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It's a Start

By: bb_peaks



I was 27 the first time it happened to me. It was a bit traumatic and amazing at the same time. I guess you could say it was just like the first time I had sex. I'm talking about the first time a man convinced me I needed a dick in my ass. Oh it took some working up to do it.

I don't think he was very experienced in it either. No lube. No preamble. Just grunt, groan, poke and prod until he had it rammed into my ass. He did wear a condom. How considerate of him. I know. It hurt. I wanted to shit, or thought I needed to anyway. When he stopped trying to keeping ramming it and just let it simmer in me a bit. I relaxed. 

The pain subsided somewhat. He began to move it in and out of my ass. I would think of anything but the fact I had a dick in my ass. His curtains. The sheets. Would I have to go to the doctor after this? I couldn't tell you how long it lasted. I do know that by the end, it wasn't near as bad as I had feared and I didn't crap on the condom.

I used his bathroom and cleaned myself up and drove the hour back home. He was a player. He played me. He fucked well. I needed sex. We had an agreement. I came over once or twice a week for us to please each other and I drove back home. I'm a woman. I had needs. They weren't being met until I met him. 

My parents hated that time in my life. Could be because I was living with them after my divorce and they knew why I was out of the house. They didn't want to think their only daughter had sex. Shh. Don't tell anyone.

The next time I allowed him entry into the back nine, I prepared myself. I was young and naïve at 27 and didn't know about the powers of lubrication. But I did know to breathe and relax. Hell, I even think I may have had an orgasm from it. I don't really remember.

Not long after that we ended our relationship and I moved on to greener pastures. I think he may still be single. Here I am eight years later and happily married. I've even had anal sex with my husband on more than one occasion. 

I found out about a year ago that every time I got drunk I would scream out "Fuck me in the ass." He would of course oblige my command. 

Dick. Meet ass. It was a no brainer on his part. He'd seen plenty of pornos to know he wanted to bury it deep within my depths. I remember just how great and amazing it felt.

On one such occasion, I really threw caution to the wind and had him shove his dick in my ass and my vibrator in my pussy. I think I died and went to heaven that day. Shortly after that episode, I got up the courage to ask him to fuck me where I thought no man should be going again.

It hurt. I wanted to shit all over the place. I told him to take the damn thing out. It bugged me that it could be so enjoyable whilst I was three sheets to the wind but when I was stone cold sober, I couldn't enjoy it. It baffled me. I googled it. I came up with a few tips and tricks.

A good friend gave me the best advice: lubrication, lubrication, lubrication. He even suggested a good anal vibrator to use on myself and explore. He should be sainted for his advice.

The first night I got my new toy home, I just stared at it. Could I really put that pulsing purple probe in my own ass? I stripped all my clothes. I sat on the bed with lube in one hand, vibrator in the other. 

I followed my friend's advice. I squirted the lube on the head of the purple passion pulsator. Then I squirted more and squirted a third time for good measure. As instructed, I lay on my side and pressed the vibrator to my anal opening. 

One quick push and I wanted to shit. I only had that first bulb in me. I quickly grabbed the controller and turned it on vibrate. Ahh. That was much better. 

I relaxed and moved it to the next level. I turned the dial up to the second level of vibration. I finally had it stuck all the way in my ass and had the vibe set to high. It felt calming and relaxing.   It didn't take me too long to move my new favorite toy in and out of my ass and I came hard and fast very quickly. I couldn't wait to share my good news with Hubby. He came home and I showed him my new toy and the big bottle of lube. I told him I was ready for him to ram me in the ass again. He smiled.

I assumed the only rear-entry position I knew: doggie. I handed him the bottle of lube and told him to squirt. When he was done, I had him squirt more on my ass. Once I could feel it dripping onto the bed, I had him lube up his dick. 

I told him to go nice and slow. He did. Wow. So this is how anal was supposed to feel like? How did I not know about lubrication before now? I'm well over 30 and shouldn't this have been introduced to me at birth or something?

Anal sex has since become a regular in my sex regime. Fast forward a few months. Another friend told me of one of his fantasies. He said he wanted to be fucked in the ass. A man? Wanting anal sex? Oh the shame! Oh the horror! Oh the holy hell that's fucking hot and God I wanna be that woman!

Ever since then I have fantasized about donning a strap on, lying on my back and having Hubby climb on top of me. I want to fuck his ass till cum shoots out his cock all over me. 

There's a problem with my fantasy. Hubby doesn't want anything anywhere near his ass. I get all sorts of excuses from him—a lot of excuses. He has hemorrhoids. His stomach hurts. I keep waiting for him to tell me it's that time of the month.

We've talked about this fantasy of mine. A lot. I think he's afraid he may like it too much and then think he needs to butter his bread on the other side. I just smile and wait.

I think my months of begging—nicely, mind you—have paid off. I think he's secretly been lusting after my finger to break through his barrier and finger fuck his virgin ass.

I finally had my chance. He began by fucking my wet pussy. He tried to roll over on some gymnastic maneuver. I think he hoped for me to land on top so he could watch my tits bounce back and forth. That didn't happen. Rather than try to get into that position, he began stroking himself. I fingered myself.

I came all over my fingers. I licked it off. I dipped into the well of my love nectar and fed Hubby. He got up on his knees and presented his cock to my mouth. I love me some cock so of course I put it deep inside my hot lips. 

With my head cocked—pun intended—at an odd angle I had to grab his ass cheeks to keep him in my mouth. He spread his legs farther for me. I circled his ass and waited for the right moment to go in for the kill. 

He thrust his cock in my mouth and when he pulled it partway back out, I found my opportunity. I felt his ass tighten on my finger and I stopped thrusting. I remembered the first time I had a foreign object forced upon my back entry and waited for him to relax. You would think I would've remembered all those great tips provided to me by great friends about lubrication and such. It slipped my mind at the time.

I began to wonder how far I had to ram it inside to find his G-spot and if it would make him explode in my mouth or not. My fear of having him hate anal won out of my desire to dig for the G-spot. I instead allowed him to get it all worked up and shoot his load on my tits.

Oh well. It's a start. Next time I will remember the lube.

It's a Start: Josie's Version



Some of you may have read the first part of this story before. If you had, start reading at the double row of asterisks near the bottom of page 2. 

Tony's Version

It was a Saturday night. We had been to a show, got home about 11 PM, and were channel surfing, looking for another hour's entertainment before going to bed.

"I hadn't seen that," Josie – she'd rather be called that than Josephine -- said as we through the list of offerings. Zebra Lounge was just starting. 

"Neither have I." I clicked on the remote's Info button, and learned the movie was about a suburban couple who took a walk on the wild side.

