“Are you sure about this? Like, really, really sure?” I was a bit nervous, standing at the door, fidgeting with my hands. “Babe, listen. I suggested this to begin with. I found her. I set this whole evening up. If I didn’t want to do this, I had a dozen different opportunities to put a stop to it.” My wife stood on the other side of the room, in a short black pencil skirt and tight, black blazer. Her hair was pulled straight back into a bun, and she had cat eye glasses framing her dazzling green eyes. She stood straight and tall, pushing out her considerable bust. If I didn’t know any better, I would think the entire shirt was going to burst at any moment. My god she was hot. I was dressed in a rather loose fitting pair of suit pants and a simple, white collared shirt. She picked out my outfit, I think to create such a sharp contrast. She was a powerful queen of business, and I was just some guy next to her. “I know, Maris, I know, but still. If at any point you want me to-” I was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. My tongue caught in my throat, and I started to sweat. “Holy shit, Kyle, listen: I want this to happen. Now, just open the goddamn door so we can get this started.” I slowly opened the door, trying to keep my arms steady. Standing in the doorway was a smaller woman, dressed in a plaid skirt and white button up blouse. The top three buttons were undone, giving me just the hint of black satin bra over a rather... modest bust. My wife leaned over to me, and whispered “Remember, you’re a teacher. Start at level 4 and work up to 6.” I cleared my throat, suddenly full of confidence. I knew what level 4 meant, and I think that helped ground me. I could do this. “Great to see you, Ms...” “Samantha” The small woman said in a small voice, her body visibly shaking. “Ms. Samatha! Now, I hear you have been struggling with your classes, and need me to help...” I placed a hand on Samantha’s shoulder, “boost your grades. Is that right?” “Oh yes,” Samantha spoke in a squeaky, and forced, falsetto, “I just can’t get the hang of things. Maybe you can help me...” she traced my chest with her small, delicate finger, “with the hard stuff.” “Good. Now, come sit down,” I gestured to the small dining set, with some paper and pens prepared, “I want to see what it is you are willing to do.” We both sat down, Maris hovering nearby, watching our every move. I could see her chest rising up and down, the fabric of her shirt stretching with her heaving breaths. “I’m going to write down some questions, and you tell me what you think the answer is. Feel free to take all the time you want, because you don’t want to get anything wrong.” “Gee Mr. Wilson, are you sure you can help me? Every other teacher has said I just don’t get it.” Samantha whimpered, with large puppy-dog eyes. “We’ll see. If not, then all that’s needed is some one on one... instruction. Now, first, answer this question.” I picked up a pen and quickly wrote 2x + 4 = 7. “Hmmmm...” Samantha made an obvious thinking face, scrunching up her forehead, “I think it’s this...” She wrote down 2x = 7 - 4, then 2x = 3, and x = 1.5, “Good! Very good!” I tousled her hair, “See, it’s not that hard! Now, how about this?” I wrote 3√25 on the paper and slid it over. I saw Samantha glance over the sheet, and sneakily look at Maris. “Oh, this is easy, I remember this from yesterday!” Samantha seemed almost excited as she scribbled down 3x4 and then 12. Beaming, she looked at me for approval, only to see my downcast eyes. “I’m sorry, Samantha, that is wrong.” I heard some fabric moving behind me. She was shocked, scared, frightened, and a bit overselling the whole thing. None-the-less, I bent her over my lap and smacked her butt, the thin skirt offering no padding whatsoever. She squealed in pain at the sharp impact, tears welling up on the corners of her mouth. “Try this one,” I said, a bit sterner, and wrote a small cube, with the sides labelled 3, 7, and X, then wrote v = 84 above the cube. “Find X.” “Hrmmm...” Samantha again made a big show of thinking, and quickly wrote down the answer 4. “Is this right?” “Yes, it is!” I said with a large smile, leaning in to give her a hug. But, after a second, my expression fell, “But you didn’t show your work. I bet you just guessed, and it just so happened to be correct.” Bending her over my lap again, I gave her a harder smack. And another one. She was squirming on my lap, and I could hear more fabric rustling behind my head. There was a faint panting noise behind my ear. Encouraged by that, I lifted Samatha’s skirt, exposing her complete lack of underwear. “Is this how you wear your uniform?” I growled with disdain, then shoved a finger in her pussy, “And look how wet you are! Do you get sexually excited at the thought of being wrong, you dumb slut?” Samantha took a sharp inhale of air when I penetrated her, but said nothing. I could feel her clamping down on my finger. “If you’re going to act like a slut, at least dress the part.” I ripped off her skirt and threw it aside. “Maybe there won’t be such a large disconnect and you can actually focus on the questions.” Samantha’s clean shaved vagina was on full display, though she made a vain attempt to cross her legs. I looked down, saw the pooling liquid, and made a loud sigh. “Just try to get this one correct.” I wrote on the paper 8x^2 + y = 12 and slid it back to her. “Gee, I don’t know Mr. Wilson, I can’t quite understand that.” Samantha looked at me with her big blue eyes. “I’m sure you’ve seen this before. Maybe you were doing something else rather than paying attention in class. Here, let’s see if we can jog your memory.” I ripped open her blouse, the cold evening air hardening her exposed nipples on contact. “Here, remember anything now?” “M-Mr. Wilson! You’re so... rough.” She shuddered at the exposure. “What would your wife say?” “She wants me to help you kids. In fact, she said ‘Do whatever it takes, just get them to pass’, and I’m doing just that. I bet you’ve been slacking off during class, maybe playing with yourself when the teacher was talking. A little bit of environmental stimulation might get that small brain of yours turning!” As I spoke, I started twisting her nipples, hard. “Mr. huh huh Mr. Wilson,” Samantha’s