Scarlet’s balancing act

Scarlet's POV

I couldn't stop fidgeting as I waited for Lena at the coffee shop. My six-foot frame felt too big for the chair, my blonde hair tucked behind my ears, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt over my full chest. I'd told Marcus everything—my bisexuality, my past with Lena, the way she'd crept back into my life—and he'd given me his blessing, sort of. Women were okay, he'd said, but no men, ever. His insecurities about his looks—his 5'10" hairy body next to my towering curves—drew that line in the sand. Now I had to tell Lena, and my stomach churned at the thought.

She walked in, all six feet of redheaded fire—muscular arms flexing under her jacket, big tits straining her shirt, that thick ass swaying in jeans. Her green eyes found mine, and she smirked, sliding into the seat across from me. "You look nervous, Scarlet. What's up?"

I took a breath, diving in. "I told Marcus about us—about me being bi, about you. Everything."

Her smirk faltered, her brows lifting. "Shit. How'd that go?"

"Better than I thought," I said , my voice steadying. "He's… amazing. He gets it's a part of me, and he's okay with it—with you, I mean. Said he'd allow another woman in our marriage, but no guys. If it's ever a man, he's out. He's insecure about himself, always has been, and I'd never hurt him like that."

Lena leaned back, crossing her arms, her biceps bulging. "So, what? He's cool with us… hanging out? More than that?"

"Yeah," I nodded, meeting her gaze. "If I want to. He just wants me to keep him in the loop, no secrets. I love him, Lena. To death. But I can't lie—I still feel something for you too."

Her eyes softened, a rare crack in her tough exterior. "I feel it too, Scarlet. Always have. You're not easy to forget." She reached across the table, her calloused fingers brushing mine, and my skin lit up, memories of her strong hands on me flooding back. "So where does that leave us?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I want to see you, spend time with you. But Marcus is my home. I'm not leaving him."

She nodded, slow and thoughtful. "Fair enough. I'll take what I can get."

That's how it started—us spending more time together. Park walks turned into late-night drinks, then dinners at her place. We'd talk for hours, her husky laugh filling the air as we reminisced about the past—how she'd pin me to her bed, her muscular thighs straddling me, her big breasts swaying as she fucked me senseless. I'd tell her how I'd loved her power, her curves, the way her ass flexed under my hands. It wasn't just sex talk; it was us, peeling back the years, finding that fire still smoldering.

I kept Marcus updated, like I promised. "Saw Lena today," I'd say over dinner, watching his brown eyes flicker with curiosity. "We talked about old times. She's still… her." He'd nod, his hairy hand squeezing mine, and ask, "You okay with it? With her?" I'd kiss him, hard, and tell him, "I'm okay because I've got you." He'd grin, pull me onto his lap, and we'd fuck—his hairy chest scratching my skin, his thick cock driving into me—his love grounding me every time.

But Lena was falling, and I could feel it. Last night, we were at her apartment, sprawled on her couch, her red hair loose and wild. She'd cooked—some spicy pasta that made my tongue burn—and we'd polished off a bottle of wine. Her hand rested on my thigh, warm and heavy, and she looked at me, her green eyes raw.

"Scarlet," she said, her voice low, "I'm in deep. Head over heels, can't-think-straight in love with you. I tried to move on after we split—dated, fucked, whatever—but it's always been you. I want you in my life. Forever. Not just these stolen moments."

My heart stopped, then raced. I stared at her—those strong arms I'd clung to, those big tits I'd tasted, that ass I'd gripped—and I felt it too, that pull. "Lena, I…" I faltered, my mind spinning. "I love Marcus. He's my husband, my everything. But you—you're under my skin. I don't know how to do this."

She leaned closer, her breath brushing my lips. "I'm not asking you to choose. I know he's your anchor. But I want you too—however I can have you. I'd spend my whole life with you if you'd let me."

I didn't kiss her, not then, but I wanted to. My body ached for her, my pussy throbbing at the thought of her touch, but Marcus's face—his shy smile, his hairy frame trembling as he loved me—held me back. I went home that night, crawled into bed with him, and spilled it all. "Lena's in love with me," I said, my voice shaking. "Wants me forever. I don't know what to do, Marcus. I feel something for her, but I'd die before I lost you."

