I get the text sent and set my phone face down on the table, and David's still standing there in his towel with that look on his face, the one that says he's already three steps ahead of me and enjoying the walk.

"Karen's going to want a rematch," he says. "You know that."

"She can have one. I'll even bring the cooler." I slide off the table and my bare feet hit the cold tile, and I feel his cum shift and cool between my legs with the movement. "But right now I want a shower that isn't lukewarm and a bed that isn't full of sand."

"Sand?"

"From the barn. I've got hay in places I'm not going to say out loud."

He laughs, and it's the low one, the one that starts in his chest and comes out slow. "You're the one who wanted to roll around in it."

"I wanted to be fucked against a wall. The hay was the wall's idea."

He follows me up the stairs with his towel hanging loose and his hair still wet at the ends, and I can feel him behind me the whole way, not touching, just there, and I know exactly what that means. He's letting me get clean before he decides what he wants next. It's a courtesy he extends about half the time. The other half, he doesn't bother.

I get the shower hot this time, actually hot, and I stand under it until the water's running cold down my back and the hay's gone and my skin smells like nothing but soap. David comes in while I'm rinsing my hair and doesn't say anything, just gets in behind me and puts his hands on my hips, and I lean back into his chest and let the water run over both of us.

"You've got a bruise," he says, thumb moving over my knee.

"From the tile. This morning."

"I remember." His voice is right against my ear. "You were on your knees."

"I was."

"And before that you were on your back with your feet up by your ears, and before that—"

"David."

"—before that you were bent over the edge of the bed with your ass in the air telling me not to be gentle."

I turn around under the water and look at him. His eyes are dark and his jaw's got that set to it, and there's a hickey on his neck that I still don't remember giving him, and I reach up and press my thumb to it, hard enough that he flinches.

"You're going to be sore tomorrow," I say.

"I'm already sore."

"Good."

He kisses me then, and it's not the hungry one from the barn or the slow one from the grey light of the bedroom. It's the one that comes after all that, when there's nothing left to prove, and his hands are in my wet hair and mine are flat on his chest and the water's going cold and neither of us cares.

We get out and dry off and I put on one of his old t-shirts and nothing else, and he pulls on clean shorts and doesn't bother with a shirt, and we go back down to the kitchen and I make actual coffee this time, not the sad cup from before, and we sit at the table and drink it and don't say much. The dog up the road has stopped barking. The frost is gone off the grass. It's a normal Sunday morning, or it would be, if my husband didn't keep looking at me like he's still deciding what to do with me.

"Stop it," I say.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"You are. You've got that face."

He leans back in his chair, coffee in one hand, and the towel's gone and he's just a man in shorts with a hickey on his neck and a smile he's not trying to hide. "What face?"

"The one that means you're thinking about later."

"I'm always thinking about later."

I take a sip of my coffee and don't answer that, because he's right, and because the truth is I'm thinking about later too, and because there's something in the way he keeps looking at me that's making my stomach do a slow turn I wasn't expecting this soon after everything.

The rest of the day goes by the way Sundays do. We get the cooler out and hose it down and leave it upside down on the porch to dry. David fixes the loose hinge on the screen door that's been bothering him since August. I do two loads of laundry and find a piece of hay in the dryer lint filter and stand there holding it for a second, and then I throw it away and start the next load. Karen texts the group chat a picture of the beer mile finish line and everyone responds with crying-laughing emojis and someone asks if Jodi's knees survived and I send back a thumbs up and nothing else. Let them wonder.

By evening the light's going gold and low and David's out on the porch with a beer and I'm inside washing the last of the dishes when he comes back in and stands in the doorway, and I know that look too. It's the one from the barn. It's the one from the grey bedroom light. It's the one that means he's been patient long enough.

"You remember what I said this morning," he says. "About the only place I didn't get to."

I dry my hands on the towel and turn around. "You said the only place you didn't get to cum today was my mouth."

"And then you went and took a shower."

"I was dirty."

"You were avoiding me."

I fold the towel and set it on the counter. "I wasn't avoiding you. I was letting you think about it."

He comes across the kitchen slowly, and I don't move, and when he gets to me he puts one hand flat on the counter on either side of my hips and leans in close enough that I can smell the beer on his breath and the soap on his skin. "I've been thinking about it all day," he says. "All through the screen door. All through your laundry."

"That's a lot of thinking."

"It's a lot of wanting."

He kisses me, and it starts slow and turns into something else, and his hands come off the counter and find my ass through the thin cotton of his t-shirt and pull me against him, and I can feel him already hard through his shorts. I put my hands on his chest and push him back a step.

