5 comments/ 25491 views/ 1 favorites Scratching a Seven Year Itch By: tonyjosie1 My husband is a wonderful lover. He was a wonderful lover the two years we lived together, and he continued to be during the five years we've been married. Two and five. Seven, as in seven year itch. We were having a nice luncheon out: it was Brad's suggestion, and I didn't know it was a set up. He wanted a place where neither of us would get overtly emotional. "We've been together for seven years," he said. "Are you bored with me?" I didn't expect the question, but the answer was easy: "Absolutely not. I love you!" I remembered a little of my psych training though and the word 'projection' came to mind, followed immediately by 'insecurity.' I had to ask: "What about you?" "Oh, uh, no. I mean, I love you too, you know that." "You didn't ask me about loving you," I reminded him. "You asked me about being bored." That opened the door to a discussion I suppose was important to have but very uncomfortable for me. No matter how he talked around the issue, I learned he was bored with the physical side of our marriage. "We always make love the same way," he finally told me. "It's nice, and I like having sex with you, making love with you, but sometimes I wish we'd do something different, act different, just for the excitement of it. I don't want to be a boring sex partner with you, and I guess I'd somehow like you to be more adventurous with me. " It wasn't as though we were keeping score but he reminded me he nearly always initiated love making, and I couldn't remember the last time I did. And he was right, we almost always made love – had sex – the same way. It was hurtful knowing my husband was at least a little bored with me as a sex partner, and it scared me. If he was bored, he might drift away. I mean, look at him: late thirties, tall, lean, handsome, a very successful manager in a high tech company. He'd be a prime target. "I want to be more exciting for you," I said. "More than wanting to be, I WILL be. But, you'll have to tell me if I'm going in the wrong direction, OK?" It probably wasn't the response he expected – I was prone to argue with him – but I got a big smile. "Sounds good! And I'll do the same for you, with the same provision. If you don't like it, speak up." We actually shook hands. Lunch ended, we did the several errands we had in mind, and got home about 4 PM that fateful Saturday. When we were inside I decided to follow a rule I my grandmother taught me: if I wanted something I never had, I would have to do something I've never done. I wanted an excited husband who wanted to be with me, and haven't had that for a long time, so I'd do something I hadn't done for a long time. I took Brad to our living room, sat him down, and fetched him a very dry martini. "What's the occasion?" he asked. It was unusual for me to do something like that for him. "The occasion is changing the way we do things. Remember our talk at lunch?" "Yes, but I thought we'd talk some more and figure out what to do." "Sorry honey," I told him. "The time for talking is over. Wait there." A few minutes later I returned wearing a night gown that hadn't seen the light of day in years. It was long, flowing, mostly translucent I and know Brad loved me to wear it. Why had I kept it in the back of the closet? I pushed him back, yanked at his shoes and socks, pants and briefs. He helped and pulled off his shirt. And there he was, mostly erect. I leaned over his center, teased that penis with soft kisses, softer strokes, and watched it grow and harden. I lifted his scrotum, kissed under there, then moved up along that shaft, finally reaching its head. I opened wide and sucked him in. His moans were delicious to hear: he was not a bored husband any more! "Remember what we said" – he was talking hoarsely – "about telling each other if we were going in the wrong direction?" Was he saying he didn't like this? I stopped, looked up at him. "I remember." "I'm warning you, I'll give you two hours to stop what you're doing." I laughed, and went back to work. It didn't take two hours. When we got to our bedroom later he tore the negligee from my body: he had never done that before! Sunday morning found us awaking in each other's arms. "We may have found a way of deferring a seven year itch," Brad told me. I snuggled against him: "Good. I like being married to you, it's worth working for." "You satisfied me last night," he said, "next it will be my turn to satisfy you." "Uh, last night satisfied me, too," I reminded him, then held up a torn garment, "but if that's what's going to happen, I'm going to have to buy night gowns by the gross." We laughed over that, and I was feeling good about avoiding a potential problem in our marriage. Then came Sunday evening, and a surprise to me. "Tonight, I do you," was Brad's declaration. "Oh, promises, promises," I told him: "show me what you got, fella." I was expecting Brad to be aggressive, for this to be rough sex. Not that he'd hurt me, but I was sure at the end of the night I'd know I had been fucked. "Get naked, woman, and get under that sheet." I was right, this was going to be a little on the rough side, and I was thinking it was so different from our usual love making, and I was ever so ready for him to handle me and just pour his passion into me. And I