<<<<>>>> Larry found out about Norman. Well, yes, I told him, but only after he really got insistent about why I didn't answer my phone all that weekend (come to think of it, Norman had unplugged his phone, too...). He was real upset, not that I'd promised him fidelity but certainly I could understand where his hurt expectations had come from. So I invited him over for dinner and a talk, and perhaps a pityfuck. I selected a satin slipdress--you know, tailored, spaghetti straps, trim fitting, low cut but not really dipping too far into the cleavage. I picked up some fresh fish and vegies and put on a really nice table and candlelight, but he wasn't interested. Poor guy was really hurting, I could see it in his face. After all we had together, etc., etc., he kept saying, and I could tell he just never believed that the whole situation was merely a day- to-day thing. Funny how guys never complain about who you've seen before, but they really get hurt when you see someone later! When I explained that I hadn't really given him up, just allowed someone else in, he seemed to brighten a bit and his appetite began to come back. So I poured us a little more wine and let him talk. His work had been going better, and he'd wanted to share it with me, and here I'd gone off for a weekend with a year-old reject. Again, I patiently explained how there'd been no long term promises, just mutual enjoyment. We finished desert, I poured some brandy, and we retired to the living room sofa. He was much more relaxed, and actually began to ask after me (other than regarding Norman, of course). I sketched out current projects...nothing he didn't already know about, but they seemed to amuse him. But conversation about him was really short: How was work? Ok. What about his spare time? Nothing special. Was he going out with anyone else? No, of course not. Did he have any trips planned? No, now that I wouldn't go along, he'd stopped fantasying about them. Well, where had he wanted us to go? Now he brightened and began to recite a series of rather detailed itineraries he'd thought through. A bit TOO detailed, in that EVERYthing was planned, but surely they were all very romantic ideas for weekends or longer. When I said I'd go along as things permitted he began to get excited again. He brought out some pictures he'd clipped, and I moved over next to him to see them. He did have a great imagination, and his enthusiasm was now really showing. When I reached over to point out something in his books, I didn't mind at all letting my hand linger in his lap. He didn't grab for me right away, but did shift over to be right next to me. I poured a little more brandy and the evening drew on. We began to plan a trip, selecting a long weekend and picking daily destinations. Somewhere along here I kissed his cheek and he put his arm around me. I could feel him checking for the (non- existent) bra strap and panty line. Just as we finished I got up to get more brandy, and when I came back I sat with my back against the far armrest of the couch and beckoned to Larry. He scooted over and put his arm across my waist. I sipped my brandy, gave him his, and asked him if he wanted to stay the night. I swear he almost dropped his snifter, and then he smiled; he leaned over and kissed me, and I put an arm around his shoulders. When he sat up I put my snifter aside and took his, holding one hand in his lap while I reached over to put his snifter aside. I had to really stretch my arm and chest to reach, and I'm sure he stared closely at the swelling beneath the slip's bodice. When I turned back I reached up to pull him down and he pivoted his legs onto the sofa as he lounged beside me. He still seemed so unsure, though. I stroked his head, and kissed his lips, but he was hesitant. I took his hand from my waist and moved it up to my breast, where I held it tight. His hand, massive as always, was as warm and gentle as before. As he kissed my neck I pulled my head back and just enjoyed all the sensations. He soon had his hand inside the dress and then he slipped the straps off my shoulders. He was getting the idea! Time to find a little bare skin on this guy, too! I rolled sideways, so he could get onto the sofa better, then began working on his buttons, literal and figurative. I would undo a few then reach down between his legs for a good grab as I kissed him deeply. Soon, his shirt was off and his pants were open. It wasn't long before his hand was off my breast and was sliding up my leg under the dress. I lifted my hips and he just pulled it off over my head as I sat up. We then went to work on the rest of his clothes and when they were off I took him to the bedroom. The sheets were cold but we had them warm soon enough. There was a lot of exploring we did, sliding our legs over each other, tongues in ears, nibbles on necks, fingers on genitals. I took him on my side, and I could see him sigh as he slid into me. Right away there wasn't the usual vigorous pumping, just sort of a slow and gentle massage of all my innards. I ran my hands over his chest, behind me to grab his balls, back up through his hair, and all the time there was this gentle warmth suffusing through me. I was tightening down but not yet near explosion. Then he rolled me over onto my back and began to pump more quickly. He put his legs outside mine and the pressures changed. Next, he started licking and sucking my chest again, and I began to really pump back. When he came it wasn't for long but it was powerful, almost like a firehose deep inside. I shivered, then shuddered, and then thrashed about in a wild, slow-coming orgasm that left me breathless. With the exhaustion that brought, and the brandy, I soon fell asleep. Larry was there, gently again in the morning, and we repeated the performance until the sun was at zenith. He left a little more confident of himself and I lingered in bed, assured the attentions of two wonderful men. Can life be sweeter?