"Maybe not that movie," my wife said. "I don't like that theme."

"It's the only thing that looks interesting," I reminded her. "Let's watch for a little while."

The movie started slowly with the couple confessing to each other about how each had an almost transgression, then deciding their sex life needed improvement. It moved on to them thinking about swinging. They placed an ad in a swinger's magazine, went through the replies, and then finally met an experienced couple.

The first swinging/seduction scene stirred a huge response in me. The other guy – being acted by one of the Baldwin brothers -- began seducing the wife and it was the sexiest thing I had seen in years.

My own wife was looking more at me than the TV. "You like that?" 

I told her I did, and saw she wasn't happy. "I'm going to bed," she said. I watched until the end of the scene and went to bed too, hard and horny. 

Josie wasn't responsive at all. "I hated that movie," she told me, "it completely turned me off."

"Why? I thought it was really sexy." 

"I saw the way you were looking at that seduction, Tony. The thought of you enjoying that, seeing a guy having sex like that with a woman who was not his wife drives me crazy, it makes me feel insecure, it makes me feel bad, and inadequate, all kinds of negative things. It makes me think maybe you need more than I can give you. I saw you looking at what was going on, and I could imagine you were thinking what it would be like if you were that guy about to have sex with the other man's wife. Maybe it's a man thing, but if ever you did that I don't know what I would do. I couldn't take it." I heard a sob.

"Honey, you can't be more wrong," I told her.

"Wrong? It's dead wrong, there's no question about it. I saw how intensely you were watching," she said, "we've been married long enough for me to know you pretty well, you were really turned on. You came to bed wanting to have sex. It's obvious, you were projecting yourself into that scene, having sex with another woman and that's what you'd be thinking about when you were fucking me." I thought she was going to cry!

"You're right and you're wrong," I said.

She made a "huh?" sound in the middle of a sniffle.

"I did come to bed wanting sex, but you're wrong about the reason."

Enough light was spilling into the bedroom from the night light in the hall so I could see her sit up to look at me. "What other reason could there be?"

"Josie, honey, when I was watching that seduction scene, I wasn't thinking about me being the guy. What really turned me on was thinking about you being the woman. I didn't think about me being the guy doing the seduction, I thought about how it would be if you were in that scene, if you were willingly seduced while I was watching. That's the idea that really got to me. And what I would be thinking about, if we had sex, was how it would feel to be a man making love to you for the first time, and how you would feel, feeling a different man in you like that."

The room went silent for a few breaths. "The thought of you having sex with another woman really upsets me," Josie finally said, "and you're telling me the idea of me having intercourse with another man excites you?"

"I thought of how sexy you can be, and when I was watching the movie I was seeing you being seduced and it really touched something in me."

"Oh." She settled back onto the bed. "I'm not sure that's any better than you having another woman," she said. "I need to think about that." In a little while her breathing went smooth, she was asleep.

I was horny and erect but after a while I went to sleep too.

We woke up together the next morning. Sunday mornings for us often started with sex: I wondered if last night's discussion would stop that tradition. Josie rolled toward me, her leg moved over mine. Well, that was promising, that's the way she often started foreplay. I held her close, and she put her hand on my chest. Oh yes, this was going to happen. I stayed still, concentrating on every sensation and was pretty sure there was more than the usual warmth where her groin was pressing against my hip. 

Then her hand migrated lowed, onto my belly. 

"YES!" I thought, all had to have been forgiven about last night. Her fingers moved under my pajamas, and then -- she does this so well, she has a magic touch -- they caressed my erection. "You feel good," she said as she stoked me.

"And that feels good, too," I told her as her fingers moved along my very erect penis. 

Her touching me led to me undressing her, kissing her. I was fondling her breasts, teasing her very willing vagina. 

She stopped me for a moment. "Tony, I want to congratulate you on thinking fast last night. I don't believe your story for a minute, but I admire your fast thinking."

"You're wrong if you're thinking I was lying," I told her, "but we can talk about that later. For now, though. . ." 

It was great sex! I may be forty five (she's forty three), we may have been married for nine years, but sex was always fresh and new with her. 

So she didn't believe me when I told her it was her being seduced that excited me? I thought about how to bring that topic up again. I thought about it when we had sex the next Tuesday night and when we had sex on Thursday. I didn't talk about it, but thought about it, thought about what another man would be thinking and experiencing if it was his penis in her, if he was looking down at her slender and fit body, and at that face, those lips, and what he'd feel if he looked down between the two of them and saw his cock moving in her. And I thought about how I might feel if I knew that was happening, or watching that happen.

I recognized it was an experience I wanted to have.

Sunday morning came -- today, I decided, was the day I was going to tell her. I took the sexual initiative that morning. When we were both awake I rolled toward her, kissed her. She kissed back with a comfortable pre-sex kiss, fully expecting the transition to foreplay. 

It would be a different kind of foreplay today. 

"I want to take you on a sexual trip this morning. I want to work on your mind and your body." I told her. "Ready to take off?"

"Sounds like fun," she said. "You're the pilot: fly me."

A kiss or two later I mentally crossed my fingers, swallowed hard -- not that she knew that, of course -- and whispered "Do you remember last weekend, when I told you what excited me was the thought of you being seduced?"

She stiffened a bit: "It was a clever lie. It really wasn't all that original, but it was clever, and you're forgiven. Now do what you said, fly me."

I kissed her and reached under the sheets, pushing at her pajamas bottoms -- she helped and kicked them off -- then unbuttoned her top until she could pull it over her head.

I pulled the sheet back over her.

"I'm naked under this sheet, and you're not," she said when her hand drifted down until it found my erection. "Mmm, judging from that thing, it won't be for long, will it? Was that Freudian, saying it won't be long? It feels long enough."

I was caressing her arm and shoulder. A second later she said "I'm ready for you to take advantage of me," while she fondled that part of me that would do the taking.

She was on her back, mostly covered with the sheet, her legs were slightly opened, eyes closed. I had a turned on wife.

"Honey?" I said it softer than a whisper.

"Mmm?" She made a noise in reply.

"You don't have to touch me now," I told her. "But I like too," she objected. "I like it too, but right now I want to give you pleasure, this is going to be all about you." I took a deep breath, then whispered into her ear "Put your arms over your head, stretch out really tall. It's the start of the trip I promised. Ready to go?"

"You don't have to do anything special, but you make it sound nice," she said. She moved around a little, got comfortable, then extended her arms and asked "like this?"

I didn't answer in words but spent a moment or two caressing her, feeling her respond.

