Schillers, Oysters, and Poly Bliss

The bartenders at Schillers pour some of the best Manhattans around. They add a splash of Grand Marnier which gives a taste of citrus but somehow doesn’t make it overly sweet. I only drank about half of mine before my boyfriend showed up, and I quickly ordered him one as well. He had the day off from work, which meant that instead of his normal attire he was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt and a black jacket, all of which made him look like a fucking rockstar.

A few minutes later my girlfriend and her husband arrived, and we moved to a table, ordered a few dozen oysters and another round of drinks. Our plan was to meet up early for a bite and good cocktails before heading over to the monthly Poly Happy Hour event on Delancey. We’ve been going on and off for about five or six years now, and it’s an event that brings in family members from across a wide range of scenes in New York. There are kinksters, swingers, unicorns, and radical-trans-queers who are into library science. There are bi-boys, leather daddies, non-leather daddies, and the simply curious.

We sat and laughed over our drinks, our oysters, and our sliders, as all four of us basked in the warm air blowing through the window. Spring has finally come to New York and it is perfect. A and I held hands beneath the table while her husband and J laughed and smiled, and I had one of those rare poly moments that have felt elusive for a long time. I felt loved, I felt happy, and I felt content. And maybe, most of all, I felt at ease with three dear friends who reveled in each other’s company.

Happy Hour was full of old friends, new friends, and joyful acquaintances, and we moved about easily, sliding from one to another as we talked, shared drinks, and kissed in the dark corners of the bar. When J and I held hands or kissed, A looked on with a smile, and when I wrapped my arms around her, he kissed my head and told us how pretty we were. There was more laughter than anything else, but as the evening wore on, I felt happier and happier by the minute.

Later that night, as I made my way home by myself, I paused long enough to be grateful. It isn’t always like this, and even when it is, I don’t always notice. Maybe it was spring, maybe the warm breeze, or maybe it was simply the full moon lending her bright reflection, but as I moved seamlessly between friends and lovers, I was reminded of what it feels like to experience complete and boundless joy.

It says something that I still find my own happiness to be a surprise, but through all the challenges and trials that come with an open life, it does often catch me unaware. But with their warm hands on mine, their lips against my cheek, and the smell of spring in the air, I am reminded once more that it’s possible.

And that makes everything else worthwhile.


Healthier than Pepsi…

Her pussy did not taste like Pepsi Cola.

It was more of a margarita with salt on the rim and intoxication close behind. Her pussy was a dirty martini with an olive that demanded to be savoured. It was strong coffee late at night.

Her pussy was not sweet. In fact, at the end of the day–or in this case the early morning–her pussy mostly tasted like pussy.

Which is much healthier than Pepsi anyway.


Separating Love and Sex (or not)

I’ve never been good at separating love and sex.

It’s possible that I’m just not great at handling my brain chemistry, so when I’m buried inside someone, looking into their eyes as we fuck, I believe all those hormones that are pumped into my head telling me it’s love. I had a belief as a teenager that sex would fundamentally change any relationship—acquired god knows where—and it stuck with me for a long time. Combined with my physiology, it meant that not only did I accept it, but I expected it as well.

After saying I love you at just the wrong moment, I’ve had a lot of awkward conversations that didn’t always go over as I would have like. You know, when I said I loved you back then it was just as a friend. Obviously. Or maybe it was her who brought it up, often as a rejection formed in a question. You don’t really love me, do you? Why would you say that?

And worst of all, at least most of the time, was I love you too. After that we would both lie there silently wondering if we could take it back, or if we needed to double down on it and see where we ended up. Maybe it was love and maybe it was true. And now where do we go?

This might explain why I mostly fuck my friends now. With someone I’ve known for even just a year, chances are high I’ve been saying I love you for a long time before we ever crawl into bed. When it’s been even longer, when we’ve put off sex for whatever reasons we can imagine, it’s a different story altogether.

“I love you,” I’ll moan as we writhe on the bed, in the bathroom stall, or on the couch at a party.

“Aww,” she’ll whisper back to me with easy sincerity. “I love you too.”



(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on if you enjoy the content.)

Talia’s Little Sister

“Kelly, this is insane. I’m not going to fuck Talia’s little sister.”

She looked at me, then looked back down to where her hand was wrapped around my once again hard cock. Without another word she climbed on top of me and slid me inside her. I was still amazed that we could do that. That we could just fuck any time we wanted. She felt so good, it was impossible to focus.