breathe was starting to get ragged, “Please pant pant stop this. I’m gonna, gonna...” Her voice trailed off a bit, and her eyes rolled back into her head. “Now, get your mind off of cock and focus on this simple equation here.” I started writing a long and complicated equation, full of variables and symbols, half of which I didn’t understand. “I... I... I don’t know any of this...” Samantha started sobbing into her hands, “Please don’t expel me! Is there anything I can do?” “I’m sure I can provide some extra-curriculars. You just need to prove you're willing to put in the work. Think you can do that?” I stared into her eyes, and rubbed my hand along her back. “Please, I’ll do anything.” I could see her glancing at my pants, already taught with my growing excitement, “Just name it.” I heard a click behind, a door opened and lights turned on. Taking this queue, I dramatically stood up, and motioned to Samantha. “If you really want to stay in this school, follow me. But leave your pen.” She stood up and dutifully followed me, clear liquid dripping from her nether regions. I turned towards the open bedroom door, and heard a sharp smack and a faint yelp behind me. Ignoring that, I entered the bedroom and sat on the bed. “I’m waiting.” Samantha dashed inside, and I could see a bright red handprint on her butt. I started unbuttoning my pants. “You going to keep me waiting all night?” I asked with a slight growl. She whimpered her affirmation, and climbed on top of me, moving her soaking wet pussy to my raging stiffy. Moving her hips, I rubbed her vagina over my dick, coating it in fluids. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maris peeking into the bedroom, her face flushed red. Her hand was migrating downwards... “Remember...” I panted, “I’m doing this for you, to try and get you to behave better.” “I know Mr. Wilson,” Samantha was crying a bit, “And I’m sorry for being such a fuck up.” “You just... need to apply... yourself in the future...” My breath was straining. I could feel her grinding on me. I lifted Samantha up a bit, and poked her entrance with my dick. “This will be for your own good.” “Unnnnggg” Samantha moaned as I slowly pushed her onto me, feeling her unfold before me. “Oh my god I can’t take this!” A shout rang out from outside the room. “If you’re gonna fuck her,” Maris grabbed Samantha’s shoulders, “you FUCK HER!” and slammed her down, impaling her on my dick. The action caught me and Samatha by surprise, causing us both to break character a bit. But Maris didn’t let up. She raised Samantha up and down, up and down, each time getting more and more animated. “That’s right you little slut, take his cock. Take it deep! I bet you’ve never had such a good dicking, huh?” Maris was pressing her face close to Samantha, looking into her eyes. Samantha could only just whimper as Maris pumped her body up and down. For my part, I was just barely holding on. The extra sensations drove me wild, and it took everything I had not to erupt then and there. “Open your eyes, you slut, and focus on the dick inside of you. Feel every goddamn inch! Feel how it fills you up. This is what a proper fucking is like!” Maris turned to me, “And you! Start thrusting into her tight pussy!” I dutifully bucked my hips, driving my dick deeper and deeper into Samantha. I could feel pressure building in my hips, a burning heat welling towards the tip of my dick. Samantha’s whimpering built and built, rising in pitch to match my own thrusting. Then, I erupted. I instinctively went to lift Samantha off my spurting dick, but Maris intervened. “No, no, no, take it all.” Her voice was raspy and haggard, “Take it all!” She pushed Samantha onto my dick, driving her to the hilt, as my dick shot load after load into her. Eventually, we both calmed down, and Samantha slid off my limp dick. I looked over at Maris, and her face was a bright shade of crimson, her eyes dilated wide, and I could see a pair of hard nipples poking out of her taut shirt. I could see her sweating glistening in the light. Me and Samantha laid on the bed, recovering, as I heard Maris taking off her clothes. Somewhere she produced a vibrator and was furiously driving it in her soaking wet pussy. Wet, sloppy sounds mixed with her moans as she worked herself into a frenzy. I lifted my head, and saw my beautiful wife gripping her breast, pounding herself into a wet and soppy mess. I could not do anything, though, as I was well and truly drained. I looked over to Samantha, who was still basking in the afterglow, an idle hand gently touching her pussy. I laid there, just thinking about everything that happened, when I heard a loud, sharp shriek. It had only been a minute, but Maris was already cumming her brains out, falling out of her chair twitching in pleasure. I can’t remember how long we all laid there. It might have been a second, it might have been a minute, it might have been an hour. Time flowed like thick honey, sweeping us inexorably but slowly along. It was Samantha that roused first, standing up on unsteady legs, like a baby deer just figuring out how to walk. “Uhm, thanks for...” Samantha paused, unsure of what to say. I didn’t know how to respond. Maris was still... on the floor. It usually took her a while to collect herself. I stood up, then Samantha and I awkwardly looked at each other. I could see streaks of white dribbling from her crotch, and I could feel her wetness on my dick. Samantha looked at me, then looked elsewhere. I coughed. Somewhere, a dog barked. “Uhh, do you want to...” I gestured generally to her crotch area, “Uhh, clean up, I guess?” There was an awkward beat. Then a large glob of semen fell out of Samantha with a wet plop. That broke all the tension, and we both just laughed. Laughed at the absurdity of this whole evening. “Yes, actually, I would love to. Do you have a shower?” I guided Samantha to the shower, then brought some wet paper towels to clean up the mess. When I returned, Maris was groggily standing, holding onto the chair for support. The carpet below her was absolutely soaked, and the vibrator was still lodged in her pussy. Upon hearing me enter the room, she looked up, her arms wavered, and she rushed to me. She kissed me hard, hands exploring all over my body, and guided me to the bed. Shoving me down, Maris spread her legs and straddled me. Ripping out the vibrator with almost a sense of disgust, she drove her soaking cunt on my still very flaccid dick. Grinding up and down, as if she was trying to spread her juices on my dick, Maris slowly worked me back up to full mast. Once my dick was hard, she made me enter her with an animalistic lust I had never seen before. Her hips bounced up and down, the slapping of our thighs resounded throughout the house. A brief image of Samantha in the shower flashed in my mind before Maris flipped me over. Now I was on top of Maris, but you could hardly say I was in control. Her legs locked around my torso, Maris was still very much in control. I bucked and thrusted in time with her legs, each time eliciting a low guttural grunt from my wife’s throat. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me like a stress doll, her breasts pressed tight against my chest. Her pace, and thus mine, quickened, and I already know what is happening next. I feel the familiar waves of contractions on my dick, and it’s not long before Maris screams out another orgasm. She clamped down, her arms pulling me into her. All her muscles tensed up, and I could feel her nails scratching my back. I looked into her eyes, rolled back into her head, and kissed her deeply. She became slack, arms flopping to the side. I rolled off her to see she had fallen fast asleep. I didn’t finish, but to be frank, the tank was nearly empty anyways. I got up, put my clothes on, and walked into Samantha. She had taken off the gaudy makeup and was in her casual clothes. She looked completely different from the caricature of a school girl before. “Uhm,” I said, looking around, “Do you want some coffee?” “Sure,” Samantha said, echoing my own awkwardness, “Where’s....” She intentionally left the question hanging. “She’s... out of it right now. She’ll be ready in like 10 minutes.” Wordlessly we went to the kitchen, and I started preparing the coffee. It wasn’t until I placed the cups on the table that either of us spoke. “So... how was it?” I asked with a bit of hesitation. Samantha was just in the middle of a sip, and nearly choked at the sudden question. “Oh, um, it was... intense.” Samantha looked into the distance for a bit. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, but who’s idea was all of” she waved her hands in a circle, “this.” “It was Maris’s idea all along. In fact, she had to convince me to go along with it!” “Really? I thought, you know, guys were always...” “Ready, willing, and able?” I chuckled a bit, “Well, it’s just like anything really.” I left it at that, not knowing how to finish that statement. “Cause, like, I was really surprised when Maris contacted me.” Samantha looked into her coffee, remembering the time, “Usually these types of things don’t amount to anything. At most, you send each other a few pictures, then one of you just stops responding...” “Well, Maris did literally everything to set this up. I don’t even know how she found you. I’m assuming the Internet?” “Basically. There is this forum for swingers, but I’d wager like 90% of the people there are singles just looking to, I don’t know, fantasize I guess. That’s kind of why I joined. It was just fun to write about all the “sex” I was “having” with other “couples”. It was kind of like pro-wrestling, we all knew what was and wasn’t happening, it was just...” Samantha trailed off. “Like a game?” I said, filling the silence. “Kinda, except there wasn’t really any goal or point or anything. Just, people being people. So, it really shook me when this random MissMariss PMs me and seems to take things seriously.” It was then that Maris walked in the room, completely changed. Gone were her powersuit, her sexy librarian glasses, and her done up hair. Instead, she was in some comfortable pajamas and had on her thick rimmed evening glasses, and her long hair fell flat, framing her face. You could almost swear she was a good few inches shorter, as well. “Oh, there she is!” I said, standing up, “You want some coffee? I just made a pot.” She grunted an affirmation, grabbed a mug, poured herself some coffee, then sat down. She didn’t say a word. “So, Samantha was just talking about how you set this whole... thing up.” I started to explain, “Anything you want to add?” “Mmm” Maris grunted, before taking a sip. I knew this meant “no”, and she just needed to recharge. Samantha looked at Maris, looked at me, looked at Maris, then back to me, back to Maris, back to- “Yeah, this is how it usually is. She’s very much the ‘strong silent’ type.” I explained, “I like to call this ‘Clark Kent mode’.” I made a pair of glasses with my hands. Maris grunted in annoyance, almost in the background. “I’m just... Is that... Is this a prank or something?” Samantha stammered for a bit, trying to piece together what she was seeing. “No, I assure you, this is the very same Maris that... ahem handled you before. Isn’t that right sweety? Pumpkin pie? Pwetty pwetty pwinc-” I was immediately flipped off by the mass of hair at the other end of the table. “It’s just, you see, now I’m almost sure it was you messaging me, not this... this...” Samantha still just couldn’t wrap herself around this whole thing. “Starlight662,” came a voice, soft and mouselike. “What?” Samantha looked at me. I exaggeratedly shrugged my shoulders, and pointed my thumb to the end of the table. “That was your username, right?” Maris was talking in a light and soft voice. One that you could hardly hear over the deafening sound of silence. “Yeah...” Samantha said, still unsure about everything. “You like walks in the park. You go with a vibe stuck up your ass. You once went into a gloryhole. No one else came in. You waited for an hour. You schedule dates. You always flake on them for some reason. You think you might have a thing for feet, but aren’t quite sure.” I could see Samantha’s face redden. “Really?” I interjected, “For feet?” “What? No! Yes! Maybe? I don’t know. It’s complicated! I think!” Samantha quickly turned to Maris, “Really, it’s you!? This... this... this...” “Recluse?” I interjected again, “Loner? Hikikomori? Weeb? Tumblr writer from the 2010s? Sawako if she was into yaoi? Cousin Itt’s nerdy