"Go upstairs," I say. "I'll be up in a minute."

"Why a minute?"

"Because I want to be."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting." I press my palm flat against his sternum and push again, gentle. "Go. Before I change my mind about the minute."

He goes, and I hear the stairs creak under him, and I stand in the kitchen for a second with my hands on the counter and my heart doing something fast and stupid in my chest. Then I go to the drawer by the stairs, the one where I keep the things I don't keep in the bathroom, and I take out the black silk scarf I bought years ago and never wore, and I fold it small and carry it up.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed with his shorts off and his hands on his knees, and when he sees the scarf he goes still.

"What's that for?"

"You'll see." I climb onto the bed behind him and put my knees on either side of his hips and lean over his shoulder and put the silk over his eyes, and he doesn't stop me. I tie it at the back of his skull, not tight, just enough that it won't slip, and I feel him breathe out slow under my hands.

"Jodi."

"Just feel it," I say. "Don't think about anything. Just feel it."

"I can't see you."

"That's the point." I put my mouth against the back of his neck, right where the hickey is, and I feel him shiver. "You don't have to see me. You know where I am."

I push him back onto the mattress and he goes, flat on his back with his hands loose at his sides and his cock already hard and slick at the tip, and I look at him for a second—the stubble, the blindfold, the way his chest moves—and then I put my mouth on him.

He groans like it's been a week.

"Been thinking about this all day," I say against him, and then my tongue goes flat up the underside of his shaft and I take him deep enough that my throat opens and he makes a sound that isn't a word, and his hand comes up to find my head and I catch his wrist and pin it back down to the mattress.

"No," I say, mouth still on him. "Keep your hands down."

"Jesus."

"Down."

"Okay. Okay—" He flattens his palms against the sheet. "I'm down. I'm down."

He puts them down. I take my time with him, then—slow, wet, my mouth working up and down his cock while his hips twitch under me and he breathes through his teeth. I can taste him, salt and heat, and I can hear the wet sound my mouth makes every time I pull back, and I can feel him getting harder, filling up against my tongue, and I know he's close and I know he's trying not to be.

"Tell me what you want," I say, and pull off just long enough to say it.

"Don't stop."

"That's not what I asked."

"I want—" His jaw works. "I want to come in your mouth. You know I do."

"I know." I take him back in, all the way, and he groans and his hands twitch against the sheet like he's fighting himself. "So wait for it."

I pull off him.

"Don't," he says. "Don't stop."

"I'm not stopping." I climb up his body and straddle him, and I take his cock in my hand and hold it steady and sink down on it slow, and he fills me all the way to the ache, and I hear him say my name like it's been dragged out of him. "I'm just changing my mind."

"You're—" He swallows. "You're not doing what you said."

"I never said." I settle all the way down on him and hold there, and his hands come up off the sheet and find my thighs. "I said I'd be up in a minute. I didn't say what for."

I ride him. Slow at first, my palms flat on his hips holding him down on the mattress, and he tries to push up into me and I don't let him, and the whole bed moves with us and the ceiling fan ticks on every third rotation and I count them without meaning to. His hands come up again and find my hips and I let him have that much, let him grip me there while I work myself on him, and I lean forward and put my mouth by his ear.

"You feel that?"

"Yes."

"That's me." I sink down harder and he groans. "That's what you've been thinking about all day."

"Yes—Jodi—"

"Say it."

"I've been thinking about it all day." His voice is thick, wrecked. "All through the screen door. All through your laundry. I told you."

"You told me." I lift off him. Not all the way, just enough that he's almost out of me, and I hold there, and I feel him twitch and strain under my hand.

"What are you doing," he says. "What—"

"Just feel it, baby." I come down on him again, slow, and then I lift off him entirely and get off the bed on the other side, and I put my hand flat on his chest to keep him down. "Let her."

"Let—"

He doesn't finish, because Karen's mouth is already on him. I watch her take his cock between her lips from the side of the bed, watch his whole body jerk against the mattress, watch his hands fly out to find something and land on my hips instead. I catch his wrists and hold them down against the mattress.

"It's me," I say. "I'm right here. Just feel it."

"Who—" His head turns under the blindfold. "Who is that?"

"You know who it is."

"Karen." It comes out of him low and hoarse. "Karen, what are you—"

She pulls off him just long enough to answer. "Whatever she wants me to do, Dave." Then her mouth's back on him and he stops talking.

