Marcia R. Hooper
by Marcia R. Hooper
Copyright© 2025 by Marcia R. Hooper
Erotica Sex Story: A man has not seen his ex-girlfriend in six years. He is still in love with her and she is still married to his friend, and so the erotica begins...
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Reluctant Romantic Anal Sex Masturbation .
I had not seen Aaron Lerner in five years. Six years, once I stopped to think about it. I was at the Home Depot at Milestone Center, looking for a replacement thermostat; I ran into Aaron at the end of an aisle. It took two looks to convince myself that it really was Aaron, and then, I almost walked away.
“Hello, Aaron,” I said, sticking out my hand. “How are you?”
He looked just as surprised--and just as put off--as I did. “Hey, man! What’s going on?” There was a toilet repair kit in his hand.
I shrugged. I looked around for Irene. “You alone here?”
He nodded. “She’s out with her mother, shopping. Like that isn’t news.”
We both laughed. Aaron hated the woman.
“So,” I said. “Life treating you good?”
He held up the replacement float. “Just like this,” he said. Then: “How’s Dee?”
Dee’s my ex-wife. Irene and Dee worked together for a long time. That’s how I knew Aaron. I had it bad for his wife.
Irene was not a beautiful girl, not by any stretch of the imagination; glancing at her, most guys would not look back. She was of European descent--Greek, I think— with dark brown hair, very dark eyes, an olive complexion, and features just a bit too full. She was also a bit too full around the waist (at least, the last time I had seen her), and had a habit of whining whenever Aaron gave her shit. And she was from Brooklyn.
All of which did nothing to explain her appeal to me.
“Still racing?” I asked. Aaron had owned thoroughbred horses and stabled them at Charlestown Racetrack in West Virginia. We used to go down on Friday nights, occasionally with the girls, but most of the time just him and me. Now he owned five horses.
“Any of them winners?” I asked.
He just laughed. Then he asked if I wanted to go down with him to Charlestown on Friday night.
I should have said no. Later, I would fervently wish I had said no. But I wanted to see Irene and I said yes.
I met him at his house. It was a two-story, vinyl-sided affair, on a nice-sized lot; Irene had laid out a pair of flower beds beneath the two front windows. Beside the fences bordering her yard, she had planted pansies, mums, and impatiens; impatiens ran along the sidewalk. In the side yard was a Home Depot brand shed and in back, a Home Depot brand swing set and sandbox. Irene had two children, Aaron Jr. and Angie.
I rang the front doorbell. My stomach was knotted. When Aaron answered, all I could manage was, “Hey.”
“Bring plenty of money?”
I looked beyond him, wanting to see Irene. “I brought my wallet,” I said.
“It better be full.”
“I left my credit cards home,” I said, which in fact, I had. Betting horses, especially with Aaron, could be dangerous.
I waited in the living room while Aaron got his things. Most of the furniture was new from the last time I’d been there. The dining room suite--where I had once kissed Irene during a drunken game of Truth or Dare-- was the same, and so was the recliner in one corner. Everything else was new.
“Where’s Irene?” I asked.
He blinked, as though unsure whom I meant. “Upstairs,” he said, before yelling her out by her name.
“Don’t do that! For Christ’s sake, Aaron.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t have to come down.”
But I did want her to come down. I also prayed that she wouldn’t. I heard her footfalls on the floor above, followed by her footfalls on the stairs leading down. They were not light and happy footfalls, but the clump-thunk of anger.
I thought, Why the hell did I come here?
Irene wore a cream-colored sleeveless top over blue jean shorts. She had New Balance sneakers on her feet over white ankle socks. She had not gained any additional weight, but neither had she lost any. She wore her hair loose across her shoulders.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hello, Irene.”
She made no effort to come forward to shake my hand, hug me, or anything else. She just stood under the living room arch, holding a child’s school book in her hand. Her hair had some gray in it. I noted the wedding bands on her left hand, the rings on her right hand, and the pair of small stud earrings in her ears. Like a Polaroid photograph, I recorded it all.