“It won’t take long for her to tell you she wants you, and you won’t be able to resist. She’ll drop to the floor and pull out your cock, no matter how many times you tell her to stop.”

“Kelly, don’t do this,” I said, pushing up into her and trying not to picture that blonde hair and awkward smile.

“Tell me you want her,” she said, leaning down and kissing me as we fucked. “Call me Maddy and fuck me, just like you’re going to fuck her later. You know you want it.”

And then without thinking I rolled her onto her back, pulled out for just a second as I stared at her open pussy, and then I slammed back inside her, my eyes closed as I pictured the bed covered in long blonde hair.

“Oh fuck,” I said, thrusting into her faster and harder.

“That’s right Thomas. Say it,” she urged, her nails digging into my back. “Tell Maddy you want to fuck her tight little cunt.”

“Oh god, Maddy,” I finally whispered, anger mixing in with my arousal. “Oh Maddy, you are so fucking tight.”

“Yes, Thomas. Fuck me before my sister gets back. Fuck me so hard.”

“You are so pretty,” I said, kissing her eyes one at a time. I ran my hand down her face. “You’re so pretty and sweet.” I slowed down, moving inside her as if time was stopping. I didn’t even think as the words left my mouth.

“You are so much sweeter than my girlfriend,” I whispered. “So much prettier and tighter too.”

Kelly’s moans turned into whines, and as I kept talking they turned into sobs. She held me tightly as I fucked her, but still I didn’t stop.

“She’s such a whore, but you? You are a perfect little girl, and I love you,” I moaned, knowing that each word would push Kelly closer to the edge. “Oh fuck Maddy, you are so perfect.”

“Tell me more,” she cried, clenching around me, even as her crying grew louder with each thrust.

“I  don’t know why I’m with her,” I said, moving so slowly it was dangerous. “She’s nothing like you at all. You’re pretty and smart, and so much better than her. Don’t make me go back to her.”

“I won’t,” she whispered into my ear, as I pushed as deeply inside her as I could go. “You can stay here forever. I’ll love you for real, and I’ll never leave you. It will just be us. Just you and me, fucking forever. Please Thomas. Fuck me harder.”

I started moving again, my eyes shut so tightly it hurt, and it was all too real. Maddy’s body trembled beneath me. Maddy’s breasts pressed against my chest, and Maddy’s cunt clenched perfectly around me as we made love over and over again. Love and relief flooded my body as I arched my back, and I finally said it once more.

“I love you Maddy, I love you so much more than her.”

And then we were both coming, her through her tears, and mine in anger, want, and revenge. If she was going to push me she could take it as well. Kelly wanted to pull my strings, but I could pull back. No matter how far she wanted to take it, I could meet her there, and we’d see who gave in first…


(From my forthcoming novel Disgusting, Beautiful, Immoral.)

Always Perfect

“What do you want to do?” she whispered between kisses.

“I want to watch you undress,” I said, sure of my desire for the first time all evening. I set her down and sat on her bed, which was really just a thick mattress on the floor. I hardly noticed the rest of the room as she pulled off her light jacket. She was wearing a tank top and jeans, and her body swayed as if there was music. When she pulled off the her top – with her back to me – I suddenly realized she was naked beneath it. She turned to face me, her hands covering her breasts, and I stared at her with open awe.

The buttons of her jeans went slower, and she walked to me until she was only inches away. She pulled down the zipper and I could see a thin patch of brown hair beneath the denim.

“I fucking love Vassar,” I whispered.

She leaned forward and kissed me as her jeans came off, and when she stood up again she was completely naked in front of me. If I thought she was tiny with clothes on, this was something else. I had a moment of doubt wondering how old she actually was before she was on my lap pulling off my shirt, and I stopped caring about everything.

Kelly and I spent hours in bed that night. We licked, sucked, and fucked each other until the sun came up, and even then we had to tell ourselves that we needed to sleep. Each time one of us bit a little harder or kissed more gently the other was right there. If I held her arms above her head she moaned into my ear, and when she sank her teeth into my inner thigh with one hand wrapped around the base of my cock, I nearly screamed. When I was inside her the world vanished, and even when we waited for me to grow hard once more our bodies felt perfect.

We were far safer than Jane and I had been, and by the time morning came we had a garbage can full of used condoms, a beer bottle full of cigarette butts, and more than a few bruises covering our bodies. In spite of our scratching and pushing though, the sex was incredibly sweet. It was tender, powerful, and slow, and I fell in love over and over again.