couldn't have been more wrong about his intentions. Our room was only dimly lit. Brad pulled off his pajamas – gee, he had an erection, what a surprise. He moved under the sheet, but didn't touch me: not yet, anyhow. "Close your eyes." I did. "Stretch out, hands over your head, tall under that sheet." I did that too: there was a luxury in doing that, being nude under the sheet, expecting sex. "Clear your mind, think of a white sheet, like the one you're under." I did that too. "OK" Brad said. "Now trust me on what's going to happen next: nod if you do." I did. "I remember you telling me about your fling with Frank," he said. Frank? I did remember telling him about Frank, a month or so full of passion and sex and not much else. I once told Brad about him and Brad got angry and jealous, even though it happened long before he and I fell in love and committed to each other. Now he wants me to remember Frank? I did remember Frank, big, strong, bodybuilder Frank. Oh, I remembered all right. "OK, remember his face, do that now. Don't worry about me; I want to use his memory too." Frank. Blond, blue eyes, and I remembered his tan, and the skimpy white band around his hips from where he wore his Speedo posing briefs, and what he looked like when those briefs were off. That white triangle, that darker hair, that erection: is that what Brad wanted me to remember? Frank. I realized I was biting my lips, then I heard my husband say something else. "I want you to remember the first time he saw you nude, like the way you are now. . . was he naked too that first time?" I was biting my lip harder, but nodded my head. "Good. Now I want you to remember how you looked at him, and how he looked at you. Can you remember that?" Oh, could I ever! I nodded again, remembering how big he looked, how his penis was straight out, how I was over him, how naked and sexy I felt. . . "When you have that image in mind, especially I want you to remember how excited he was, and you were, when you remember that I want you to uncover yourself. I want you to kick that sheet off. I want you to want to show me what he saw." I remembered wanting him, worried that he was so big and strong that he might hurt me, but wanting him anyhow. I started moving under the sheet, kicking it off, feeling it move across my breasts, and down, until it was all at my feet. It was almost involuntary, I reached out, still with my eyes closed, and felt Brad's hip, then moved my hand over until I was holding his cock. I could feel Brad's fingers moving on my own hip, down between my legs, and I moved my legs apart so he's have access to me, and I could feel his fingers right there, getting wet, just playing with me. "So sexy, he muttered." "Oh, that's nice," I told him, wanting him to do more. "Did he go down on you?" I remembered that he did and tilted my hips up for Brad's fingers. "Touch me, honey." I was almost pleading with him. "Cathy, I can imagine you did more than just hold Frank's cock. Show me what you did to it." Eyes still closed, I rolled toward him, took him in my mouth. Brad's voice was magical, so were his fingers, and I orgasmed within a minute or two. Brad moved away then, and I heard him whisper "Were you pretending to suck on Frank? That's what I wanted you to do." I was, and I nodded a yes. "Good. Keep that in mind." I nodded again. "Pretend you just went down on him, and that you're really sexy. If you did that, I'd want to kiss you. Would you kiss me?" he asked. I reached toward his voice, found his head, pulled it to me, to my mouth, and then came the rough sex I had expected. Brad had not kissed me as hard or as deeply as that ever, and he rolled onto me, pressed into me. I was ready for him. It was at least a two orgasm night, and there could have been a couple of smaller ones that slipped in, too. Much later I had to ask him: "What made you think about Frank?" He told me he enjoyed looking at me in bed, and began thinking about other lovers I might have had, and how he was sure they remembered me too, remembered looking at me, touching me, entering me, "and thinking about that turned me on," he told me. Brad, when we were first going together, was the most up-tight and jealous man and he resented any man who he thought looked at me a second or two too long. "I tried to never talk about them" I told him, "because I knew how possessive you were. What's changed?" "Cathy, I guess I feel a lot more secure about you than I used to, that's what changed." "You never had a reason not to trust me, Brad," I reassured him. "And I know that now. That's why I felt comfortable and secure enough to ask you to remember a time when you were feeling really sexy. It worked. Didn't it?" I didn't answer with words, just rolled over and kissed him again. We fell asleep holding each other that night, feeling each other's warm body and feeling each other's love. A week or so later we were having a nice dinner out, happy with our lives. "Have you noticed," I asked my husband, "how well our new life is working?" "Can't you tell? I can't get the smile off of my face," he reminded me. "I noticed another thing. Brad, when we decided to change things, we agreed if one of us was going too far, the other one was supposed to say so?" "I remember that was part of the deal." "I never told you to back off." "And I