In 1990, Alexis sits beside me on the couch in my basement. We almost are alone. Her bed is apart from mine. The last of our friends are ascending the...stairs, looking back at me with a wink. Everyone knows. And so do I.Now we are alone. Alexis looks at me and I let our hands intertwine. Her fingernails are flecked with pink polish. Her eyes green under the moon. Her eyes flick from mine to our hands.I lean over, my lips nearly brush against hers. Her eyes flutter against mine. I kiss her.It's. Our sex lifehad never been better, we had gone from hopefullyhaving sex once every couple of months, to five or sixtimes a week.I new what had finally awakened the woman inside mywife, and I not only accepted it, I was completelyturned on by it. I wanted my wife to be well fucked bya black stud as much as she did. We discussed it, wefantasized about it, we played it, we did everything wecould other then taking the final leap and allowing herto do it.That is until about two months ago, our kids. "You can't mean that. Besides, I'm not attracted to girls, any more than you are to guys."Jack had finally confessed to Annie what had happened to him at the hands of the Marquis de Sade. Annie had first tried to tell him it was rape, and Jack had scoffed it off as little more than a horrible hazing gone wrong, and he clung to that interpretation because the alternative was not acceptable to him. He didn't want to think of himself as a victim, nor the Marquis as a monster. He was alive and. That first night, I fucked him, and was surprised by the passion, surprised by how incredible it was. The second time together, Darren fucked me. I never could have imaingined how good it felt and how it would make me feel, emotionally. Sensing his passion, hearing his moans, feeling his rhythms and power, feeling his cock as he took me. Even after all that, and more, the hardest thing to dismiss was the kissing. Deep, open mouthed, interlocked kissing. No matter what excuse I could come up.