"Keep your eyes closed, OK? Remember that guided imagery relaxation course we took? Do that. Empty your mind, just concentrate on what my fingers feel like when they touch you. Then I want to talk about something while I touch you, I want to guide you to some sexy images. You have no idea how excited I'd be if you let me do that," I whispered. "Would that be OK?"

She nodded her head.

I know my wife pretty well, and thought, or hoped, that she'd be receptive to what I wanted to do. It was time to find out. 

"Remember that I told you thinking about you being seduced excited me? Let's imagine together that you were being seduced right now. I'll do the seducing. Would you mind?"

There was a pause: did I go too far? She moistened her lips again, and then said "No, if it pleases you you can imagine that."

I spent the next moment or two just stroking her body, near her breasts, on her belly, but teasing, just brushing pubic hair, making glancing contacts to those places that I knew excited her: her ears, her neck, the side of her knee.

I had to ask: "Will you imagine it too?"

"You're a tease," she whispered, moving a little as my fingers did their work, not answering my question..

I waited another minute, then made my next request: "I need you to help."

"Help how? What do you want me to do?" 

"Will you imagine you are being seduced by someone else, that it's not me next to you, but someone else?"

She was silent.

I added "that would really turn me on."

There was what seemed to me an uncomfortable pause, but it had to be only a second or two long, and she, eyes closed, nodded her agreement.

"And imagine I know what you're being seduced, OK?"

Another pause, then another nod.

"Would you mind if I imagined myself watching?"

She licked her lips.

I teased her a little more, watching my wife respond, stretched out tall on the bed, as turned on as I had seen her in a long time.

"Would you mind?"

Her face was a little red, but she shook her head no and whispered "If that's what you want to do, I wouldn't mind."

I played with her body a little more, then said "If I was watching, I'd want to see something."

She didn't respond but I could see her entire body was tense – almost rigid: it was like she was afraid of something.

That didn't stop me, I was too much into it now. "I would want you to show the man next to you that you wanted him. He'd want that too."

She was still very tense.

"It wouldn't be hard to do."

Her whisper was a little raspy. "What do you want me to do?" 

"You're all covered by the sheet. He'd know there's a beautiful and sexy body next to him, and I'd know it too. But he doesn't want to force you to do anything, and I wouldn't allow him to force you, either."

There was another pause, then she asked again: "What do you want me to do?"

"Show him you're willing. He'd want to see your entire body naked on the bed next to him, wanting him. Think about that. Then, when you're ready, when you have that in your mind, when it's real enough, do what he wants, and what I want. Take the sheet off so he can see you and touch you."

Could she? Would she? It was so different from anything we had ever done before. "I'd want you to be exposed, ready to be touched, ready to be loved, ready to be fucked."

I could see her face flush a little more.

"So, when you're ready, would you take the sheet off for us?"

Seconds went by. Her eyes were still closed. I could see her biting her lip, but she moved and brought a hand down from over her head and pushed the sheet down a little, almost exposing her breasts.

She wet her lips again, and whispered "If you want him to see the rest of me, you do it. You take it the rest of the way off."

Oh my God!

I had a hard time recovering my own voice. "Is that what you want me to do?"

Would she agree? An eternity went by, then she nodded, whispered a quiet "yes," and stretched under the sheet, nude under the sheet, spread out, available. 

I, deep in the fantasy, drew the sheet across her belly, her groin, then over her legs and off, imagining I was a different man, seeing this woman, this offering, beside me. I couldn't help myself. I made a sound that was part groan, part sigh "aaahhhhh. . ."

"Is this what you wanted, am I doing what you want, is my body what you want him to see?" she whispered.

I couldn't resist. I sat up, pulled at one leg, pushed at the other, opening her wide, then leaned down over her groin. I put my arms around her legs, reached up between them, spread her center wide, smelled the heat, felt the warmth, let my tongue just barely touch her clit.

It was like she exploded: she rolled her hips up, thrust them against my face, and my tongue went deep into her.

I felt her hands on my head, pushing me into her.

"No, no -- keep your hands over your head!" I told her, speaking into her vagina but loud enough so she could hear me.

She stretched out again, legs and arms, her hips were moving under my lips. I couldn't have been more erect, more excited. 

For the first time in years I was able to take my wife to an orally induced orgasm!

It didn't take me long to kick off my pajamas, or long to fill her vagina with my penis. And for the first time in years, I lost control early. It didn't matter, so did she. Orgasms, two to one. Not that I cared.

It might have been morning, but we fell asleep again in each other's arms.

"Lover," she said when we awoke again, "lover, you're a naughty man. That was quite a trip you flew me on. Any chance for an encore?"

"Now, or later?" I asked.

"Tonight?" she replied. We shook hands on that deal, and started the rest of our day.

We don't often have double headers, but somehow by mutual consent we somehow agreed to go to bed early.

"Take off those pajamas, but stay under the sheet," I commanded.

"Sounds interesting," she said. "Same trip, Mr. Tour guide?"

"Not quite, I don't want to be boring -- at least in the figurative sense," I told her.

She struggled with her clothing, then was still, and quiet, arms at her sides, covered by the sheets. She was already excited; her nipples were poking at the sheet. Well, I wasn't going to be that easy on her.

"Ready?"

"Ready," she agreed.

"Are you going to help?"

"Sure, just like this morning," she said.

"Not quite. Close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths," I said.

She did. 

"You know I got turned on by thinking of you being seduced?"

She nodded. 

"Do you believe me now? That it wasn't just something I said to make you feel better?"

She didn't do anything for a moment and then said "I guess so."

"Want me to try to prove it again?" I asked.

"You did a pretty good job at that this morning," she said, with her eyes still closed.

"That's not an answer."

"OK, try to prove it again," she said. "Want me to stretch out again? I liked that."

"Not yet." I was going to take a big chance here. Long ago we promised each other that asking what either of us might have done before we became lovers was out of bounds. We could tell the other one something if we wanted to, but asking was over the line. 

That was a line I was going to cross. "OK. I'm going to start. You have to trust me on this, OK?"

She nodded.

"Keep your eyes closed."

"OK."

"Now, I want you to let your mind go to when you were feeling really sexy."

"That's easy, that was only few hours ago."

"No, honey, not then. I want you to think about a time before you met me, sometime after your divorce when you were feeling really sexy."

"I don't like to do that."

"Please? Do it for me," I almost pleaded.

She hesitated.

"I want you to think about a real flesh and blood man, a man you, you know, ah, went to bed with, had sex with. It's important to me. Will you do that?"

She took a few seconds and then nodded yes.

I wanted a few breaths' worth of time, then asked "Do you have that time and place and person in mind now?"

She nodded.