He's breathing hard and his hips are moving and Karen's head is working up and down between his legs, and I lean down and put my mouth by his ear and don't say anything at all, just let him hear me breathing, let him know I'm there. His hands are white-knuckled on my hips and he's saying something that isn't words.

"Tell me," I say. "Tell me how it feels."

"I can't—" He drags a breath. "It's too much. Both of you. I can't—"

"You can. You've got all night."

Karen pulls off him and he makes a sound like he's been punched. She looks up at me across his body and her mouth is wet and she's grinning, and she puts her hand around the base of his cock and holds it up.

"He's close," she says.

"I know." I climb back onto the bed and straddle him again, and I take him in my hand and sink down on him, and this time I don't go slow. I ride him hard and fast and his hands come up and find my ass and pull me down onto him, and I hear Karen move behind me on the bed, feel the mattress dip, and then her mouth is on my neck and her hands are on my back and I'm between them.

"Don't let him come yet," Karen says against my shoulder.

"He's not going to." I lean down over David's chest. "You hear that? You don't get to come yet."

"I hate you," he says, and it's not even close to meaning it.

"I know."

Then her fingers slide down my spine and between my cheeks, and I feel her thumb press against my ass, wet with something, working slow circles, and I stop moving on David and just hold there, full of him, and let her work.

Her thumb pushes in and I make a sound I don't recognize. David's hands tighten on my hips.

"What is that," he says. "What are you—"

"Nothing," I say. "Keep going."

"That's not nothing."

"It's her thumb," I say, and I hear how my voice comes out, and I don't care. "It's her thumb in my ass. Now keep going."

He does. He fucks up into me from below while Karen works her thumb in and out of my ass, and I'm braced on his chest with my head hanging down and I can't think about anything but the two of them and the way it feels, full in both places, her mouth back on my neck and her thumb curling inside me.

"You're so wet," Karen says against my ear. "You hear how wet you are? That's what this does to you."

"Shut up," I say, and she laughs, and then she says it again anyway, slower.

Then her thumb slides out and something bigger presses there. Wider. Slick.

"Breathe," Karen says against my ear.

"What are you—" David's voice. "What's happening up there?"

I breathe. She pushes and I feel my ass give around it, slow, and it's wider than her thumb, wider than anything, and I hear myself make a sound that's half a gasp and half a moan and David goes still underneath me.

"What—"

"Just keep going," I say. "Don't stop."

"Jodi. What is that."

"It's her strap." I get the words out between breaths. "She's putting it in me. All the way in me."

He makes a sound at that, low in his chest, and his hands clamp hard on my ass.

He doesn't stop. He fucks up into me and Karen pushes in behind me, slow and steady, and I'm caught between them, full in both places, and the stretch of it is so much that I have to put my forehead down on David's chest and just breathe through it. The strap-on seats itself all the way in and Karen holds there, and I feel her hips against my ass, and I feel David's cock thick and hard through the wall of me, and I make a sound that isn't a word.

"Good?" Karen says.

"Don't stop," I say. "Either of you. Don't stop."

"I can feel you," David says, and his voice is cracked down the middle. "God, Jodi, I can feel her in you."

"I know you can." I lift my head and put my mouth near his jaw. "She's right up against you. That's how close she is."

They don't stop. David fucks up into me and Karen fucks into me from behind and the two of them find a rhythm between them without saying anything, and I'm just the place where it happens, my hands braced on David's chest and my mouth open and nothing coming out of it but breath. The blindfold's still on him and he's got his head turned and his jaw tight and I can see his throat working and I know he's close, I can feel it in the way he's moving.

"Jodi." Karen's voice, right at my ear, breathless and mean. "He's going to come. I can feel him shaking."

"I'm going to come," he says. "Jodi—"

"Do it," I say. "Do it. I want to feel it."

I push down onto him and Karen pushes into me and he makes a sound like he's breaking and I feel him come inside me, hot and thick, and I feel my own body clench around him and around her, and I come with my forehead on his chest and my hands fisted in the sheet on either side of him and Karen's hips still moving behind me.

"God," he's saying. "God, god—"

"I've got you," I say, and my voice doesn't sound like mine. "I've got you. Stay in it."

Karen pulls out slow and I feel the strap-on slide free and the sudden empty ache of it. She moves down the bed and I feel her mouth on my ass, then lower, her tongue sliding through the mess where David's cum is leaking out of me, and I make a sound and push back against her face without meaning to.

"Jesus," David says. "Jesus Christ."

"She's cleaning me up," I say. "She's licking it out of me. Your cum. She's—" I stop, because her tongue does something and I lose the thread of it.