She said to Aaron: “When will you be home?”
“When I get back,” he said.
“I need to get the carpet cleaned,” she said. “Win us some money, okay?” The carpet looked spotless.
“Two million, with Rob, here. How’s that for you, babe?”
She smiled crookedly. “When did you ever win?” she asked me.
“Never.”
“I didn’t think so. Be careful, both of you.” And then she went upstairs.
We headed south on Route 340. After a while, I asked, “So, you still go down with Jonathan?” Jonathan was Aaron’s co-worker. Sometimes he had accompanied us to the track.
“He moved back to Brooklyn ... you didn’t know that? Anyway, lately, I’ve been going with my neighbor, Tom.” He shrugged. Tom and I didn’t get along.
“Any winners in the stable?” I asked. Aaron had terrible luck with his horses.
He looked disgusted. “I lost so much money last year I made money on my taxes. I damned near got rid of the lot of them. Damn bastards.”
“She goes with you much?”
“Irene?” He laughed. “Never. Not once in the last three years.” He gave me a querulous look. “Not that I mind, you know.”
I knew. “Still after the girls?”
“Of course.”
I passed a lumbering eighteen-wheeler going up a hill. “That girl at your office ... Molly? You ever get to her?”
His grin grew really big. “That was a long time ago, but yeah. She ended up quitting. Her husband found out.” He laughed, jabbing my arm. “I thought for a while he’d come after me--big son of a bitch. Not a nice guy at all. Met him at one of the Christmas parties. But she got her down on her knees for me, five or six times, so it was worth it.”
Same old Aaron, I thought. “What about Irene? Did she ever catch on?”
He gave me that querying look again.
“What??” I asked. “Did I miss something?”
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“About Irene.”
I was suddenly very wary. “What about Irene?”
“Dee never told you?”
“Never told me what?” I demanded.
“That Irene and I are swingers.”
It was some time before I trusted myself to speak. “What are you talking about, Aaron?” I slipped the car around another big truck.
He laughed. “I can’t believe you don’t know.”
“Enlighten me,” I said.
For once, he was not flippant. “Before you and Dee broke up--shit, I’d say for a good two years before--I had Irene fucking other men.”
I said nothing.
“It started out with another woman. Then another woman. Then the first woman again and I got to watch. After that, well she only let me set up men and always in a motel room or alone at our house.” He grinned, though not happily. “She made me stay away until after they’d left. Then we’d have sex and I’d screw her fucking ass silly, you know?”
“Jesus, man.”
He looked at me intently. “She did Tom, our old neighbor, two guys from my work, and a guy or two from her own work. She even took two guys at once, Rob.”
“Aaron,” I said, pained.
“Believe me,” he said. “She’s no angel.” He had no idea how close he came to getting punched.
“So why are you telling me this? Now?”
“Thought you’d like to know. What you missed out on.”
He almost got punched again. “For Christ’s sake, man. I thought you and Irene were...”
“Happily married?”
A pair of fire engines and an ambulance with lights flashing and sirens wailing approached from the opposite direction; I slowed and drifted onto the shoulder.
“We were never that happy, man. You know that.”
“Yeah, but Aaron ... swinging?”
“Actually,” he said. “The swinging part was hers. I just took pictures and then fucked her good and hard afterwards. That was my part.”
I ground my teeth and drove on.
“Don’t be so judgmental,” he said after a while. “At least we’re still married.”
I said, “I got news for you, Aaron. All the swinging in the world wouldn’t have helped Dee and me. And why just her? Why not you too?”
He shrugged. “Just how it happened. I would have liked fucking her in a threesome, you know, maybe even a foursome, plug all her fucking holes--”
“You are so perverted,” I cut in, unable not to laugh.
He laughed back. “Things needed shaking up, man. She didn’t like to fuck anymore and didn’t even like to kiss. And you could forget getting a blow job. Getting her swinging changed all that. Besides, it’s been years anyway. The kids got too old. We had to stop.”