"Good. It's turning me on more than watching that movie, knowing you're thinking of a real time in your life when you were feeling sexy. I like that you're thinking of another man when I'm right here. I want you to think about the man you were with who helped make you feel so sexy. Think about him for a little while, how hot you were, and how much he wanted you and how much you wanted him. Just nod your head when you've done that."

A moment or two later she nodded.

"OK, now pull off the sheet, show me what he saw."

It took a moment or two. I noticed her body was making little movements. Then she did it -- she pulled the sheet off her body --her slightly flushed body.

"Beautiful," I said. "He must have thought you were beautiful, too."

Her body was almost quivering.

"Did he look good to you? Think about that, did he look good, did he look excited? Was he hard?"

Did I go too far? Was she upset?

Then she said "He did look good, and he said I looked good enough to eat. And. . . . . . and yes, he had a hard on, an erection."

"Do you remember what it was like touching him? Touching it?"

She nodded her head -- she was into it!

"I'll bet he went down on you." She nodded just a little bit. "I'll go down on you too. I know you don't like to talk about those times, and that's OK, you don't have to tell me about it."

Then I did what I said, I went down on her, just like I did in the morning.

I was enjoying exciting her, enjoying tasting her. I lifted up just a little bit, and said "You don't have to tell me what you did, but you could show me," then I went down on her again. 

She moved. I was beside her and she rolled toward me, she held my cock.

I heard her say "I did this," and my penis was captured in her mouth, she was stoking me, one hand reached around me, down the crack between my buttocks, caressing my anus, the other was pumping me, I could feel her mouth, then her tongue, moving down my shaft, touching my scrotum, teasing me.

I ejaculated only a few hours ago, but I was ready to again, all too soon. I pulled away, turned, moved between her legs, entered her.

"He was a lucky man," I said, now a little more in control, moving in that warm space in my wife, enjoying every stroke.

Josie was quiet, so I went to the next level. "Think about what it was like when he was fucking you, and I'll think about that too."

She was moving so nicely, nodding yes, and I said "Call me his name, tell him you want him!"

She was holding my hips, biting at her lips, then she whispered something she never ever said to me: "Come in me, Frank, give me everything you have. Come in me now!"

And she orgasmed.

I didn't, not yet.

When she came down from her high, sighing as she sank into the bed, she felt me still moving in her.

"Are you OK? Did I leave you behind?"

"I'm fine," I told her. "I loved watching you then, when you were saying what you were saying, and doing what you were doing. It was beautiful."

"But you're still hard."

I was feeling less inhibited than I ever had with her. "Honey, sometimes I masturbate thinking about you."

"That's OK. Maybe even, that's good. It makes me feel good, knowing you think about me when you masturbate.




It's a Start: Josie's Version



I was still on her, in her. I held myself up with one hand, gripped my cock with the other, and began stroking myself as I, well, as I fucked her.

"Do you mind if I think about you and Frank, and masturbate in you while I think about that?"

I could see her pupils dilate until the blue of her eyes was almost all black.

"Do it. Masturbate in me. Think about that, and so will I."

Her hand covered mine, we both stroked my cock as I moved in her until after two or three minutes I pulled my hand, and hers, away, and pushed in as deeply as I could. I could feel that surging in me, and so could she. She raised her knees, tilted her pelvis, and accepted all I had to give her.

It took a few minutes to recover, we were both short on breath.

"What a ride," she said. "Whoever said that thing about old dogs sure did not know what he was talking about. And you're the most erotic and sexy man in the world. For sure one with the dirtiest mind, and you're so persuasive too, you take me right along with you."

"Do you know what would happen if you ever did that with someone now, like what we just did?"

"Yes, you'd go crazy."

I shook my head no. "I want to show you what I'd do. Remember that country song you used to laugh at, it was this guy singing about how he liked his women on the trashy side?"

She said she remembered, and I said "I want to be a little trashy now."

"You already are, sweetheart, and I love you for it," my woman said, hugging me. 

I wasn't done. 

"Want me to be trashy?"

"I don't know what else you can do, you already came," she said. 

I took that as an invitation, and rolled on top of her, kissing her. "That's nice," she said, "there's nothing trashy about that, but it is nice."

"Not trashy yet," I agreed, then moved down, kissing her throat. It was the move I often made when I was going to go down on her.

". . .ah. . ."

"Stretch out tall."

"Tony?" she said, but I insisted: "stretch out tall."

She put her arms up over her head again, and I moved down, nibbling at one nipple, then the other, and enjoying every sensation.

Then I moved lower, nuzzled into her belly.

"Uh, Honey, you just, ah, we just. . ."

"Shhh," I said, "I know, but I want to be trashy. I told you it would turn me on to see you seduced, and I just did, and this is how I want to thank you. . ." And I moved a little lower, to the start of her bikini cut.

Her legs were tight together. That would never do. I moved a little to the side and a little lower, and kissed at her hip and sensed a quivering in her leg.

I pushed at one leg, pulled at the other, spreading them a little, and was able to kiss at the inside of her upper thigh, and could feel all sorts of tension, all sorts of little motions. I could just turn my head and be over her center, but I had a different idea. "Do you think this is trashy?"

She made a soft affirmative noise. 

"Want me to be trashier?"

"I'm not sure. . ."

Another kiss, closer to center.

"Want me to be trashier?"

"I'm, uh, I'm. . . "

I reached up, put my hands on her shoulders, then pulled, sliding my hands over her arms as she lowered them until they were at her sides, at her hips.

I nuzzled into her upper thigh, and she whimpered.

Then I drew her hands together over her vagina, positioned her finger tips at her lips there, and paused for just a moment, wondering if I wanted to really do this.

I did. 

I spoke, not softly, not making a request, but issuing an order. "Hold yourself open for me."

"Tony, I . . ."

"I want you to think about Frank and roll your hips up and spread yourself for me. Do it now. Say 'Do, me, Frank,' and do it now."

An hour long moment passed, then she raised her knees just a little, and tilted her hips. Her fingers moved, opening her lips, and she whispered "Do me now, Frank, do me now."

I had never gone down on my wife after being in her. She was warmer, wetter, saltier -- that salt could have been me!

I may have ejaculated a little while ago, but I was hard too as my tongue touched her everywhere, probing, licking, exciting both of us. I became even more inspired, took the wrist of one of her hands and pushed her fingers into that little void, too. "Finger yourself, think of him, and finger yourself!"

My tongue could feel her fingers moving there, and sooner than I could have thought, her body spasmed in another orgasm.

"Enough, lover, I can't take any more. Enough," she said a moment later.