Karen doesn't answer. Her tongue works at my cunt and I feel her lick up through the wet and the cum and I'm shaking, my thighs trembling on either side of David's hips, and then she pulls back and I hear her swallow.

"Get off him," she says. "Both of you. I want my turn."

"Yeah," I say. "Yeah. Okay."

David pushes the blindfold up off his eyes and blinks at the ceiling and then at her, and Karen's already crawling up the bed, and I slide off David and lie back against the pillows and watch her straddle his face and put her hand in his hair.

"Your turn," she says, and pushes down.

"Make him work for it," I say, and my voice still isn't steady. "He's good at it. Make him work."

"Oh, I will." She looks down at him. "You hear her? Work for it, Dave."

I lie there and catch my breath and watch my husband eat my best friend's pussy with his hands on her thighs, and after a minute I climb over and put my mouth on her breast and my hand between her legs, finding David's tongue already there, and Karen's head falls back and she says both our names at once, and I feel her clit jump under my fingers.

"Don't stop," she says. "Don't either of you stop."

I don't stop. I keep my mouth on her breast and my fingers working her clit, and David's tongue is still going, and I feel her thighs start to shake on either side of his head. She's close. I can feel it in the way her hips stutter and the way her hand fists in my hair.

But I don't want her to come yet. Not like this.

I pull my mouth off her breast and sit back on my heels, and David keeps eating her because he doesn't know any better, and I put my hand flat on her belly and press.

"Hold on," I say. "Not yet."

Karen's eyes come open and she looks down at me, flushed and wrecked and annoyed. "What?"

"Get off him. I want to try something."

"Jodi—"

"Get off him."

She does, because she trusts me, and because she's curious, and because the strap-on is still lying on the sheet where she left it when she pulled out of me. I pick it up. It's warm from my body and slick and heavier than it looks, and I wrap my hand around the base of it and look at David.

He's still on his back with his mouth wet and his chest heaving and his cock lying hard against his stomach. He looks at the strap in my hand, then at Karen, then back at me.

"What are you doing," he says.

"What does it look like."

Karen's already moving. She knows. She gets up on her hands and knees on the bed and looks back over her shoulder at me, and she's got that grin on, the mean one, the one that says she's going to enjoy this.

"You've done this before," she says.

"Once or twice."

David sits up. "Wait. You're going to—"

"She's going to put it in my ass," Karen says, easy as anything. "And you're going to get under me and stay hard, because I want both of you."

He stares at her. Then at me. Then he shakes his head like he's clearing water out of his ears and does what she says, because he's a man and she asked, and he slides down the bed and gets on his back underneath her, and Karen lowers herself down onto him with a sound that's half relief and half hunger.

"Oh," she says. "Oh, that's good. That's—" She braces her hands on his chest and starts to move, slow, and David's hands come up to her hips and grip them.

"You're so wet," he says. "Jesus, Karen."

"I've been wet since I got here." She looks back at me over her shoulder. "Are you going to do it or just stand there looking at it?"

I get behind her. The harness is too big on me, the straps loose, but I get it on and cinch it as tight as it'll go and the dildo sits up out of my hips, slick and ready from where it was inside me. I put my hands on Karen's ass and spread her and look at her.

She's small there. Tight. The strap's wider than my thumb was, wider than anything that's been in her tonight.

"You sure?" I say.

"I'm sure. Do it slow."

I do it slow. I put the head of it against her and push, just a little, and she makes a sound and her hips jerk forward and she takes David deeper, and he groans underneath her.

"Breathe," I say. "You're clenching."

"I know I'm clenching. It's—" She drops her head. "It's a lot."

"You want me to stop?"

"No. Don't stop. Just go slow."

I go slow. I hold the head of it against her and let her push back onto it herself, and she does, an inch at a time, her whole body working with it, her hands fisted on David's chest. I can feel her give around it, tight and hot and fighting it, and I put my hand on her lower back and press down.

"That's it. Take it."

"Jodi—"

"Take it."

She takes it. The head slides in past the widest part and she makes a sound like a sob and David goes still underneath her, his eyes wide.

"I can feel it," he says. "I can feel it in her."

"That's the point." I push a little more, and Karen's back arches and she pushes back onto it and it seats another inch, and I hear the wet sound of it, and her thighs are shaking. "You feel how tight she is? She's got both of us in her now."

"Jodi—" Karen's voice is cracked. "Jodi, it's so much—"

"You wanted both of us." I push again, slow, and she takes it, and she's breathing through her teeth. "You asked for it. Take it."