He pulled me close, his beard scratching my cheek. "You're not losing me, babe. Ever. She loves you—I get it. You're easy to love. If you want her in your life, I'm okay with it. Just… keep me first, yeah? No secrets."

"No secrets," I promised, kissing him, my hands roaming his hairy chest. We made love, slow and deep, his body anchoring me as my mind whirled. Lena wanted me forever, and Marcus was giving me room to figure it out. I love him to death, but Lena's fire is burning brighter every day, and I'm caught between them—two loves, two lives, and no clear path.

I couldn't keep splitting myself in two—coffee shops and stolen nights with Lena, then home to Marcus like nothing was shifting inside me. My six-foot frame felt stretched thin, my heart caught between the man I'd die for and the woman I couldn't shake. So I made a choice. "Come to my house," I told Lena over the phone, my voice steady despite the nerves chewing at me. "I want you to see my life—our life. Marcus and me."

She paused, her husky breath crackling through the line. "You sure? That's… big."

"Yeah," I said, brushing my blonde hair back, my chest tight under my shirt. "I'm sure. Tomorrow night. Dinner. Just us."

"Okay, Scarlet," she replied, a smile in her voice. "I'll be there."

Lena showed up the next evening, looking like she'd stepped out of a fever dream—six feet of redheaded heat, her muscular arms flexing as she handed me a bottle of wine, her big tits and ass filling out a simple black dress that hugged every curve. I let her in, my own body humming—full breasts bouncing slightly as I moved, my shorts showing off my long legs. We sat in the living room, Marcus still at the store grabbing extra beer, and started talking.

She glanced around, taking in the photos of me and Marcus—his hairy grin next to my blonde glow, our wedding day, our goofy vacations. "This is cozy," she said, her green eyes flicking to me. "He's a big part of you, huh?"

"Everything," I admitted, leaning back on the couch. "He was a virgin when we met—shy, awkward, all hair and heart. I taught him everything, and he learned me too. Loves me like I'm the only thing that matters. When I told him about us—about being bi, about you—he didn't flinch. Said he'd let me have this, have you, as long as it's just women. No men, ever. That's his line."

Lena's smirk softened, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "That's… rare. Most guys would've bolted or gotten jealous. He sounds like a hell of a man."

"He is," I said, my voice thick with pride. "I love him to death. But you—you're in me too, Lena. I can't pretend you're not."

She nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "I've been falling for you all over again, Scarlet. Head over heels, wanting-you-forever kind of falling. But hearing this? About him? I'm… curious. I wanna meet this guy who's okay sharing you with me."

I blinked, surprised. "You do?"

"Yeah," she said, leaning closer, her red hair catching the light. "He's part of your world, and if I'm gonna be in it too, I need to know him. See how he fits. How we fit. I'm not here to break anything—I want you, but I want it to work."

My heart thudded, a mix of relief and nerves. "So where do we go from here? You, me, him?"

She shrugged, her muscular shoulders rolling. "We talk. All three of us. Figure out what this looks like. I'm not asking you to leave him—I get that now. But I want you in my life, Scarlet, however we make it happen. Maybe he's got ideas. Maybe we find a rhythm."

I reached out, my hand resting on hers, her skin warm and rough against mine. "I'd like that. I've been keeping him updated—told him you're in love with me, that I feel something too. He's okay with it, wants me happy. But yeah, we need to talk, all together."

She squeezed my hand, her eyes locking on mine. "Then let's do it. I'll meet him, see this amazing human you've got. We'll sort it out."

We sat there, the air thick with possibility, her presence stirring me—memories of her strong body on mine, her big breasts pressing into me, her ass flexing as she moved. But Marcus was my anchor, and now Lena wanted to know him too. It felt right, messy but right.

The doorbell rang, snapping us out of it. I stood, smoothing my shorts, my pulse racing. "That's him."

Lena rose too, towering and gorgeous, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. "Showtime."

I crossed the room, opened the door, and there he was—Marcus, 5'10" of hairy, loving perfection, a six-pack of beer under his arm, his brown eyes lighting up when he saw me. "Hey, babe," he said, then froze, spotting Lena behind me—her red hair, her curves, her everything.