3 comments/ 31678 views/ 10 favorites The Love You Make By: theo_minor My co-worker Jim stopped by my desk one afternoon. "Hey, Chuck," he began, "I know how big a Beatles fan you are. I scored four tickets to the McCartney concert next month. You and Amy want to join us?" "Oh, man, Jim -- absolutely! Wow! I really appreciate you thinking of us!" "Hey, no problem! Pay me when you can, and we'll see you there!" "Great! Man. . . thanks a lot!" ***** That was just like Jim, thinking about me while he was scoring some choice tickets for himself. He was a really good guy. But also a bit of a wild man. He and I are about the same age, and we came to work for the company at about the same time. I got married to my wife Amy pretty quickly after starting work, but Jim remained single -- he enjoyed his status as a 'swinging bachelor' too much to 'settle down'. In the early days, Jim and I used to go on business trips together fairly often -- a few times a year, at any rate -- and traveling with Jim was always an adventure. One time, after we had dinner together, Jim invited me to go bar-hopping with him, but homebody that I was, I passed. A couple hours later, a knock came on my door. It was Jim, with two women -- two very well-endowed and provocatively-clad women -- inviting me to join them for some extra-curriculars in his room. "Come on, man," he urged, with a grin. "I promise I won't tell Amy." Tempting as it was, I still declined. And then I got to listen to Jim's threesome through the wall, punctuated with shrieks and groans and orgasmic wails, for the rest of the night. But I sure appreciated him offering me the tickets, and I looked forward to being at the concert with him. ***** When I got home from work that evening, I told Amy about Jim's generosity, but she was less excited by it than I was. "Oh," she said, "you know I'm not a huge Beatles fan like you are. I'll go with you if you want, but you'd probably have more fun with someone else. Why don't you ask Rob?" Now, Rob is my best friend in all the world. We met each other as randomly-assigned dorm roommates when we were both college freshmen. Things just clicked between us, and we've been great friends ever since. When Amy and I got married, Rob was my best man. When Rob married his wife Stacy a year later, I returned the favor. And ever since, our families have been close. We even ended up living on the same block, and had our kids about the same time, too. Rob, though, wasn't much more interested in the concert than Amy was. "You know who'd love to go with you, though?" "Who?" "Stacy. She actually saw the Beatles in concert when she 14." I paused. Had I really heard my best friend suggest that I take his wife on a date to a McCartney concert? "Really, Rob? You want me to take Stacy?" "Sure! She'd love it! And the two of you would have a great time together. It's not like I'm gonna be jealous of you. I just look at it as my wife and my best friend having a good time together." "OK!" I said. "But I should probably clear it with Amy first." When I asked Amy, she was even more enthusiastic than Rob had been. "What a great idea!" she enthused. "The two of you will both love the concert, and you'll get to share it with someone who loves it, too! Go ahead -- take Stacy to the concert, and the two of you have fun!" Okay, then; that was easy. When I finally offered the ticket to Stacy, asking her to accompany me to the concert, she was overjoyed. Instantly, she was jumping up and down and shrieking with joy. She jumped into my arms, even wrapping her legs around me as she thanked me, which put me in the slightly awkward position of holding my best friend's wife by her ass, while she pressed her groin against mine, with her husband and my wife standing there watching, and laughing at her reaction. ***** Stacy is a really neat lady, outgoing and bubbly. She's a perfect complement to Rob's more conservative ways. I knew as soon as she and Rob started dating, that they were a good match, and she'd do a good job of keeping him from getting too uptight. At their wedding, Stacy wore a low-cut dress that displayed her décolletage very admirably. And, allow me to say, Stacy has magnificent tits. Not so huge as to be cartoonish, but they are big. Really big. I have often teased Rob (out of earshot of our wives) over his good fortune in marrying such a well-endowed woman. And he only ever grins in response. So I spent much of their wedding gazing appreciatively at the tops of her breasts as they bulged out of