﻿   Series:A Voyeur's Wife's Story
   Author:tonytony3
  Chapter:1 - A Voyeur's Wife's Story
 Category:Someone's Watching
      URL:https://www.asstr.org/files/collections/alt.sex.stories.moderated/year1999/21700
Published:2022-07-07
Barbara and Tom were childhood sweethearts, got married in grad school 7 years ago, no kids, two fast track careers, his in technology, hers in academia.

She told this story.

About 2 months ago Tom and I arranged to meet for dinner, starting our night out with a drink at the Four Seasons. I got there 15 minutes early, and the stress of the day as will as my ever so middle class white wine released inhibitions enough for me to get involved in a conversation with a guy sitting nearby.

A half hour later I noticed my husband standing in the doorway.

I waved him over, introduced the guy, and in a couple of minutes the two of us went to dinner.

"How long were you waiting there by the door?"

"About 20 minutes."

"Well, why didn't you come over, for heaven's sake."

"It looked like you were having a good time, and I liked watching."

"Oh." I realized this went on before with him. We dropped the subject and had a nice evening.

On the drive home Tom asked "Did that guy—was his name Bill?—try to date you?"

"No, we were just talking."

We talked about other things for the rest of the drive, but I began worrying that he thought I might be appearing too available to strangers, and that was just not the fact. I like everything about my husband and being married to him. It's the most important part of my life.

A couple of weeks later we made another date for a Friday night dinner in town, with the meeting place set for the Sheraton hotel. I thought Tom was late, until he appeared from the back of the bar.

"What were you doing, I was waiting for 15 minutes."

"I just like looking at you."

"Were you waiting to see if anyone tried to talk to me, or something?"

"I confess."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do. But it's kind of exciting watching you talk to guys in places like this, I guess maybe I'm a bit of a voyeur."

"Well, that's different". I was happy that it wasn't a trust thing after all.

Late at night the next week we were holding each other in bed—that's one of the best parts of being married, I think—and talking.

I brought up his bothersome behavior. "Tom, how come you try to watch strangers talking to me?"

I had my arm over his when I asked that—there was nothing going on, just a married couple in bed, being comfortable with each other.

But I felt his penis stir. "I guess it's because I think you are beautiful, and I like knowing other guys think you are, too."

Well, that's kind of an odd compliment. "They may not think that at all, they may be just trying to make conversation, or maybe make a date, or even pick me up."

His penis stirred more. "Maybe that would be OK, too."

Now I was beginning to understand something new about my husband. I took the hand he had on my hip, and moved it to my crotch, then grabbed his cock—it was erect, now. "Barbara, you're getting all warm!"

"Tom, you're getting all stiff."

We put the stiffness and warmness together, and made love. That's not quite true. We fucked.

And talked, too, during the less active moments… "Let me be sure I understand. You get turned on when you think about guys trying to pick me up."

He responded both physically and verbally: "Yeah."

"Well, I've heard of men like you. You're some kind of voyeur."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Tom, I've been married to you all of my life. I don't think guys are interested in picking up married women. I guess it is kind of nice having someone pay that kind of attention to me, it's sort of flattering—not that I don't want to be married, or anything."

"Uh, you like that?"

"Maybe. It would be kind of nice if a guy tried to date me, or even try to pick me when we're out like that. It sure doesn't happen at Babson, or when we're out together."

His movements became more urgent.

"Uh, would you like to go out to see if something like that would happen on purpose, instead of accidentally, like when you're waiting for me, like last time?"

His body was telling me it's something he was interested in, that's for sure. He was offering me a license to flirt! No, he was encouraging me to. I thought that would be a different role for me, a change from the professional one at work, or the married one with Tom. Why not?

I replied "Sure, so long as we wind up here."

The sex we were having continued with more excitement than usual.

The next day Tom came home from work—it was Friday—and told me he found out the Marriett in Newton was a place where singles our age went. "Let's go there! You can pretend to be single, or at least available, for a while."

This was moving from an idea to action faster than I would have imagined. Somehow we decided to do it. We had a silent drive along Rt. 128: I felt a bit like I was being driven to my execution. Well, it excited my husband. And me. The hotel lounge was mobbed. It looked like most everyone stayed at the bar, and guys approached women, talked to them, danced, and tried to make dates. Or make them, to be more honest.

We parted at the entrance, and I went to the bar, feeling uncertain, in strange waters, a bit like a lamb being lead to the slaughter. After all, I had seriously dated only one man in my life, and married him. This was very new stuff. In a while a couple of guys talked to me. One danced with me a few times. I saw Tom watching, and that made me both a little more comfortable, and flirtatious. I once saw him dancing with a nice looking woman.

A couple of hours went by, then Tom asked me to dance, too. We did, and used that as an excuse to leave together, not that anyone was keeping score, or watching.

We talked on the way home. "I saw that guy dancing with you. Did he try anything?"

"No, it was just a dance. He was a proper gentleman. You know, up until today everyone who danced with me knew us as a couple. These guys didn't know that, they thought I was available. That was an odd feeling. What about that girl you picked up?"

"She came over and asked me to dance."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Honey, things have changed since we were single. She liked to dance really close, and when I held her I was sure she wasn't wearing a bra, and I didn't feel any panties seam either."

"Hey, tell me more, oh husband with the wondering hands."

"Well, I could feel the heat from her groin through my pants, and I got a hard on, and she knew it. But she didn't back away, either, She liked to grind her pelvis against me."

We got home, and got to bed. I wasn't happy. "Tom, I'm upset. The deal was you were supposed to be watching me, not flirting or grinding your cock into someone. I feel insecure, and I don't like this game."

He was apologetic. "Watching you was the deal, and to be honest about it, that was the best part. The other was a fringe benefit. I'd rather watch, anyhow. If we ever go there again I promise to just watch, OK?"

"Well, just so long as you kept that thing"—I grabbed at his cock—"in your pants until you get home."

He then used that thing the way I wanted him to. When I asked him while we made love, he promised that he wasn't thinking about the woman he danced with, but about me. Later I learned—you will, too—it wasn't only about me! The next Wednesday evening Tom asked—begged—me to go out and "play" again Friday, and I agreed. I confess to daydreaming about some pick up scenarios, wondering how I'd act, what might happen. What started off as almost unthinkable outcomes (would I really let someone kiss me thinking I was single) by Friday seemed OK and even fun. I told Tom a little about my daydreaming—flirting, being kissed—and was rewarded with some pretty turned on sex. Tom, on the other hand, didn't say much about his own ideas, he just encouraged me with mine. He did insist on this: "If you kiss, you gotta tell."

Friday we had an early dinner so we could go out play 'See who tries ('tries' was the operative word in my mind) to pick up Barbara'.

I pulled out a pretty silk dark print dress that buttoned all the way down the front, a matching half slip, panty hose, and a pretty bra. Tom got out a casual outfit—camel hair jacket, chinos, white opened collar shirt.

"How do I look?"

"Barbara, you look great."

He took me in his arms, kissed me. He already had an erection, and I was pretty hot, too.

"Honey, can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"You do look wonderful, but you look like you're going out with your husband."

"Uh, I guess that's an old habit, but I do like this dress!"

"Yeah, but… Look, try something for me, OK?"

"Try what?"

"Try it without your bra."

"What?"

"Go on."

The idea did excite me. Tom must have been planning this suggestion all week. Well, no one would know me there. I went to the bath room, and came out two minutes later. I'm not very busty, so it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Any better?"

He held me again. "Much nicer. How does it feel to you?"

"Well, my breasts keep moving against the dress, like they do when I'm wearing a negligee, so it stimulates my nipples and they stand up. And I like the feeling of being kind of almost naked, and of your hands on my back: it feels very sexy. I do like it."

He held me at arm's length, and sure enough, my nipples were poking at the dress.

"I think that looks wonderful!"

"That was a good idea, but I am glad it's pretty dark in the bar. Do you have any more good ideas, or can we go? If we don't go soon I'm just going to grab you by the cock and take you to bed", I said. Actually, that seemed like a good idea, and a lot safer than the alternative.

"Maybe one more idea."

"Tom, you have an evil gleam in your eye. Now what?"

"Remember the woman I danced with?"

"Yes."

"She was very sexy."

"Tell me why."

"Well, when I held her like this when we were dancing" he demonstrated, "and I moved my hand like this", he moved it low on my back, "I just felt softness, and not the kind of hard feeling that an ass wrapped in panty hose has."

"You mean you want me to go bare assed under this dress?"

"Honey, your legs are tanned and smooth, and great looking. You don't need panty hose. I'd get an erection every time someone was near you, and I guarantee a reaction from anyone who slow dances with you. Yeah, go bare assed. Are you willing?"

"You didn't just get this idea, did you?"

"No."

He wants me to be sexy! I was so hot, so aroused, and I wanted to please Tom, too, so I just sat on the sofa, kicked off my shoes, stood, peeled off the hose, put on my shoes, and moved into his arms.

"Try that."

He did, and his erection told me just how much he approved. "Maybe you should come to bed with me now", he said. I thought about that. It was safe, it would be fun, but now I was excited too, and feeling wicked, daring. So, I took his hand and pulled him to the door. It was only partly teasing when I said "Not a chance. Now, we are going out! I want some other men to see me, and maybe hold me, and dance with me while I'm dressed like this. Maybe I'll get someone as excited as you are."

I thought Tom would insist on staying home, but instead he agreed. "Yeah, let's go. I'd really like to see that too". I was learning something new about this man!

I pulled on a jacket because I did feel very exposed dressed as I was, and off we went. We caught the after work crowd. The lounge was dark so it was OK—just barely OK—when Tom insisted I check my coat. I did, took a deep breath, and went in. I danced with 5 different guys. I liked looking at their faces when we danced, especially when they discovered no bra strap across my back, and then, how every one found a reason, while we were dancing, to let their hands drift across my waist, and feel the slip waist band, but no lower seams, only soft flesh. What a feeling of power and control that was. After a while I rejected most invitations, except from one nice guy. I knew he was aroused—that was clear—and he sure thought I was. He.did enough exploring to have figured out just what I was and wasn't wearing. Not that he was grabby, but there were casual brushes, and touches. He wasn't bashful about holding me tightly while we danced, and when our bodies touched, he made sure his arousal was obvious. I remembered what Tom told me about the woman he danced with, so during slow dances I managed to miss his lead a few times, and that caused—surprise—a little accidental pelvis bumping. If felt very strange, feeling him through the fabric of my dress. I thought, after an hour or so, he had read by touch every label on every garment I was wearing-all two of them. He wasn't being grabby, either—no hand on my leg (by now I was sitting at a small table with him) or ass grabbing, but casual touches. He didn't even try to kiss me, and that was a disappointment—I wanted my daydreams to be filled. He did make some interesting suggestions, though.

