Danger ignites a powerful sensation
hen Marissa and I first got together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. These days, the only person who touches my dick is me. We’re more or less just roommates who share a bed out of convenience.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she shouts, as I head for the door, car keys in hand.
“To Krause’s,” I say without stopping. “You threw out all my fudge.”
“It was old. Besides, you shouldn’t be eating that crap.”
She thinks I’m getting fat. Maybe I’ve gotten a little soft in the middle, but why should she even care if she never sees me naked anyway?
“Yeah, well, I like fudge. I’ll be back in a half hour.”
“But I need the car for yoga. Class starts in 10 minutes.”
Marissa, on the other hand, is in the best shape of her life. She’s lean without being overly thin or muscular, and her ass is the same perfect upside-down heart it’s always been.
Which makes me think she must be cheating on me.
“Fine, I’ll drop you off on the way.”
As we’re crossing the lawn to the driveway, a howling beast leaps out from our bushes and charges at us. It’s Koo-Joe, our neighbor’s Dobermann Pinscher. His eyes are glazed over, and he’s foaming at the mouth.
“Holy shit!” Marissa yells as the crazed animal sinks his fangs into her purse.
“Run!”
In our mad dash to the car, we have to sacrifice her bag. I also drop the keys as I’m unlocking the door. We both leap into the back seat with Koo-Joe snapping at our heels.
Dull nails screech across the steel door and the window is splattered with a cloud of frothy saliva as Koo-Joe fights desperately to get in. The whole vehicle shakes as though it’s on hydraulic lifts.
“Get us the fuck out of here!” Marissa presses her razor-sharp elbow into my gut as she sits up.
“Uh, I can’t.”
She looks at my empty hands. “You dropped the fucking keys, didn’t you?”
“Just like you dropped your purse. We were attacked by a rabid animal.”
“I didn’t drop my purse, that thing tore it out of my hands! Now, what the hell are we supposed to do?”
“We call the Bumpuses and tell them to come get their crazy dog. Do you have your phone?”
“It’s in my purse. What about yours?”
“Battery’s dead. I was going to charge it while we were driving.”
“Fuck!” She punches the door handle, which riles Koo-Joe up even more.
With no other choice, Marissa and I plug our ears and wait. Eventually, the barking dies down to a sustained growl. Though no longer actively trying to break in, Koo-Joe remains just outside the door, pacing back and forth menacingly.
We’re trapped, and there’s no telling for how long.
Marissa massages her temples and sighs. “You are home all day. Why the hell isn’t your phone charged?”
“Because I’m home all day. I can charge it whenever.”
“Yet another reason why you should get a job.”
“I have a job. My last book paid for this house, remember?”
“Yeah, and what have you been doing since, besides eating junk food and playing video games?”
Normally, one of us would have stormed out of the room by now. With no place to go, this could escalate indefinitely, so instead of tearing out my own hair, I take a deep breath.
“I’ve been working on my next book,” I say as patiently as I can.
“Oh, really? Because I haven’t seen — ”
“It’ll be done when it’s done,” I snap.
The truth is I haven’t started it yet. Writer’s block is real and Fortnite is addictive.
“If you say so,” she mutters.
For the moment, Koo-Joe has stopped pacing and stands by vigilantly with his eyes glued to the car.
Marissa looks out the back window. “I think he’s worn himself out. If we open the garage door, do you think we could make it in there before he gets going again?”
“Probably not. That door opens and closes too slowly. He’d get us before we make it to the inside door. And then we’d be trapped in the garage with him.”
“At least there are things we could use as weapons in there.”
I have to give her credit. The Krav Maga class she’s been taking has turned her into a badass. It’s kind of hot, actually. But I doubt there’s much she’d be able to do against a rabid dog.
Even with some rusty gardening tools and half-empty paint cans at her disposal.
“Maybe if he falls asleep, we could — ”
A crack of thunder incites Koo-Joe into another fit of howling, though he calms down when the torrential rain starts. Even then, he holds his position; his soggy nose just three feet from the door.
The rhythmic pitter-pat of the drops on the roof does calm the tension inside the car at least. I usually take a nap at this time of day, and the rain combined with the stuffy heat is making my eyelids heavy.
Marissa, too, has been pacified. Maybe the adrenaline from our flight to the car has drained her as it did the dog. In any case, I doubt she realizes that her head is on my shoulder.
It’s the most physically intimate we’ve been with each other since my book was published.
“Are you cheating on me?” I ask out of nowhere.
She snaps to attention. “What?”
“Are you cheating on me?”
Her face scrunches up into theatrical annoyance. “Why would you even ask me that?”
“Well, you haven’t touched me in months. Also, I happened to catch a glimpse of those Trojans in your purse after the dog ripped it open.”
I’m sterile. Even if we were fucking, those condoms wouldn’t be for me.
