Portable

*****

I was right. Fuck was I right. Monogamy and, worse yet, celibacy are the motivation for insanity.

Three days without fucking. Three days with nothing more than my hand and Justin’s voice and dirty picture messages to get me off has caused me to go insane. I spent three days in Miami turning down three dozen offers of sex because I have something more meaningful waiting for me at home. After three days of torture, I come home a full day early deserving to be greeted with at least three days worth of fucks in one… and I get this?

It isn’t jet lag or lack of sleep corrupting my mind to hallucinate. I wish it was some unearthly force or drug causing my mind to dredge up the horrible sight before me. But not even the worst E has ever caused any trip to be so vivid with atrocity.

Justin is kneeling at the bottom of the bed and the only clothing he has on is a pair of black shorts which are so small I’m surprised they fit over his ass. Finding him in so little clothing should be a good thing. I should be able to say, ‘Surprise, I’m home’ and be happy that he’s nearly naked; or in other words, ready to be fucked from one end of the house to the other.

But his attention isn’t on me because he doesn’t even notice I’m home. Nope, his eyes are glued to Daphne who is dressed in nothing more than a skimpy tank top and a pair of tiny blue shorts that look a lot like the ones he’s wearing. I’m so petrified by what I see next that I can’t move or speak. If I could, it would probably aid in ending the scene before me or at least wake me up from this nightmare.

Daphne flings herself around the shiny steel stripper pole, attempting to make her motions match the beat of the horrendously loud techno music playing from the stereo.

Did I mention that this is all happening in OUR bedroom? The same bedroom where I stick my dick into Justin’s needy ass and have gay, gay, gay GAY sex with him!

“That was good, Daph, but you have to lift your left hand higher to get more leverage or you won’t be high enough to spin!” Justin yells over the music.

The shock finally wears off, or maybe my instincts to stop it all have finally overpowered my utter despair. I unceremoniously drop my luggage in the hallway, step into the room and in the loudest voice I can manage ask, “What the fuck is going on in here?”

Daphne loses her concentration and falls to the floor while Justin scrambles to grab the remote and stops the music.

“You said he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” Daphne wails, rubbing her ass as she stands up.

“He wasn’t supposed to be home,” Justin whines.

What the fuck? I work my ass off so that I can come home early and this is the thanks I get? Oh fuck! That thing is already infecting me because my thoughts sounded completely hetero, which is what this situation I’ve walked in on looks like, a hetero love fest. “I finished early,” I snap.

“You could’ve called,” he says, his voice rising in pitch.

Oh yeah, he’s the one who has something to be angry about.

“Well I thought I’d surprise you, dear.”

Justin’s reaction to my last word gets me exactly what I expected from him, a glare, the finger and a mumbled, “Fuck you.”

“I guess I’m the one that’s surprised because…”

“You were supposed to be,” Justin cuts off the beginning of my rant. His tone of voice changed from disappointed to defeated, leaving me even more confused then I was when I first saw him.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” I assure him, walking around the pole and shaking my head. “I can’t believe you would put this fucking thing in here.”

Justin hands Daphne a large pink bag from the bed and suggests in a caring voice, “You better get changed. I don’t think we’ll be exercising any more today.”

“Don’t be a party pooper, Brian,” Daphne warns as she slips past me to go into the bathroom.

Party pooper? What are we in, the second grade? There’s no need to embarrass Justin more than he’s already done for himself so I wait until Daphne closes the door before I start trying to figure out how he went so wrong. “What were you thinking having a stripper pole installed in the bedroom without even consulting me? After all the work I did designing…”

“You hired an interior designer,” he cuts me off, giving me a smug expression.

“All the more reason for your stripper-boy days to be behind you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” the twat says, reading my mind. He sighs so loud and long that I can feel his breath against my face even though he’s standing a few feet away from me. “It isn’t installed, Brian. It’s portable.”

“Portable?” Since when did they start making these things portable?

“For an ad man who should have a base knowledge of all new fads, you’re really behind in this one,” he informs me, running his hand down the pole. “They’ve had these for years.”

Daphne comes back into the bedroom glaring at me as she walks over to Justin. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she tells Justin while hugging him.

“I’ll walk you out,” Justin says courteously.

“Bye, Daphne,” I sing-song, waving as they exit the room.

I’m a little bothered by the fact that she doesn’t even acknowledge me. But at the moment, I’m more bothered by the shiny silver pole and the absence of Justin’s ass surrounding my cock.

There is something seriously wrong in our marriage. I still don’t understand how I came home to find a woman spinning on a pole in my bedroom! Even worse, my husband was watching and directing her show. The fact that they’re *choke* best friends forever changes absolutely nothing. It’s not like I’d ever think of doing the same thing with Michael. The shittiest part about it all is Justin’s reaction to me coming home early. He actually seemed pissed at me!

Is this not my home too? Am I not allowed to come and go as I please? I thought the little fucker would’ve accepted my early arrival as this year’s semi-romantic gesture. But no. Instead, I’m forced to undress myself next to a prop from a straight man’s wet dream.