Tom spent his time at the bar, watching. He wasn't being subtle, but the room was crowded enough so I don't think anyone noticed. I did notice that he talked to a woman a couple of times, but never danced with her. He was keeping his part of the deal.

After a while I figured I did enough flirting, and Tom should have had enough as a fledgling voyeur. I was horny and wanted to get in bed with my husband. I got my coat, walked out, and got in our car. A few minutes later Tom got in the driver's side.

"Wow. Honey, you looked great. You had that guy so turned on I think he had to go to the men's room to masturbate. It was wonderful. I'm surprised he didn't ask you out. I can't wait to get you home." He started the engine. I turned to face Tom, and said "He didn't ask me for a date, but he did ask me to get some air with him, in his car."

Tom put the car back in park. "He did? Did you want to go? Do you want to go back in to him?"

"He said he was going to leave just after I did, so I can't go back to him. I didn't know if I should go with him, or even if I wanted to, without talking to you a lot about it, first. I didn't know how you'd take it. Maybe I should have gone. I told him I didn't know him well enough to get in his car with him so he asked what about my car? That way he said I'd be in control."

"Stop, you're going to make me come without touching me! It sounds like he's a smooth operator. But this is a small car." We came in our bench seat old fogie Olds. "Not much could happen here, maybe some kissing and making out, that's all, and that would be all right."

"Are you crazy? There's a lot of room in this car!"

"Not enough."

He was wrong about that. "Let me show you."

I lifted up the center armrest, and had Tom recline his seat a bit, and tilt the steering wheel up.

"This could have happened."

I pulled him across the seat, and kissed him, tongue all over the place.

I said "I think he'd want to do that. I would want him to. I hoped somebody would kiss me like that tonight. He'd know that would be the only reason for me bringing him here. What do you think about that?"

"That would be all right with me, too."

"Oh, it would? What about this?"

I turned my back to him, got my feet on the seat near the door, knees up, and leaned backwards, into his arms. It was a very comfortable position for me. I had an arm around Tom's neck. He had his left hand on the steering wheel, so it was holding me up, and his right was around my waist.

"Oh—oh, there's more room here than I thought" he admitted.

"Would you want your wife to be in someone else's arms, like this?"

"Oh, yeah. I dream about that! I'd love it."

"I'm going to pretend you're him. This would probably happen." I pulled him toward me, lifted up to meet him, and we kissed again. We were acting more like teenagers than a thirty something married couple.

I asked my husband "Should your wife do that, too?"

He whispered "Yes. I'd like that, I want you to do that". I knew he was getting really excited. So was I.

"I'd want to do this, too" I said, and took the hand he had on my waist, brought it to my lips, kissed it, brought a finger into my mouth, and kissed and sucked on it a bit, too. That always got to Tom.

Tom said "Oh yeah, That would drive him crazy."

"You may think I'm awful, honey, but then I'd do this." I took that hand, and moved it from my mouth, along my cheek, and neck, to my breast.

Tom could feel my nipple standing up.

"The only reason for not wearing a bra is so he could touch me like that," I told Tom.

"Ah, yes, make him do that, too!"

I was really letting my imagination run wild, feeling sexy, and pretending Tom was someone else. After a few more minutes…

"I'd have to tell him I liked that. Maybe, if he was nice…"

"Oh, he'd be nice," Tom interrupted as I took his hand from my left breast, and moved it to the neckline of my dress. He was looking down at me.

I guided his hand to the buttons, opened the first couple. "… I'd ask him to help with this."

"You'd do that?" I'd want you to, but I thought you'd get mad."

"He wouldn't be able to touch me if I was all buttoned up, would he?"

Tom never had trouble with my dresses, but he fumbled now. Finally, when it was opened far enough—almost to my waist—I said "… I would want him to touch my skin… " I took his hand and slipped it under my dress. "… I think he'd want to, don't you?"

A minute passed.

He was silent, eyes closed, but his hand moved over my breast. I closed my eyes, imagining it was someone else, and it was even more exciting. I found I put my hand, outside the dress, over his, holding him to me. "Well, would it be OK with you if I let him touch me like that?"

"Yes, I want him to play with your tits."

Now he was cupping and fondling my breast. My nipple was so tight, and I could feel myself getting wet. Another couple of minutes passed.

"If you were he, I'd tell you I was getting very excited. Would it be all right with you if I did this?"

I took the open front of the dress and pulled it to the side, exposing my breast, and looked down at his hand holding me, rolling and twisting my nipple between his fingers.

"Yes, let him see your tits, too."

"Should I… " I said, and pulled his hand away, pulled his head towards my chest, and lifted up until his mouth found my nipple.

I held him that way—not that he wasn't willing—for a couple of minutes.

"What do you think of your wife now?"

"I think you're wonderful, and he'd think you were terrific!"

"Do you really want me to let someone kiss my breasts, Tom?"

"Mmm."

"Maybe, if he was really nice… " I took his hand and moved it down, across my lap, up my leg over my dress to my knee, and then down until it was touching my skin on my calf, midway between my knee and ankle.

"Do you think I should tell him both me and my husband want him to touch me?"

"Yes," he mumbled (well, his mouth was full).

His hand was just stroking my leg, so I said "Don't be shy, stranger", put my hand on his wrist, and started it towards my knee. Tom's hand went under the dress and slip, and then, once at my knee, down along the inside of my thigh. "Would you want me to let another man do what you're doing now?" I asked him as I opened my legs a little, so that by the time he got to my vagina he found it hot, and wet, and available. And he didn't waste a minute. He got fingers into me, while he was still sucking at my nipple.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Are you serious that you want me to get someone to do this?"

"Oh yes."

"My dress is getting wrinkled." I lifted up, pulled at my hem, folded it and my half slip back to my waist. His hand never stopped, but now, in the dim light of the parking lot, we could see my breast, exposed, and my legs spread with Tom's fingers moving in and out of me.

I said "Are you saying you want somebody else to be touching me, with their fingers where yours are, and looking at me all exposed like this in the car? That's all right with you?"

"Yes."

We both enjoyed the game a little too much, and I knew my husband, playing a guy who picked me up, was as aroused as he could be.

"Don't you think it's a little unfair, that I'm getting all of the pleasure?" I asked.

"Oh, but I love doing this to you."

"But I want to give you—no, I want to give him—some pleasure, too, OK?"

"What would you do?"

By now his mouth was on my breast again. I lifted his head from my breast, lay my head in his lap, turned toward him a little—not enough to interfere with the wonderful things his fingers were doing to me, though.

"I'd do this."

I put my mouth on his shirt, above his belt, breathed through it, so my warm breath went through his shirt, to his skin. I don't think it warmed him, though. He seemed to shiver.

"And maybe I'd do this."

I lowered my head until it was in his lap, but facing him. I could feel the heat from his crotch. I got my hands on his belt, got that open, got his pants and fly open, reached in, got my hand around his cock—what a surprise, he had an erection.

"You'd want me to, wouldn't you?" I asked, as I stroked him and felt twitches, and quivers, as he tried to control himself.

"Well?"

"Yes, I'd want you to do that."

"Tom, his cock would be right in front of my mouth. Shouldn't I do something about that?"

"Yes, take his cock in your mouth like you do for me. Suck it!"

A tilt of my head, a little movement, and my lips were on it.

I took a break after a minute. "Is this what you'd want me to do?"

He pushed himself back deep into my mouth, and I heard "Yes. Do more". We both heard someone walk up to the car on our right, and we both looked out the passenger side window as a guy looked in. "Lucky bastard", he said, as he saw Tom's hand covering my crotch, an exposed breast, and Tom's cock almost in my mouth. He got in his car, and drove away. Tom usually has a lot of endurance—he can hold his erection for a long time. But now, as the other car was pulling out, I felt his cock pulse, and he came in my mouth. That doesn't happen too often with us.

Afterwards, driving home—"Tom, you owe me a major orgasm."

"You're going to get one!"

His cock wasn't working any more that night, but his fingers and mouth were. I got what I wanted.

The next morning we spent in bed, cuddling, talking. "That was some fun."

"I liked last night", I said, "did you?"

"You bet."

He asked: "Would you really do that with someone else?"

I told him I thought it was pretty exciting, just with him pretending to be a stranger.

"Did you mind that guy seeing you going down on me?"

"It made it even better."

Tom said "The whole evening was a major turn on for me. I'd like you to do that, maybe even more, so long as you would end up here with me later."

"Tom, the only 'more' left would be for someone else to fuck me." I could feel myself getting excited again. "Is that what you want?"

He took my hand, and put it on his cock. It was getting hard again.

"At this moment, yes."

For the first time in years, we had intercourse every night that week.

Tuesday, in bed, before sex, Tom gave me a gift. I often wear a thin gold necklace with a single diamond pendent. It's a favorite that Tom gave me. This was a much longer fine chain. I doubled it, put it on my neck.

"No, no, you wear that on your waist, right on your skin."

"Oh."

I got out of bed, took off my negligee, and he put the chain on. It rode high on my waist on one side, low on my hip on the other, with the ends hanging free a few inches down my hip.

"Now, that IS sexy", he said, and proved it.

Afterwards—at least I thought it was afterwards—I told him how much I liked it, but that I thought it should be worn more as a belt on a simple dress. "Barbara, wear it on your skin. And Barbara, it will be OK if I'm not the only guy who sees you wearing it."

That lead to another sexy session.

On Friday morning, at breakfast, I asked "Are you sure you want to go back to the Marriett tonight?"

He answered with a question and a grin. "Yeah, what about you?"

"Tom, this is a dangerous game, but I admit I like it too, but, uh, what if…?"

He looked at me right in the eye. "Anything you do is sure OK with me."

My grad students didn't have my full attention that day. I got home early, Tom by 6:30. I was ready to get dressed. Tom wanted to help, and the notion of having my husband help me get ready to go out and flirt—maybe more—made me even more excited.

When I finished drying after being in the shower, Tom knelt in front of me, looped the chain around my waist, pulled me close and nuzzled into my pubic mound. "Everything else can go, but only I get to take this off, OK?"

"OK."

I don't wear much makeup. He watched as I dabbed a bit on. "Honey, put a little perfume on your neck, too."

I did.

"Maybe some between your breasts, just in case?"

"OK."

"Thighs?"

"Tom, stop it! I can accept the idea of having someone play with my breasts, but…"

"OK".

I selected my fooling around outfit for the evening. Silk blouse, long wrap around skirt that showed leg when I walked, fairly high heeled shoes. No bra, no slip, no panties. If we were playing strip poker, I couldn't lose too many hands. I felt free, sexy, naked, hot. "Tom, if tonight starts off like last week did, you may have to wait a while if I go to the parking field with someone. Will that be OK?"

