bag.

With Scott kneeling, Keith grabbed his head and stared down into the man’s blue eyes. “You ready for another first tonight?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. You can safeword when we play, but inside your hard limits, I have control. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Such a good boy.” He pulled Scott’s face against the hard outline of his cock on front of his shorts, these with a zipper-front that would give him fast and easy access to his cock for the fucking portion of the activities.

And there
would
be fucking.

With the dungeon tent open, there was a short line to get in. Keith carried their IDs and paid the fee for both of them to go in. While there’d been women around that weekend, both het ones there with their male partners as well as lesbians, the tent was guys only.

And for good reason.

Already, the action had heated up at several different stations, guys playing, one guy getting gang-fisted, another locked in a cage and being used as a glory hole at both ends.

None of those held any of his interest.

He led Scott over to one corner, to a spanking bench not far from where several sex slings had been set up on portable frames. Amused, Keith noted Scott’s wide eyes as he looked around.

“Second thoughts?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good.”

Keith stripped Scott’s jock off him, put a towel down on the bench, and pointed at it. After getting Scott’s wrist and ankle cuffs clipped to anchor points on the bench, Keith had to fight the urge to giggle with glee.

He started out with a bare-handed spanking, alternating between that and squeezing the man’s ass cheeks, digging his nails in, pounding his ass and upper thighs with his fists. From there he progressed to a paddle, going easy on him at first.

Which didn’t take long to step up.

He’d thought about using a gag on Scott, but he wanted to hear him. Not just in case he safeworded, but the grunts and moans of pain he drew from the man.

Natural aphrodisiac.

A small crowd even gathered to watch them play. By the time he finished striping Scott’s ass with a cane, he was ready to fuck him, hard and fast. While he could have simply done it right there on that bench, he wanted Scott in one of the slings.

Both so he could see the man’s eyes when he slid his cock into him, and so he could watch the look on Scott’s face, knowing he was being watched by several dozen strangers while getting fucked.

He gathered his implements and put them away before unclipping Scott and pulling him up. He grabbed the towel, wiped down the bench, and immediately steered him toward the nearest open sling.

Once he got him in there, clipping his wrist and ankle cuffs to the chains holding it up, Keith grinned as he rolled a condom down Scott’s stiffening cock. He glanced to the right and noticed that, three slings down, the red-haired guy from Scott’s work was about to get himself reamed out by a huge black stud, double-teamed as another guy had his head down and backward and had his condom-covered cock down his throat.

He returned his attention to Scott. “That’s right, boy. Going to take you here in front of everyone. Going to show them who you belong to. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He unzipped his own shorts, rolled a condom down his screaming cock, and slathered himself with lube.

Then, holding onto Scott’s left thigh with one hand, and the base of his cock with the other, Keith positioned the thick knob of the head at Scott’s entrance.

“Remember,” he told Scott. “Eyes open and watching me.”

He thrust, hard and deep, enjoying the way Scott moaned, the way his hands tightened around the chains his cuffs were clipped to, the way he arched his back, trying to take Keith’s cock even more deeply inside him.

Around them, the world faded away as Keith focused on Scott’s blue gaze. The catcalls, the comments, the eyes watching them, none of them mattered.

What mattered was this man and what they were doing together. What they were making together.

With his cock now completely embedded in Scott’s ass, Keith smiled as he held on to Scott’s thighs and started fucking him. The sling allowed Keith to really pound into his ass, the right amount of leverage to give it to him.

Keith had to slow down when he felt his own orgasm spinning up too quickly. So he grabbed Scott’s cock and started stroking. “Come for me, boy. Show everyone here who owns this ass.”

Scott tried to rock his hips, the way he was positioned in the sling not allowing him any traction other than arching his back. It only took him a minute or two for Keith to get him there, his loud, satisfied moan music to Keith’s ears as Scott filled the condom covering his cock. The way his ass clenched around Keith’s cock nearly made him come.

Then it was his turn. He let go of Scott’s cock and grabbed his thighs again, slamming into him, brutally fucking him, taking him, owning him, until he dug his fingers into Scott’s thighs as his climax swept through him, squeezing every last drop of cum out of his balls and into the condom.

Standing there, the noise of the crowd started coming back. He reached over and unclipped Scott’s wrists and ankles without pulling out, and leaned in to kiss him. He bit Scott’s lower lip, sucking.

“Mine,” he whispered. “My boy, my ass.”

“Yes, Sir.” Scott smiled. “All yours.”

Scott’s mind buzzed late Sunday afternoon as he drove south over the Skyway Bridge toward Sarasota.

Keith.

He hoped it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part that they’d had a real connection, something more than just sex.

Although, yes, the sex had been hot.

Exceptionally so. So much different than Noel going after him with a strap-on. Especially since he knew that really wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, that she was only doing it for his benefit. It wasn’t like she got anything out of it.

And the D/s dynamic they had. It felt natural.

Perfect.

In a way it hadn’t with Noel.

The more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. He had asked a lot of Noel over the past couple of years. And yes, he loved her. No, he didn’t want to get divorced. Keith living in Sarasota made things that much easier. They could actually date. Go to the club.

Then again, how to explain
that
to their friends? That he was going, Noel wasn’t, and he was going with a guy?

Well, their kinky friends would get it, but that meant Keith would have to be his dirty little secret in other areas of his life until he and Noel got divorced.

He hated that.