“Thank God for that,” I said. “And if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ve heard enough for now.”
“Fine. Just so you’ll know, though, she said no.”
“No to what?” I asked.
“What do you think?”
I honestly didn’t know. Then I did.
“Don’t say another word!” I threatened him. “One more word and I’m turning this car around.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, beginning to laugh.
“I don’t want to understand.”
“I think you do.”
“Fuck what you think, Lerner! One more word and I’ll pound your face in!”
He said simply, “She said no, because she likes you so much.”
I had lost forty dollars. Aaron had won eighty. His horse was running next.
“Do I bet him?” I asked.
“I’m betting to win, but that’s your call, Rob.”
I put down twenty dollars to place. What could I lose? So far, I hadn’t let him say anything more. Now I did. “Tell me what you meant in the car.”
He said, looking at the odds board, “She never came right out and said it, but I always knew. Remember that night you kissed her? Playing Truth or Dare?” I shrugged. “She was like, in heaven, man, the rest of the night.”
What I remembered was a warm, wet mouth, soft lips, and a so-what attitude afterwards. Dee cared more about the kiss than Irene did. Or so I thought.
Aaron shook his head. “You’re the only guy I ever tried to set her up with, that she said no to. What’s that tell you?”
“That she dislikes me?”
He burst out laughing. “You are so dumb! You are so fucking dumb, Rob.”
I had heard enough. I told him so. And for the rest of the night, although he occasionally flashed me an inquisitive grin, he never broached the subject again. Until we got back.
He said: “I’ll prove what I was saying.”
“Aaron.”
“She never waits up. Never. Wanna bet she’s waiting up tonight?” He nodded toward the house. There were lights on downstairs, and in one of the windows upstairs.
“What’s that prove?” I asked.
“She’s not waiting up for me.” I pulled into his driveway. “Wanna make a bet?”
“I lost enough already tonight.”
“Double or nothing.”
“God Dammit.” I saw a shadow cross one of the downstairs windows; a blind tipped up. “That means nothing,” I said.
Aaron only grinned. “Coming in?”
“Not on your life.”
“She’ll be disappointed.”
“Fuck you, Aaron.” Leaning over, I opened the passenger-side door and told him: “Out. Now. Get out.”
“Okay,” he said, removing his seat belt. “But you’re making a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made,” I said, angrily, “was stopping to say hello to you in the store. Now, get the fuck out of my car.”
He got out, shut the door, and stood back. He wore that same inquisitive smile. I gave him the finger, though I too was now grinning, and backed out of the driveway. As I drove away, I felt, rather than saw, Irene’s eyes following me.
It was Monday noon. I sat at my desk, eating lunch. I tried not to think of Irene, just as I’d tried not to think of her all weekend. The telephone rang. “Hey, man,” Aaron said.
My heart clutched. I sat upright in the chair. “What do you want?” I said.
“Remember our little conversation of the other night? Well, I gave her a choice,” he said. “Either she sleeps with you, or she sleeps with somebody else. Either way, she needs a good fucking, and she’s going to get it.”
“You know, Aaron, I’ve had about as much of you as I can take. One more word, and I’ll come over there and bust your face. I swear I will.”
“Rob!” he said, laughing. “Do you want to fuck Irene or not?”
I wanted to fuck his face. I wanted to fuck the phone. I tried to strangle it instead. “Look,” I said, once I had calmed down, “leave me alone, Aaron. Don’t call me, don’t e-mail, don’t--”
Matter-of-factly, he said: “It’s you or someone else, Rob. You really want Irene to fuck someone else?”
I hung up the phone. He called back.
“What is the matter with you? I’m offering her to you, and you say no?” He stopped talking, and I heard voices in the background. When they were gone, he continued. “Things are like they were when I did it before. I can’t stand it, man. Either she fucks someone, or our marriage is over.”
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