She takes it. I work it in slow, a little at a time, and David stays still underneath her, his hands on her hips, his cock buried in her, and I can feel the two of us in her through the way she moves—the way she can't move, the way she just holds there and breathes and lets it happen.

"Talk to me," I say. "How's it feel?"

"Full." She's got her eyes closed. "So full. Both of you. It's—" She swallows. "It's like being split open. In a good way. In a really good way."

"Good." I push the last of it in, slow, until my hips are against her ass and the base of the strap is pressed flat to my body and there's nothing left to give. "There. It's all the way in."

She makes a sound I've never heard her make. Her hips jerk hard against David's, grinding down onto him, and her hand fists in the sheet and pulls it up off the mattress.

"Oh god," she says. "Oh god, oh god—"

David's staring up at her. "Karen. Karen, look at me."

She can't. She's got her head down and her mouth open and she's shaking, and I hold there inside her and let her feel it, let the stretch settle, and then I move.

Slow at first. Small. Just enough that she feels it, that the two of us in her find a rhythm, me behind and David underneath, and Karen's caught between us with nowhere to go. She's sobbing little breaths and her hips move on their own, forward onto David and back onto me, and she's making sounds that aren't words.

"That's it," I say. "That's it. Take both of us."

"I can't—" She drags a breath. "I can't take both of you—"

"You can. You're doing it." I push deeper and she cries out. "You're taking both of us right now. Feel it."

David's hands are on her hips and he's moving now too, pushing up into her every time I push in, and they find the rhythm together, the two of them, and Karen's just the place where it happens. I can feel David's cock through the wall of her, thick and hard, and I can feel her clench around the strap every time he pushes in, and she's so wet I can hear it.

"Harder," she says. "Both of you. Harder."

I give her harder. I put my hand on her shoulder and pull her back onto it while David pushes up, and she takes it, and the sound she makes is loud enough that I think about the neighbors and then stop thinking about the neighbors. Her ass is tight around the strap and her whole body is working with it and she's saying something over and over that I can't make out.

"What's that?" I lean down over her back. "What are you saying?"

"Don't stop." Her voice is wrecked. "Don't either of you stop. I'm going to come. I'm going to—"

"Come, then." I push in hard and hold there. "Come on it. Both of us."

She does. Her whole body goes tight and she cries out and her hips jerk hard against David's, and I feel her clench around the strap so hard it almost pushes me out, and David groans underneath her and holds her hips down and doesn't stop moving, working her through it.

"That's it," I say. "That's it. Good girl."

She's shaking. Her arms give out and she goes down onto David's chest, and he wraps his arms around her and holds her there, and I stay inside her, still, and let her breathe. Her ass is still clenching around the strap in little pulses and I can feel every one of them.

"Jesus," she says into David's neck. "Jesus Christ, Jodi."

"You asked for it."

"I know I asked for it." She lifts her head and looks back at me and her face is a mess, flushed and sweaty and grinning. "Don't you dare pull out yet. I'm not done."

"You're not done?"

"I'm not done." She pushes herself back up on her hands and looks down at David. "You still hard?"

"Yeah." His voice is hoarse. "Yeah, I'm still hard."

"Then don't stop." She looks back at me. "Either of you."

I don't stop. I move again, slow, and David moves with me, and Karen's caught between us again and this time she's ready for it, pushing back onto me and forward onto him, and the three of us find a rhythm that isn't any one of us leading it. Her ass is slick and open now and the strap slides in and out of her easy, and every time it goes deep she makes a sound that goes straight down my spine.

"You feel him?" I say. "He's getting close. I can feel him twitching."

"I feel him." She's breathless. "I feel both of you. God, I'm going to come again—"

"Do it. Come on him. Let him feel it."

She comes again, and this time David comes with her. He makes a sound like he's been holding his breath all night and his hips jerk up into her and he holds there, buried, and I feel her clench and shudder around him and around me, and I push in deep one last time and hold, and the three of us stay like that, locked together, nobody moving.

Then Karen laughs. It comes out of her shaky and low. "Okay," she says. "Okay. I'm done. I'm officially done."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Get it out of me before I change my mind."

I pull out slow and she makes a sound and her hips jerk, and then the strap's free and she collapses onto David's chest, and I unbuckle the harness and let it drop onto the bed and lie down next to them, and the three of us just breathe.

The ceiling fan ticks. On every third rotation. I count them without meaning to, and then I stop counting and just listen.

"So," Karen says, after a while. "Same time next weekend?"

David laughs, and it's the low one, and he puts his hand out and finds mine on the sheet and holds it.

"Bring the cooler," I say.