His eyes told the story—it sure would! He confirmed it. "I'd like that, it would be fun for me, too. But what about you? It's your body."

"I made promises to be faithful to you. I don't want to break those promises."

"Honey, "he said, "this is not cheating. It's for our pleasure, and I don't care about other people's opinions. It's between us."

"OK. I'm ready to go."

"Good, but before we do…"

He took me in his arms. It started out as a romantic kiss, but then his hands were on my ass under my skirt. "I love the way you look. I can feel the chain, too, and I like that. If things get pretty hot in the car with someone, at least you'll be wearing something! I love you, and I love you even more for doing this."

We started to the hotel: not a word was spoken as we drove along Rt. 2, not a word along 128, we were each lost in our thoughts. The hotel is just a couple of turns from 128, and we got there too soon. He whispered "I love you" as he dropped me off, then went to park the car. I sat in the lobby, feeling excited, erotic, maybe a little trashy. Tom walked in—I know he saw me—walked by, and walked down the hall to the lounge without acknowledging me. I waited, went to the lady's room, then with a deep breath, entered. Tonight, I was pretty sure, I'd be willing be kissed passionately by a new person, and was scared and excited about it.

I had two cocktails for courage at the bar, rejecting a couple of invitations to dance. Finally, I decided it was time. It started out pretty much like the week before. Once again I danced with a couple of guys, but then almost exclusively with a tall man named Ted who was a sweetheart of a guy. Sexy, too. He wasn't grabby, but he sure knew what I wasn't wearing, there were enough casual touches, hands along my back and so on, for him to know that. I think he even figured out the chain, which rode high on my waist on one side, and on my hip on the other. The dance floor was pretty dark, but I could see Tom at the bar, watching. I'm pretty sure he saw Ted's hand move down my back, and pass over my buttocks. I knew Ted thought he was touching bare ass under my skirt.

I could see Tom watching, as I looked at him over Ted's shoulder. I thought I could turn up the heat for all three of us. Besides, I was supposed to be sexy, and available. When we were dancing close to the bar I held him with my arm around his back, moved closer, and made it clear to Ted I wanted to be kissed. His lips brushed mine, then my ear.

When we turned again I could see Tom staring, mouth open. Ted let me know he was a little aroused, too, as he held me against an increasingly hot and hard crotch. I may be married for a while, but it looked as if I was attractive enough to cause a real reaction!. Early on Ted apologized when he (I think accidentally) poked me with it as we were dancing.

"Opps, sorry about that," he said.

"That's all right" I told him, and moved so that the poking continued a bit. The dance floor was dark enough so I could enjoy that contact, and he lead me close to our table at the end of the dance so he wouldn't be seen walking off with that thing tenting at his slacks as noticeably About 10 PM I excused myself and walked along the bar to the ladies room. I nodded to Tom as I passed him. When I came out of the ladies room, Tom was waiting.

"You gave me the high sign. Are you ready to go home now and get fucked?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, does that guy want to go out to his car with you?"

"Not this guy, honey."

"What, then? What's wrong with him. I'm ready for something to happen."

"There's nothing wrong with him. He's staying here, and asked me if I'd go to his room for a little more privacy."

"What!"

"Tom, he wants me to go to his room with him. That's not too hard to understand, is it? Maybe we should leave, and I can take you home, and show you what might have happened."

"That's not my first choice."

"Mine, neither. Maybe I sould spend more time with him here and play around some more."

"Oh, I'm so damn horny," Tom said.

"Or you could wait down here for me, and I'd go to his room for a while, and maybe—no, probably—get a sexy story to tell you."

"Oh shit, I'm gonna come in my pants!"

"It's your game, honey. I could be happy either way, but…"

"Would you actually go?"

"Well, you said you wanted something to happen, and now we have the opportunity. Of course, there'll be other opportunities, I guess…"

"I know." He paused, thinking. Pretending was one thing, but this was real, from both of us. He about what he wanted. "Barbara, I'm going into the men's room. I've gotta get some release from my hard on, and I don't want leave right now. And then I'm going to have a couple of drinks in the bar, I figure I'm going to spend maybe an hour and a half or two hours here. Your choice. You can sit with me, or…"

"Tom, this was your idea. But, husband, I promised you my body is for your pleasure only. If you want to share it for your pleasure, it's OK with me. But, you have to say so—don't put it all on me!"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tom, that guy wants me to go to his room. That's because he wants privacy, and he's not going to just dance with me there. Maybe it'll be like we acted out last weekend, maybe it'll be even more, and you know what that means. Do you want me to go?" I took a step away from him, did a bit of a model's turn. "Would you like someone else to play with my body tonight like you did in the parking lot last week before we go home?"

"Damn it, yes!"

I kissed him. "Good. Me too. Hey, think of this while you're waiting. Those wifely lips you just kissed are probably going to be kissing someone else pretty soon. Bye!"

He took my arm. "Barbara, if you go to his room, memorize everything, OK? Make it a great time for him, and a great time for you, too. Do everything you want, because I want that, too, but you have to tell me everything."

I said "I don't have any experience at this with other men to know about great times, but I'll try, and you'll know about everything we do", and I walked back, horny, and ready, and fast enough so he wouldn't have time to change his mind.

I sat with Ted again. The music was nice, so we moved back to the floor. He had his arms around me. I rested my head on his shoulder, felt him kissing my hair.

"Have you thought some more about coming upstairs with me?"

I knew he was going to ask again. I held him close, felt heat and pressure from him.

Would I dare? Would it be as good as our games? I wanted to know. I whispered "Yes.

After this dance, I'll go with you."

Chapter 2

He held me closer, tighter, until, too soon, the music stopped, and the dance ended.

"Are you ready?"

I nodded. We went to the table, he tossed some money on the table, and I picked up my purse.

He extended his hand, and…

2E.I took it, sealing my agreement to go with him.

When we left the lounge, with Ted's arm around my waist, and mine around his, I saw Tom sitting in the lobby.

He watched us walk across to the elevator.

He watched, as, holding hands, we waited at the elevator. He watched as the elevator opened, and watched his wife get in with a guy who 'wanted some privacy' with her.

I almost was expecting, almost was hoping, that he'd stop me, but he let me go, with Ted, into the elevator.

Ted turned to me as the doors were closing, and took me into his arms.

Our lips met, and I watched the doors close over his shoulder, with my last image of the lobby being of Tom, looking in, at me, in another man's arms, kissing, being kissed.

The elevator stopped, the doors opened, ending the kiss. Were we there already?

We had arrived at the sixth floor. Now, Ted walked purposefully down the hall, and stopped in front of room 635. He paused, extending his arm to me. I caught up, and watched him as he opened the door. He smiled, and stepped aside, let me go in first.

I hesitated, then stepped over the threshold. Ted moved the "Do Not Disturb" sign to the door handle on the outside, and stepped in, too. I hear d the door close, and the night lock engage. That sounded final!

He took my hand and lead me past the door to the bath room, to the main room.

I saw the king sized bed. What was I getting into? Could I keep this und er control? Did I want to?

He took me into his arms—I went willingly, expecting that first serious private uninterrupted kiss. Instead, he spoke. "Barbara, you're wearing a wedding ring. Are you married?"

Opps. I forgot about that. Well, try honesty.

I returned his embrace, one arm around his back, the other to the back of his head, and replied "yes".

"Does your husband know you're out like this?"

"Yes."

"What's going on? Is it an open marriage deal?"

"No, it's just that a couple of weeks ago we both got excited about the idea of someone picking me up, so we wanted to try it for real. And, here

I am."

"You're kidding! Do you mean he's one of those guys where it's a turn on for him for you to meet a guy, and come up to his room?"

"It's new to us, but we both liked the idea."

"Wow… well, I'm not used to bringing married women to my room."

"That makes us even, I've never been in a hotel room like this with a man I hardly know."

"Well, this changes things. What do you want to happen?"

He still had his arms around me. I snuggled closer, and decided to be bold. "You wanted privacy. Me too. I'd liked to be seriously kissed by somebody other than my husband. Will you kiss me?"

He did, and I kissed back. It may be the 90's, but this was the first sex y kiss I responded to from anyone but my husband since I was a teenager.

It got hot quickly. Both our mouths opened, tongues touched. And I liked it! Ted needed a shave, I felt myself getting what I used to call beard rash, and didn't care.

"I couldn't do that in the lounge", he said, and I said "Then I'm glad we came here. That was very nice". I couldn't believe I was saying and doing the things I was saying and doing.

He lowered his hands to my buttocks, pulled me up toward him. With just a skirt between his hands and my skin, it felt very sexy. I didn't resist at all, just moved closer to him. Still, it wasn't too much different from what he did downstairs. I could feel his erection, too. My hands were around his back, but I figured two could play—actually three were playing—so I lowered my hands to his ass, and pulled his hips, saying "Two can play at that, Ted".

"That's nice, too", he said.

His pelvis—his erect dick—ground into me That's what happened a couple of weeks ago when Tom and I practiced this, and less obviously while I was dancing only a little while ago. In this room, though, it was very different. He broke the embrace.

I thought of Tom in the lobby with his imagination going wild, and reached for him again.

"I'm glad your husband likes this idea."

"We both liked this idea."

I put one hand around his neck, pulled his head close for another kiss. I liked kissing this guy, and wasn't sure how things are supposed to proceed, anyhow. But he did. His hands were on my ass again, working at pulling up my skirt. He wasn't being very successful at it. I pulled away a little, freeing my skirt from between us, and that helped him. Now he could lift it again. I felt coolness on my legs as it went up—how strange to feel that. But then there was the touch of his hands on my skin—cool, controlling, experienced. At least one of us knew what to do…

"No panties. I like that!"

"That was my husband's idea."

"That makes it even better."

No other man but Tom had ever touched my ass before like that. It was strange, erotic, and I thought, a forecast of being touched more, too.

I had one hand on the back of his head, the other on his cheek, so I could touch his mouth as he caressed me. I used that one to trace down to hi s neck, then between us to his chest. Oh, what the hell, I let it drift across his crotch, too. I am not good at judging things like this, but w hat my hand grazed felt huge! What an odd sensation, feeling that heat, that hardness, feeling his hands grabbing my ass, hands of someone I met only a couple of hours ago. Being seductive and seduced like this was new, wicked, exciting, and fun, and knowing I could do this with the full support and encouragement of Tom made it even better…

I realized I had my eyes closed while his fingers were tracing up and down between my buttocks, rubbing my anus. I opened them. His were open, looking into my eyes, then behind me, and into my eyes again. I realized he was watching us embrace in the mirror, or looking at the reflection o f his hand on my ass. By now I could feel one hand was holding my skirt against my back while the other one fondled me, probing at me. I didn't try to stop him, and instead stood a little taller, and kind of lifted one leg a bit over his, making it easier for him.