When we finally fell asleep it was only after she managed to make me come one last time.

“You do like how tiny I am, don’t you,” she whispered, as she tried to get me hard.

“Of course,” I said, pushing her back and staring at her body.

“Do you want me to be your little girl?” she purred as she threw a leg over mine. Her cunt pressed into my thigh and somehow my cock twitched back awake. “You like that, don’t you? You want to fuck your little girl, I can feel it. How old do you want me to be?”

“I don’t even know how old you are,” I moaned as I rolled on top of her, my cock now hard against her stomach.

“I’ll be anything for you,” she whispered as she rolled our last condom down over me. “I’ll be as little as you like.”

And then I was inside her and she was kissing me. My eyes were open, amazed at the sight of her, and she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her with everything she had.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, mumbling something else that I couldn’t make out.

“What did you say?” I asked, thrusting faster and harder.

“Fuck your little girl,” she moaned, and seconds later I was coming and so was she, bucking her hips off the ground as I thrust. Her face was against my neck and her breathing so loud it was musical. I kissed her everywhere as my body exploded, and I never wanted anything else ever again. I wanted to stay there, coming inside her, in spite of my utter exhaustion, but most of all I wanted it to always be perfect: sweet, hot, joyous, and easy.


-gny (from my new novel Disgusting, Beautiful, Immoral, which will be done one of these days.)

I’ll Always Be Here

She lay in bed when I walked in, the blankets around her waist and her hair a tangle on the pillow.

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept picturing you with her.”

“I’m home now,” I said, pulling off my tie and hanging my suit up in the closet. It was the most I could offer.

“I don’t like it. You shouldn’t leave me alone. Ever.”

“Should I just stay here in bed with you? For ever and ever?” I climbed naked beneath the covers and wrapped her in my arms. She backed up against me and clenched my fingers in her hand as she pulled me close.

“Yes. For ever and ever. Except when you go make coffee in the morning. Or order food. And maybe shower on occasion. No smelly boys allowed.”

“And what will you do with me all that time?” I asked, my body moving slowly against her. She reached one hand between us and took me firmly in hand, rubbing the head of my cock between her legs. I was barely hard, but she turned just enough to kiss me.

“I’ll make you fuck me. Just like this, with your arms around me as you promise to stay.”

And then I was inside her, and I would have promised anything. She sighed and pushed back against me as we moved slowly in the dark room. I kissed her neck and pulled on her hip bone, needing to be farther inside her than was ever possible.

“I promise,” I whispered, turning her head and kissing her lips once more. “We’ll never leave. We’ll never stop, and we’ll never get out of bed again.”

“And you have to make me come. A lot.”

My hand moved between her legs as she arched her back. Her thighs parted as my fingers found her, even as my other hand moved to her throat. I thrust faster and deeper, pulling her to me in so many ways. Her breath grew ragged and quick, and with each moan she moved closer and closer to the edge.

“When I get to five,” I whispered, letting go of her just long enough for her to catch her breath. “When I get to five you can come for me.”

She bit her lip and clenched around my hand and cock. I whispered the words in her ear, and by the time I reached three she was sobbing as her body shook and trembled. When I finally released her she screamed into the pillow; my privileged ears devoured every sound she made.

“I’ll always be here,” I whispered over and over again. “Always.”



Hold You, Kiss You, Taste You

I want to fuck you, love you, hold you, kiss you, taste you, and stare into your big blue eyes until I believe that maybe you love me too.

I want to undress you and kiss down the slope of your neck, stopping at your collarbone, your shoulder, and the space between your breasts. I want to feel you slide towards me, my knee parting your legs letting me feel just how warm you are. I want to kiss your stomach, laying you down, and looking up into those eyes wondering about everything. Those eyes that think too much and dream just the right amount, and those eyes that keep me from moving down just a few seconds longer.

And then I want to bite your thigh as I open your legs, my fingers grazing your lips before I open my mouth against you and taste your thoughts. I need to feel you arch your back and push up to me, wanting my tongue deeper, my lips softer, and my fingers cautious.

I can’t even write the words I want to hear you say, but they’ll come from your chest and your gut. They’ll come from your heart and your cunt, and by the time I’m kissing you I want all our options to vanish in a breath. I don’t need to watch or even open my eyes as I enter you because there is simply too much to take in without destroying the world. And as each second passes, our bodies slowly becoming closer until there is no farther to go, I’ll kiss your lips once more and listen to you moan out your want.

