They untangle themselves

During the entirety of her marriage, Natalie had never experienced the level of closeness she did with Lisa. Frank hadn’t been a bad guy early on, but he didn’t exactly invite her to open up and expose herself either. It made her love of her best friend deepen in a soulful way.

Lisa slowly eased herself off Natalie, her body sweaty and trembling, legs barely able to support her as she rolled to the side, and collapsed beside her. Their skin was slick where it met, but neither seemed to mind. Natalie shifted toward her, tucking her arm around Lisa’s waist, and letting her cheek rest against the shoulder of her smaller friend. The silence between them was weighted, but soft, spent, and sated. Their breath fell into the same rhythm.

Lisa was the first to move after several minutes passed. She pressed a kiss to Natalie’s hairline, then slid carefully out of bed. “Water,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse. “You stay. I’ll get it.”

She reached down, snagging Natalie’s robe from the foot of the bed. It was an oversized, gray, well-worn, number and smelled faintly of Natalie. Lisa shrugged it on and padded quietly to the door, opening it just wide enough to slip into the hallway.

The apartment was dim, still holding onto its nighttime hush. She paused for a second outside Natalie’s room, her hand resting against the doorknob, listening. Nothing. Aiden’s room was totally silent. No creaks, no rustle of movement. The kind of stillness that read as sleep.

Lisa smirked and turned her head back toward the bed. “See?” she whispered. “Fast asleep. Not a sound. Told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Natalie let out a relieved breath from where she lay tangled in the sheets. She believed it. She wanted to believe it.

“Good,” she said, her voice hoarse from the dryness of her throat. “I’d die if he ever knew.”

Lisa chuckled under her breath as she disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen.

But Aiden wasn’t asleep. He’d heard everything. He lay frozen in bed, one hand still gripped around himself beneath the covers, feeling the wet mess cooling on his stomach and chest. He hadn’t dared move since the door creaked open, his breath held so long it had made him light-headed. He’d cum to the mental image of them. To Natalie’s voice, and her moans, and the soft sound of bodies moving. When he’d heard the door open, he’d gone completely still, afraid even the sound of his heartbeat might give him away.

Now, hearing his mom’s confident, light voice, completely unaware of his voyeurism, something inside him twisted. He wouldn’t describe it as guilt. It was something murkier. Something heavier. Something that lurked just beneath the skin. There was no way of forgetting what he’d just heard his mom doing. Of how she’d made Natalie beg and moan for more.

He let go of himself slowly, relaxing his jaw, and wiped his hand on the edge of the sheet. He felt like the room was pungent with the scent of his own cum. In the quiet room he could hear the sound of the cupboard opening, the clink of a glass, and the soft return of footsteps. It barely registered before it all faded into silence again.

He stared at the ceiling, his pulse slowly coming down from its high. None of it had been imagined. The sounds were real. His mom initiating sex with Natalie: real. The way Natalie had begged: real. The way his body had answered, with nothing but instinct and need: real. The mental visual of both women: unforgettable.

Slip a finger in my ass.

The memory of her voice made his chest tighten. The sound of what she’d said and how she’d said it. A **** and embarrassed need. And even after he’d rushed back to his room with his heart pounding after a groan escaped him, there was no question about what happened next. His mom had done as was requested. From there, neither of the women lasted much longer.

He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, the sheets kicked down around his legs, his body was still sensitive with the idea of what just happened. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Whether she’d look at him differently, whether he would. He doubted they’d ever speak of it. There was no version of reality where it would be okay to admit he’d listened. That he’d invaded their privacy. That he couldn’t stop himself from getting off to the sounds that drifted into his room, leaving no doubt about what was happening.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t. It would probably stay what it was: a secret kept on the other side of a closed door.

Still, there were so many new thoughts to reconcile, so much to come to terms with. Things he never would’ve expected. Not from her. Not from himself. Not from his mom.

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