All right, so I once saw a stripper pole used as a prop for the gayest and hottest dance to ever be performed at Babylon. But it’s still tacky and it doesn’t belong in our bedroom. From the attitude he gave me, I think he knows this. Justin almost always acts like a twat when he’s embarrassed about being caught doing something stupid. Come to think of it, there might just be a way to make the stripper stake a little more attractive. Since I’ve been forced to have it in my presence.

*****

I have to keep myself from laughing as I walk up the staircase toward the bedroom. I know that Brian has probably been bitching to himself about the pole, about my non-greeting and a slew of other shit while I walked Daphne out. He shocked me by coming home early from his trip to Miami. I don’t like that he spoiled my surprise for him, but his reaction was priceless even if it wasn’t anything like I planned.

As I enter the bedroom, I see that Brian is predictably naked, lying on the bed with his legs spread while he strokes his cock.

I maintain my aloof expression as he demands, “Show me.”

“Show you why it’s portable?”

He stops fisting his dick and sighs with mock boredom. “You’ve gone to all the trouble of putting it up, you may as well show me what you can do with it.”

I really want to tell him that he knows exactly what I can do with it, which is why he wants me to show him. Then again, he hasn’t seen what I learned how to do from the instructional DVD. Acting as if I don’t think he’s as into this as I know that he is will work in my favor at the end. I have no doubt in my mind that Brian will tell me to install the pole downstairs in the gym. Of course he’ll say it in a way that makes it seem like he’s allowing it because he doesn’t want to be bothered with me whining about it. Not that I would whine, or even ask to put a new piece of equipment in the gym if I wanted one. But that’s how Brian will imagine the scenario and that’s exactly how he’ll deal with it.

I have to walk over to the nightstand to grab the remote from the stereo. As I do, Brian tries to grab my ass but the material of the shorts won’t allow him much friction and I move out of his reach too quickly.

“Tease,” he chuckles.

I ignore him completely while I turn on the stereo and walk over to the pole. I designed a mix to mirror some of the best fuck sessions Brian and I have had. I don’t think that anything could top the first time Brian and I fucked raw, but I think tonight will top everything else.

*****

Justin has always gotten a thrill from giving me private dances. The first time he danced for me was the night of his eighteenth birthday. He was tipsy and giddy from tequila shots and thought it was a good idea to dance on the edge of the bed while stripping. It was semi-amusing and by far the worst dancing he’s ever done. Something about how completely unaware he was that the dance sucked actually turned me on.

I’ll never forget that while he was riding me that night he started laughing just before I was about to shoot. It almost made me soft, but then he started swiveling his hips and told me in the sexiest voice I’d ever heard come out of him, ‘I’m dancing on your dick, Brian.’ Naturally, I flipped him onto his back and fucked him so hard and fast that he could hardly breathe, let alone conjure up a laugh or dance.

Thankfully, almost every other time he’s danced for me, it has turned out to be extremely erotic and during a fuck he’s never again mentioned anything about dancing on my cock. That being said, I wouldn’t particularly mind it if he were to dance on my dick right now.

After a few predictable spins around the pole, Justin slips his shorts off and hauls his entire body up onto the pole. His legs do this frog crawl thing, making his ass cheeks open and permitting my eyes quick peeks at his hole while he shimmies to the top.

I give up trying to act like I am not impressed when he moves so his bare feet walk upon the ceiling for a moment then he extends his body outward so that his left arm is holding him at a perfect 90 degree angle as he slowly spins around the top. He merges the end of that move into the next, wrapping his legs around one side of the pole while curling his torso around the other side and hugging his legs with his arms while spinning and sliding to the center of the pole. This move makes his ass the center of attention and seeing him like this makes my dick throb, wanting to be inside of him. He holds the position and meets my eyes to smile at me and I’m surprised that I don’t see a smug look on his face.

He knows he’s good at this and hell yes he deserves to be smug after the way I bitched about it and how he almost immediately showed me what he can do. However, his smile is part of a teasing expression that lights up his face but makes his eyes dark from lustful excitement. The muscles in his arms strain as he lifts his body higher and spreads his legs into a V while he transitions into another move before I can fully appreciate his body in that one.

The music picks up pace and so does Justin. I feel like my eyes can’t take in every part of him the way I’d like to in each new position he performs. I’ve stopped stroking my cock and even though the show he’s giving me is making me hard, driving me to ache to fuck him, the feeling of wonder cloaks everything. I can’t believe the things he can do with his body and you’d think that after all this time I’d know exactly what he can or cannot do with it. I’m fucking blown away by his strength and skill. The pole dance is far from slutty and somehow it morphs into a graceful, sensual dance that has made my mouth water and my dick drool.

Justin knows how to move just right so that his erection and balls are always kept at the perfect distance away from the metal unless he’s intentionally humping against it. He’s so relaxed and into the music that it mesmerizes me. He takes a break after performing two or three moves by hanging upside down in a handstand supported only by him alternating wrapping his legs around the pole. Then he begins again, flowing from one position to the next.

The music starts to slow again and I can tell that Justin doesn’t have much stamina left.  His muscles strain, his breath is quick and heavy and he’s sweating so much he’s having a tough time climbing up the pole. “Come fuck me,” he commands, resting with his feet nearly above his head, ankles locked together around the pole.

