I Only Think with My Ovaries

When my wife suggested that we try having a polyamorous relationship, I thought that she wanted to sleep with other men. In which case, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be interested in remaining married at all. Then I walked in on her going down on a woman in our bedroom—a much more interesting scenario. Micki had her face buried between our neighbor’s legs when I opened the bedroom door. Our neighbor, Jan, was a divorced empty-nester with dirty blonde hair, streaked with gray. She was blindfolded and breathing heavily, completely unaware of my presence. I decided to wait before saying anything.

Five seconds, ten seconds. Jan moved one of her hands up to her breasts and began pinching one of her nipples and moaning. Micki was completely focused and had her back to me. I looked at her ass and admitted to myself that it was still a great ass. Another minute passed, and I was getting an erection from watching the two of them. What is the polite thing to do in a situation like this? Wait for Jan to have an orgasm? It could take a while. After another minute went by, I said, “Hi Micki, I’m home.”

Micki's head jerked up, “Decker! I... I... wasn’t expecting you.” Jan slowly removed her blindfold and gazed at me.

I shrugged and said, “No worries,” as I recalled how I had just spent some quality time with Mara in the back seat of my car. “We talked about this and it was bound to happen. Nice to see you again, Jan. Your tits are better than I imagined.”

“Thanks,” Jan said, trying to pull a sheet over her breasts, then giving up.

“Nothing personal, Decker, but I think I’m done with men for a while.”

Before Micki decided that she didn’t want me (or men in general) anymore, she used to want me to do lots of things, like go back to school. Or get a second job. Or anything that would change my career trajectory from life-long cabbie to upwardly-mobile non-cabbie. Finally, when I became an investigator, I thought that would make her happy, but not if she was simply done with men.

Micki was not unlike my first wife, Lonnie, who had become similarly frustrated with me. Until now, I wasn’t ready to accept the idea that I had, essentially, remarried my first wife when I flew to Vegas with Micki. I denied the fact that they were both successful career women with fairly secure, government jobs. I denied the fact that both women assumed decision-making responsibility for all domestic issues, including budgeting. And I denied that both women out-earned me by a wide margin. The only real difference between the two of them that I could think of was the fact that Micki was a black cop and Lonnie was a white civilian. Now, the only question was how much longer Micki and I were going to live under the same roof. As long as I was still here, though, I might as well have as much fun as possible while I could.

I pulled off my boots and walked over to the side of the bed. “Slide over, Jan, this is about to get interesting. How do you feel about men? I mean, would it gross you out if I did this while Micki licked your pussy some more?” I placed a hand on one of her breasts and began massaging, occasionally squeezing her nipple. Jan closed her eyes again, and I looked at Micki.

“No, Decker, this is too weird—even for me. I’m not doing a threesome with you. We haven’t had sex in a long time...”

“Jan doesn’t seem to mind, do you, Jan?”

“Whatever, you two. I’m not into conflict, but I am horny, so make a decision. I have to go to work tomorrow and it’s past my bedtime.”

“I’m sorry, Jan—Decker usually doesn’t come home this soon. I’ll call you, okay?”

“No, you can come over to my place,” Jan said, getting out of bed. “No one will be walking in the door.”

To make sure I understood how Jan might feel about me, I winked at her as she put most of her clothes back on. She turned her head toward me with a slight, brief smile that only I could see. I got back out of bed, walked past Micki, and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of Chardonnay. As they were leaving, Jan said, “White wine, huh? Classy. I thought you were strictly a Pabst drinker.”

The front door was closing behind them and I could hear Micki say, “Classy? It’s box wine!” They both laughed. Well, it was cheaper by the ounce, and I had recently been drinking about as much wine as beer, but it was not any sort of social affectation. The fact was that a second or third pint of beer guaranteed that I would get out of bed at 3 o'clock AM. to pee, but several ounces of wine was manageable for my bladder. My doctor, a petite woman of Asian descent and indeterminate age, explained that it was normal for men in their fifties to have slightly enlarged prostate glands, and that the prostate was next to the bladder, so when the prostate became larger, it pushed against the bladder.

“So drink less at night and your bladder won’t feel as full,” she said.

I poured myself a little extra and raised my wine glass in a toast, “Fuck you, doc,” I said, walking into my den. I was going to watch some porn on my computer when I looked out my window and noticed that one of Jan’s lights was on next door. Better yet, she had left her blinds open, allowing me to see into bedroom. Micki was taking off Jan’s clothes. It was lesbian porn, live! I made sure my own lights were off so they couldn’t tell that their original audience was still with them. Micki’s comments had left me cold as far as she was concerned, but there was something about Jan that reminded me of a woman I used to know.

Micki put a strap-on dildo around her waist while Jan applied lube to both the dildo and her vagina. Micki smiled and said something, prompting Jan to turn around so Micki could put lube on Jan’s anus. She bent over, facing me. Micki slowly shoved the dildo into Jan from behind, and Jan’s breasts began to swing forward, then back, in time with Micki’s thrusting. Micki kept a steady rhythm for the first few minutes, then Jan’s lips moved. Micki picked up the pace, causing Jan’s breasts to go from swinging to bouncing. I could see that Jan liked the sensation of her breasts bouncing and her nipples brushing against the bedspread. Beads of sweat appeared on Micki’s face. Jan reached underneath herself to touch her clit while she was getting fucked in the ass. She kept looking directly at my window and I wondered if she knew that she was being watched. It’s not like she complained when she realized I had watched her and Micki a little while ago.

My phone vibrated. Mara was texting me, “Still awake?”

“Yes—I’m watching my wife ass-fuck the neighbor woman through the window.” A minute went by, then:

“Bullshit.”

“I’ll take a video and send it to you.”

“Do it.”

I pulled my phone out and managed to record the end of the anal sex, plus a few minutes of Jan riding Micki’s dildo while Micki was on her back. Jan’s tits continued to bounce in ways that would remain in my memory even if I hadn’t of made a video. After I texted the video to Mara, it occurred to me that I was probably violating a few privacy laws, and that could put an end to my career as an investigator if any of these women were of a mind to screw me over. Oh well, too late. Besides, aren't all investigators voyeuristic at some level?

It was Jan’s turn to wear the strap-on. She pushed Micki’s ankles up past her head and buried the dildo as far as she could into Micki’s pussy. Mara texted me to say that she had some video editing software and would do what she could to improve the quality. It made me think of the old joke that the only difference between erotica and porn was lighting.

Lighting. As in my phone lighting up my face. As in Jan and Micki being able to see me watching them. Micki pulled the shades shut. The show was over for tonight.

Then again, maybe not. Mara began texting images of herself to me. It was a slow-motion strip tease as she got herself ready for bed. First, the shoes. The stockings followed, with the dress sliding off next. The bra strap fell down her shoulder. I was hard again before she was able to take everything off. I was on the verge of sending her a dick pic when she texted me not to. She said she received too many of those, so she wanted a picture of my chest, instead.

“Another female chauvinist objectifying my body,” I texted to her.

“I only think with my ovaries, and occasionally, this…” she texted as the caption to a close-up of her vagina. Her hand was pulling her labia apart to expose her erect clitoris.

“Goodnight, and I’ll see you soon. - Mara”

That was how my evening ended, and how the rest of my sordid life began.