Free Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition by Alessia Brio

his head
was in a noisy, isolated space and he debated with himself under his
breath as he walked.
    Karen
was a hot number. He'd dated her for a few months at Bowdoin before
she'd transferred; they'd hit it off very nicely indeed. Gene had
never met any woman with the sheer enthusiasm for sex that Karen had.
The memories had remained fresh in his mind for all these years; he
fantasized about them still.
    "Karen
loved to fuck!" he said to himself. Justine was smart,
organized, and practical; she was also a real beauty, by conventional
standards much more so than Karen. His wife was a good complement to
his improvisational and intuitive nature. But she lacked the verve
and spice; Karen had been an innovative and fervent lover. "She
just doesn't compare," he summed up, again aloud. He walked to
the water's edge.
    Clouds,
low and complete, covered the sky. There was just enough light from
that sky to make out the pale splashes of the rain on the dark
stream, flickers of lighter gray all over the surface like the
television when the station goes off the air. He stood and watched
their pattern but he was seeing images of Karen from the past—Karen
stroking him with mink gloves, sucking him in the men's room at
Thistles, bent over the hood of the old Volvo to be sodomized.
    "God,"
he murmured. Anal sex had always been hot and intense with Karen. He
pulled his hands inside the poncho and rearranged his pajamas a
little to accommodate his expanding organ. The light rain rattled on
the poncho hood and the world was dark.
    "Ah,
Karen," he muttered. It was cool and isolated by the streamside.
By midday they had stopped hearing any kind of motor; the trip had
taken them through many miles of beaver flowage, forest, and heath.
The party was cut off from the world at large; the rain and darkness
cut Gene off from the rest of the party. Gently and then more firmly
he stroked himself, calling forth memories of Karen before either of
them had married other people.
    "Oh,
fuck! Take it up the ass, baby. Yes." His hands moved with
greater urgency. "Right into that beautiful fuckin' ass."
He reared back and closed his eyes; the rain caught him on the chin;
he recalled vividly her upturned hips and her lascivious smile the
time he'd slid his cock into her in the resource room at the Fogler
Library.
    "Who's
getting it up the ass, Gene?" The whisper was startlingly close
by his ear. He leapt like a stag seeing the wolf.
    "Karen!"
he hissed, for it was she, not an arm's length away, just behind his
shoulder.
    "Me?"
Karen was quite amused. Men were such carnal creatures, so simple—and
so easy. There was a reason she'd left her husband behind, the
asshole. She hadn't consciously imagined striking up an affair with
Gene, but he'd been silhouetted against the stream. When she had come
sneaking up, she had heard clearly the rapid rhythmic slipping of his
knuckles on the cloth; unmistakably she knew what he was doing. She
remembered her college days every bit as well as he did.
    "What
the hell! You scared the shit out of me!"
    "I
thought you said I was taking cock up the butt?" Karen snaked a
hand inside and took a grip on Gene's hard cock. "Wow," she
murmured. It was huge and hard. She'd forgotten how fine a cock Gene
had.
    "And
I thought you had gone back in the tent!" he whispered,
accusingly. Her cool hand felt incredibly good. Gene squirmed and
blushed strongly, but no one could see the blush and he didn't turn
enough to make her lose contact.
    "I'm
going up by the trench; wanna come?"
    "Christ!"
Gene was torn, but he knew the answer was no. It had to be no.
    "Please,
Gene. I want it. No strings, no trouble, I promise. It'll help me
sleep. Come on up the hill and just fuck me."
    "God,
Karen."
    She
squeezed him gently and jacked the skin three strokes, then released
him. "Your call. But I meant it." She turned away and moved
across the silent pine needles. Gene said nothing. The rain's noise
closed in once more around his head, leaving him more alone