didn't ever tell you to, either," he said. "Maybe we're a lot more open to ideas than either of us thought. Does that mean we're pretty far from any limits?" "Guess so." "Want to go father, to push the envelope?" "Maybe, Brad. I'm a happy woman, and I want you to be a happy man." I breathed a big sigh: "we do have a full and rich life, don't we?" "You betcha." There was a pause, then he added "You know, I'd like to go home now. I want your body." "That sounds like a proposition. What kind of a woman do you think I am?" I said as we got up to go. "The kind who responds to my propositions," he told me as he held the restaurant door open for me. "I have a confession to make," he said when we had gotten into bed, the lights low, and I was ready to make love. My heart nearly stopped. He wasn't going to tell me he had an affair, was he? Were the last few weeks a preamble to this, a testing of the waters for a confession? "Go on," I said, frightened. "Oh, it's nothing bad – at least I don't think so," he told me, sensing my mood and maybe my fear. "Go on," I said again, just a little less worried. "I've been thinking about how you responded when I asked you to think about Frank." He had rolled on his side, looking at me "You do remember how I asked you think to about Frank when I wanted to drive you nuts?" "Yes, of course. . ." I was still feeling cautious. "I've been thinking of how that would have been, what it must have been like for him." "I thought you were asking me to do that for my benefit." "It started that way, but it turned out it was for my benefit too. In fact. . ." He went quiet. "Go on," I prompted him. "You never told me the whole story, and I wish you would, about meeting him and – oh, I don't know, getting seduced, or maybe seducing him. It would turn me on, knowing what happened. Would you be comfortable telling me about it?" I didn't know how to answer that. "What could I do to persuade you?" he wanted to know. "Brad, that's so personal and intimate, and it happened so long ago. I mean, how would you respond if I asked you to tell me about a time when you were with someone else, when you were feeling really sexy toward another woman? Wouldn't you be at least uncomfortable and maybe embarrassed to do that?" He thought for a moment or two and then agreed it would be embarrassing to talk about that. I thought that ended the conversation until he added "But if that's what you wanted me to do, if that was the pro quo to the quid I asked for, I'd do it." "You want to know what happened that badly?" "Yeah, I hope it's sexy and erotic." I looked at my husband beside me, his penis tenting the sheet, erect, waiting. Oh, what happened was sexy and erotic all right. I started feeling that I wanted to be trashy. "You don't know what you're asking for." "Yes I do," he assured me. Not only was I feeling as though I wanted to be trashy for him, I was starting to feel more powerful than ever, more in control. And I liked it. "I'll tell you about it, but only under one condition." "What's that?" "You have to do what I say." That was something different, way different from what I've ever asked before. "What's the matter, don't you trust me?" I asked. He said nothing for what seemed to be forever, then nodded yes. "I do trust you, and I agree. I will do what you say." "Uncover yourself – get out from under that sheet," I demanded. He did and he was hard and erect. I sat up in the bed, looking at him. "You'll have to prove to me what I tell you excites you." He looked at me and asked in a small, almost humble voice: "how?" "Hold your penis," I said. His fingers surrounded it. "I know you masturbate: all men do that. I want you to masturbate while I tell you. If you cum I'll stop talking and I'll never play these games with you again. But you have to masturbate the whole time. That's what I want. Then, at the end, I'll help you cum." "But. . ." he started to say, but I hushed him and told him there was no negotiation, that was the way it was going to be, starting now. I waited a moment, then he said "OK, I'm ready," and his hand began moving on his cock. So that's how a man masturbates, I thought. "Don't interrupt," I said. "This is my story, told my way." I had more power now than I think I ever did in this relationship. "I met Frank when I was taking a graduate course at night after my divorce. "He was taking the same course, and he seemed like a really nice guy. He was quiet, he asked intelligent questions, and he was kind of cute. He wore really loose fitting clothes. He seemed fit and moved in an athletic way, but there was no hint of what he was really like. "We chatted a few times during coffee break in class, and then during the third class he asked me to get a bite to eat with him when class was over. "I did, and he was a charming man and lots of fun. We started talking about hobbies. I told him I liked to write, paint a little, those sorts of things. "'I do body building mostly' he told me. " 'Body building, like muscles and posing and like that?' " "'Exactly' he said. He even told me there was an amateur competition in a month that he and a buddy had entered. "Maybe, if you want you, you'd like to attend and see what it's like," he said. "'We'll start really hard training a week before, we train hard, then dehydrate ourselves to get better muscle