her dress, while Stacy smiled coyly at my attentiveness. I almost felt bad for the poor clergyman, who had to stammer out the vows and the ceremony, with Stacy's half-moons staring him full in the face. Perhaps he and his wife had some fun later that evening. Just about every year since we've been married, we've gone on vacation together. They've got a cabin in the woods, on a lake, and we'll take the kids up -- we've got three, they've got four -- and just all cram into the cabin together. The kids sleep in an open loft, and there are two bedrooms on the main floor, for the parents. It's a lovely setting, serene and relaxing, and we always come home refreshed. Of course, there was always the question of what to do with the kids, vis-à-vis the sex lives of their parents, especially once the kids got old enough to stay up late. The four of us worked out a system -- every day, one of the couples would take the kids on a 'nature walk' for an hour or so, so the other couple could have some 'conjugal time'. That way, in the course of a week, each couple could have sex together at least three times. Amy and I would always make a joke of cutting our walks just a little bit short, to try to catch Rob and Stacy still 'in the throes', and listen in on their final orgasmic groans. It was really just harmless fun, and we only 'caught' them a few times. But it always turned Amy and me on a little extra, when we did. I don't know if they ever did the same to us. . . ***** The day of the concert finally arrived. Amy went with me to Rob and Stacy's house, to see us off, then she and Rob were going to grill out for dinner, with the kids, who by that time were all teenagers. It was about an hour's drive to the arena, and we aimed to get there pretty much when the doors opened, so we wouldn't have to rush around trying to find our seats at the last minute. We waved to Rob and Amy and the kids as we pulled the minivan out of the driveway, and we were on our way (I chuckled to myself at the idea of going to a rock concert in a minivan, but whatcha gonna do?) During the drive down, we talked excitedly about the concert, and what we anticipated it would be like -- which songs would he play? What would the crowd be like? Stacy regaled me with stories from the time she saw the Beatles, when she was 14, and I told her about seeing Wings when I was in college. Stacy was looking good -- she wore a pale yellow scoop-neck T-shirt that brought back memories of her wedding dress, at least in terms of the view of her cleavage it afforded me; and it was tight enough to give a really nice presentation of her biggest and best assets. She also wore some jean shorts that showed her legs and ass to nice advantage, without being overly provocative (but just provocative enough). Being very happily married to Amy, I wasn't in the habit of checking out other women in very great detail, but I had to admit -- for a 40-something woman, Stacy still looked really good. When we got to the arena, I parked the minivan in a far corner of the parking lot, shaded by some trees. Then we walked across the parking lot, handed our tickets to the usher at the door, and went in to find our seats. The atmosphere in the arena was like Stacy and me, times 20,000 -- everyone in the building was buzzing with excited energy. When we found our seats, Jim and his date Debbie were already there. We had great seats -- on the floor, maybe fifteen rows from the stage. Leave it to Jim to get the best seats I'd ever had for a concert. It was still nearly two hours before the concert was to start, so we settled into our seats and just relaxed into the pre-concert ambience. Jim looked at me strangely, and I realized that it must look odd to him for me to have a date who wasn't Amy, so I explained the whole scenario to him. "Cool," he said. Then, he introduced himself to Stacy, saying, "This is gonna be a great concert." Stacy nodded eagerly in reply. "Thanks for getting the tickets," she said. Jim's date Debbie was short, blond and vivacious, and at least ten years younger than the rest of us. In short, she was Jim's 'type'. She had a nice pair of tits all by herself, which were only restrained by a thin T-shirt, through which I could make out the shadows of her areolae. Her tight, round ass was wrapped in a pair of jogging shorts, from which her lithe, firm legs stretched down to the floor. I figured I was going to enjoy sharing the concert with her, too. Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag with four joints in it. He looked questioningly at Stacy and me. It had been a long time since I'd last gotten high -- certainly since before I had kids, probably even before Amy and I got married. But it was a McCartney concert, after all, and nostalgia -- especially 60s nostalgia -- was a big part of the fun of it. I turned to Stacy and raised a questioning eyebrow. She was grinning. "Thanks!" she said, as she accepted the proffered joints. "I haven't toked up in years," she said. "This'll really take me back, I'm sure! I was quite the pot-smoker in my college days, you know." I grinned at Jim and shrugged. "Thanks," I said. "This is some pretty strong stuff," he said. "Enjoy!" As we lit our joints and began to savor the sweet, aromatic smoke, I almost immediately settled into a mellow, happy buzz. I hadn't been stoned in many a year, so maybe I was more of a lightweight than I used to be, but as far as I was concerned, Jim's appraisal of the quality of the weed was absolutely accurate. Stacy agreed. "Oh, man, this is good stuff," she enthused. "Rob would throw a fit if he knew I was smoking weed, but I remember this feeling. . . You won't tell him, will you?" "Your secret's safe with me," I assured her. "Although," I chuckled, "I don't know that he'd be any happier with me, knowing that I was toking up with you." We both lapsed into a momentary fit of giggling. Once our joints were burned down to tiny roaches, we settled into our seats to savor the mellow buzz. Stacy stood abruptly. Grabbing her purse, she headed up the aisle stairs. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder. "I've got to use the bathroom." "Hurry back," I called after her. When Stacy returned, my eyes nearly fell out of my head. I don't know what else she may have done while she was in the bathroom, but she had clearly removed her bra. Her large, full tits bounced and jiggled freely, and her nipples raised little bumps in the fabric. She giggled as she showed me her purse, with the bra tucked inside, as confirmation. "If Debbie can go without her bra tonight, so can I! Besides," she chuckled, "If we're gonna go back to the 60s tonight, I want to go ALL the way back, and FEEL like we're in the 60s. You don't mind, do you? "Uh, no -- not at all," I responded, trying to be just a little bit subtle about enjoying the view of her bounteous tits. "I'm glad you're having a good time." "The night is young, Chuck. We're just getting started." I had never seen Stacy like this -- she was bouncing like a giddy schoolgirl, and her tits were bouncing along with her. As far as I'd ever known her, she was every bit the proper wife and mother. Perhaps her youth had been a bit wilder than I'd known. Jim shot me a quizzical glance, like 'this is your buddy's wife?' Or, 'are you the same guy who turned down an orgy back in the day?' I just shrugged and smiled. ***** Finally, Paul and the band took the stage. They began with 'Hello, Goodbye' -- "You say goodbye, and I say hello" -- which, I thought, was just about the perfect opening number. And after that, the show was on, and all the old familiar tunes that I'd grown up singing, filled the arena. With one ear, I heard the band; with the other, I heard the crowd singing along. Between the music and the mellow buzz of the weed, I was being transported back in time. "Close your eyes and I'll kiss you. . ." McCartney sang, and the audience shrieked with recognition. I turned to look at Stacy, and she had turned toward me, her head leaned back and her eyes closed, her lips pursed, asking to be kissed. I smiled; she really was getting into this. So, playing along, I bent down to kiss her. "I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am missing. . ." I thought of Amy, back home with the kids. Maybe if I just pretend that I'm kissing Amy. . . But once my lips touched hers, Stacy threw her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately, her tongue probing inside my mouth, searching for my tongue, intertwining with it. For a second, I was taken aback, but then, in my own buzz, I gave in and returned her kiss in kind. For the rest of the song, we kissed and held each other passionately. "Thank you," Stacy breathed, once the song had finished. "Uh, no. . . thank YOU!" I replied. "Helter skelter! . . ." When the band jumped into the frenzied opening chords, the crowd went wild, jumping to its feet, bouncing up and down. Both Debbie and Stacy were happily bouncing in place, their tits flopping up and down as they did. Suddenly, Debbie