I moved up beside her, my face wet with both of our juices. I felt her hand on my back, then tentatively on my hip, then on my erection.

She was staring at me. "You have an erection!" 

"I told you this excited me, of course I have an erection."

She was coming down from her high: "do you want me to take care of that thing for you?"

"No," I assured her, "I am a very satisfied man. I don't need any more gratification, except to hear you say one thing."

She thought for a moment, then held me close. "Honey, I do believe you now, I do believe you do get off on the idea of me being seduced or seductive."

"And that was the one thing I wanted to hear you say," I assured her.

We slept.

Somehow over the next few days we avoided talking about our erotic encounter, but the next weekend we were driving to one of our favorite restaurants -- it was thirty miles away. It was a happy time, we were celebrating my promotion: I now led a group of a couple of dozen engineers. I guess it's important that you know our company designs and manufactures very little devices, pumps and things like that, that other companies use in their products. They are mainly used in instruments that are used in the chemical industry. 

Anyhow, it was a happy time, and Josie decided the dark of the car was a good place to bring up what we usually confined to the bedroom.

"Did you really mean it, that me being seduced turns you on?"

"Do you expect a different answer here?"

"Well,' she said, "we're not in the middle of sex and won't be for hours so there's none of that pressure. Maybe your answer would be different."

"It's the same answer."

We drove on for another mile or two. I was sure I knew what was coming next. I knew she had to ask. She did. "Just suppose for a minute I was going to do something like that. I think you'd go crazy in a jealous rage."

"I'd be ragingly horny, not angry. I thought I proved that."

"That," she said, "was just pretending."

"Only because we haven't done it for real yet," I told her. "I think I'd really get off on that."

She thought about that for a few moments, then asked "I'm not sure that's true. What would I have to do to satisfy that urge you have? Have you thought about that?"

"Of course I have. I'll tell you what I think, it's my wish, and then you can tell me if we could make it a plan."

"I'm listening."

"If I have to travel, I'd like you to come along on a business trip to a meeting with me, somewhere away from home so the chances of meeting anyone we know, or of someone you meet ever meeting you again is very small. 

"You mean go somewhere far away? Be anonymous?"

"Sure. I'd have us registered in two rooms at a hotel. If it's a place where businessmen stay, the hotel lounge is usually really busy. I'd like you to go there, be friendly, if a guy you like happens to hit on you, let things go where ever you want them to. If the guy excited you I'd want you to have sex with him, but in my ideal world it would be somewhere where I could watch you being seduced. I wouldn't want to interfere, or even have the guy know I was there, so he wouldn't be inhibited."

"I guess if that couldn't happen, next best thing would be for me to know you were with someone, and that you'd come to me as soon as you could after whatever happened happened. What I mean is, I wouldn't want you to spend the night with someone. I'd want you in my arms all that night."

"How come you want it to be at a meeting instead of on vacation?"

"Because the guys who travel on business are usually straight arrows, they're not out to pick someone up. They have families at home. I know that because I talk to a lot of them when I travel. Sex away from home for them is a fantasy, something they may think about but never chase after."

"And I'd be a single woman?"

Well, no." I had considered that too. "I like the idea of you being there married. You'd have on your wedding ring and engagement ring and all that stuff. If something happened you could claim it was just spontaneous, something the two of you just fell into. And for you, seeing your wedding ring on your hand, a hand you're stroking him with, that would be really hot."

"Wow." She thought about that for a while. "The nice thing about a fantasy is that there are never any practical problems, like sexually transmitted diseases and things like that."

I had an answer for that, too. "Suppose you were talking to a guy in the hotel lounge," I said, "and he told you about his wife and kids. That's the kind of guy who goes to these conferences, they really are straight. They would be safe. And you would tell him about your marriage too, but how you were there alone."

She thought about that for a while. "Interesting theory. You actually spent time thinking about this, huh?"

"Yeah."

She was thinking aloud. "Oh, here's a problem. A guy like that wouldn't be on the prowl, out looking to pick someone up."

I agreed: "That's right."

"So," she continued with a 'see, this wouldn't work smirk on her face, "he wouldn't be carrying a condom -- if he did, it would mean he was a player, and we wouldn't want him to be someone who screws around, because of STDs."

"That's right," I agreed.

"And I shouldn't have one either, because if I did that would change everything, he'd know it was planned. So, hubby, it looks like your idea has a lethal flaw."

I looked at my wife, not sure she'd accept what I was going to say. "No, you shouldn't have one, either. I wouldn't want you to have one. We used to call it bareback: I would want you to have skin on skin contact, I would want you to, when he is starting to push into you, to feel cock, not latex."

That stopped the conversation for a moment, then she said "I guess the way you're describing it, it would be safe to do that in theory, but that's pretty intense. And besides, you had a vasectomy so I wouldn't have to be on the pill. I could get pregnant." 

"I wouldn't want that either and I know birth control pills had an awful effect on you."

"So, practical considerations rule this game out. That's good," she said.

"Well, not really. Suppose I got you some of those RU 486 morning after pills?"

"You can't get them in the US."

"Suppose I did get some. What then?"

"Well, I guess in theory, if it was something we wanted to do, and the circumstances were right, you have answers for most of the practical questions. Not that we talked about ethics, or marriage vows or things like that yet. It's kind of kinky fun talking about it, but it won't happen in real life, will it? And anyway, here's the restaurant. Let's go satisfy a real hunger, not a pretend one."

"Wait a minute," I told her. "You said it's fun talking about it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let's play the game some more. Here's the new rule. When we're away from home, like now, you keep an eye out for men who are alone. Get used to looking at them, checking them out, seeing if you like what you see -- if they are 'possibles'. When you find one you think you might look, just tell me about him, OK? It'll add to our fun in the bedroom later."

Well, readers, you can be sure that added fun for months. We had a rich sex life, and Josie had become much more aware of men who might be looking at her, what we called "possibles."

I'm going to end this story with something that happened last summer. It was at the end of another Sunday morning sex feast, and we were relaxing in each other's arms in the afterglow.

"Honey, something's come up at work and it's given me an idea."

"There are better times to talk about work than just after sex, sweetheart. Usually you're a lot more sensitive and romantic than that."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Josie," I told her. "Remember, I told you I was bugging the marketing guys at work to get me more exposure to the companies that use our pumps?"

"Yes."

"It turns out there's a conference in Somerset New Jersey each November, where those companies have exhibits, It's called the Eastern Analytical Conference. I'm going to attend it for three days."

"That's nice," Josie said, still puzzled about why I brought this up.

"I'd like you to come. You could go to New York City during the day if you wanted to."

"It sounds nice, and I have comp time I can take off from work, but . . ."