definition.' " "I told him I'd like to go to the competition but I knew nothing about that sport. " 'There's not much to know, it's kind of a beauty contest for men. If we look good, we win.' " I watched Brad; he was stroking himself just as I had ordered him to. He was getting off on the story. "Then Frank had an idea. In a half an hour his training buddy – 'Bill's a heavyweight, I'm in the middleweight division' he told me – was coming to his house to work on posing and chorography, and maybe I'd like to see what it was like behind the scenes. "I had the time," I told my husband, "so I told Frank I'd like to do that. "I followed him in my car to his house. Nice house, well kept. I didn't think bachelors often lived the way Frank did. I pulled in behind his Buick. His buddy was already there, standing beside his own car. 'You're a little late, Frank, but I see you brought a girlfriend, so that's OK.' "Frank told him I was an audience not a girlfriend, 'at least not yet, but I'm hoping' he told his buddy with a smile when he introduced me. Bill was a funny man. 'You're too good for him,' he told me, 'you'll have to be my girl friend, but after this competition. I think we'll both be focusing hard on the contest for now.' I told him I was already warned. "We went into the house. Frank had a den/workout room and it was equipped like an upscale gym. He and Bill left me there with a glass of juice ('nothing stronger than that in this house for now,' Frank told me) while he and Bill changed into their posing briefs. "They came back into the room wearing these tiny Speedo briefs. God, what bodies! Frank said he was a middleweight and he was big and broad, and Bill was all the bigger. I never suspected what was under those loose clothes. They very lightly oiled themselves with baby lotion, then almost danced under the lights, worrying about how 'defined' their muscles were. They worked on helping each other: 'Bend over more, Frank, turn a little more this way', before they were satisfied. "'We're going to each lose about 10 pounds of water the last couple of days before the contest, it really makes a difference' Frank explained as he stroked his stomach: 'that makes our abs really stand out.' Those abs didn't need to stand out any more than they did! "Bill gathered up his things, -- 'I'll shower at home' he said, 'and I have a busy day tomorrow. I hope to see you again, Cathy, Frank told me you might come to the pose down.' "Then he left, and I was alone with Frank. Brad looked like he knew what I was going to tell him next: he was breathing thought his mouth, and he was really gripping at the head of his cock to prevent himself from ejaculating. I have to confess I felt really powerful then. "Want me to go on with the story, husband?" I heard a raspy "yes" from him. "OK. Frank asked if I enjoyed the show as much as he enjoyed showing off his body, and I told him I really did. "So he dimmed the lights a little bit, there was only one bright light and that was focused on him, and he struck one pose after another. " 'Come on over here with me,' he said, and I did. "'Stand behind me, and press on my back a little, OK?' he asked. "I wanted to touch him, so I did. His skin was so smooth, and the muscles on his back were spectacular: good looking and even better to touch. "He took my hands, Brad, and moved them around him so I was almost hugging him, my hands were on his chest and belly. The oil he used was mostly gone, but his skin felt like it was on fire. "He told me that felt good, that he wanted me to hold him, and I was honest with him, I told him he felt good too. He had his back turned to me, and I thought I could get away with something. I moved a little closer and jut barely kissed his back. I had forgotten about all of the mirrors along the wall. He saw what I did. He guided my hands up and down, going from chest to belly. 'Like that,' he said. Scratching a Seven Year Itch "He stuck another pose where he held his hands in front of him and pulled, and his back seemed to expand into a triangle: it was awesome! And I was rubbing him, chest, sides, belly, then back up again, out along his arms, down across his belly, enjoying it, it was so sexy. I watched us in the mirror in front of Frank, and let my little finger go low enough to feel the waistband of his Speedo briefs, Brad. Do you think that was sexy?" Oh, there was no doubt my husband thought so. "Frank told me I could touch any part of him, Brad, and the next time I let my hands move lower I let them go onto his brief's waistband. "He told me those briefs were getting too tight for him. I could see in the mirror his penis pushing against the fabric, it looked so big and so confined I thought it had to be hurting him. I reached down and touched him there. Knowing what I was doing and seeing my hand do that in the mirror was so sexy, so I raised my hand again to the waistband and pushed my fingers under it. Honey, are you ready to know what kind of a woman I was then? I told him if they were too tight he should take them off. "He pushed them down and stepped out of them, and I could see it all in the mirror, there was this white band where he wasn't tanned, and his, his cock, and it was erect – very erect, and it looked so big. My hand was on his belly, and he took it and pushed it down until I was touching his cock! "Then turned around and just picked me up like I weighed nothing, and carried me to his bedroom. We both undressed me, honey, we got on the bed and kissed and touched, and I was scared about his penis's size. It wasn't giant or anything, but it looked thick and the end of it, the head, looked wide. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Brad nodded, his hand gripping the end of his penis: it looked like he was really holding it tight. "What happened then?" he asked. "After a while he said he wanted to be in me, and I told him I was a little scared of doing that with him, of having sex with him. He said he understood that, but he knew what to do. He rolled onto his back. 'Get on me,' he said, "get over me, and you control everything, how much, how fast, everything.' "I never did anything like that before, but I squatted over him, and he was so gentle, moving that, that thing along me, along my lips, and after a while its head started pressing into me. I lowered myself on it, then lifted, and lowered again, and it kept spreading me, until, until," Brad was stroking himself so fast his hand was a blur! ". . .until he was all the way into me, and he rolled us both over, and it was wonderful sex. It wasn't love, Brad, I promise you that, but at that time and that place it was what I needed and wanted." "And now you are want I want and need." Brad had not touched me, but he got on me and found me wet and ready, and I got what I wanted and needed. So did Brad. Four nights later – that is, four nights and three fuck sessions later --, Brad and I were having a quiet dinner out, and the conversation --what a surprise -- turned to sex. "What you told me before, about that fling with Frank? That was so sexy. I don't think many people have ever had an experience as erotic at that." "It was sexy," I agreed. He noticed a hesitation. "Is there more?" "We were sort of a couple that month, stayed together most nights, Brad. Then it was getting close to the time he had to get ready for the contest, and he told me he didn't want to have sex for that week 'But boy, watch out after the pose down' he said, because withholding sex made him stronger. "It was a long week for both of us. I really did like sleeping with him, having sex with him, and I missed the excitement. I did go the contest. Frank came in third in his division, and Bill scored a second in the heavyweights. They both won trophies. "And, it wasn't too much longer after that we broke up." "I'd like to know what caused the two of you to break up," Brad said. "I like that you had good sex with him, and I'm glad you're with me now, but whatever it was that made you part ways, I want to avoid it." "Don't worry," I told my husband. "That was long ago and far away – you couldn't get rid of me." It was also a way of changing the subject. That was a part of my life I didn't want to revisit. We got home and into bed, and it was sex time again for us. Brad was remembering our conversation at dinner. "You have to tell me what happened. Did Frank get too rough? I know something happened and I'm going to tease you and hold you on the edge of an orgasm until you tell me." Brad knew my body all too well: he got me hot and was able to hold me there for what seemed like an hour, teasing and playing my body like an instrument. "I think it was rough sex, and I don't like that he hurt you," he said. "It wasn't that," I told him as I pushed his head back down so his tongue could get back to work. "What then?" he asked, between exquisite licks. "Brad, I did something I wasn't proud of, and figured out it was time to change. "Was it a sexy something?" Ooh, he was getting close – both to my middle and my orgasm and the truth. "Finish what you're doing and I'll tell you," I said. He did. He got me off and he was still hard and needing release and I was sure what I was going to tell him would make him cum. "Hold your cock again, like you did that other time," I said. I sat up and he lay on his back, holding himself, and I started talking. "Here's what happened. "After the contest, after the awards when Bill and Frank got their trophies, it was time to leave. I really wanted to get back to Frank's house, I wanted him! The guys changed into sweat pants and tee shirts – God, they looked good – and we left." Brad was really getting excited. I think he suspected what was coming! "Frank and Bill wanted to celebrate a little bit, so we stopped for a drink or two. They both were drinking a lot of water because they were so dried out, and we had a couple of cocktails, too. Those drinks got them worried; the cocktails affected both of them. "Frank asked me to drive all of us to his house, and I did. "When we got to his place he opened beers for all of us because he said they were each about a gallon low on fluids. "Anyhow, we were all sitting in the den, and Frank told Bill he had been working on body shaping with me for the last month too. That was true, we were working out together, and it was starting to show on me. "'She's been working at posing, too. You should see her,' Frank said. "'She's been ogling our bodies, it would only be fair if we got to look at hers,' Bill said, and Frank agreed. "And I had enough to drink so I agreed. I went and changed into a posing bikini that Frank bought for me. When