"Are you looking at me in the mirror?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"No. I like feeling you respond to me. and touch me, too. So far, I like what you're doing."

He broke the embrace, dropping my skirt, and pulled the cover and blanket s from the bed, grabbed me, and pulled me onto the crisp white sheet. He pulled at my blouse.

This was supposed to be sexy, sensual, not rushed! "Wait, don't pull like that" I said.

Tom and I agreed breasts were in bounds. I knelt, facing away from him. pulled at my blouse, pulling the front free of my skirt, was very aware of the feeling of its hem sliding up my belly.

Ted knelt behind me and helped—such a gentleman—by pulling it free from the sides, then the back of my skirt's waistband. Somehow feeling hi m pulling my blouse free of the skirt was much better than the feeling when I did it. Then, his hands moved to my hips, on my skirt, and moved upward to my skin, on my waist, under the blouse—an electric touch.

I looked up, and saw myself in the mirror, kneeling on the bed. I saw a m an behind me, saw movement under my blouse, and felt his hands moving up my sides, then around, and over my ribs, finally touching the underside o f my breasts. He paused, looking in the mirror, too, and his hands moved up under my blouse, supporting the underside of my breasts, and finally, at last, while he looked at our reflections, over them, to their most sensitive part, stoking my nipples. The man in the mirror leaned towards the woman's ear, and I felt a tongue create a thrilling sensation there. I watched the reflection of his mouth slide down from ear to neck, and felt wetness, and kisses, on my neck. I felt his mouth's progress impeded by my blouse's collar, and saw the woman in the mirror reach up, release one button, then another and another, enough to expose the valley between her breasts and then slide the partly open blouse's collar toward he r shoulder, so the man in the mirror's mouth would be free to kiss her shoulder. I felt the little bites as he kissed, and nibbled. I saw the m an look up at the reflection of the woman in the mirror, and heard him ask "I wonder what your husband would say about this" as his hands fondled me, and his mouth excited me, and the vision in the mirror was as erotic as anything I could imagine.

"He'd like you doing that."

He mouth bit at my shoulder, the pain was sharp, exciting.

I continued: "He'd say 'good, don't stop'."

The bite continued, then he lifted his head, exposing deep teeth marks on my shoulder.

He watched, we watched, as the woman in the mirror's hands went to her b louse's buttons. In a moment the last button was opened. The woman in t he mirror 's right hand took the left lapel, and pushed it to her shoulder. I felt the cloth drag over my nipple, as his hand cupped my breast. T he man, still kissing the bruised other shoulder, watched as her breast—my breast—supported by his hand, was uncovered. Then the woman took the blouse's other side, already on her shoulder, and started it down he r arm. The man in the mirror released her breasts, so he could help her pull her arms from the blouse sleeves. I felt the blouse slide down my arms, and his eyes on me. Her breasts, my breasts, were ruddy colored fro m his hands, from my excitement—aurora smaller than I ever remember as an adult, and nipples more extended.

I wanted him to look at me like a sexy woman, not a tenure track professor. Tom did say to make it sexy.

This was much more exciting than the pretending I did with Tom a week ago in the parking lot. It was so erotic, as the mirror showed his hands again moving, until each nipple was trapped between a thumb and forefinger, being twisted, kneaded. I felt the pinches, the mild pain, and loved it!

I looked down at his hands, holding me, and mine, holding his hands to m e, and looked up again, enjoying seeing, in the mirror, a woman, topless, a man behind her, kissing her neck, his hands on her breasts. How sex y! I sat up straighter, shoulders back, arms behind me now, as the woman in the mirror—that was me!—thrust her breasts into the man's hands!

Those breasts had been only Tom's for all of these years. Well, until now 2E Tom wanted me to share them, and I liked seeing them held by this guy, and the erotic and mild pain of his twists and pinches, too.

After a moment, I leaned back into his arms, and moved even further back, until I was prone on the bed, with him kneeling beside me. In a way, I w as a sacrifice, an offering, to him, on this altar of a bed.

"Do I look all right to you? I hope so."

He stared at me, looking down at me. Was I sexy enough, erotic enough?

He looked at my breasts.

He leaned forward, over me. He put both hands on one breast, in a pushing, spreading motion, flattening it, putting tension on my nipple. He open ed his mouth as wide as he could, and brought to my breast, sucking in as much as he could, hard, and his tongue teased my nipple. More beard bur n! What a wonderful, exciting feeling. Tom never did it that way. I resolved to teach him. I realized I had one hand under my breast, lifting it to his mouth, the other on the back of his head, holding him to me. How erotic, how wicked!

I remembered how exciting it was in the car last week. How Tom thought, n o, how we thought, I should be provocative, sexy. And now, how much I wanted to be!

I pushed Ted away, reached for the buttons on his shirt, and said "Your turn."

He sat up, kicked off shoes, pulled off socks. He stood beside the bed, got off his tie, his shirt, his undershirt, too.

I watched, and said, truthfully, "Nice body."

Belt open, pants off, and he stepped out of them.

He was wearing boxer shorts that were having a hard time hiding an erection. I had not seen anything like that, except my husband's.

This was why I was here!

He seemed to hesitate. "I'm not sure about this, with you married and all

2E"

I couldn't let him think like that, it would ruin everything!

I sat up on the edge of the bed, then stood in front of him, and took him into my arms, felt my breasts against his chest.

This was a more serious kiss. Part way through it I let my hands drift to his hips, to the elastic on his shorts. I let one drift towards his groin. His kiss became more intense as I allowed my fingers to touch the waistband, and to slip between it and his ski n, and move more, to the start of his mat of pubic hair. I could feel a gasp, maybe his, maybe mine, as my fingers moved down, over that hair, until they found the shaft of his penis, and traced out, and down, until I could cup its head.

"That feels so nice" I told him. "I'm glad I'm able to excite you like that. Ted, don't let that I'm married interfere, OK? That's between me and my husband."

"I won't".

I wanted to see!

My hands went to his hips, and I sat down, holding him in position, in front of me.

I pushed at the elastic waistband on his hips, and saw some dark pubic hair exposed, then the veined shaft, thicker than I expected. The waistband of his shorts were well down on his thighs as it slipped along the shaft of his cock, until, at last, it passed of the head of his cock, and i t sprang up, free, and the shorts fell away. I loved knowing I could have such an effect on this man. I found this new cock throbbing in front of my face fascinating. I wanted to remember every detail.

"That looks wonderful" I said, watching as he stepped out of his shorts, and he, no, it, stood, excited, proud, erect, pulsing with every heartbeat, in front of me.

I leaned forward, towards his cock, hands now on his bare ass. I closed my eyes, remembering. "My husband and I wondered about what would happen, and this was my husband's idea, too," and drew him—it—closer.

I took his penis in my hand—so warm, so alive, looking so urgent—the only cock except Tom's I'd touched. Tom always liked me to play with his cock. Would Ted? Would I like it? Ted stood, looking down as I held it, looking at its end, partially cover ed with foreskin: I had not seen that before.

I grasped his shaft, and pushed a little: the foreskin pulled back, revealing the head I expected to see, purple with passion, its eye promising t o erupt. A small pull, and his foreskin covered it again, sheathing it. I pushed again, loving to see that throbbing purple end move out, exposing itself, like some dark force, from its protective cover. Ted's hands we re on the sides of my head, and he pulled me to him, gently, hinting, not forcing.

I turned my head just a little, and felt the heat of that cock along my cheek, and the brush of his hair on my lips. I turned my head just a little, and experimented with a gentle kiss on that anything but gentle looking shaft. How could it feel so hot? Ted's moan meant he liked the kiss!

He smelled a little of talcum, and of sex, too. My closed lips touched the side of that purple head, and Ted, looking down at me, moaned again, hi s hips and cock were twitching.

This was wonderful!

I looked up at him, looking down at me, and, now sure he was watching, I opened my lips just a little, kissing that wonderful head again, and was rewarded by even increased excitement. He moved one hand from the side of my head across my cheek, to my mouth. Tom liked me to suck on his finger s: is that what Ted wanted, too?

I opened my mouth, accepting his fingers, and made sure he could feel my tongue on them. He wanted more than that, and moved so that the head of h is cock was in front of my mouth. His hand moved from my mouth to under m y chin, and he lifted and turned my head. I knew what he wanted, felt the end of his penis graze my lips. I opened my mouth a little, and looking up, extended my tongue, touching him, touching that head. Ted moved a little closer, almost in a pleading way, and I, remembering how much Tom liked me doing this in the car, closed my eyes, felt the head on my lips, then, I opened them a little, and felt movement, and tasted salt, an d my mouth opened more to accommodate him. I told Tom my lips would be doing something unwifely. I wondered if a different cock would have a different taste. It did. Ted's hands went to my head, and he held me, while his hips flexed. His cock was moving gently in my mouth—fucking it! So big, so hot, so exciting! My lips closed a round it, as they did for my husband's, and my tongue explored it, touching the sides, the head, its eye, my lips closing over it, sealing me to it, so I could lick and suck at it! Ted was gentle, not forcing, as I held his shaft with one hand, and with the other, supported that huge sack hanging below it! How could everything feel so hot? What would my friends say—this very straight Barbara, Ph. D., sitting on a bed, a stranger's cock in her mouth, and her loving it!

But this was preamble. Foreplay. I was worried that he'd lose control, an d I didn't want that. He was getting too excited.

I pulled away. I got out off the bed, pushed him on it, being totally sexy, free, wanton. I stood pretty much between his knees now, lifted one foot, and the skirt did what it was supposed to, and fell away from my leg, as I slipped one shoe off. Changed legs, got the other one off, too.

By now he was stoking himself. I moved closer: he pulled me between his legs. My breasts were about mouth high, and he started working on them again. One went into his mouth, the other was getting twisted and teased, hard, with his one hand, and his other hand was stroking his cock.

I had a brief reluctance—what was I doing here!—but I held his head to my nipple. Tom, I decided, didn't pay enough attention to my breasts, but Ted was. His teeth on one, fingers twisting the other, was almost painful, but wonderful, too.

I leaned into his mouth. His hand began working its way up the inside of my leg. Maybe he'd show me other things to teach Tom.

It was nearly time, time for the reaction to "go to completion", time to turn the game my husband wanted me to play into reality. Could I do it and actually have intercourse with this man? Accept that cock in my vagina after having accepted it in my mouth? I think I wanted to! I released his head, and moved his hands away. I found the clip on my ski rt, and using both hands, overcame their quivering, and got it unhooked, and held it closed, in position.

I took about a half step back.

He looked at me with lust in his eye, mouth open.