I interrupted her. "Honey, I have a little present for you."

I gave her a gift wrapped box. She is not graceful about opening presents, she tore the package apart and found a blister pack with 4 pills in it.

"What. . .?"

"Those are RU486 tablets, honey. I asked Bill Schultz to get them for me when he was in Paris last month. A lot of tech types like me are going to be attending the Eastern Analytical Symposium, and there are going to be a lot of 'possibles' there. I've booked two rooms with a connecting door at the hotel in Somerset right next to the convention center. Come with me, and bring those, and get to use them."

She was holding them in her hand with a look on her face I couldn't describe.

"Lay back," I said, "and stretch out."

She didn't, she just looked at me. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. She went willingly, and stretched out tall, arms over her head, the blister pack still in one hand.

A moment later she kicked off the sheet that was covering her from the waist down, and let her legs part just a little bit.

I bent down and nuzzled into her belly, and felt movement. Her legs opened a little wider, inviting me.

I traced down over her hip, then the front of her leg to the inside of her thigh. I was so close to that warm damp spot in her center. I moved a little so I was right over it, right over that slit that connected to her center. She moved too, her own arms came down, and this time without my help her fingers found her lips and opened them, exposing that sensitive interior for me.

I began teasing her there, and heard her say something.

"What did you say, honey?"

"Tell me the dates of that conference, Tony, so I can put in for getting those days off. And honey? I like my man on the trashy side," she said, as she tilted her pelvis up for me.

Josie has read this story, of course. I think this is a good stopping point for me. You can let your imagination extend the story. Or better yet, wait a while. Josie said she might like to write the next chapter.

********************************************

********************************************

Josie's Version

I helped Tony get some of what he wrote right, but women reading his story will know it's from a husband's point of view. And women know their husband's ideas about what we are thinking and feeling are often wrong.

Tony wrote about us each being married before. You have to know more about my first marriage understand what happened. 

I married my first husband John just after graduating from college. I got certified as a public accountant right away and started a career. John had another year of grad school to go. When he graduated he passed the Virginia bar exam on the first try. He was a lot of bad things but being dumb wasn't one of them. 

I was the stupid one. John had affair after affair starting the year we were married and I didn't have a clue! I thought lawyers just had to work late and stay out on weekends. 

Five years into the marriage, when I was twenty seven, he left me for a leggy twenty two year old. I saw her, she was beautiful, but damn him, I used to turn heads, too. "She reminds me of what it was like being younger," John told me, "and you remind me of grinding out a living. I don't like that."

I had been a confident outgoing woman but being thrown away like a used tissue changed that. I became quiet and insecure and even gained twelve pounds. I know 144 pounds on a 5 foot 9 inch frame isn't bad, but it didn't help my self image. Working hard and late substituted for a nonexistent social life. I should have talked to a psychologist, but didn't. Instead I started going to a gym on weekends and took out my frustrations on my body. That got me down to 121 pounds, more physically fit than ever in my life but still insecure about being an attractive woman. Promotions at work did nothing to change that.

The important lesson for me about getting divorced was now I always wanted to know what the guys I started dating were thinking about. I was not going to be blindsided again.

So, when my present husband wrote about me getting excited about his idea of me being with another man, he never understood the single most persuasive thing he said. 

He told me he masturbates sometimes and then he asked "When I do, would you rather I think about me fucking another woman or about you fucking another man?" 

I wanted my man to think about me and I'd do whatever it took to make that happen!

Tony was very good at getting me to think about sex on the wild side. He did something instinctively that a lot of people who teach meditation do. It's called 'guided imagery.' Having my thoughts directed by Tony while we were in bed was great, and having him help me think about wild sex while he was making love to me helped both of us have great climaxes. 

Then he took our games out of the bedroom. He wanted me to feel sexy when we were out and to look at other men as potential sexual partners. That increased my awareness, and I wasn't doing it just to humor him, I was starting enjoying it too. There were the bedroom rewards too when I played along. It was like foreplay started when we went out for an evening, instead of just for fifteen or thirty minutes in bed. Tony was either creating new erotic desires for me, or awakening ones I never knew I had. Tony became authoritative and strong, and that brought out my desire to please him, to submit to his wishes even more. 

Those were wonderful sexy fantasies, but it all changed when he wanted us to make specific plans. He wanted me to be in a place with a lot of men who were temporarily alone. "Come with me to a conference, act available," he said. He even knew when. It would be at the Eastern Analytical Symposium that ran from November 14 to November 17 in Somerset New Jersey. 

I don't know how many times that August he told me he could hardly wait until 11/17, when at last I'd have a real sexy story to tell him. "Unless," he said, "you do it sooner. Sooner would be better. Do something here, break the ice, then really be wild there."

It scared me but it didn't scare him. We started having sex four or five times a week, and most times it was raw erotic sex centered on what he wanted to happen in the middle of November. 

What I didn't know about men until then is frequent sex isn't enough. More than once he told me "I masturbated in the shower today, thinking about you, thinking about being in New Jersey in November. Do you think about that, too?"

I told him the truth and it was what he wanted to hear. I did think about it, and was getting . . . well, less uncomfortable might be the way to say it, with the idea. And sometimes, when we were having sex, I would think about being with a man I just met, and would probably never see again, and having him touch me and about me touching him. I was buying into the whole idea. Sometimes in bed I'd ask "Is this what you would want me to do?" as I went down on him. Once, after a particularly nice meal out ("Would you like to dinner like this with a guy you just met, knowing he wanted you?" Tony asked during the meal.) when we returned home I sat him on the bed and did a clumsy strip tease. "I'm practicing for New Jersey," I told him, and was rewarded with a turned on husband.




It's a Start: Josie's Version



Things happen. September isn't a busy time for accountants, but an opportunity crossed my desk that was too good to pass up. A firm in Cleveland, let's call it Mr. Big's Company, was interested in buying a small company near Richmond, where I lived. I'll call that one Little Richmond Company. I had a call from Big Co.'s president. "I was talking to some people at Capital One, and they said your company is one of the best little accounting partnerships in the city, and you're one of the best account executives. Is that true?" We talked for a while: what Mr. Big wanted was an audit of LRC: "Not a standard audit, I want someone who will go inside, find out where the problems are. I'll pay you your standard rate for a three week investigation. Do a good job and we may use you for all of their accounting services if we buy them."

That is a big deal for a small partnership. I did the audit. There were some things their own accounting department overlooked, some contingency accounts that were too big, and some undervalued inventory that made the real net worth of the company much more than the books said. The in house accountant told me they did that for tax purposes. There were some things going on in sales that were not accounting matters, but if half of them came true LRC would have to expand fast. It happens that one of my other clients used LRC products, and from them I learned the growth potential was understated in LRC's projections. "We wanted to be conservative" is how their chief financial officer defended their analysis. 