I came out to the den I saw that Frank had dimmed most of the lights except the one he used to practice posing, so I went there and started the little routine Frank taught me. "It was light enough in the room so I could see their reactions. They were both smiling, enjoying the show, but wearing sweats or not, I could tell they had erections, and they weren't trying to hide them. I liked having that reaction on my man. By the way, I still do, Brad." He was really gripping his cock hard! "After a minute or two Frank asked me to go sit with them. Brad, I knew what was going to happen if I did that, if I went to that sofa and sat down." Brad was gripping the end of his penis so he wouldn't cum! "Did you, did you go sit with them, the two of them?" I decided I didn't want to lie. "I did." "And what happened?" I could see his grip tighten on his cock. I reached over and took his hand away. I looked at my husband – he was staring at me, breathing through his mouth, panting. "Do you want me to tell you, or show you?" "Show me!" "OK, Brad, you asked for it. I did this to both of them." I bent over his penis, kissed it, and sucked him in. He came, he ejaculated, in what seemed like three seconds! "And after a while," I told him, "all of us went into the bedroom, and it didn't take long for them to get hard again, Brad. Will it take you long, Brad, to get hard? I had sex with both of them until they weren't hard any more. We didn't sleep much that night, Brad. Is that what you wanted to know?" It was. He didn't get very hard right away, but he got hard enough, and I used my husband the same way I used Frank and Bill that night. "What a night," Brad said when sunlight filled our bedroom the next morning. "What a hot woman you were." "I broke up with Frank after that, Brad. I didn't like what I became. It was just sex, there was never any real love the way you and I love each other." "That's too bad," he said, "that there wasn't any love there. But maybe if there was, we wouldn't be together." "That's right," I agreed, and snuggled against my man. I could feel him hardening. "Are you having sexy ideas, Brad? Are you planning to have your way with me again?" He chuckled a little, ground his pelvis into my back side, and said "You bet." It was a luxurious feeling and I loved it, I loved making my husband want me! "I'm thinking," Brad whispered, "that I'm a little out of shape. Maybe I should start going to a gym. What do you think?" "That would be a good thing for you to do," I agreed, a little puzzled by the change in subject. "Maybe do a little body building, too." I thought about how he would look with fifteen pounds of muscle on his lean frame. "That would be good, too. You'd look great." I could feel his erection was growing when he asked "Would you train with me?" "Sure. We'd both be healthier, and our sex making would never get boring again," I said. "Mmmm," he said. "There's one other thing, that would really motivate me to do that." "Whatever it is, I'll do what I can to motivate you." "Good! Because, Cathie, in three or four months I'd going to be a lot more fit, right?" "Sure." "And you will be, too, right?" "We both will be, that's right." "Cathy. Would you mind if I found a training partner, like Frank did? Just like Frank did?" I went rigid for a moment, and then rolled over, facing my husband. I wanted to see his eyes, I wanted to be sure of what he was saying and meaning. "You mean, so it would be like Frank and Bill?" "Except," he said, "there is love in this relationship. It isn't just sex." I rolled onto my back and pulled my husband onto me, and reached between us, found his erection, and moved it where it belonged. He slid right into me, spreading my already lubricated cavity, and began moving in me in that wonderful rhythm he has. My mind went back to sitting on the sofa between Frank and Bill, and the way Frank positioned me so I was in his arms, with my legs on Bill's lap, and how Frank kissed me, and I could feel Bill every so softly caressing my legs. I remembered how, after a moment, Frank stopped kissing me long enough to tell me to bridge a little, then while he was kissed me again how I lifted my hips up a few inches, and felt Bill's fingers on my hips, hooking into my posing briefs, and drawing them over my legs. I remembered how, being in Frank's arms, we both watched big strong Bill move so he could, softer than I could imagine anyone that strong doing, go down on me. And I could remember how exiting that was, watching and feeling that with my boyfriend, and how Frank pulled at my top and I helped him get that off over my head, so I was naked on the sofa. I closed my eyes and remembered how Bill stood up and shed his tee shirt and sweat pants, how erect he was, and how he got between my legs. I opened wide for him, letting him in, and we watched, me in my boyfriend's arms, as Bill entered me. Oh, I remembered that, and the rest of the night, tasting both penises, one wet with my juices, the other one that soon would be, and how erotic it was to have those two men make lust at me for hours. I remembered all of that, and looked at my husband. "What you just asked me?" He nodded; he was already covered with a sheen of sweat as he stoked in me. I leaned up to kiss him and just before our lips met I said "that would be fine with me."