I felt a moment of hesitation, remembered the play acting Tom and I did in the car, and remembered what my husband said he wanted me to do. I hop ed he still wanted it.

I let go one side of the skirt, and felt it unwrap around my body. It felt as sensual as anything I ever did.

Now I was standing in front of him, with my skirt held up by one hand so the material flowed down in front of me. I looked down at bare breasts, exposed hips, the thin chain around them, and a draped skirt hiding my pubic mound, and a stranger holding an erection with both hands.

"Breath-taking" he said.

"This is more exciting than I hoped. I love it!" I hadn't been this horny in years!

I loved having him look at me, his mouth open, his hand holding his cock.

"Ted, you must have seen women undressed before."

"Yes, but not quite like this: you're a wonderful erotic woman. Please, will you turn around?"

Still holding my skirt up, I did the same modeling turn I showed my husband a little while ago. Except, Tom saw me clothed. I wished I had put perfume on my thighs, like Tom wanted me to. Ted looked at every inch of m e: my hip, my ass, my other hip, and my breasts, again. Now someone other than Tom saw me almost totally exposed. I don't think a man can understand the feeling! As I turned the mirror came into view, showing a woman, holding a garment against her, a man, nude, looking at her, their immediate future obvious…

"Come closer."

I did, watching as he reached for me. I loved playing the sexy woman with this man, for me, and for my husband. One part of my mind imagined how Tom would react when I told him about this. Tom, downstairs, waiting, while I was here, in standing in front of a naked man, holding my skirt in front of me, a last barrier. I knew I should open my hand, and drop it, but I hesitated.

Tom helped.

He put one hand behind my knee, lifted it. I put my free hand on his shoulder both for balance, and because I was feeling weak-kneed. He guided m y leg so that I had one foot on the bed, next to his hip. The skirt was still hung over my pelvis, between my legs, very close, now, to his face.

He took the wrist of my hand that was holding the skirt. It was almost a t my cleavage.

He started lowering it, and I didn't resist, was just enjoying the moment, and the sensation of the material as it moved on my body. I watched as his hand moved mine lower, and enjoyed the touch of his fingers as they followed the material.

I watched as it moved over the chain. Tom gave me that so I'd remember this was for both of us. Then my navel was exposed, and in a few seconds, the start of my own triangle of pubic hair.

Tom wanted someone else to see my complete body. Now it was happening. I felt Ted moving my hand, and watched his face and eyes, as they followed the progress of the skirt. For just a moment I stiffened my hand, old values, old ideas of marriage crowded my mind, but Ted, with a gentle pull, started the movement down again, and those old ideas were replaced by the utter enjoyment of this experience. I looked down, seeing his hand on my wrist, my hand holding the skirt, as he pulled everything lower. Another couple of inches, and then the fabric of the skirt, and my hand, and his, moved out along the thigh of the leg I had on the bed. Now I was fully exposed to this nude stranger, and I loved it. With one leg on the be d, I felt totally opened. My skirt was covering only one of my thighs.

I knew at one level when I came into this room I might—no, probably would—have intercourse—fuck—with someone other than Tom for the firs t time. This was the next step. I knew all of that, and decided my skirt was kind of the last shield between me and him. If it went, I was even more committed to this. I thought of Tom, downstairs, and our acting out in the car, and relaxed my grip. The skirt, no longer protection, slid off my leg, and off the bed.

He was staring at my pelvis—no one had ever done that, that way, before 2E Was it that obvious to him that I was already aroused, lubricated, ready?

I couldn't help myself. I pulled my hand free of his, and put that hand o n his shoulder, too. I stretched and arched my body, felt myself moving my knee that was beside him away, and with my hands on his shoulders, an d one foot on the bed, couldn't be more exposed and available! I supported myself by holding his shoulders, head back thrown back, and the curve o f my body moved my pelvis closer to him, and my knee, even more away, opening myself, exposing myself for his examination, his curiosity, his pleasure.

I closed my eyes, felt his fingers touch my vulva. I was so wet and horny that his fingers met nothing but heat and moisture as he ran them along its lips. And a finger found its way inside me. The analytical part of m y mind logged it as a first penetration, but everything else was focused on the physical pleasure. My legs were quivering—this was what Tom wanted to know about, and now it was something I wanted to do, and memorize for him, too. As his finger moved up and in, I tilted my pelvis, and moved to help it penetrate…

"You haven't done this ever before?" he asked.

"Never, no, only with Tom—that's my husband": it was more a whimper than a word, I wanted his touch to continue.

"Well, then, in that case…"

Now my eyes were closed, and I was enjoying every second. I muttered some thing about my body bringing pleasure to my husband in a different way, tonight. I felt movement, felt his mouth on my inner thigh.

He bit at it, an unexpected thrill. But then, I felt his tongue tracing up.

Was he really going to… and I arched even more as it found my clit!

A penetration of the second kind! So different a motion than my husband's. I released his shoulder, and put my hands behind his head to support me, pulling him to me. He had both hands on my inner thighs, now, fingers meeting, then I felt a spreading, a being forced open wide, and his tongue and fingers were doing new and strange magic on me.

I never had an orgasm standing up before. I wonder if other women had as much trouble standing while it happens?

Ted paused while I shuttered, put both his hands around me, and held me t o his face, supporting the arch my body made, my arms now hanging freely behind me, as my knees quivered.

"That was more than I ever expected it to be", I said after a minute.

He looked up, and took both my hands in his.

"There's more."

He moved on the bed, and pulled me beside him, and now I was naked on this white sheet. White, for purity in one culture, for faithfulness, in another. But I was being faithful to my husband, faithful to his wishes.

I rolled on my side, pulled him beside me. I felt this warm body, different than my husband's, all along mine. I guess putting my leg over his hip was automatic, but it put his cock against my pelvis!

He was watching me as his hands stoked my back, my ass, and over my buttocks to my cunt as I stretched and molded my body to his, it was his to u se as he wanted, now.

"I can't believe your husband wanted you to do this," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, remembering.

"We talked about this happening," I whispered, "and I told him maybe some one would be kissing and touching me. He said that would be all right, and he could do even more. When I said the only more would be that he might have sex with me, he said that was OK, too."

I opened my eyes, saw Ted still looking at me. I took my leg from over hi m, moved his hands from around me, rolled on my back.

I looked at him beside me. He was supporting himself, hand on his head, elbow on the bed, looking.

I pulled him towards me.

He moved closer, and then he was kneeling, straddling me, his knees outside of mine. He leaned forward, put his hands near my shoulders, bent to kiss me, while his erect cock pushed at my pelvis. He lifted away, suspended, arched, over me. I was now a bit scared, my legs were tight together. He looked so big!

His cock poked at my belly, my pelvis, again.

"Barbara, open your eyes."

I did.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

I nodded.

"Do you want me to stop?"

I moved one leg, pushing at his. He shifted, lifting, so I could raise my knee, and got that leg outside his.

He shifted again, so I could release the other one, too.

Now, when he straightened he was between my legs, my knees were up, near his hips, his cock was touching my pubic hair, my cunt's lips were partly open because—well—I was spread out for him.

"No, don't stop." I whispered, to him, to me, and for Tom.

He said "Show me what you want—show me exactly what your husband wants you to do."

What an exciting, perverted idea. I reached for his cock. There were a lo t of firsts tonight, and I was very ready for the next one.

I moved my knees up on ether side of his torso, and got my feet flat on t he bed.

I hoped Tom would enjoy hearing about this as much as I was, doing it.

I lifted/rotated my hips a little, got my knees as far apart as I could.

Ted moved so I could lead the tip of his penis to the lips of my vagina. Then he held his position. I moved his cock along my lips, back and forth a few times—it felt so good, and so odd, too. "He would want me to do this", I said as I felt, and helped, its head find the lips, I used my other hand to spread myself a little wider.

"Don't look at my face now, look there", he commanded, "I want you to see it going in you."

We both watched, and I opened myself for this new, hungry, erect cock. I raised my pelvis and felt the blunt pressure of his penis's head against me. I moved so that his cock's head was just parting my lips—my other lips, I realized, it had already violated my mouth.

I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering my husband, and the games we played, and whispered to myself "This is for you, too." I held Ted's cock, lifted another fraction, felt myself being forced open, and saw and felt half its head, then all of it, start to enter me.

"Watch what happens" he ordered. I know my face flushed, my whole body di d! I sagged to the bed, with him matching my movement, his cock pressing against me. I aligned my pelvis as best I could, and tilted it some more, towards this intruding penis.

"Now!" he grunted, and I felt and saw the shaft of his cock slip into me, opening me, the head probing, spreading me as he flexed his hips in on e delicious, long, slow movement. I felt myself flush red hot.

His penis's head pushed the walls of my cunt, moving easily through the moisture there, but tight enough I was sure to keep that protective shroud of foreskin peeled away from that wonderful smooth purple bulb, making s pace in me for that long, hot, veined rod, going deeper in me than Tom could reach. Then, pushing, slowly rotating his hips, he moved, too, until his stiff pubic hair was against my belly, and his cock was fully seated in me. I could feel his pulse in it—it was rapture! This new cock fit—I know, they all do—and I thought "This is how adultery feels, when your husband approves." I was fucking—really fucking, now—a man I wasn't married to.

His pressure and weight forced my ass back on the bed—I realized I had lifted my pelvis a lot to help get him into me. I looked down along our bodies, seeing breasts, my nipples erect and ruddy red, and his chest, and our torsos joined at the crotch with what looked like common hair, his and mine, together, touching. And where the visual part ended, the sexual part began. I could feel little movements in me as he adjusted his pelvis's position. His cock would press more on one place, then another, a s though it was searching for, memorizing, the right spot, so that in a few minutes it would know exactly where to erupt. I was full of him, his heat, his size!

He began withdrawing, exposing what was now a glistening, wet shaft. That was me, my moisture, wetting him, lubricating him! I had done, was doing, what had been unthinkable only a couple of weeks ago! He withdrew s lowly until it was almost out. I watched and felt his erection disappear in me again, spreading and stretching me with less effort this time. I t didn't take too long for me to get close to another orgasm, and I was pretty sure from how hard he was pushing that he was close, too.

"So", he muttered, "this is what he wanted you to do, isn't it", as he moved in and out of me slowly, I could feel wetness everywhere, cool under my ass, hot in my cunt, as he fucked me: no, as we fucked each other.

"Yes, this, exactly" I agreed.

You can tell I had an accurate memory until now, but it became clouded he re. I do remember bringing my legs together again, under him, relaxing t hem as he pushed, then hard together, squeezing his cock as he pulled. I remember my wrists being held above my head by his strong hands, as his pelvis pushed against, into, mine, as his cock pushed and stretched and filled and violated and in its own instinctive way found new places to give me pleasure. I don't think I could have been a more enthusiastic partner as he pounded into me.

