If you missed Parts 1 - 3 of the ongoing story "New Openings," they're alive and well and living in our archives -- just click on the archive link. But to get you started on Part 4, here's where we left off:

"'Max, I'm just saying that if it ever comes to sex, I want you to go for it.'

He went angry-silent. When he's angry his eyes go smoky under his black, black hair. I like that.

'Except for one other thing -- I want to watch,' I added."


[And now for part 4:]

This time as he stared, his facial muscles shifted through several different expressions. "You want to watch," he repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah," I said. I looked him right in the eyes.

He studied my body, as if it would tell him something my words, voice, eyes were not already saying. Maybe it did tell him something.

"That's a little weird, isn't it?" he muttered and went into the kitchen.

I followed him. He got the spring water out of the fridge.

"Maybe it's weird. But I want to share this with you," I said. "I want you to be free to follow your deepest turn-ons. But I can't just let you go off and screw her -- I wish I could. But if I could watch... If I could see how it happens, what goes on..."

"You seem to be leaving something out of the equation here," he said, pouring the water into a glass.

"What's that?"

He held up the jug to offer me some. "Sure," I muttered.

"You're forgetting what I want in all this," he told me. He brought down another glass from the cupboard.

"That's because you won't tell me."

He sighed, holding the jug in mid air before the empty glass.

"OK, you want to know what I want?"

"Yeah."

He began to pour. Sighed again. "Yes, I'm turned on. Yes... if she came on to me, yes, I could see myself hugging, kissing, fooling around... but I don't think... I don't think I could actually fuck her."

"You could fuck her."

"Why do you insist on thinking for me?"

"Because... c'mon. A guy gets to a certain point and his dick does all the thinking for him, right?"

"My dick doesn't control me."

"OK. Fine.Your dick doesn't control you. And I know you're just saying you don't want to fuck her to make me feel good, and that's nice. But I'm just saying if it happened I wouldn't freak. I'd want to be there."

He looked quizzically at me, then handed me the glass of water he'd poured. "Are you saying you want a three-way?"

"Huh?"

"Is that what you want?" he repeated. It seemed to make sense on the surface. WAS that what I was after? I tried to picture it. Did I want to put my hands on those little breasts myself? Open her and taste her young cunt? Lick her hidden clit? Bite her precious nipples? I wondered then if she could be a virgin, and if his penis would break her, hurt her, make her bleed and make girl-tears drop from her sad eyes as her nipples sat erect, betraying her with their dumb hunger.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't know."

He chugged down the glass of water as I pondered.

"This is too weird," he said, finally. "Let's drop it."

"For now," I said.

"At least for now," he said. When he put the water jug back, he closed the door rather harder than usual.

A couple of weeks later, he did go off with her, but with her cousin in tow. Still the knots ate my insides and they showed up in goose bumps and nipple nubs when we fucked. He was gentle as ever but I was getting rough. I pulled at his pubic hairs in foreplay until it went over the top of fun and he said "ow!" I thrusted harder, clenched my cunt muscles harder, so that I came from the inside. I pulled on his hair when I came, and then I dry humped his leg or pubic bone or whatever like a dog will do, using him to squeeze out that secondary muscular internal orgasm.

Over several months he saw her several times, and I knew it was building up to something. I was terrified that her attraction was about more than hormones.

The old thought returned: I will lose him to her. I reminded myself: I always knew it would happen. A sense of loss started hanging over me, a guillotine, unavoidable as Fate.

One day he fixed me dinner and I knew what was going to happen. He was going to tell me. She wanted to fuck him. He loved her. Maybe they'd already fucked. Whatever it was, it was in the air with the blade of Fate. If he told me before the meal, I wouldn't be able to eat. He did not. He waited till after. Till he'd fixed me a Bailey's and a smooth buzz started warming my brain and tingling my pussy.

[To be continued...]