sister?” That last one was responded to with two middle fingers. “No, this is indeed Maris, or was it MissMariss? I don’t know. As I said, she was the one who set up literally everything. Hell, I barely knew what was going to happen until this morning.” “Really? It’s just that the Maris I talked to was so...” Samantha trailed off. “Confident? Powerful? Intimidating? Articulate? Well spoken? Sexy? Domineering? Slutty?” I leaned in closer to Samantha, “See how she’s not denying any of this? That’s how you know it’s true! Look!” I pulled away Maris’s long hair to reveal the bright cherry red face of my wife. She quickly moved her head away, covering her crimson face in dark hair again. “Anyways!” I stood up quickly, “I made some cookies the other day, you want some?” “Listen, Kyle, this is just a bit much. I know you’ve probably done this lots-” Samantha was looking around. “Oh, no, this is our first time.” I interrupted with a little smile. Samantha looked even more bewildered than before. All of a sudden, Maris spoke up, “Who did you like more?” “Uhmm, well, uh,” I stammered a bit, I always thought this was going to come up, but I just kind of hoped it... wouldn’t, “Well, I can’t say! You both... I mean... It... She was really good. You are really good. You both are really good. I would never leave you for her, if that’s what you’re asking.” Maris laughed, her voice creaking and cracking, “Ha! Just kidding! That was the whole point. You get more pussy, I see you getting more pussy. I get you.” Maris leaned over to Samantha, her face peeking out from behind her long hair, “I like you, you know. You’re fun.” “Okay, I can’t stand this. What is... well... why are you so different from before?” Samantha stammered. “That was a sprint. I’m tired now.” Maris muttered. “You see, Samantha, for Maris doing stuff like that is like running. Sure, you can jog for a few hours and not get tired. If you’re really fit, you can basically jog all day! And marathon runners can run for literal hours with only a few bleeding nipples and lost toenails. But, you get anyone to sprint, like sprint super hard, and they’ll be wiped out for a bit after just a short time. Our little... adventure... was like a super sprint for Maris, so she’s all tuckered out.” Maris just sat there, sipping her coffee, sometimes nodding along to my explanation. “You see her tomorrow, and she’ll be basically at the exact midpoint from now and before. In the meantime, it’s like, I dunno how to explain it, she’s ‘out of mana’ and needs to recharge.” I looked at Maris again, “But I can tell she really liked today, and would love to do it again. Of course, she’ll be the one to set it up, if you’re okay with it.” “Yeah, I’ll... uh... I’ll contact you later.” Samantha was clearly still a bit overwhelmed, so I stood up and motioned for her to stand. She stood, and I gave her a big, warm hug. Just a tender embrace. No hugging naughty bits, no massaging anywhere, just contact. “Hey, you okay?” I said, arms still around her. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I let go, put my hands on her shoulders, and looked into Samantha’s face. “No, seriously, you good?” “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just... I don’t know what was more intense. The savage fucking, or seeing Maris ‘drained of all her power’.” “So, last night was fun, wasn’t it?” I was sitting in my chair, watching the sports game, when Maris started hugging me from behind. “Oh yeah. I have to say, I was sceptical at first. I honestly thought, I dunno, I would feel bad. Like, just the thought that it wouldn’t feel good for you was... it worried me.” I rubbed her arms as she buried her face in my hair. “You know, that’s so sweet. And so like you. Remember when we went to the basketball game, and I was just overwhelmed?” Maris was rubbing my head with her cheek. “Yeah, I’m just sorry I didn’t notice it sooner. I hate it when you try to suck it up for my benefit.” I turned down the game, and looked at Maris, “And know that I trust you. If you say you’ll be cool with something, I will believe you.” “Hey, it looks like your team is losing. Must be a boring game.” Maris started rubbing my shoulders. “Ah, they never had a chance. Ever since Maholmes got injured, they just can’t seem to get a foothold.” I turned the TV off and stood up. I knew where this was headed. “Listen, I’m still... wired from last night. Let’s just keep it at a 2 to 3 tonight.” Maris said a bit sheepishly. “Anything for you babe.” I kissed her forehead and led her to the bedroom. Maris was dressed in the same pajamas as usual, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. I slid her top off gently, kissing her gently when the garment passed her head. Still holding her, I guided her to the bed, and we laid down. I pressed us together, mingling our arms in a loving embrace. I let go of her lips and started kissing down her neck. Maris arched her head back in silent pleasure. Slowly, ever so slowly, I made my way down her neck, to her chest. Gently, I massaged her breasts, kneading them like soft dough. Maris’s chest was rising and falling, taking deep breaths of the night air. I licked her nipples, feeling them perk up in my mouth. Maris’s hand found my head, probably unconsciously, and pushed my head down. Dutifully, I left her pert nipples and trailed kisses down her belly. Shivers rocked her body as I moved downwards. As my mouth passed her bellybutton, the anticipation rose, in both of us, in preparation for what was to come. Maris’s hands stroked my head, her breathing rising even higher, her fingers entwining in my hair. My mouth soon found her pubic hair, and with that her pubic mound. Maris’s legs twitched as she shivered at my touch. Her skin flushed with excitement as I moved my way down. My lower lips felt a small, fleshy nub, warm with desire. Gently, I tickled that nub with my tongue, sending more waves through Maris’s body. “Mmm, more, go to three.” Maris moaned at my ministrations. Dutifully, I raised my head, bringing my rock hard dick to her sopping entrance. Slowly, ever so slowly, I parted her nethers with my dick, entering her inch by inch. Maris sucked in air through her teeth, the sound rising in pitch. When I hilted, I started retreating, as