reached down, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and raised it over her head, flashing her tits to the band, swaying back and forth as her fully-tanned breasts, tipped with reddish-brown nipples, leapt and bounced. For an instant, Paul seemed to make eye contact with her from the stage, and shoot her a wink. When Debbie had replaced her shirt, she turned to Stacy. "Come on, Stacy!" she urged the older woman. "Show him your tits!" Stacy demurred, but Debbie persisted. "Come on, you can do it! It's fun! And the guys will love it!" Stacy flushed red, then grinned to herself. "Oh, what the hell. . ." she said, and raised the hem of her shirt over her head as Debbie had done. For several seconds, I watched the most amazing tits I'd ever seen bouncing and jiggling in time to the beat, swaying now in one direction, now in another, dancing and jumping crazily. When she finally put her shirt back down, I could swear that Paul, from the stage, winked at her, and gave her a thumbs-up. "Oh my god!" Stacy shrieked. "He gave me a thumbs-up! Paul McCartney likes my tits!" She turned and kissed me deeply, grinding her pelvis against mine. This was turning into a VERY memorable night. . . "Only my love does it good to me. . ." For the quieter love ballads, we sat back down in our seats. The whole ambience of the concert (and maybe the marijuana fog that was now filling the arena almost as much as our own heads; evidently Jim wasn't the only one who'd had that idea) was carrying us back to the days of our youth, and the days of our sexual awakening, when everything was happening to us for the first time. In the mellow, romantic mood, I slipped my arm around Stacy's shoulder. But it wasn't there long before Stacy took hold of it and dragged it down to her breast. Holy shit! For years and years, I had admired Stacy's tits from afar, since I had a wife, and she had a husband. But suddenly, lost in the time warp of the concert, she was letting me, no wanting me to feel them, and savor their full richness, and the firm heft of them. I leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You know, I have always admired your breasts." "I know," she said, with a shy, but knowing smile. "Thank you. I think they like you, too." So I abandoned myself to savoring the magnificence of Stacy's tits. I kneaded, I caressed, I fondled her wonderful fleshy globes. And they were wonderful. I reached under the hem of her shirt, to feel them directly, and I nearly passed out from the sensation of her soft, smooth skin. I played with her nipples, which caused her to moan softly. And we kissed again. "Only my love holds the other key. . ." My cock was rapidly stiffening in my shorts as I luxuriated in Stacy's incredible breasts. My breathing became heavier as my arousal grew. I had now completely passed from the realms of rational thought, and any concern for real life. There was only this moment, transported back in time, and Stacy, and our mutual, forbidden explorations of each other's bodies. As we continued making out, Stacy rested her hand on the bulge in my shorts, causing me to groan with excitement. Slowly, I rocked my groin against her hand, and soon she was softly stroking me, tracing my length and thickness through my shorts. "Mmmmmm," she purred. "It seems you've got my other key right here. . ." I could only groan in response. "And," she continued, in a husky whisper, "I've got your keyhole." "So let it out and let it in. . ." Stacy and I were standing, along with everybody else, for the climactic sing-along to 'Hey Jude'. As we broke into the endless string of 'na-na's', and the various permutations that Paul had us in -- one side of the arena and then the other, first the men and then the women -- I suddenly became aware that Jim and Debbie weren't standing along with the rest of us. I looked over, and there they were -- Jim was in his seat, his head rolled back and his shorts around his ankles, while Debbie sat astride his lap fucking him, riding his cock for all she was worth. Up and down, back and forth, in and out, she rode him furiously, crying out her ecstasy completely without abandon. The audience immediately around them began cheering and encouraging the two of them, while the rest of the arena continued singing, "nah-nah-nah-nah-nanana-nahhhh", and they even managed to sync their mutual climax to the band bringing the song to a swirling, soaring climax of its own. As the crowd cheered the band, Jim and Debbie sat, gasping and panting in recovery