Simply put, I want to hear you, feel you, and taste you come. I want to see your body writhing, arching, aching, as I thrust within you, and I want to know the sounds you make when you can’t hold back any longer. I want to feel your teeth on my shoulder, your nails on my back, and your perfect body clenching around me as your scream my name over and over again until your voice is gone and there is nothing to do but open our eyes once more.

And as we lie there, my arms around you, our bodies slick with sweat, I want to once again stare into your big blue eyes and marvel that the entire universe can fit inside you.


(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here.)

Do You Remember?

“Do you remember when you fingered me in church during the talky part?”

She was nestled between my legs with a blanket over her and a dress that was so short it was indecent. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck.

“Do you remember blowing me on the Megabus to Boston?”

She leaned back and grabbed my hand that was resting on her stomach. She slid it down her body, over her right thigh, and then finally between her legs to her very smooth and very bare pussy.

“That’s better,” she moaned as I brushed her gently with my fingertips. “Do you remember fucking on New Years while everyone else was sleeping around us? My brother was on the couch, but you slid inside me so slowly and quietly that no one woke up.”

She pushed back against me and I was hard against her ass in seconds. I pulled her to me and she a let out a gasp as I pushed two fingers deep inside her. She was soaking wet, and wiggling between my hand on one side and my cock on the other.

“I remember fucking your ass for the first time. You arched your back and bit your lip, and when I was all the way inside you told me never to stop. And then you fucked me back.”

She was moaning now and I moved between her clit and her pussy with quicker and harder attention. Her own hand joined mine, touching herself where she wanted it as I kissed her neck and mouth. My left hand was wrapped in her hair as she moaned between my legs and I could tell she was close.

“The first time you came inside me. And when you slapped my face in front of everyone, and the time you tied me to your bed and brought home a friend.” She was nearly panting.

“When you called your ex while I fucked you, or maybe the time you licked Steph’s clit while my cock was inside her. Or all the times you came around me, clenching and crying as we pretended it wasn’t going to ever happen again?”

Her body let go beneath my hand, and I pulled her back and kissed her mouth as she started to come. She arched up against my hand, her legs shaking and her muscles tight as she shook and screamed, my hand never once stopping. I pulled her hair harder and sucked her tongue into my mouth as she moaned, and her coming lasted for hours.

When she finally took my hand and brought it up to her chest it was all either of us could to do speak. I kissed her hair and she pressed my hand against her skin.

“Why did we break up, again?” she whispered.


(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here.)


“You’re impossible,” she said before I leaned in and kissed her. She tasted like smoke and curry, and everything about her was so damn familiar I almost couldn’t handle it. I pulled her closer to me, and she took a final drag off her cigarette before crushing it out behind me. She wrapped her legs around me and kissed me against as I reached up under her shirt and undid her bra.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked.

“Fuck me?”

And then her shirt was gone and we were done talking. I kissed her familiar chin and then her familiar neck. Her familiar hands undid my jeans and her familiar breasts crashed against my bare skin in a moment of joyful reunion. We tore at the rest of our clothes, kicking our jeans off onto the floor, until we were entangled in each other’s naked bodies for the first time in over a year. I made my way down her body until her legs opened around my neck and she cried out when my mouth touched her.

“Of fuck, I forgot how good you are at that.”

She was wet and delicious, and I ate her pussy until she finally pulled me back to a kiss and shoved a condom into my hand. My fingers replaced my tongue as we rolled over on the bed, and she was thrusting down against me as my mind slowly shut down. With her help I got the condom on, and then she was on top of me and everything was gone. The drive vanished, college was a distant memory, and my break-up might never as well have happened. Jane’s pussy was the only thing in the world that mattered, and it wasn’t until I was close to coming that I realized there were tears in my eyes.

She bit my shoulder and pulled me to her as we fucked, and it was all I could do to hold off the inevitable. I moved my hands over her body, until they slid down to her ass. She knew as well as I did what I was about to do and her whole body tightened. I pulled her onto me, looking up at her heaving breasts, and her eyes were closed in ecstasy. She pushed down around me as I grabbed her ass in one hand, and when my finger found her tight hole she screamed out. I worked it into her ass as we fucked, and she bit her lip so hard I thought she might bleed.