Maris exhaled next to my ear. Right when my dick would exit her pussy, I switched gears and pushed. Maris’s breath mimicked my movements, inhaling as I entered, exhaling as I exited. The pace was slow, deliberate, but forceful. I could feel the juices coating my rod, “Listen, babe, I think I found someone new. You doing anything this Friday?” We were just eating breakfast, just some simple bacon and eggs, when Maris suddenly asked me. “Hmmm, no I don’t think so. What time is she going to come over?” “Probably the same thing as last time. Evening, around 7 or 8. Before that, I want to go to the thrift store for some costume ideas.” Maris was looking at her phone, angled in such a way that I couldn’t read it. “Oh, Maris? Can I ask you something?” I had been thinking about this for a while, “Why do you want to do this?” “Because it’s hot. It’s fucking hot.” Maris said, almost snapping, but stopping herself. “No, I mean seriously, what is it that you like? I’m not judging, I just want to be able to, I don’t know, facilitate in my own way. It would be like trying to cook something for someone who experiences completely different tastes.” I knew that Maris often didn’t really think about what she wanted, and I often need to encourage her to actually self-reflect. “Well, I... I mean, the way... When you... “ Maris stopped looking at her phone and stared off into the middle distance. “Well, you know how sensitive I am, right?” I nodded at the question, “It’s like, I don’t want you to feel left out.” I opened my mouth to interject, but Maris interrupted, “And yes! I know that you are fine. I, ironically, have a much higher libido than you, and you’re never left... I guess you could say ‘wanting.’ But, like, I kind of feel bad. And, like, you’re really good! Not just in bed, but in general, like your personality is so sweet and kind, and you are always looking out for me, and you understand me, and you can always tell what I want, and you can make fun of me without me feeling bad, and-” “Maris!” I snapped my fingers, “Focus. I am already keenly aware of how great I am, but I want to know what you want.” “See! It’s this sort of thing! You are so nice, and so warm, but I just can’t... I often feel I can’t satisfy you. And I know, logically, that isn’t true.” Maris thought for a second. “But, I want to show you off. Like, I feel like a dog with a really cool ball. I want people to see my really cool ball. I might even want them to hold it for a second. I want them to see the ball, and see how cool it is, and see that it is mine.” Maris closed her eyes. “And... I like seeing you happy. And I like seeing you make someone else happy. Remember that time you helped our neighbour look for her dog? When you walked in, carrying that small, shivering dog, and how happy you made her? I was consoling her just a few minutes ago, and she was so broken. Then you walked in, like a damn superhero, it made me wet. Helping her was one of the most erotic things you have ever done.” I didn’t quite know what to say. Despite what Maris claimed, even I had to work to understand her. We’ve been together for years, and I never really noticed this about her. “When did you first think about all of this?” I wanted to know what sparked all of this. “I’m... not sure really. All I know is that at one point it was all I could think of. I wanted to in one hand, give you, my beloved husband, a night of good fucking. And, I wanted to bestow the gift of you onto someone else. I wanted to watch you make someone happy.” Maris was blushing at the end. “And the roleplaying?” “Oh that’s just objectively hot. In fact, there is a huge history of roleplaying during sex. Even going back to ancient times, there were documented cases of ancient Greek couples using mythological stories as sex stories. Why do you think there is so much sex in the ancient Greek mythology? Zeus banging a chick as a swan is basically their version of a lonely housewife not having enough money for pizza. In fact...” Maris then explained about how sexual stories were probably able to survive for long because couples would use them to dictate their sex escapades. To be honest, I never really cared about history, but I was enraptured hearing Maris speak. I didn’t even realise that she was workshopping roleplaying scenarios for this Friday. “Okay babe, this time, I want you to be at level 8 and go up from there. Remember, you are the great Greek god Ares! You will have what you want, and no whimpering mortal would dare defy you!” “Are you sure?” I shifted around, holding the large plastic spear and shield awkwardly. My pecs, which Maris had spent the last ten minutes covering in baby oil, glinted in the light. The sandals didn’t quite fit, and the toga kept slipping. “Can we at least talk to her a bit?” “Don’t worry, I talked this over with her extensively. Hard stop safe word is ‘pheasant’, slow down safeword is ‘chill’. Also she wants to play as a brat, so really let her have it!” I didn’t move, I was still nervous. “Don’t worry, I’ll be watching the whole time. It wouldn’t be worth it if I wasn’t! And I’ll come in to save you if something goes wrong.” Maris was dressed in a pure white greek style dress. One breast was almost casually revealed, and she wore a tiara of fake olive. “She said her only limits are blood and scat/watersports. I was very clear on what she wanted, and she is cool with everything. She did say she wanted soft racial aspects. Don’t mention any actual slurs, but... you know what I mean.” I breathed in, steadied myself, and breathed out. Clutching my spear, I opened the door and confidently strode in. On the bed, tied loosely in what looked like scarves, was a short black woman. Her hair was in a big poofy afro, and she wore what could only be described as rags. She looked at me with pure, unrestrained hate, and made a big show of struggling against her restraints. “Oh, now the Greeks have sent some oiled up bull to interrogate me?” She spat on the bed, “The only thing you fucks will get out of me is spite and curses! I’ll never tell you where the goblet is hidden!” Kind of clunky, but I got the jist of it. “Hmph, the savage intends to speak to ME about spite? About curses? Your curses pale in comparison to the sheer brutality