from their orgasms, giving a thumbs-up to the cheering crowd around them as they hurriedly put their shorts back on. "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. . ." The final words of the final song found Stacy in my arms with her back to me, both of us facing the stage. I had one hand under her shirt, feeling and stroking her tits, and tweaking her nipples. The other hand was down the front of her shorts as we dreamily swayed to the music. I ran my fingers through her thick, curly pubic hair, and reached further down, to trace along her slit, while my knuckle rubbed against her clit. Probing inside her vagina with my fingertip, I found her dripping wet with arousal, and I began to grind my hips against her backside. "I want you, Chuck," she panted. "I want to feel your cock inside me. Will you fuck me tonight?" "Oh, god yes, Stacy; I would love to. . ." "I'm gonna do it to ya, sweet banana, like you've never been done. . ." The words of the final encore were still fresh in our ears, as we left the arena, waving and saying our goodbyes to Jim and Debbie. We were already breathing heavily as we hurried across the parking lot to where the minivan was parked. I tore open the sliding door, and we jumped inside. As it happened, I had taken the rear seats out earlier in the day, to haul some items for a project, so the entire rear floor was available to Stacy and me. I closed the slider, and instantly we were tearing each other's clothes off, our minds still swirling in the dope-fogged, time-warped alternate universe of the concert. When we were both naked, I flipped around and got us into a 69 position, with Stacy on top of me. Hungrily, she took my cock in her mouth, licking and slurping on it, caressing my balls with her free hand, while I ravished her pussy with my tongue, relishing the savory spices of her dripping cunt. Eagerly, I slurped along her pussy-lips, probing inside her with my tongue, while she sucked my cock. Soon, she pulled her face off my cock and sat up on my face as I rummaged her clit with broad strokes of my tongue. She gasped and panted in her approaching orgasm, squirming and writhing on my face, which was becoming soaked with her pussy-juice. The Love You Make "Oh god, Chuck," she gulped, "I'm coming. . . oh, I'm coming. . . I'm. . . OOOOOOOHHHHHHH. . ." A long, trembling wail left her throat as her climax took control of her body, shaking her to her core. She had only barely begun to recover, when she rolled over onto her back, pulling me on top of herself. "Fuck me, Chuck! I want your hard cock inside me! Fuck me hard, and don't stop!" "As you wish, my dear. . ." I put my cockhead against her entrance, and in one stroke, I was buried inside her to the hilt. Her pussy was incredibly warm and smooth, and I took a few seconds just to savor the unique sensations of Stacy's vagina, and her differences from Amy's. Then, recalling how Stacy wanted me to fuck her, I pulled out and rammed back into her hard, and then again. And again. I pounded into her, pile-driving my cock into her silky core. "Huunnngghh! Huuhhhgghh! Huunnngghh!" I grunted as I drove into her over and over. My cock was a hammer, and Stacy's cunt was my anvil. With her hands on my ass, she forcefully pulled me into herself, while she thrust her hips violently up off the floor of the minivan to meet my thrusts, moaning and wailing at the sensations of my cock plundering her core. "Oooooohhh, god! Yeah, Chuck! Fuck me! God, yesssss! You fuck me so good! So gooooooodddd!" The minivan rocked violently from side to side as Stacy and I pounded on and on. I was as big and as hard as I had ever been in my life, and as intense as the sensations were from our violent fuck, I felt like I could keep it up for hours. At last, Stacy's voice began to rise in pitch, and her breathing grew ragged. "OOOOoooooOOOOhhh!!" she cried. "Oh god, Chuck. . . I cooOOOmmmming!!! OOOoooOOOhhh!!" She began squirming, twitching spastically beneath me as her orgasm took control of her. She rolled her head from side to side as she continued grinding her hips up against me, driving my cock into the deepest corners of herself. "Come with me, Chuck!" she urged me. "Don't hold back! Shoot your cum into me! Give me all your sweet, thick, hot cum!" A few more thrusts. . . I was. . . almost there. . . "Oh, Stacy. . . Here. . . it. . . com-. . .AAAAUUURRRGGGHHH!!!!" I don't think I ever came so hard in my life. It felt like my entire insides were shooting out the tip of my cock, into