Love the One You're With Read Free

Pooquie.
    â€œYes, I did. But not because of how being inside her made me feel.”
    I could tell by the look on Pooquie’s face that he didn’t buy that. He’s from the school where, if you can get it up and off with a woman, that means you can’t be gay. But a man can get hard if the wind blows the right way against his dick—and it doesn’t matter what way he swings. And, given all the gay men who function as straight and their wives or girlfriends don’t know it—and, when they do find out, can’t believe it, since he performed in a way that never gave them cause to pause—such a masquerade isn’t hard to pull off.
    â€œDid she think her experiment was successful?” Gene questioned, even though he already knew the answer.
    â€œShe did. But she also saw her spell didn’t last long. She came home a week later and found her brother and me fuckin.’”
    â€œNo!” I squealed. “How did that happen?”
    â€œWell, she made the mistake of telling her brother about us. And he confronted me about it.”
    I was on the edge of my seat for this one. “And what did he say?”
    B.D. smiled. “‘If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask!’”
    We all cracked up.
    â€œNow, that must have truly been traumatic for her,” I managed to get out between chuckles.
    B.D. shrugged. “I guess seeing it with her own eyes was. But in the end, she accepted her brother being gay and us being a couple. The way she saw it, it was better she lose a man to her brother than another woman!”
    â€œAh. The dick that got away couldn’t be hers to begin with,” I added.
    â€œYou go it,” B.D. agreed.
    â€œMy, my, my: The power of the pussy fails again!” announced Gene.
    As we cackled and Pooquie groaned “Uh-huh,” Babyface correctly surmised it was time to move on. He stuck his hand in Pooquie’s X cap, and chose: “Have you ever dreamed about having sex with someone in this room other than your significant other?”
    We would later find out that B.D. jotted this one down—and that Babyface was his intended target.
    â€œWell …” Babyface began, looking at the floor, “I’ve had this dream … a few times …”
    Given that we had gotten busy on the very couch he was lounging across, I knew he was going to say me (as part of their “one more fling before we exchange rings” deal, B.D. and Babyface each slept with someone else—and I was Babyface’s pick). But when he looked up, his eyes trailed past me …
    â€¦ and fell on Pooquie, who was just as surprised as Gene and I. “Man, you fuh real?”
    â€œYup.”
    Being the not-so-modest person he is, Pooquie naturally wanted to know … “What you dream about?”
    Babyface wore a slight grin. “Well … we’re going over your contract, and after we’re done, you say: ‘Well, it’s time for me to pay up.’ Then you stand up, rip off your shirt, unzip and drop your pants, knock the contract on the floor, climb atop the table on all fours, and say: ‘A’ight, Counselor: It’s time to chow down and throw down!’”
    Everyone fell out, except Gene. “Well, it’s clear how you wish to be paid for your legal services.” He rose and went into the kitchen.
    B.D. waved at me. “Can ya believe it? Our husbands having an affair!”
    I pointed to Pooquie and Babyface. “I think we may have to keep an eye on you two.” They blushed.
    Hmm … knowing firsthand how well Babyface works that tongue and dick, I glanced in the kitchen and could clearly see Pooquie planted on the countertop with his chocolate pound cakes spread and Babyface chowing down before throwing down. It didn’t rub me the wrong way, it rubbed me the right way—my dick got hard.
    I was next.
    â€œTell someone something about them that bothers