It only took a few minutes of me fingering her ass for her to start coming, and I was right behind her. I threw her onto her back, her body still trembling, and I pistoned in and out of her for all I was worth.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. “I know you want to come in me. Do it.”

And then I was gone, exploding into the condom as she stared into my eyes and tightened her legs around my body. I kissed her mouth between gasps and my own ass tightened as I came over and over again. She brushed my hair from my face and I kissed her chin as we stared into each other’s eyes. I touched her cheek as I reached down and squeezed the condom around the base of my cock before pulling out.

I got up and walked to the bathroom where I dropped the condom in the toilet and pulled a wash cloth off the shelf. I ran some warm water, wet the rag, and made my way back to the bed. She had another cigarette lit, and I gently wiped the sweat off her body. She shook her head at me as I did it, but she didn’t stop me. I finally tossed the rag onto the floor and she reached a hand out so I could take a drag off her smoke. We both sat up, not worrying about the sheet, and we sat there for a long time before either of us spoke.



In The Morning

We only fuck in bathrooms, alleys, and friend’s bedrooms.

Mostly it’s because we say we aren’t going to do it again. We pledge and we promise, but at the end of the night she’s against the wall in the bathroom at Docs, and my cock is so far inside her the jukebox is skipping.

She’s never asked me home, and I’ve avoided doing the same, but when we end up at a party together it rarely takes more than an hour before her mouth is around my cock and I’m holding the door closed with one foot. The harder they knock the harder she sucks, and she knows that I’ll come the first time someone screams out her name.

I’ve eaten her pussy on the subway, in the back of a cab, on a fire escape, and under a stoop. She’s sucked my cock in her office, at the dumpling bar, and in the handball court behind Vol De Nuit. We finger, jerk, and lick each other three times a month, and each time we leave with a solid promise to never do it again.

Sometimes I’m tempted to bring her home, lay her down on my bed, and fuck her until the magic is gone. I want to bring her coffee, iron her shirt, and watch her dress in the morning. I want to find so much normal that we slow down and our after-work-drinks mostly involve drinking.

days I want to be there in the morning.


My Home

New Yorke isn’t just my home.

For four-hundred-yeers people have been coming over, under, and across, all to find a place to fit in. They’ve built up and down, moved in together and apart, and they’ve mayde it into something nobody ever dreamed up before. I like the people and the noyse and the warm air that blows up from the subway grates even if it’s not all the subway grates and sometimes it takes a long time to find the right one.

But when it’s coldest out people forget it’s myne too. They don’t stop and stare so much as they used to, which is maybe worse, but they don’t slow down either. In the coldest of weather people move faster rather than slower and that doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. When the snow starts to fall, I freeze up until mostly all I can do is look up from someplace warm and remember what it was like when you could still see the stars.

But the snow falling is as close as it gets nowadays. Especially with the bright lights and the noyse and the cabs honking, it’s as close as it gets nowadays. I look up, and if I squint real tight I can pretend for just a few moments, that after all these years of up up up, I can see again. After all these years of more smoke and light, the sky has opened up; each white flake glitters and twinkles in my eyes just like stars.

I like when it snows. I like when there’s a warm grate and a dark night. I like looking up, even if no one ever looks down.


Less Cold and Wet

I always think that sex in the snow is going to be less cold and wet than it actually is.

The first time I fucked in a snowstorm I was sixteen and we were in the park all afternoon on a hill we were too old for but didn’t care. We teased each other until I actually got hard in the cold, and when I whispered that truth in her ear she pulled me into the woods with a wink. Let’s see if it lasts she said, pulling her thick pants down until just the glistening cheeks of her ass were visible, red from the cold and the pounding of the sled. We fucked for at least two minutes and I lost a glove. She tried to rub her clit with a mitten on and it was over before we started. Hot chocolate around the corner warmed us up but didn’t inspire more than kisses designed to warm our noses.

And then in college there was a hot tub outside and it was warmer at least. We fucked as the big wet flakes fell into our open mouths and eyes, and we laughed and laughed as we tried to find the best angle on the hard plastic seat. She actually came, much to both our surprise, and I kissed her ear and told her we were made for winter.

Years later I crawled into a tent buried halfway in a snow bank and it was too cold to take off anything. Even the fire not so far away didn’t offer much heat, and our attempts at love were padded with so many layers the best we could manage were kisses and words. When we finally did peal off our clothes, we climbed into one sleeping bag, naked for warmth. It was just barely big enough for one and we couldn’t so much as move let alone fuck. She told me she loved me for my body heat. I told her she was a fawn.