Stacy. Violent, orgasmic spasms wracked my body, and my balls, as I sent spurt after thick, gelatinous spurt of my cum into my best friend's wife. "Oooohhhh, yessss, Chuck! Yessss. . . I can feel your cum shooting into me. Oh god. . . it's warm, and flowing into me. God, yessss. . ." For what seemed like several minutes afterward, I continued to twitch and shudder spasmodically, while cum kept flowing out of me, into Stacy. Once we had finally stopped coming, Stacy and I gradually became aware of our surroundings again. It seemed that we had acquired an audience. Suddenly, loud cheers and applause broke out all around the minivan, and our fellow-concert-goers were appreciatively rocking the van from side to side. Stacy and I sat up grinning, a string of cum still stretching from my cock to her pussy, and waved weakly, acknowledging the applause, as our fans began to disperse and drift away. "My god, Stacy," I gasped, "that was incredible! I have never been fucked like that!" "Me either," she panted in reply. ***** Stacy and I reluctantly got back into our clothes for the drive home. My mind was reeling with the events of the past few hours. At first, we just did a recap of the concert -- which songs we'd especially liked, which ones they didn't play that we wished they had, and so on. But, as the dope fog began to lift, and we started to return to normal life in the present, I began to realize that something momentous had happened when Stacy and I became lovers; or at least, friends with benefits. Since I'd been married to Amy, my penis hadn't been in anyone's vagina but hers. Until now. And I wasn't at all sure what might end up being the outcome of my fucking Stacy. "Stacy. . ." I began, tentatively. "I know, Chuck. I didn't set out for it to happen. But it happened, and it was wonderful; I don't regret it. This was a crazy, incredible night, like traveling to some alternate universe. We both just got carried away, didn't we?" "No shit." "Fucking you tonight was amazing. It really didn't have anything to do with Rob, or Amy; we were just caught up in the crazy energy of the concert, and everything else. I just can't think of it as 'infidelity'. What do you think?" "I think," I began, "that you and I are close friends; our whole families are close friends. In some ways, this is just consistent with the friendship we've had for years. So yeah -- I don't regret it, either. At least, not in terms of you and me, and what we did together. I just don't want to hurt Amy or Rob, or screw up our marriages." "I know," she answered. "I don't want to hurt Rob or Amy. I suppose we could just say to ourselves, 'it happened', and leave it between the two of us." "That might be the best idea," I agreed. "But it could turn out completely different, you know. . ." "I suppose it could. . ." ***** When we got back home, I dropped Stacy at her house. We shared a quick 'goodbye/thank you' kiss (which is not to say that there were no tongues involved), and I watched her to the door before heading down the street to my house. Amy was asleep in bed when I got in. For a moment, I stood by the side of the bed, gazing on the beauty of my life-mate, and offering a silent prayer of gratitude for having her in my life, and then another prayer that my 'out-of-time' experience with Stacy wouldn't screw that up. I stripped naked and climbed into bed with Amy, mildly surprised to find her naked, as well. The warmth of her body radiated against mine. I cupped my hand over her breast and caressed it, savoring its softness. Amy's breasts are not nearly as big as Stacy's, but they are wonderful in their own right -- full, firm C-cups - and wonderfully satisfying. "Mmmmmm. . ." murmured Amy, as she came groggily awake to my gropings. "How was the concert?" "Incredible. . . amazing. . . wild. . ." I blabbered, fumbling for thoughts, but finding only impressionistic sound-bites. "Did you and Stacy have a good time?" "Oh my gosh, yes!" "Good," she yawned. I wasn't in the mood for a post-mortem on the evening just yet; I wanted to make love to my wife. Out of a swirling mix of residual excitement from the concert, and from fucking Stacy, and nagging residual guilt, I was desiring Amy at that moment more urgently than I had in a long time. If we could make deep, passionate, spousal love right at that moment, perhaps I could atone for stepping out with Stacy, and know that Amy and I were going to be alright. I raised myself up on my side and leaned over to kiss my wife. She accepted my kiss eagerly, and