His ass hurt in the good way, and his heart ached in the bad. He couldn’t wait to see Keith again. They’d text and phone each other, but their next time together would be Tuesday evening, after Keith got off work. Scott had the day off.

Keith wanted to meet Noel then, and Scott wasn’t sure how to broach that subject with her.

He wiggled in the seat, his cock throbbing as he relished the soreness in his ass. After Keith fucked him in the sling, they’d gone back to the room and fucked some more. This time, Keith had tied Scott up on the bed, gotten Scott’s cock hard, and impaled himself, slowly fucking Scott, teasing him, torturing him, all the while beating off his own cock until he came, then finally letting Scott follow suit.

Fucking the man felt so amazing, so different in so many ways, than being with Noel.

It wasn’t a fair comparison, and he knew it, but it was his current reality, his life.

His heart on the line, and Noel’s.

Well, and Keith’s, if things kept progressing.

Regardless of how things ended up with Keith, Scott now knew he needed to pursue this path, unfortunately away from Noel.

* * * *

When Scott pulled into their driveway, Noel’s car sat parked in its usual spot. As he sat there, the engine running, he tried to replace his mental image of Keith kissing him good-bye in the parking lot of the resort an hour earlier with one of Noel kissing him good-bye before he left late Friday.

He couldn’t.

He could still conjure Keith’s taste, his scent.

The feel of him beating his ass.

The feel of him
in
his ass.

Shutting off the car, he took a deep breath. This wouldn’t be an easy or a fun talk. Maybe even more difficult than his talk with her when he finally drew enough courage to admit to her what he felt about himself.

How he’d sincerely hoped her being his Domme would be enough for him. That he’d be able to get by on that, able to purge other thoughts and desires from his brain.

No, not so much, unfortunately.

And especially not now, not since Keith came into his world and obliterated every preconceived notion he’d had about himself and his life up until this point. Scott knew he couldn’t truly be happy with Noel, and it wasn’t fair to her. He couldn’t be the husband she needed, the one she deserved. She deserved happiness every bit as much as he did. More, because she’d tried her hardest the past couple of years. Given up bits of herself to try to make this happen for him.

It was time to finally admit defeat and plan the next stage of their lives. There was no easy answer here. Either way, someone got screwed in a bad way. Whether him by giving up pursuing what he knew he needed out of life, or Noel if he didn’t.

Nobody won.

Someone got screwed no matter which way he turned.

He got out of the car, retrieved his things from the trunk, and headed inside. She was on the couch, grading papers with the TV on.

The look on her face telegraphed her hope, her dread, her fear.

He set his bags down in the hall and walked over to kiss her hello.

“Did you have a good time?”

Unspoken and layering her question were all the things he knew she wouldn’t outright ask. Not unless he volunteered them.

“We need to talk.”

* * * *

If there were four words strung together in the English language that could instill as much dread in a person, Noel didn’t know what they were. Her heart had started pounding as soon as she’d heard his car in the driveway. Even harder once she’d heard him coming through the front door.

Now it felt like it was trying to break free of her rib cage and gallop screaming through the house.

She slowly set the pile of papers she was working on out of the way on the coffee table before sitting back and forcing herself to look him in the eyes. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

After ten years of marriage, she was well acquainted with his body language, his quirks and tics and tells. The way he clasped his hands together in his lap reminded her of the night two years earlier when, after a couple of beers, he’d made his bombshell admission to her.

This was the other shoe, the first dropped that night.

“I met someone this weekend.”

A litany of responses tripped through her brain, but she settled on silently nodding.

“I’d like to date him,” Scott continued. “We really seemed to hit it off. He lives in Sarasota. And he wants to meet you to talk with you and make sure you’re really okay with this.”

Another nod.

He stared at her.

She stared back.

Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence. “What do you think?”

“I already told you, you have my permission, as long as you’re safe. I don’t know what else you want from me.” Okay, that came out a little snippier than she’d intended. “I knew this was inevitable.”

“I need to know you’re okay with this.”

“Am I
okay
with this?” A tiny switch flipped in her brain and all the things she hadn’t wanted to say came spilling out. “Am I okay with my husband admitting he thinks he’s gay and submissive and then spending two years of my life trying to maintain a facade of denial that I didn’t know it wasn’t a matter of if, but
when
he finally found someone else? No, Scott. I’m dandy.”

“I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath and focused her attention on the ceiling for a moment in an attempt to regain her composure.

This isn’t who she wanted to be.

She finally looked at him again. “I’m sorry,” she said, that rage finally vented and relieving a little emotional pressure. “I swore I wouldn’t be like that, but I’m only human.” She reached out and took his hand. “I do want you to be happy. And I know you’re upset about me being upset. I get it. Yes, I’ll talk to him. You were safe this weekend, right?”

He nodded.

She couldn’t help it. She played dirty, squeezing his hand and standing, tugging him with her. “Then it’s time to take care of me, isn’t it?” she asked in the Domme tone that she’d become very adept at using on him over the past two years.

He stood. “Yes, Ma’am.”

He let her lead him to their bedroom.

* * * *

An hour later, lying in bed with Noel dozing, Scott stared at the ceiling, more conflicted than ever.

Yes, he loved Noel. Was he
really
going to throw away ten years of marriage?

On the bedside table next to him his phone vibrated. He reached over and picked it up, a text from Keith on the screen.

Everything okay?

The weekend came racing back, flooding his mind, his heart, his soul.

Thinking about it, his thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before he typed in his reply.