I, a literal GOD, can inflict with just a thought!” I stomped up close, “And what would you and your people do with the goblet? Carry your nuts and berries? Drink your filthy mud water?” Wait, was that too much? “You pompous asshole! I’ll show you! When my people get here-” I interrupted her with a “Your ‘people’, as you call them,” I said trying to inject some venom into my voice, “Have already fallen to my spear.” I waved my plastic spear in the air. The tip wavered noticeably. “You monster! I’ll never talk!” The woman screamed, straining slightly at her bindings. I smacked her across the face, making sure to keep my wrist limp. A loud sound, and some sharp pain, but nothing permanent. The woman yelped in pain and I stopped for a moment. “Your people are defeated, your homes destroyed, your culture gone. And you still try to act defiant? Do you not see who is in charge?” I stood tall, puffing out my oiled chest. “If you think that I’m going to die like a dog, you don’t know me.” The woman hissed at me. “Oh, I can tell. To kill you here and how would be dishonourable. It would leave a bad taste in my mouth, like slaughtering a baby lamb.” I stalked over to her, “And maybe we can put your vile mouth to some good use.” I released her loose bindings, then with a deft hand, slipped her arms behind her. Using the restraints, I tied her arms behind her back, tight enough that they wouldn’t come loose, but without being uncortable. I gripped her jaw and brought her forward. “Let’s see how much you value your life.” I said ominously, as I shifted my toga to reveal my flaccid dick, “Prepare me.” I moved her head closer to my dick, thumb still her mouth. When she was just inches away, my dick started to harden. As it rose to touch her lips, she opened her mouth and... bit my dick. “Woah, chill out!” I tried to emphasise the word ‘chill’. “And what if I don’t, you greek cocksucker?” The woman yelled, glaring into my eyes. She sat up slightly, almost unbalanced, and spat at me. “You’ll have to kill me before I do anything you want!” I smacked her face again, but something felt off. She reeled back, making a show of falling onto the bed. This time, however, tears started welling up in her eyes, and she started sobbing. I raised my hand to... I don’t know. I lowered my hand. “What the fuck are you doing?” Alice was actively crying now, “Don’t think this sort of limp-dick violence will get me to bend, you ass-face!” I lifted my hand and smacked her. Harder. Harder than I meant. “Oh, look at you, fuckin’ big man. Slapping around a tied up woman. You think this will make me submit to you, you stupid fucking dickhead?” The woman was shouting at me, and I did not like it. I did not like her. I lifted her up by her neck, and threw her onto the bed. She landed on her back, and I could see her wince. Her legs fell open, and of course she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Oh, you want some of this, you limp dicked faggot?” The woman wiggled her hips a bit, pussy glistening with moisture, “What the fuck are you going to do, rape me?” “Shut up!” I growled, with real disgust in my voice. I pounced on her, my hands on her shoulders.”Just shut the fuck up.” “Fucking make me you son of a whore.” She smiled a bit. I lost it. I start shaking her, slamming her head into the pillows. Then, the I suddenly realised what was happening. My dick was in her. I didn’t even noticed. I was fucking her, in this awful violent way. “Listen, sorry, I just... I just can’t. Pheasant. I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I’m...” I dropped my spear and shield. As I did, Maris came into the room and grabbed my waist. “Wait, what?” The woman suddenly sat up, an angry look on her face. I saw some blood pooling in her mouth, “That’s it? You slap me around and then stop. What the fuck are you, gay or something?” “C’mon Alice, it’s oka-” Maris spoke up, but was immediately interrupted. “I thought you said he could do this. Why did you say he was just some weak pussy bitch?” The woman, apparently named Alice stood up and quickly undid her restraints, “Fuck you guys, I thought this was going to fun. But fuck you two, I’m going home.” As she left, I just sat down on the bed. I felt... drained. Exhausted. Sad. I felt like I failed to live up to even the most basic standard. Maris sat down on the bed, putting her hand on shoulders. Rubbing my back, she leaned forward and looked into my eyes. “Babe, I’m sorry.” We both spoke at the exact same time. I opened my mouth to speak, but Maris placed a finger on my lips. “No, Kyle, this is my fault. I thought that after Samantha, this would work out better. I rushed things, and I didn’t hear what you said earlier.” But, I just couldn’t hear her. I was just replaying that last moment in my head. Why was I so mad? I don’t get mad, not genuinely mad. It was always just a play, just a scene. Why did I hit her so hard? I shouldn’t have done that. But that’s what she wanted. She did, right? She didn’t say chill or pheasant. Did she? I racked my brains trying to recall the scene. Everytime I tried, I just recalled the slap. “Kyle, babe, are you alright?” Maris was talking, but I wasn’t hearing anything. Maybe I’m violent. Maybe I’m an asshole. This is not good. That was just abuse. No one would say otherwise. I was hard. Anyone would say I liked doing this. What if I do? What if I do this to Maris? “Kyle! Say something.” No, this is it. I can’t. That was assault. Oh god this isn’t right. No. I didn’t mean to. But it was my fault. I won’t be able to control myself. I can’t- All of a sudden Maris grabbed my face and forced me to look into her eyes. I expected... I don’t know. Something bad. Anger, hate, contempt, disgust, pity, something like that. But, I didn’t.I saw love and kindness. I also saw pain and regret. “Babe, I’m so sorry.” I was able to hear her this time, “I made a mistake. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She hugged me, and I just started crying. I don’t know what happened, I just couldn’t hold anything in. I hugged her back, squeezing her tighter than ever before. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I let go. I felt disconnected, drained, empty. Maris kissed me, and guided us both down to the bed. She hugged me. I hugged her. I felt small and weak, unable to do anything. And now I, someone who inflicted violence upon someone, was needing to be comforted. It was two days after the event with Alice. Over those last two days, I was still shaken. I was able to get out of the depressive spiral, and we both realised that Alice was the one that was wrong. I clearly said my safeword, and she not only ignored but tried to escalate the situation. But, I was still generally unstable, like I could topple at any moment. It felt like everytime she did anything for me, I was somehow a burden. After mentioning this, Maris tried to give me space. One day, I dropped a glass, and just froze. My body just did not want to move to clean up, or leave, or do anything. The loud noise reverberated through my entire being, bouncing off my skull. Maris had to come downstairs and clean up after she heard the sound. Another failure. Maris tried to console me, but that wasn’t fair. I had to cool down afterwards. Another five days had passed, and I was mostly fine. I was back to my normal happy self, helping Maris out with chores, cooking dinner, going to work, all that normal stuff. But, when vacuuming, I didn’t watch where I was going and stepped backwards onto Maris’s foot. I felt the bones shift, I heard her yelp, and I just collapsed. “Oh god, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry.” I looked at her foot, “Oh god, it’s broken, it’s gotta be. I just fucked up again. I can’t do anything, I just hurt people.” Maris knelt down and tried to reassure me. “No, it’s not broken. See? I can move my toes. It just hurt, that’s all.” But I just couldn’t hear anything she said. I curled into a foetal position, the sound of my own voice from that night echoing in my mind. The burgundy area rug I was vacuuming just reminded me of the blood that appeared in Alice’s mouth. “Babe, get up, it’s okay.” But I couldn’t hear Maris. “Synapse!” That was our universal safeword, only used in the most dire circumstances. In our seven years together, it has only been uttered once before. It was the nuclear button we both had, and it meant that we had to listen. I looked up, still curled, but looking at Maris. “We have an appointment in an hour.” I was confused. I don’t remember anything about that, “I just texted her, and she said we can come early. You're coming with me.” Maris guided me up. I still couldn’t think, I just knew I had to follow Maris. If I just held onto her hand, everything would be alright. I don’t remember how we got there. I remember sitting in the car, then the next thing I knew we were in an office. It was a warm office, with brown walls, and a large oak desk. On the other side was a woman. I think she was asian, maybe mid 40’s. She was talking to Maris about something, but I couldn’t hear. “And what do you think, Kyle?” The woman said something to me. “What?” I didn’t hear anything before. “Do you think the event a week ago was your fault?” The woman was speaking, but I could only look at Maris. “Yes, I did it, didn’t I?” I was still looking at Maris. “Do you think you’ll do it again?” The woman said, though I still didn’t look at her. “Yes, I did it, didn’t I?” I could only repeat what I said. “Why do you say that?” “Because I did it.” “And would that be bad?” “Of course. It was bad when I did it. If I did it again...” I couldn’t finish that sentence. “What do you think will happen?” “I’ll do it again. I’ll hurt someone. And I’ll like it.” I was shaking. “Who would you hurt?” “Someone, anyone, everyone.” I couldn’t think. “Be specific. Who are you afraid of hurting?” “Of Maris! The next time I’ll hurt Maris.” I was still looking at Maris, and I could feel the tears welling up in the corner of my eyes. “Do you want to hurt Maris?” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. The mere thought of doing what I did to Alice, but to Maris... “What? No! Of course not!” I finally looked at the woman. My eyes were wide. “And what if you... did?” “I’d... I’d... I think I’d-” Before I could finish that statement, the woman reached out and grabbed my hand. “Maris, I’m glad you phoned me. This has clearly been eating away at Kyle for a while. I genuinely think this is a case of PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder.” Maris and I looked at each other. Yes, it was stressful, but wasn’t PTSD a bit... much? “It’s a common misconception that PTSD only occurs in ‘hollywood style’ traumatic events. But, it can basically happen any time someone feels out of control. You feel out of control if the tools you have cannot deal with whatever challenges you are facing. It’s like trying to open a locked door. If you have the key, which represents the tools and strategies you have, you can open the door just fine. If, however, you don’t have the key, or your key is wrong, then you can’t open the door. While you’re trying to open this door, different parts of the brain will activate.” The woman pulled up an image of a brain. “There are basically two types of thinking, System 1 and System 2. System 2 is the slow, plodding, and contemplative system. It’s what you use when you are solving a puzzle, talking to someone, or paying attention to someone. System 1 is the autopilot system, and involves automatic things. Standing, breathing, pumping your heart, all the automatic physiological things are done with System 1. But it also governs automatic behaviours. Performing a routine, like brushing your teeth, making coffee, signing your signature, and so on all use System 1. You don’t think about every stroke in your signature, it just... happens.” I still couldn’t quite understand what she was saying. “In times of high stress, like during an attack, you don’t have time for your slow System 2 to do anything. You need your System 1 to be able to act in time. And you’re System 1 is the most instinctual system. It’s the one that yanks your hand from the fire, that forces you to drink, and so on.” It was dawning on me. “And, it allows you to fight off a threat. That’s what I think you were doing Kyle, you were fighting off a threat. This Alice person was causing you stress, and your body knows that stress is a bad thing. Bad things need to go away.” I opened my mouth, but was cut off by the