The other day we lay in bed looking at the tiny flakes as they felll from the sky and bemoaned the fact that we had to get up. The floor was cold and the wind crept through the cracks with icy fingers. We kissed for a moment, our hands sliding down to hips and thighs before the alarm went off once more.

“I like the snow,” I whispered.

She nodded but said, “sometimes I wish it was less cold and wet.”



As a gentle reminder, I have a novel out called The Island on the Edge of Normal.
If you know someone who likes to read, might be interested in polyamory, or simply enjoys (slightly) dirty books, then think about the paperback as a gift! It’s only $8.99 ($6.99 for the e-book) and it’s a simple way to support QNY.
From the Amazon page:
"If you’ve ever wondered what life would be like if jealousy were considered a bad habit to be minimized rather than a sign of true love to be celebrated, give this a read. I don’t know any better window into the realities of such a life."—Dr. Christopher Ryan, NY Times Bestelling co-author of Sex at Dawn

Thanks and your help and support. 

As a gentle reminder, I have a novel out called The Island on the Edge of Normal.

If you know someone who likes to read, might be interested in polyamory, or simply enjoys (slightly) dirty books, then think about the paperback as a gift! It’s only $8.99 ($6.99 for the e-book) and it’s a simple way to support QNY.

From the Amazon page:

"If you’ve ever wondered what life would be like if jealousy were considered a bad habit to be minimized rather than a sign of true love to be celebrated, give this a read. I don’t know any better window into the realities of such a life."
—Dr. Christopher Ryan, NY Times Bestelling co-author of Sex at Dawn

Thanks and your help and support. 



The Young Woman That I Was

I spent a lot of time when I was younger unsure of where I fit into my own fantasies.

Sometimes I wanted to hold her down and fuck her and sometimes I wanted to be her: held down and fucked. I wanted to feel her tight cunt around me and I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to have him slide inside me as I clenched.  

I spent a lot of time in chat rooms, pretending to be her, talking to other men with the same fantasy. I listened to them describe what they wanted to do with my body, and I heard their fantasies over and over again. I let them use me, fuck me, and come inside me, all within the safe walls of made up spaces.

More often than not I pushed them further than they expected. Fuck me harder, I’d type. Let me feel your fingers around my neck as you slap my face and fuck my ass, and there would be silence on the other end. Was he sitting there, finally lost in jacking off, or did I go too far and he left for lighter pleasures?

The women I met online—many of whom I’m sure were also men—liked to fuck me as well, and I had more virtual lesbian sex than I ever did logged on as a straight man. We played with ourselves and with others, sometimes making the men simply listen as we licked and sucked each other to real orgasms.

It’s questionable that I learned anything of real value. It was playful and secret, and I admitted it to no one. But on those dark nights in my room with my cock in my hand, I jumped into the life of my made-up self and I was free and wild. I was temptation and I was fire.

And sometimes, when I’m alone on a chilly night in autumn, I find I miss the young woman that I was.


Without Honesty

Sometimes I imagine my life without the honesty.

Is it tragic or simply normal? Less than a year into our marriage she slept with an old friend, and I fucked his wife in retaliation. In this imagined world, the four of us snuck off for all sorts of reasons, and we all pretended nothing was happening.

As the story progresses the Lifetime tragedy sneaks in when I discover I love another man as well. At first we simply drink together and talk about women we desire, but soon we give in and collapse in each other’s arms, our lips kissing lips and our cocks hard against our stomachs. We fuck in secret, neither of our wives the wiser, and it’s a love that rages against the times.

She continues her affair, and I find another woman I love as well, who also lies to her husband as we sneak off for afternoon quickies on the couch in my office. I love her madly, and our secret grows painful and hot all at the same time. On occasion all of us end up at the same party, and we smile and drink far too much to make up for the mistakes we can’t hide. In the end, even the most persistent of viewers can’t decide whom they most want to end up together.

Without the honesty it’s a tangle of lies and misdirections that cover up insecurities and fears that have long been neglected. Without the honesty it’s a fantasy of cheating, overwhelming desire, and suppressed emotions. We awake in the middle of the night wondering where we are and why we can’t simply do what we should do.

And maybe that’s another fantasy I let myself vanish into when the difficulty of truth becomes challenging.

Without honesty, would it be easier?