I do remember him at one point suspended above me, half inside of me, looking along our bodies, and saying "I want to remember what this looks like and feels like forever."

I looked, too, and agreed: "Me, too."

In almost too short a time he whispered "Barbara, I can't hold back much longer!"

I felt him throbbing, felt a strong heart beat bounding in his cock, from him, in me, felt my own little muscle spasms grabbing at his cock as he started to pull away. "NO" I said, freeing my hands, grabbing his waist, holding his hips close. I got one leg out from under him, then the other, wrapped them around his back, locked my ankles, and pulled him closer. I tipped my pelvis so that I was wider still, and almost hissed. "Come in me. Give me every drop!"

I watched his face redden, and I felt myself flush and quiver, too. I loved the way he pushed in, and loved the way his cock seemed to grow a little longer at the last minute, reaching still deeper in me, and getting still hotter. I looked down, saw him pull back a couple of inches, thrust in, again and again, and I could feel the twitches his cock was making as he ejaculated in me, grunting, making "Uh"

noises with each spas m as he came, in time with my own noises. I put a hand on either side of my cunt, spread it as much as I could, and pushed against his pelvis. I captured his shaft between the thumb and fingers of each hand, and began a milking motion, masturbating him instinctively, "Every… drop!"

And he delivered. Each time he'd thrust, I heard myself moan, and met him, with my knees far apart, sometimes legs bent, sometimes straight out and up, masturbating him with each stroke, very aware of feeling him push in me with each spurt, of that very male look on his face. I'm sure I could feel his semen pumping into me. Tom wanted me to be memorable for this guy. I was trying.

It seemed to take a long time to empty himself. He was pushing, stroking, even when I felt, in all that heat and moisture, his penis finally get a little softer, get a little smaller.

I DID IT! I seduced a stranger, fucked him!

At last he stopped, paused on me, then rolled off, trailing a thread of his ejaculant and my lubrication across our pelvises.

We lay there, both out of breath, both sweating, my hand stroking his cock, his fingers probing my vagina, heat radiating from pelvises, coolness from the puddle of my lubrication under me. I could feel some of his cu m cooling, too, as it leaked from me, could feel his cock softening in my hand. What a sense of power I had, and of relief at having gone through this thing for Tom, and for me.

"I loved it," I said.

"Me too. Thank your husband for me."

A few minutes later, somewhat recovered, I said "I gotta go, now." I kissed him. After all, he was only the second man to have done that to me.

"Before you go, can I have your name, your phone number, maybe at work?"

"Uh-uh. This was only time only, it won't happen again. Pleasant dreams."

I stopped for a minute in his bathroom, wiped some of what he put in me away. I washed up quickly. He had some talcum powder, and I used a bit of that on my pelvis, got into my blouse, skirt, shoes, and let myself out. I took the "Do Not Disturb" sign as a kind of trophy.

Tom was in the bar, looking very anxious.

"Honey, you weren't gone very long—only 45 minutes. I guess nothing happened."

I didn't answer that. "I'll tell you at home. Let's go" I said, instead.

When we got home, he wanted to sit and talk, but I insisted he come to be d.

"Please talk to me," he said.

"Get in bed", I told him. He did. I got out of my outfit. I turned around at the foot of the bed. "How do I look?"

"You look great. Are you going to talk to me?"

"I promised to not to keep any secrets, but you're going to have to give me some time."

I was scared of how he'd feel.

I stood close. "Take off the chain."

He did.

"No one else did that tonight."

"Good."

I got into bed.

He reached to kiss me, but I stopped that. I lay on my back, and spread m y legs. "Get on me."

He did, and tried to get his penis where he wanted it.

"Not yet, please, honey."

He was laying between my legs, and looked at me. "What's going on?"

"Honey, look at my face."

He did.

"What do you see?"

"Barbara, it looks like the skin is roughed up a bit."

"Now, why do I want you to shave before we make love?"

"So that my beard doesn't scratch you."

"So what do you know now that you didn't know before?"

"Oh, I get it. Someone else has been kissing you, hard."

"That's right, You are not the only man to kiss me tonight. Is that all right?"

He shuttered with excitement—totally turned on. So that much was still OK with him!

"Sexy kisses?"

"Very sexy kisses!"

"I love it. Tell me more."

I put my hands on his shoulders, pushed his head lower. "He hurt you! You're shoulder's all bruised! Damn him!"

"No, no, that didn't hurt, it happened in the passion of the moment. I'll tell you about that later. I pushed he lower, to my breast.

His mouth found it, began sucking the same breast that was sucked on a sh ort time ago.

"Look at me, Tom. Is anything different?"

He paused. "This one looks a little bruised, and this one looks like it h as some of the same whisker rash your mouth has."

I could feel hips making the little motions that means he's very horny. M ore evidence that I could tell him some more about the night.

I said "Tom, I hope its OK that you're not the only man to play with my breasts tonight."

"Good!"

"Open your mouth really wide, and suck at my whole tit."

He did.

"That's what he did, too!"

I thought he'd go crazy.

"Oh, I like this. Tell me more. What else did he do?"

I pushed him a little lower, then caught him with my legs when his head w as at about my navel.

He was getting into it, now, and I was getting horny, too.

"I smell talcum. Since when did you start using talcum powder, honey?"

"I don't have any. Could that mean some other man's talcum was where your face is tonight?"

He was shaking with excitement. Me too, I liked doing this to him.

I released the hold I had on him with my legs. I opened them for a second man tonight, I could feel how wet I was, and how excited I was.

I put my hands on his shoulders, and pushed him lower still, until I could feel his breath on my pelvis.

I rotated my hips again this evening, opening myself, and felt him put a hand on either side of my vagina, and felt him lower his face into it.

Now I was holding his head in place, while he explored every part of me.

"I smell something different here, too!"

"Maybe. Maybe you can taste something different, too. Is that OK with you

?"

I thought there'd be a premature ejaculation then.

"Tom?"

"MMm?"

"I'm about to come!"

I grabbed his hair, pushed his face into my crotch, and had an orgasm. Again.

And then pulled him along my body.

I asked "Are you mad at me?"

"No"

"Did you like going down on me just now?"

"Yes".

"Even if I fucked someone else a hour ago?"

I kissed him, and found his cock, and guided it—not that it didn't know the way—into me.

I was as again as wide as I could be, and he was pounding me as hard as h e could.

"No, I'm not mad, I love it! Your cunt feels all open and loose! Tell me!"

I wrapped my legs around him—"Tom, don't be mad at me, but I held him like this, and stroked his cock while it was in me, and I asked him to give me every drop he could, and he did. Is that what you wanted to happen?"

"Yes, yes, yes"

"And I had two orgasms while he fucked me, too."

I was milking him like I milked Ted, and felt pretty much the same twitching, and little jerks, and I'm pretty sure I could feel him start to com e into me, too.

"Honey, when I told him I was married and you wanted me to get fucked, he got really hot—he was in me really deep!"

I guess you could figure out that Tom exploded into me. Just as he started to I said "And your cock is swimming in its own cum, and someone else' s, too."

I thought he'd burst! I knew he was weird for wanting to have other guys screw his wife, and I was weird, too, for letting it happen, and enjoying it.

That all happened about six weeks ago.

When either of us want to relive the experience, we put the "Do Not Disturb" sign I took from the hotel on the bedroom door. It gets put on the do or a lot!

We've talked about it, and acted it out, and enjoyed it, every time.

But you might want to know if we think there'll be a next time.

We think so, but it won't be quite the same.

Next time, we decided, I'm going to do the seducing, and select the man I want! We've even practiced. I dress up, always with the gold chain around me, usually in the silky, dark print front buttoned dress I told you about earlier. But no half slip, no panties, no bra. We both like me to keep the top unbuttoned a couple of inches, and keep the bottom unbutton ed to about mid thigh. The dress reaches to mid calf. Then, when I cross my legs, there's a lot of exposure, and we both get turned on by that. W e especially get turned on because if I let the dress hike up a bit, a guy in the right position, like sitting next to me, could find out by touch pretty easily that I was nude underneath. At least, when Tom and I sit in a lounge like that he can get a couple of fingers very warm and moist while each of us is sipping a cocktail.

We go out, and I let other guys try to pick me up, and dance with me. Almost always the moment they hold me they get bold, because they can't fee l a bra strap, or slip, or panty seam, and they figure I'm an easy pick up. I love the casual way their hands seem to glide over my back, how they figure out the chain I wear on my hips, and how quickly they get an erection. Then, I pick up my husband, bring him home. By the time I get the dress unbuttoned and held closed only with a sash—then it's like a negligee, with legs and cleavage showing every time I move—he can hardly control himself.

We've been planning now, for the next "real adventure."

We're going to the Eastern Analytical Symposium in New Jersey next month, one of Tom's out of town conventions where most of the attendees are straight arrow technical type guys. One, we think, is going to get lucky, and maybe remember what happened the rest of his life.

Oh, there's another thing that'll be different.

When I told Tom what it was like to have Ted help take my blouse off, and to show myself to Ted, he said he wished he could have seen that. And I realized it was something I wanted him to see.

When I told him what it was like to unhook my skirt, and have it unwrap, until I was holding it up only in front of my pelvis, and how Ted took m y hand and moved it so I was all exposed, well Tom said he wanted to see me do that, too. And, it's something I wish I could have shown him, ins tead of just telling him about it.

And finally, when I told him what it was like to guide Ted's cock to my vulva, and then to raise my hips while he stayed still and rigid, until h is cock got inside for the first few inches, well, he wanted to see that, too. And I really like the idea of him watching as I do that, too.

So, next time we'll have to fix it so Tom can see. I guess it means we'll have a hotel room with a closet in the bed room, or a balcony, or something. We'll get the right kind of room at the conference. Until then I'll practice by picking up my husband, and giving him the same treat we both want to give to a nice stranger.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Chapter:2 - One Thing Leads To Another
   Teaser:A married couple decide to expand their sex-life by taking extra lovers
 Category:Swinging And Swapping
      URL:https://www.asstr.org/~kristen/70/onethingleadstoanother.txt
Published:2021-06-23
Talking while having sex is risky for us guys. I sometimes think we don't have enough blood to support both brain and boner at the same time.

"How come you're so turned-on about guys I used to have sex with when I was dating and yet you were so upset that your ex-wife cheated on you?"

"They're two different things," I explained, while continuing to move slowly in her.

"How are they different?" She had stopped moving with me, damn it.

"In Mary's case, she was cheating, in the other, it's a turn-on for everybody."

"What do you mean?" She was being very still underneath me.