woman. “And, before you say anything: Yes, you might feel this way towards Maris. However!” She raised a stern finger at me, anticipating my response, “There are ways to stop this. Your body has learnt that the way you handled Alice was a way to get out of the situation. But, it cost you severely. It’s like ripping your arm off to get out of a bear trap. You will always have that arrow in your quiver, and there’s nothing we can do to remove that arrow.” I felt empty. I was always going to have this capability to hurt someone. To hurt Maris. I did not want to do that. “There are ways of making sure you are in control. One of the problems I have seen is you get stuck in repetitive trains of thought. I want you and Maris to be a team, and to check up on you. You’ve already used your safeword, and I want you to keep that as your code red, nuclear, DEFCON 0, Listen-to-me-now button. But, you also need some intermediary words. You want at least three, one for ‘everything’s good’, one for ‘I’m in a bit of trouble’, and one for ‘I need to leave.’ Many people like to use traffic lights, green for good, yellow for trouble, and red for leaving. Kyle, if you ever are in a situation you want not to be in, you tell Maris your red safeword. Some people literally just say ‘Red,’ some have ones they can sneak into conversation.” She turned to Maris. “And Maris, I want you to check in on Kyle. Aim for once every few hours, then transition to twice a day, then once a day, then whenever you see him spiral. It’s very important that you intrude, make yourself a bother, and get in his face. When he’s spiralling, it can be hard to see subtle signs. Say his name, tug his clothes, do whatever you need to do to get his attention. Then ask, directly, what’s up.” She sat back. “In the meantime, I want both of you to keep a journal, and I want you to send them to me every month or so. I will be looking specifically about things regarding Kyle, however, if nothing happened, I still want you to write about something. It can be something as simple as ‘Had a nice lunch.’ or ‘Went out for a walk with Maris.’ Of course, if anything happened regarding Kyle, especially if it involved spiralling, I want you to be very candid. Describe what happened, how you felt in the moment, what you did afterwards, and be as specific as possible.” “And, I want you to read each other’s journals, if you are comfortable with that.” She looked at us in the eyes, “And I mean either one. If you’re not comfortable sharing, then don’t share. If you’re not comfortable reading, then don’t read.” A clock chimed in the background. Our hour was up. We were quickly ushered out the door, as Mrs. Chamings got herself ready for her next client. The next day was stressful. Even the knowledge that I had PTSD was... troubling. All the more because I still felt it was I, not Alice, that did something wrong. I had hit her. I had wanted to hit her. Even with Maris, when we turned up the heat, I never wanted to inflict pain. I didn’t want her to suffer. I spent the day basically walking on eggshells, not for Maris but for myself. Maris was able to check in on me, which I found reassuring and annoying all at the same time. “Kyle, how are you doing?” I was sitting on the couch, watching a basketball game. “A second ago, I was green. Now that you asked, I’m yellow. I don’t know why.” The very question was stressing me out. Why was I feeling bad? She is literally doing what the therapist said. So why was I mad? Is this going- A pair of hands closed over my eyes. “Shhh, focus on my voice. You are safe here. I love you. You love me. We are not going to hurt each other.” Maris whispered in my ear. This helped wash away the stress and anxiety, and I was able to just breathe. I was fine, this is fine, everything is fine. I stood up and hugged Maris, gripping her tight. She was so good to me, and I was so broken, undeserving of such love and- I stopped myself. I released my grip, said, “I need to write this down.” and we both went to our laptops. August 17, 2013 At around 7:34 I was watching the game, when Maris asked me how I was doing. At 7:33, I was perfectly fine. Everything was green, good to go, no problems, everything a-OK. But, as soon as she asked me, I got tense, deep into yellow. It felt like the mere fact that this was a question meant I was somehow dangerous. Like I could snap at any moment, and needed to be handled with care. This caused me to spiral, but Maris was able to snap me out of that. Even thinking about that, how she had to help save me, makes me feel embarrassed. Embarrassed and small, like I don’t deserve anything. Kyle I stood up, finished with my journal entry. I looked at Maris, who was just finishing up hers. I asked “Can I read yours when you’re done?” and she nodded. August 17, 2013 This evening, I checked into Kyle. He was watching the game, and I could tell everything was fine. His muscles were relaxed, his posture loose, and his face was happy. Everything was fine, and I almost didn’t check in. When I asked, he froze up. He said he was green a minute ago, but just thinking about the question turned him yellow. I looked into his face, and could see him staring off into the distance. His eyes darted around, and I could see his face turn pale. I started to panic. I didn’t want him to hurt himself. I walked behind him and covered his eyes, hoping it would, I don’t know, do something. Anything, really. Kyle has always been so strong for me, and I felt like I had to do something to repay the favour. I was able to ground him with my voice, and we hugged afterwards. I keep thinking that this is my fault. If I didn’t invite Alice over. If I didn’t set him to level 8 to start. If I was more independent and stronger, he wouldn’t need to put so much pressure on himself. I just hope he feels better Maris I started tearing up reading Maris’s journal. I didn’t want her to feel bad. I hated seeing Maris sad for any reason, especially when the reason was so... internal. So in my own mind. If I could just be stronger, Maris wouldn’t feel this way. We hugged, and sat on the couch. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just... holding her back. That I was a net negative in this relationship. That she would be happier without me.