Suber: The Uber of Sex (Queer Erotica Short Stories)

Part 3: Cait

It was her lips.

Soft and gentle, it was a kiss rare and sweet. Kissing her was like tasting an impossibly sweet fruit. Tasting her tongue, feeling the soft massage of her lips, was even better than her body. Though her body was bewitching too. Following the curve of her hips, kissing across her soft, supple belly, reaching up to cup her breasts and...

"Honey?"

Cait shook herself, pulling in a breath. "Huh?"

David's eyes fixed on her. "Did you hear me?"

"Um. No." Heat filled Cait's face. "What did you say?"

"I said, did you pack my suitcase? I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"Oh. Y-yeah. I mean, no. But I will." She swallowed. Looking back at the TV, she watched, but didn't see any anything on it. She saw Jacklyn's body.

"Thanks, Hon." Reaching for the remote, David clicked the TV off.

Darkness and silence filled the living room. The couch springs creaked as David stood up. "You okay? You seem a little..." He shrugged, as if that somehow explained it.

Cait made herself look at her husband. Tall, with broad shoulders and thick arms, the muscular young man that had wooed her was underneath that body. The man that insisted on paying for everything, held doors open like it was his duty, whistled at women's butts like that was his duty too. The man that had admired her body and maybe still did. But in his blank brown eyes, she realized how little else he admired.

She put on a smile. "I'm fine."

Standing over her, he rubbed her shoulder. "You coming to bed?"

"I'm going to stay up. Finish the dishes."

"Okay." Leaning down, he kissed her head. His fingers slipped through her hair, around the back of her head, pulling slightly, so she looked up at him. Smiling, he kissed her lips. His lips were thin, hard, and dry. "I like your hair's getting long again. It's pretty. And better for pulling."

She chuckled a dry chuckle from her chest. Ever after three years, she doubted he ever suspected there was no life in that laugh. Because he didn't know, or because he didn't care?

Listening to his footsteps up the stairs, Cait pulled a hand through her hair. I like my hair short.

Sighing, she got up, heading for the sink. Filling the tub with steaming water, her mind drifted as she soaped the sponge. As she dipped the sponge into the hot water, her fingers pressed into it. It yielded, tender and wet, soft and slippery. Just like Jacklyn's clitoris against her thumb.

Shaking herself again, she squeezed the sponge. "Damn it, David," Cait whispered. You had to have a three-some. You just had to.

Staring out the kitchen window into the dark yard—her azaleas, perfectly arranged in neat rows against the white fence, sat gray and bleak in the darkness—she bit the inside of her lip. Why can't I stop thinking about her?

#

"I just want to find someone who loves me for me," the handsome blond man on the TV said with a smile. "Unrestrained. Unconditional. Love."

Cait rolled her eyes, snorting. "Good luck, Bucko." If unconditional love did exist—she doubted it—he wasn't going to find it on a reality show.

Love is Blind was just her type of show. Or, at least, it should've been. But on this Friday night in the empty house, it was boring and vapid. A bunch of studs and babes playing out the same goddamn dates that led to azaleas and picket fences, unpacked suitcases and undone dishes, sucking a dick a hundred times and never getting licked.