soon our tongues were feverishly intertwining, our lips trailing messily over each other's faces. I trailed my kisses down Amy's neck until I found her breasts, then I eagerly suckled them, savoring the taste and smell of her skin, while she cradled my head in her arms. "Mmmmm," she purred. "What's got into you?" I chuckled. "Silly Love Songs, I guess. Now let's talk about what's getting into you. . ." With my hand, I reached for Amy's pussy. She was already sopping wet, her pubic hair a sodden, matted swirl. My god, was she so eager for my return? Probing into her channel with my fingertip, I found her dripping wet and slippery. I was so excited by her arousal that I slid down and immediately covered her mound with my mouth, savoring the rich, musky scent of her aroused womanhood. There was something a little bit odd, though -- mixed with Amy's familiar aroma, I could taste something . . .starchy/salty, that didn't seem quite 'normal'. But I was eager to make love to my wife, so I quickly passed over it and continued on. "Come to me," Amy purred. "I want you inside me." So I took my position between her legs, placing my cockhead against her entrance. Looking into her eyes, I pushed my erect cock, still coated with a sheen of Stacy's sexual juices, into Amy, while she groaned happily at my penetration. Instantly, I was fully inside her, my pubic bone bumping against hers, my balls snug against her ass, and my pubic hair, still damp from fucking Stacy, tangled with hers. I savored the full depth of our connection, as my cockhead probed the depths of her vagina, exploring the delightful, familiar warm depths. I couldn't help noticing the ways my wife's vagina felt different, and wrapped around my cock differently than Stacy's had. We were in no hurry. Since I'd come so recently, and so explosively, inside Stacy, my next orgasm was slower in building, and we just mated on and on. My erect manhood moved slowly, sensually in and out of my wife, joining us to each other on deep, satisfying levels. My cock buzzed with a warm glow as I stroked back and forth, in and out, up and down. "Mmmmmmm," Amy purred, "it's good to have you home; right here, inside me, is where you belong." "Mmmmm-hmmmm," I agreed. "Don't want to be anywhere else." Eventually, I felt my orgasm creeping up through the base of my balls, and I began to slowly quicken my tempo. Amy rested her hands tenderly on my ass, caressing me sensually. Soon, I was pressing firmly into her, and her breasts were jiggling back and forth with every thrust. I propped myself up with my arms and rolled my hips, driving myself to the deepest part of her. My ass was a blur now, bouncing rapidly up and down as my cock continued to probe her cunt. My breathing was coming rapidly now. I rolled my head back, and rolled my hips into her one last time, thrusting as deeply as I could and holding it there, as the dam burst, and my orgasm overtook me. My body quivered and shook uncontrollably as I sent my seed gushing into my wife. I didn't think I'd have a huge load left, after what I'd given to Stacy, but I could feel globs of thick, warm cum oozing up out of Amy's pussy around my shaft and onto my balls. My whole body spasmed in time with the orgasmic contractions in my balls, until finally, I slumped onto my arms, exhausted. "Thank you," I breathed to my wife. "You are wonderful." "YOU'RE wonderful," she replied, with a smile. I rolled off her, and we cuddled together. For a long time, neither of us said anything. We simply savored each other's naked proximity, and the warm sensations in our genitals. In my post-orgasmic bliss, for the second time that night, I rolled the events of the evening over and over in my mind. Slowly, out of the blissful fog, an impression of a thought began to form in my brain -- how wet Amy's pussy had been, before I even got to her, the odd taste when I ate her out, the volume of cum that oozed out of her when I came, even though it was my second load of the night. . . I smiled to myself as I began to put the pieces together. . . "Sweetheart?" I queried. "Yes, Chuck?" "Did you and Rob. . . Did the two of you. . . have sex together tonight?" She paused for several agonizing seconds, before sighing heavily. "Yeah. We did. . . I'm sorry, Chuck." "Oh, no -- don't be sorry!" I hurried to assure her. "Please, don't be sorry!" "Did. . . you and Stacy. . .?" "Yeah, we did. The concert. . . the moment. . . was just so intense. . . we just lost ourselves. . . I'm sorry. . ." "I thought