I decided to tell her. "Look, before I met you, you know I was dating Barbara."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you know that she told me although I wanted to have an exclusive relationship, she wanted to date other guys."

"Yeah, I know, you told me." She was listening, just barely moving with me now.

"Well, one time I came back from a trip and went to her house about midnight. I knew she had a date that evening, but she told me to come when I got in, so I did."

"Well?"

"Well, her date had been over for a while. We went to bed together and when we were making love she told me she had made love with her date that night too. It was the single biggest erotic moment of my life, I totally lost control, knowing I was fucking her used pussy!"

My story may have excited me, and at that moment I was moving long and fast thrusts in her, but it did nothing for Jayne. She pushed me away. "Bob, I'm really tired.

Can we just go to sleep?"

I never force sex on a woman and wasn't going to start now with my wife so I said, "OK." I lifted up, and she rolled away and curled up with her back to me.

There was a coolness in our relationship for the next week or so. I'd go to bed while Jayne was watching TV or surfing the 'net.

So much for open and honest relationships, I thought.

Then came "The Night".

I was in bed, in my 'sleep position', on my side, facing away from Jayne's side. Then I was aware, although mostly asleep, of her coming into the bed.

I felt her move next to me, felt her arm move around me.

The feeling of her body along my back was very nice, I loved it and had missed it during the last week. Maybe, my sleep dulled mind thought, she's gotten over being pissed at me for being such a perv. It was a comforting thought. I like having her feel warm towards me again.

Her hand, over me, was in its usual position, on my chest. I felt it move, though, lower, to my belly, and lower still, until she was cupping my flaccid prick.

Still sleepy, I found myself rolling onto my back, making myself more available to her—as available as she might want.

My eyes were closed but I knew she had moved and her hands were working on the buttons of my pj tops, and then, undoing the bottoms, too. I wasn't THAT asleep so that I couldn't cooperate and I lifted a little and felt the pajama pants slide down my legs.

This was better than a dream! "That's nice," I said, when I felt her lips on my neck.

I put a hand on her cheek and she turned her head towards it, sucking on my fingers.

By now enough blood had been diverted so that I was getting a massive erection.

She was, soon enough, kissing my ear. Jayne didn't often offer oral sex—it looked like that was what she had in mind tonight though, on her still mostly asleep husband.

She had drawn my hand down along my body with her, as her mouth visited this sensitive zone and then that one…

When her lips were near my bone stiff dick, I felt my fingers being sucked on, again, while she lifted my hand, keeping my fingers in her mouth, she pulled my hand down to my dick, her tongue moving from fingers to swollen head to fingers again. I was getting pretty awake, now! My cock was wet, my fingers were, too, with her saliva.

"That feels so good… " I moaned in pleasure.

"You taste good, too," she said, lifting a little to speak, then lowering herself again on me. She'd never done oral sex like this before!

I could feel her hand holding my erection, then that hand moved to my wrist and pulled my fingers from her mouth, allowing her total access on my cock. The sensations of fingers and cock being sucked were replaced by that of only my cock—absolutely wonderful!

"Jayne, that feels so nice… " my sleep immersed voice muttered.

Her hand, holding mine, moved again, drawing my hand up a little and then her fingers, over mine, wrapped my hand around my cock, now so wet with her saliva, holding it upright, for her mouth.

That was very exciting!

"Jayne, we have to stop soon—I want to be in you!" I muttered, lost in all of the sensations, only to have her lift away, whispering "Shush," and move again, over me.

Oh, that felt so good…

Then her hand, over mine, holding my hand on my own erect penis, tightened a little, forcing me to hold myself a little more tightly.

Oh, even better…

But then her hand began moving mine up and down, in a classic masturbation motion, making my hand stroke while my prick head was still feeling the sensations of her mouth, her tongue. I could feel the shroud of foreskin pull away, exposing the tender head, then covering it again, could feel her tongue caress me, push at its eye, searching, exciting me…

I tried to roll away, but her hand held me in position.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and what the outcome would be.

Her fingers separated mine, and extended my thumb, so that was in her mouth, too, and I no longer needed her guidance, my hand was moving up and down on my shaft, masturbating myself, and I could feel the pulse in my cock throb and surge, and then that sensation from deep in my scrotum started, there was flow, and I began pulsing, thrusting, into her mouth, ejaculating—a week's worth—feeling her tongue on the end of my cock, feeling a bolus of sperm, and another, and another, leave me, hit my thumb in her mouth, and be captured by her mouth, her tongue!

Her mouth never withdrew. She stayed over me, until the last pulse ended, and stayed while my cock softened in my own hand, and in her mouth.

Her head moved down, until it was on my belly, my fingers now in her mouth, as our breathing leveled, and, we slept…

** I awoke while it was still dark—had I dream that? No, I was nude, Jayne was, too, beside, me. That really happened.

Jayne stirred, too. I turned toward her, felt her arms around me, we kissed—maybe good night, maybe good morning. It was a kiss for a new day, anyhow.

"What happened?" I asked.

She whispered her discovery. "I was pretty upset, Bob, about what you told me about you and Barbara. I couldn't figure out how a guy could love his wife and want her to have sex with someone else. One of the women I met on the 'net emailed me a story that explained how guys felt about it. It was about a voyeur's wife. It really got me excited, and now I do understand how you would feel watching me. I could even be turned on watching you with another woman, one that I knew that is."

"So you're not pissed off at me anymore?"

"No, not anymore."

I was happy about that, I'd been feeling guilty that I'd even told her about my feelings.

"Bob?"

By now we were holding each other, our bodies pressing together along their length.

She pulled her head back enough so that I could feel her looking at me in the dark.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Last night, what I did to you…"

"Yeah, honey? I really enjoyed it."

"Honey, is that what you want to see me to do to someone else?"

I was speechless! Images, confused images of my wife, what we had done last night, of her doing that to some other guy, flooded my mind!

"Um, I don't know… " I stuttered.

"Bob, I understand now… if that's what you think you'd like, tell me. Tell me now. Maybe we'll be able to do something like that sometime, or fool around with that idea anyway. It all depends on you."

"Jayne… " I didn't know how to respond, it was all so sudden.

"No. No more talking. Just get in me, right now!"

We fucked! Quietly, but we fucked, while the new day's light crept into our bedroom. I was on top of her, looking at her body under mine, moving under mine, her breasts making small movements as I pushed and my mind saw her, under someone else and my hips jerked spasmodically, pushing into her. She matched my movements and I looked up, away from our merged pelvises to her face, to see it too glistening with a little perspiration, her eyes, fixed on mine, almost analytically.

"Did you ever go down on one of your boyfriends like you did to me last night?" I wanted to know.

"No, not really, I never went that far, no… " and then her body began to jerk too and her mouth formed that oh, the sigh that meant she was in the middle of an orgasm of her own.

** From that day forward a whole new sexual arena had opened for us. We played with each other, asked things we never would have before. Anal? I did, she had not.

More than just two in bed, ever? Not for either of us.

One night stands? A reluctant "Yeah, I did that" from each of us. What was she willing to do to another man, if conditions were right?

"Whatever doesn't hurt!" she would say.

Would either of us cheat? Never! But we experimented with each other, role-playing about cheating and all sorts of situations.

I brought a camcorder and its tripod into the bedroom.

She didn't want to go that far, not yet, but said that maybe when the conditions were right.

** I tried to work out a scenario that would make it easy for her to be seduced into a threesome but wanted it to be a romantic event—one night, but romantic. She was thinking more in terms of a quickie—get a room, get naked, fuck, and part. We agreed events would dictate the scenario. We were alert for opportunities: business trips, the guy who flirted with her at work, a repairman, but each time something wasn't right.

The anticipation was exciting, it make our sex rocket- good, almost every time we pretended that we were doing it with someone else.

So things went on like that for several weeks until we went to give blood.

We have this little tradition. Every nine or ten weeks, when we're going out, we stop at the Red Cross Donor Center, and we each give a unit of blood.

Last week we did that again. Jayne finished before me, an unusual occurrence. She sat waiting while I was finishing up.

When I went to meet her, I found her in deep conversation with a guy about 50. "Harry here got confused," Jayne explained. "He thought he last donated 9 weeks ago, but it's been only 7 (The Red Cross says no more often than every 8 weeks, boys and girls). It turns out he's given about as much as you have (50 units, a bit over 6 gallons)."

Harry noted, "I guess I don't do it as regularly as you guys—you're a hundred years younger than me, and you've given as much as I have. Tell you what: come over to my restaurant. The least I can do is replace the pound or so you each just lost."

It sounded like a great idea. Harry's restaurant was just off Charles Street, quiet, elegant, and pricy.

"This'll be my treat," he said.

So, we ate and drank and when dessert arrived Harry came over to join us.

Among other things we talked of our blood donating experiences. I reminded him of last year's joke, when one of the questions we had to answer to see if we were safe donors was "Had you traveled outside the US in the last year?" which was followed by "Have you been to the White House since 1992?"

Harry, who by now let us know he was a bachelor, told us giving blood usually meant he couldn't, as he put it, "be with a woman" that evening. "That's the only negative side effect."

"I had never noticed if that was a problem or not for me. Has it been, Jayne?" I wanted to know.

Her eyes were shining, as she said, "We usually don't do, uh, that, on days you give."

Click! There was a message that flashed between us. Who could be safer than a regular blood donor? Harry was handsome, even if he was a dozen years older than we were.

His house manager came over, and Harry, excusing himself, went off to attend to something in the restaurant which was now emptying. It was well after 9pm on a week day.

"Are you thinking of it being him?" I asked my wife as soon as he was away from the table.

"It could be him. He's nice—a confirmed bachelor—and kind of sexy.

And Bob, he's not the guy who gave blood today—you are!"

Harry came back. "I'm really enjoying the evening with you guys, but this place will be closing in another 15 minutes. Why don't we go out for a drink to finish off the night? It's easier on the staff if I'm not here when they're cleaning up, and you can buy, since you won't get a check for this meal."

You bet we went. There was a lounge a half block away.

We had a cocktail, and another. Those went right to my head. Jayne and Harry were deeply involved in a conversation I could hardly follow.

"How come," he asked, making me open my eyes (when did I close them?), "how come you don't dance with this wonderful woman as often as she would like you to?"

That's been a sore spot between us! She loves to, I don't.

"When I hold her, I'm not thinking about dancing," I, or the drink in me, offered as an excuse.

He looked at her. "I can understand that. Come on, we're going around the corner to Larry's Lounge. He has a group playing, and there's dancing there."

We did, and I watched my wife and Harry dance. After a half hour he came back with her. "Slow dancing with your wife makes me think about something other than dancing, too."

"Me, too," Jayne said.