He laughs at my eagerness as I grab the lube from the nightstand and practically run over to him. My ardent reaction to those three little words is shameful. Though I think the fact that I haven’t fucked him for days requires some consideration here. And admittedly, I have very little pride left after Justin’s demonstration which we both know makes me look like the biggest ass in the world after all the bitching I did.

I wrap my left arm around both of his, palm his ass and shove two lubed fingers up his hole. He lifts himself, up and down, burying them deep and moaning like a wanton slut. I’m not the only one who is eager to put an end to the foreplay, no matter how hot it was.

When he starts shaking from exertion I take my fingers out of his ass and wipe the remnants of lube on my dick. He’s still really tight and we’re not as slick as we normally are before we fuck, but it’s not as though I can just slam into him like this.

I help him twist and lock his ankles higher and grab the pole right underneath them. He’s curled up so tight, but he loves it, he loves when I make him practically immobile. I bend my knees to get under his ass and slowly pull him down toward me. His asshole gradually opens as it slides onto my cock. He’s so fucking tight with his body wound up like this; I’m amazed that he can handle the way I’m stretching him everywhere.  I push his chest against the pole to give me better leverage and as I do he relaxes his body and I push against the resistance and thrust all the way inside of him.

Nothing compares to being in Justin raw. We’ve been monogamous for almost three years and I’ve shot thousands of loads in Justin’s ass during this time. But when the last inch of me grinds inside of him, when I want to do everything I can to get even deeper in him and feel like I’m going to come from just one squeeze of his silky tight heat around me, I can’t separate the first time from the present time.

*****

Both of Brian’s arms are now holding me up under my knees because I can hardly keep my hands wrapped around the pole. My ankles are locked and slide almost over my head every time Brian pounds up into me. My chest is curved away from the pole, my shoulders against Brian’s torso which also supports me as he pistons in and out of me rapidly. My cock and balls sloppily slide against the metal and it hurts a little bit the faster he fucks me, but I like it.

It’s been a long time since we’ve had such a messy, difficult fuck. A dirty combination of frustration, muscle straining and sweat dripping into our eyes as we struggle to maintain our balance and keep Brian’s dick inside of me. Fucks like this turn into a contest of stamina. We both wonder when the other will ask to move the position, to slow down; creating more tension that will make the release even better. I’ll give him everything gives me and ask for more and he’ll give it all back to me. No matter the silent game, I know that he won’t stop and he knows I’ll hang on until he pushes me over the edge.

I’m so close. His whispered nasty words and the expert angle of his dick are making it impossible for me not to feel like I might combust at any given moment. I squeeze my ass around him though I can hardly feel myself do it. I twist my face so that I can kiss him and water my dry mouth by sucking the spit from his tongue.

“It feels like…. forever since I’ve filled you …with my come,” he growls, biting my neck so hard I know I’ll have deep teeth marks for days to come.

I have no staying power left in me left and I don’t realize it until it’s gone. My knuckles turn white as I grab tighter to the pole because I think I might fly off Brian’s dick while he fucks the orgasm out of me. I try to stay alert so I can hear the hitch of the breath I love to hear as he gives up and allows himself to come.

My spunk flies around the room, drops hitting the pole and streams landing on my chest. Brian’s fucking me even faster which causes each shock inside of me to last longer. My body is so compressed, the orgasm has no where to go but out of my mouth in loud, high-pitched moans that sound so needy I’d be embarrassed by them if I wasn’t enjoying coming so much.

When Brian comes, he throws us both forward, holding us against the pole as his body starts shaking and I feel his cock almost fall out of my ass as his knees weaken for a moment.  My body’s yearns to keep him inside of me and instinctively my muscles clench around the cap of his cock, keeping him there until his penis surges back into my ass. A shuddery whimper slips from his lips a moment prior to me feeling the heat from his come rush into my ass. The orgasm that was dying down within me comes back full force and I start coming again, so fast and hard that I start seeing black spots behind my eyes.

*****

I’m completely exhausted. Brian is too, though his dick is still miraculously half-hard. I lazily kiss Brian’s shoulder as I pull the throw blanket over us. There is no way I can move enough to get the duvet so I get as close to Brian’s warmth as I can and wrap my body around his side.

“You’re pretty good on that thing,” Brian says while squeezing my ass.

I tell him the truth. “I know.”

“It was hot,” he admits and playfully pulls my hair. “But you’re still a twat.”

“I know.”

“And I guess we could keep that thing in the gym.”

I grin against his chest. “It’s Daphne’s,” I lie. “I have to give it back to her.”

His breathing stills for a split-second, giving away his disappointment. “Well, you could always borrow it from her again. It’s portable, right?”

“Yeah, Brian. It’s portable. But maybe I should just buy my own.” Even though I feel like I might pass out at any second, I can’t resist fucking with him.

“If you want to,” he says quickly.

“I want to.”

In the morning, I’ll tell him that it’s not Daphne’s pole and that it’s not portable. Of course it actually is, but it’ll be fun to watch him Queen out first.

The End