Mr. Big was delighted to learn they were getting more value than they expected.

Mr. Big came to Richmond and invited me to help him during the negotiations. The wheeling and dealing went on for 2 days. It was pretty clear terms would be settled on the next day. "I will want to celebrate," Mr. Big told me. "I won't leave until Friday. Have dinner with me tomorrow, we'll talk about what your partnership can do for us when the deal is closed."

There was a little something extra going on with Mr. Big: he was a sophisticated flirt. He might have been in his late 50s, but he carried an aura of sexual power about him, one of getting what he wants. In the conferences he was all business, but in private meetings and planning sessions with me I saw him looking at me a little too intensely and there were those little touches on my arm and shoulder that were almost intimate. I was thinking it would be bad to mix business and erotica, but he was surely a 'possible'.

Tony knew what was going on professionally, of course, and that night I told him about the not quite professional components.

"Is he a possible?"

"Maybe. Somehow I imagined it would be a younger man. Mr. Big is in his 50s, but he just radiates power." I thought for a couple of minutes. He was handsome, he smelled good, he was fit and healthy. I knew he spent almost an hour in his hotel's workout room every day. "Yes, he's a possible."

Tony was silent for a while. "It could be tomorrow, not in two months. Wow."

"I don't know if he wants any more than just to have dinner with someone who isn't out to sell him something, honey," I said.

"But if he wanted more, would he get it? Could he be the one?" Tony asked.

"Would you want him to be?" I wasn't taking sole responsibility for this.

"Uh – this makes it real. I want to have sex with you right now," was the answer I got, and during that rushed and hot sex, he confessed: "I'd like him to be."

We had a quiet breakfast the next morning. I wanted Tony to make love to me, to reassure me, but he was distracted.

"Call me later," he asked as he was leaving.

My own meeting lasted only until 2 and then the deal was sealed. "We'll let the lawyers do what they have to, but they'll just be sure what we agreed to is written correctly," was the last thing Mr. Big said. "I run my company, you run yours. Lawyers are hired help, right?"

LRC's president and their conservative chief financial officer nodded their agreement. There was a handshake and a simple letter of understanding was drafted and signed.

"Now," Mr. Big said, "I want to take Josie to the best restaurant in Richmond to celebrate. Where do you recommend we go? If it's less than perfect, I may reopen these negotiations."

There was a whispered conversation between the two local executives, then Mr. Leio, the president, said he'd have to make a call or two.

When he came back he gave Mr. Big the address of a private club. "I reserved a private room for you," he said. "They expect you at 8."

We said our goodbyes, and I drove Mr. Big back to his hotel. "Should I pick you up at your home?" he wanted to know.

"I know the city better than you. I'll pick you up instead."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you in something other than business clothing," he told me. "Mr. Leio told me formal dress is appropriate at his club. I brought my tuxedo."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll see you at 8."

When Tony saw me home he asked the obvious question. "I'm meeting him later, I have to dress. We're going to the Commonwealth of Virginia Leader's Club."

"I've heard of that place. It's very exclusive, I've never been there. Is he a member?'

I explained how the location was chosen.

"What are you going to wear?"

"I have some nice cocktail dresses. He's wearing a tuxedo."

It took me from 5 until 7:30 for me to get ready, and women reading this will understand that took some rushing.

It was a pale white dress with an irregular hemline, a few inches above the knees in some places, a few below in others. Spaghetti straps held it up. The front was modest, but the back scooped really low. 

"Is that new?"

"I bought it for Somerville, but I thought tonight. . . "

"What are you wearing under it?"

"There's no way I can wear a bra with this. But I have pantyhose on, of course."

"That's it?"

"Tony, are you having second thoughts? I can change. . ."

"Uh," he said, "No, no. It's just happening so fast. . ."

"Tony honey, you've been talking about this for months."

"I know. You said you're going to pick him up?"

"Yeah, and after dinner I'll take him back to the hotel. And then, we'll see."

"How are you going to let me know what's happening?"

"I'll be going to the ladies room often, that's how, and now I have to go."

"Before you go," Tony told me, "I want you to know you look wonderful, and I love you." I left a husband not sure about he wanted. This was going to be played by ear, but my instincts were telling me it would go as far as I allowed it to.

Mr. Big – OK, I didn't call him that –"To my friends I'm Brian" – was a perfect gentleman on the way to dinner. He stood close enough to me to project power and intimacy (ladies reading this will know what I mean) without doing anything overt.

"There's dancing in the lounge at the hotel, at least there was last night," he said as we were finishing the most elegant dinner I had in years. "Would you join me? I'm enjoying the evening and wouldn't want it to end."

"I'm enjoying it too. Of course I'll go to the lounge with you."

I told my husband our plan from the powder room and he said "I'm going to go there, I want to see him dance with you."

"Tony, I'm not sure that's a good idea," I started to say, but I finished the sentence talking to a dial tone. Well, he wanted to see some of the action. I reminded myself I wanted him to think of me when he masturbated, and this is what he wanted to think about. I'd show him his wife enjoying herself dancing and being warm and affectionate. It's what he's been asking for, and maybe it would be practice for Somerville.

It wasn't a big surprise to see Tony at the bar when we got to the lounge. The live band was playing a nice mix, some slower tunes, and some fast. Brian was obviously well schooled in dance. He was so smooth he made me feel good about my own clumsy movements. 

By the time we finished our second drink – Tony might have had three – the band moved to a slow set. We were not the only couple standing, wrapped in each other's arms, hardly moving, just close, bodies conforming to each other.

There was even an ear kiss: it was easy for Brian to do, since I was tall. I responded with a sigh. I wanted him to know I enjoyed what he did. 

He was ever the gentleman. "I saw your ring, is that a wedding ring or is it a protective device?"

"Oh, I am married," I told him.

"I'm sorry to hear you have a husband waiting for you at home." 

I saw my husband watching us and answered truthfully: "He's out tonight too. I don't think he'll be home until very late."

"Does he know you went to dinner with me?"

"Of course," I assured him. "He said he doesn't mind if sometimes I'm out with another man that I think is attractive. A man like you, for example." 

Could I have been any more clear that the night was ours to do with what we wanted?

"So that ring really is protection only when you want it to be.'

I held him a little closer and said "Yes, only when I want it to be."

He was polished. He didn't say another for another half song. We stayed on the dance floor, and the band started "Unchained Melody." 