I may have drunk too much, but I wasn't stupid. "Me, too, but I'm the guy who gave blood. Sorry, Jayne. The drinking has gone to my head."

That was a great big slow ball, just hanging there, waiting to be hit out of the park.

"Hey, why don't you guys come to my apartment? It's just over the restaurant. We can dance some more there, Jayne."

"I like that idea, can we go, Bob?" she asked, and I agreed: "Yeah, let's do that."

We walked back, Jayne between the two of us, all of us hand in hand. Her grip on my hand was pretty tight!

His apartment was bigger than our house! It must have been 2500 square feet. We were in the living /great room, me, on one of a pile of pillows in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth and a drink, Harry and Jayne dancing on the hardwood floor where he pulled back an oriental rug. Most of the light came from the fireplace, making their figures, moving there, very erotic.

It was slow dancing. Very slow. Uh, he was just holding her, hands moving up and down her back.

"If I give you another drink, Bob, can I kiss your wife?"

"Her kisses aren't for sale, Harry, they're way too valuable. But she might want to give a couple away. It's up to her."

'Her' made her decision. She stood on tiptoe, and they kissed. It looked a bit more than just a friendly peck, too. When did she take her shoes off, I wondered? And since when did a kiss mean he could drop his hands to her ass and press her pelvis to his?

They parted: Jayne's face looked red, more red than the from just the light from the fire place.

"This is a very seductive apartment, Harry," I said.

"I'll bet you're lucky with women here."

Looking at Jayne, not me, he said "Usually I am, yes."

"I don't think Jayne's been seduced in a long time" I said, "have you, Jayne?"

"No." She wasn't looking at me when she said it.

"Maybe Harry will remind you and me how it's done." That was another slow pitch.

"I brought other couples here, before," he said, understanding us too well. "Not too often though, maybe a half dozen times. Some, uh, guys are interested in learning how to seduce their wives again. I guess men feel comfortable when they see me with them."

He lead Jayne back to the pillows where I was, sat down, and pulled her so that she was sitting facing me, in front of him, between his outstretched legs.

It was really going to happen!

Jayne has hair a little longer than to her shoulders, and she was wearing it up, in a twist.

"I'd love to see your hair down" Harry said, and her hands went up to her head, and did that magic thing women can do, and in a moment her hair cascaded down to her shoulders.

He tilted his head, so that he could move closer to her ear. Jayne, feeling his movement, did an instinctive thing and tilted her head to the right, making her ear more accessible, and with her right hand reached up, and pulled her hair away to the back, exposing her ear and neck.

"It's so nice when you make it so easy for me," he said, and I watched with eyes becoming less alcohol glazed by the second as his mouth met her ear, at her eyes closing, her flushing, as her hands dropped to about his knees. I found out I had more than enough blood left to sustain an erection!

"You can't imagine how exciting it is for me to do this to a woman when her husband is watching" he muttered, while she was sitting more upright now, making it easier for him, as his mouth traced down from her ear, along her neck.

His arms reached around her, his left going to her belly, holding her to him.

He reached across her lap with his right hand, took her left hand, and his hand slid along hers, to her fingers.

His fingers searched for, and found, her ring finger, closed on it, on her wedding ring, and lifted it, and her hand, up, until it was at her breast. I watched as both of their hands moved over that mound—he knew, using that ring, that way, made it all the more erotic!

"It's exciting to have my husband watch this…"

His hand released hers, reached to her neck, and expertly undid a button, and another, until her blouse was undone to about her cleavage. Then, he reached up, and pulled at the collar to expose more neck, and shoulder. His mouth traced down that curve, helped by her lifting, making it easier for him.

I, a few feet in front of her, was sitting upright now, watching this, this, this seduction.

He kept one hand on her stomach, the other was pulling the blouse's collar to the side so he could enjoy her shoulder, now exposed beyond the straps of her bra and slip. He lifted his head to near her ear, and I heard him whisper "You can help, you know," before he bent lower again, to taste her shoulder.

Her own hands left his legs, and met at the buttons of her blouse. "I will help…"

She continued what he started, releasing button after button, and pulling the blouse from her skirt's waistband in front so that she could reach, and release, the last button.

He was pulling at the blouse now, getting it free of the skirt's waistband.

"Lean forward" he whispered, and she did, as he slid it down her arms, over her hands, and off.

She leaned back again, slip and bra partly concealing her upper body, but cleavage, the swell of her breasts above the skimpy bra, and the bumps marking her erect nipples were visible enough, erotic enough.

Harry released his hold on her, and did some pulling of his own, until the turtle neck shirt he was wearing was off.

He stood. "There's no graceful way to do this" he said, pulling Jayne to her feet, too.

"Help me." She did, and pulled at his tee shirt, so that, in a moment, that was off over his head, too.

Unlike most 50 year olds, Harry actually had ribs showing, and a lean, tanned body. He wasn't a middle aged specimen at all.

He knelt beside Jayne, and with both hands worked on her skirt's fastening.

But not for long. I saw a motion, and heard a zipper, then It fell, leaving her slip, bra, and pantyhose clad women in front of him.

He stood, and gathered her into his arms, and they began moving to the music again. This was more than preamble to a more serious dance. His hands, behind her, were lifting her slip, until it was hip high, exposing pantyhose.

He moved back a little so there was space between their bodies, and almost as though choreographed, he lifted his arms, still holding her slip, while she raised hers at the same speed, so that the slip he was holding moved along, turning inside out, and up her body, and then over her arms, over her head, and off.

Have you ever seen—have you ever even thought of seeing, your wife in pantyhose and a bra willingly standing in front of a man who intends to fuck her?

"Please?" he said.

She nodded, reached between her breasts, and released her bra's clasp.

She looked at me, and saw me nodding. Without ceremony she separated herself from the cups, and shrugged that garment off, its straps sliding down her arms, releasing for his view, and mine, her breasts, her erect nipples.

She, under his gaze, sank back to the floor. He, staring at her, opened his belt, unfastened his slacks, and slid both them and his briefs down his legs, and bending, got them and his socks off.

He may have been 50, but his erection looked like it belonged to a teenager—its throbbing with his pulse was visible. Why do erect penises look angry? His did, anyhow.

Both of us were looking at him—at his erection—while he kicked his slacks and socks and shorts away.

Then he was back among the pillows again, my wife in his arms.

I watched as he moved her, until she had a pillow under her hips, so that her body was bowed, pelvis high, now, in front of him.

"Jayne, Bob's a lucky man to have you for his wife" he said, moving, so that I could see her from the side. He moved to her feet, and reached along her legs, to her hips, to the hem of her pantyhose.

His fingers caught it. "You do want me to do this, don't you?"

"Yes." Was that my voice?

"You have to lift up a little, Jayne darling," he said, pulling a little. She looked to the side, to me, sitting five feet from her. She continued to look at me while she brought her feet up a little, got them flat on the floor, and lifted her hips.

She watched me as I watched the pantyhose slide over her hips, and down her legs, until her hips was back on the pillow and she gracefully extended her legs almost together, and pointing her toes, so he could pull them from her.

She was nude! Except for earrings and wedding ring.

"I think you're already ready, aren't you, Jayne darling?" he asked.

I saw her nod.

I watched, as she, with both feet to his left, brought her knees up, and somehow, with her knees almost together, got her feet a little apart, on either side of his knees, as he continued to kneel there.

I looked at her, nude, in front of him, his erection pointing at its target.

"This is what you wanted, the both of you, right?" he asked, as he put a hand on each of her knees, and spread them.

They parted, her legs wide, pelvis tilted, presenting herself, her cunt.

This was following her wishes for a quick experience.

She sat up a bit, reached to his wrists, grasped them, and laying down again, pulled him forward, over her, between her spread legs, over her hips.

He took her wrists, now, and reaching, held her hands to the floor above her head, stretching her…

He moved up, over her body, and I could see that cock brushing along her legs, her thighs, then at her pelvis.

I moved more towards Jayne's head. I wanted to see!

He stopped looking at Jayne's face, but instead looked at her pelvis, as she spread her legs even more, and he adjusted his position again, and again, and moved, and I saw his cock brushing along her pubic hair, saw her moving too, opening her legs, his erection searching, then moving to those lips, and he was pushing in…

Jayne's head went back—her mouth opened, as his hips flexed.

His cock, which had been fully exposed, disappeared into her.

He looked up at me, a savage grin on his face. As he withdrew to plunge again, exposing that shaft, glistening now, then ramming it home again, into her, her body held in this accepting position by him, by the pillow her hips were resting on, by him, holding her, stretching her.

He muttered, still looking at me, "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it?"

I nodded.

He looked down at Jayne.

"And you wanted him to watch, didn't you?"

He was being a pile driver, banging into her! Her body language helped—she was meeting his thrusts.

"You know I'm going to come in you, don't you? I'm going to fuck you and fill you up."

Jayne, looking at me, panting, said "I know that. Do it.

Use me!"

In a short time he released her hands. "I need you to masturbate me into you!"

One of her hands moved between them, capturing his cock, stroking it.

The other reached toward me, and found my hand.

His movements became slower, larger, longer.

Jayne sensed he was at the brink, and at least with me, often helped her to her own orgasm.

I held her hand tightly, as she, mouth open, face sweaty, met his moves, her legs bending now, lifting her hips higher.

His rhythm changed. There was a thrust: a holding of that position.

And another thrust.

And another.

"I'm feeling you with me!" he grunted, pushing in, as deeply as he could, and out, then in, again, his own back arching.

The times the shaft of his cock was exposed I could see her hand moving, as she stroked him, taking whatever his cock was offering.

His erect stiff body, over her, was shining now with sweat in the firelight.

His hip thrusts stopped—his chest sagged down, onto her breasts.

It was over.

I looked at the grandfather clock as it chimed the half hour. We had been here for only forty-five minutes.

That's all the time it took for us to change, forever, what had been a bond between us.

The two of them lay there, spent. So was I. Until, at last, Jayne, sweaty, and wet with more than sweat, struggled into her slip, her blouse and skirt.

"I hope you call when you're giving blood again" Harry said, still nude, sprawled on the floor, as we, hand in hand, but without bra and pantyhose, crept from that place.

Somehow we got home, and into bed.

"Was it what you thought it would be like?" Jayne asked.

"Yeah, it was," I told her.

"Yeah, not as good as I hoped, but still… " she said.

"Bad?" I wanted to know.

"No, not bad, not a turn off anyhow, I'm glad you were there to see us do that…"

"Yeah, it was more a turn on than a turn off. I liked watching you do that. You were as erotic as hell. I loved seeing him and you: it was beautiful!" Blood loss or not, I had a huge erection.

As I rolled onto her, and my cock found its home—where there was a guest cock not an hour earlier, Jayne whispered, "Next time, what I'll do, is… "