you might," she said, with a sympathetic smile. "I'm really OK about it. It must have been incredibly exciting." "Oh my god. . ." I began, and a spontaneous torrent of words gushed out of me as I told her about my evening at the concert with Stacy, from Jim and Debbie and the weed, to flashing tits at the band, Jim and Debbie fucking in the seat right next to us, and finally fucking each other wildly in the minivan, with a couple dozen spectators. "That's crazy!" she said, when I'd finally finished. "I had no idea Stacy had such a wild side! Ours wasn't anything like that." "What was yours like? . . ." "Well, we grilled out for dinner, and then the kids all ran off to friends' houses, or wherever. Rob and I got out a bottle of wine and just sat talking for a while, laughing that his wife and my husband were out on a hot date -- and make no mistake, we knew it was a HOT date -- and that we had set it up for them! We wondered what you were doing, what the concert was like, and then we went in the house, and popped in a DVD of some old romantic comedy. The wine was making us both very mellow, and Rob put his arm around my shoulder. I think I pulled it onto my breast. Jeez, it was like a couple high-school kids making out at a movie. . . The next thing I remember, we were both naked and I was straddling him on the couch, with his cock inside me, while he sucked on my tits. I came, he came inside me, and we cuddled for a while. Then the movie ended, he got dressed and went home, and I went to bed." "Wow, Sweetheart. . . That's really hot!" "It was really nice. Mellow and comfortable, like old friends. Which, I suppose, we are. . ." "Oh, Amy," I said, clutching her body tightly to mine, "I know this sounds utterly crazy, but. . . I'm glad you did it." "You are?" "Well. . . yeah! In a way, it's a little amazing that we've never swapped before now, you know? I mean, the four of us are so tight, and so comfortable with each other. . . Just think of the vacations at the cabin, and how hard it is, sometimes, to keep from getting naked around each other." "Well. . . yeah," she smiled. "True that!" "I mean, I don't know if we would ever do this again, but. . . I trust Rob, and I trust you. There's nobody else on the planet that I'd trust you with like Rob. I mean, honestly, I'm glad he could be there for you." Amy smiled. "Thank you," she whispered. "And I'm glad that you and Stacy had fun together. I'm sure the two of you are closer now than you were before." "Yeah," I grinned, "I think we are. But I'm only married to you." And after that, my wife and I fell blissfully asleep. ***** When I finally rolled out of bed the next morning, I kissed Amy and wandered down the street to Rob and Stacy's. Rob was in the front yard. "'Morning, bro!" he greeted me. "I see you survived the concert. Stacy's still asleep. I hear the two of you had a good time." "No, man," I grinned, "we had a GREAT time!" "And," I continued, still grinning, "I heard you fucked my wife." "Ummmm. . . yeah. . ." Rob replied, warily. "She told you that, did she?" "Relax, bro -- it's all good! Sounds like you had a real nice time." "Well. . . yeah, we did." Rob continued. "I heard you and Stacy had a pretty wild time, too. You know, she's got a pretty wild side to her that doesn't get let out very often." "NOW you tell me!" "I should also tell you," he went on, "that, about a week ago, Stacy came to me; I think she spoke with Amy, too. She said that she was concerned that she might get a little out-of-control at the concert, and that she might very well end up wanting to fuck you, depending on how things happened. "I know her well enough to know that she probably would, and if she did, it would be just about impossible for you to resist her, so she and Amy and I talked it through and we just told her not to worry about it, that whatever happened would be OK with us. So she said that, if she was going to fuck you, then the two of us should be free to fuck each other if the situation was right. I really didn't expect anything to happen, but I guess the situation was more 'right' than I expected. I wouldn't really call it 'fucking' though -- more like comfort-sex between two old friends." "Yeah, that's how Amy described it. Honestly, bro -- thanks for taking care of my wife. I know she cares about you a lot." Rob gave me a smile and a sideways man-hug. "Thanks." "It's all good," I said. "I've only got one more question." "What's that, bro?" "When do we have our first foursome?" "Is tonight too soon?"