She takes a breath. “Not yet.”
“Not yet? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means not yet.”
“It means you were going to.”
She gazes out the window at our angry jailer. “It means I was thinking about it.”
There are tears in her eyes. Of course, she is allergic to dogs, so it might be that.
“Is it someone from Krav Maga or yoga?”
“Both,” she hisses through the lump in her throat. “My Krav instructor is also in my yoga class.”
“Jesus, Marissa.”
“You know, you don’t touch me either.” She’s now outright sobbing. “You don’t hug me when I come home from work like you used to. You don’t put your arm around me when we’re watching a movie. You don’t even sit on the couch with me. And then, when we do fuck, it just feels like you’re masturbating on top of me.”
Damn. That’s a hard truth sandwich to swallow. We’re only in our early 30s. We’re too young to be in such a rut. How did I let this happen?
Of course, the real question is what do we do about it now?
I let the rain wash more of the anger away before speaking.
“So, is he hot?” I ask finally.
She wipes the wetness from her cheek. “Seriously?”
I shrug. “Maybe I’ll want to watch.”
“What are you — ”
“You’re right. I’ve been totally taking you for granted. And I’m sorry. And I want to fix it.”
“And you think watching me fuck another guy will fix it?”
“It might. If he’s hot.”
She laughs through her tears and then collapses into my arms. As I’m holding her against me, I feel a warmth that takes me back to our wedding night.
And then something moves deep inside my pants. And she feels it, too. And suddenly, we’re like two powerful magnets coming together.
I bring my lips to hers and kiss her deeply. Groping hands work feverishly to remove clothing, our bodies twisting in the cramped space behind the reclined passenger seat.
Self-consciousness forces me to keep my shirt on. She looks up at me with acceptance as she caresses my soft belly on her way down to my hardening cock. Then, she takes me in her mouth — something she hasn’t done since college.
I had forgotten how amazing blowjobs feel. Her soft, agile tongue flicking my sensitive frenulum as she teases me between slurps. Her jaw opening like a python’s as she swallows me down to the base. She brings me right to the brink.
And then, it’s her turn.
It takes some crazy Twister skills to get into position. I have to climb down on the floor, stuff one foot under the driver’s seat, put the other knee on the hump that separates the two sides of the car, and then bend sideways to reach her pussy.
Maybe I should join her yoga class.
She throws her legs over my shoulders as I bring my tongue to her juicy vulva. I’m out of practice, but it comes back to me fast. I lap and I flick and I do the Russian alphabet backwards.
Her back arches and her pussy opens like a budding flower, her fluffy petals drenched in morning dew. I nibble her plump clit and then suck it like a meaty lollipop.
With my face buried in her pussy, I reach up and grab her firm tits, tweaking her nipples, rolling them between my fingers. Moaning with pleasure, she grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls.
“Fuck me, Rick!”
I come up from the floor and plunge my throbbing cock deep inside her. She guides my hips, letting me know she wants it fast and furious. I do my best to keep up.
“Harder! Harder!”
Once again, the car is bouncing on its tires — this time from the powerful thrusting of our hips.
Meanwhile, the commotion has stirred Koo-Joe from his trance, and he’s now working himself into a frenzy like a demon on a bad acid trip. The windows are fogged up, so he can’t see us, but he must smell the carnage.
For a moment, it sounds like he’s inside the car, but then I realize it’s Marissa.
“Right there! Right there! Holy fuck!”
Her twitching pussy sends me over the edge and I explode inside her. Orgasmic bliss washes over us, drowning out the cries from the savage beast and the angry weather outside.
“God, I missed you,” I say as I collapse onto her chest.
“Me, too.”
I’m not sure whether we fall asleep before or after the dog stops barking, but we wake up to the muted sound of our neighbor Kristen’s voice.
“Aw, you poor thing.”
I sit up and peek out the window. Koo-Joe is on his back, groaning pathetically as his master strokes his belly. Marissa and I quickly throw on clothes and open the car door.
“Oh, hey, guys,” Kristen says. “I hope Koo-Joe didn’t scare you. Looks like he got into your garbage and found some fudge. Chocolate makes him absolutely bonkers.”
Marissa and I look at each other.
“We didn’t notice,” Marissa says. “Is he going to be ok?”
“Yeah, he’ll be fine by tomorrow. It won’t be fun picking up his poop, though, that’s for sure. Anyway, we’ll get out of your hair. Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Kristen loads her furry friend into a wagon and wheels him back to their house.
Though we’re finally free, Marissa and I decide to hang out in the car for a little longer.
“Maybe your next book could be about how getting trapped in a car by a rabid dog saved your marriage,” she says.
“Should I include the raunchy details and make it an erotica story?”
She shrugs. “Why not? Sex sells.”
Danger ignites a powerful explosive sensation
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