"I'm enjoying dancing here with you," Brian said, "but I have a large suite upstairs. I'd like even more to be with you there. Would you like that as much as I would?"

"Give me a moment," I told him. 

We went to our table and I excused myself. Tony answered his cell phone on the first ring. "Have you seen enough?" I asked.

"Has he propositioned you yet?" Tony answered my question with a question.

"He invited me to his room, is that what you mean?"

"Yes. Do you want to go?"

"We've been talking in questions, Tony." I was a little impatient now. "This is what you've been talking about for months. Do you want me to go, or do you want to forget about this fantasy?"

"I don't want to give up the fantasy."

"I want to go. Do you want me to?"

"There was a raspy "yes," then he cleared his throat. "I want to wait down here, I want to be close. Don't spend the night."

I hung up and started back, then paused a moment. I had an erotic idea. I went into a stall, pulled my pantyhose down to my ankles, sat and removed a heel, got them off that foot, and repeated the process with the other side. I rolled the hose into a tight ball and walked in along the bar, past Tony. I hoped I could pull this off. Tony was facing the bar, trying to ignore me, but I took his arm as if he was an old friend. "Hi, Tony," I said, "nice to see you here." He turned, said something, I'm not sure what, and I ended the conversation with "I'll see you around," and left. I dropped my hose in his lap.

Brian noticed me talking, and I said something about "he's an old client."

The band started to play that that Louie Armstrong thing about Skies of Blue, and I pulled Brian to the dance floor.

He folded me into his arms again and asked "Are you going to accept my suggestion?" after a suitable interval. He was making it easy to reject it. Or, maybe not. He was a very confident man.

"Of course. I wondered why it took you so long to make it. Were you hoping to find someone more attractive?" That was my insecurity kicking up again.

He pulled me tighter against his body. I could feel heat and hardness. "You have to know I think you're smart, and attractive, and desirable. It's you I want."

"And," I said, hardly believing it was my voice, "I want you. Let's leave after this song."

The song ended, Brian called for the check, scrawled a signature, and stood, offering me his arm. I saw Tony watching me leave the room with a man who would expect to know me as intimately as he did. It seemed to me everyone in the place knew what was about to happen.

It was what my husband said he wanted. I wondered if the reality was as good as the expectation for him. I wondered if it would be for me.

Tony was walking into the lobby as Brian and I went into the elevator. It was time to continue the show. Brian pressed the button, and before the doors closed I moved into his arms, a kiss, our first kiss, started. Tony saw that. I wondered if he watched the numbers above the elevator door increase, then stop on 14.

It was a beautiful suite, the living area had a glass wall overlooking the city, and --"the bedroom is over there,"-- that room had a wonderful view, too.

I stood at the bedroom window while Brian adjusted the room lighting. It was not dark: softly lit might be a better description. The bed was already turned down and he pulled the coverings more completely off.

I could see his reflection in the window as he folded his coat, removed the cummerbund, tie and cufflinks and then came behind me. His hands wrapped around me as he bent to kiss my neck. It was done with such authority and at the same time gentleness that it was not like anything I had ever experienced before. 

His hands were on my belly, and I put mine over his, and backed into this man. It was delicious, it was so sexy, feeling him behind me, and seeing out reflections in the window. We were too high for anyone outside to see. One part of me that I didn't know existed said "too bad no one can see in. I wish someone could watch. I wish Tony could."

It was erotic to my sense of touch and to my vision. My knees were feeling weak but I could feel the insecurity that had been so much a part of my life melting away. I WAS desirable. This powerful man wanted me! I wanted him, too, not just because it was something Tony wanted. It was vindication, a demonstration I was a whole person, desirable not just for my accounting skills, but for being a woman too. 

He began stroking me, hands moving over my hips, and lower, then up my sides, onto my arms, and down again. His touch was like fire and ice on my body.

My dress had a sash: it drew the garment in to define my waist. As his hands moved higher I moved them to it. The ends were in a simple bow, and when he pulled the ends it just fell away. It was the first piece of clothing a man other than Tony removed from me in too long a time to remember.

Without the sash, my dress hung freely and moved as his hands did. The window was a good mirror. I watched this silver haired man behind me kiss my neck, my ear, watched his hands move. He moved a little away so he could bend more easily. His hands moved down: I could feel them and watch them as they moved over my dress, then below my knees until they were on my skin. He said nothing about the absence of hose. Did he know, was he that observant?

The down motion stopped, and his hands started up, the hem of the dress began gathering on his wrists as he rose, his hands moved up along the outside of my legs, and the dress rose until his fingers traced over my hips to my waist. The reflection in the window showed my dress bunched at the hips, draped over my front. I felt sexy and was sure I looked that way too.

"Just lovely," he told me.

I put my hands on his wrists again, and drew them to my front, I could feel the fire of his fingers as they traced to my navel, and pressed against my belly, pulling me against his own groin. Those fingers were on skin, above my own warm moist place, above the place that wanted to be touched.

"I thought it was only you under that dress, and I'm so glad I was right," he whispered.

I turned my head so I could meet his lips, and a delicious kiss started, and tongues started, and somehow, I don't know if it was me, or him, but somehow his fingers began moving down, I could feel them on my pubic hair, then on the inside of my upper thighs, and I widened my stance just a little bit, and his fingers drew my hands, or my hands guided his fingers, I don't know which, but they moved towards my center: they touched me.

They touched me!

It was the lightest touch, but a shocking touch, a confident touch.

I was having trouble standing upright, my knees wanted to buckle. They might have, but I felt so light, it seemed I could float on those fingers, they could lift me to the stars.

One of those eternities of pleasure went by with that kiss and those touches. Then his hands moved away. I didn't want them to, but they pulled out from under my dress, and he moved away an inch or so, too, so that warm body wasn't pressing into me any more.

I watched as he reached behind me, to that tricky little clasp and zipper on the back of my dress. Well, it might have been tricky for most men but in the time it took him to caress my back he had it undone. I could feel the zipper travel its 6 inches. The tension in the dress across my breasts just faded, it hung freely from my shoulders, not much more protection than a towel might be.

He turned me around, and that next embrace, that kiss, those hands, those fingers, all took me along the path of ready and wanting.

Then he let me go.

It took him only a moment to remove the studs from his shirt and remove it, he folded it casually but properly and dropped it on a chair.

He just lifted a foot and pulled off a shoe and sock, and repeated that performance with his other leg. Somehow the shoes found themselves side by side, the socks neatly folded over on them, all done effortlessly – seamlessly.

He didn't stop there. His trousers were next, and found themselves folded over the chair back. He wore black silk looking boxer briefs, and they left little doubt this cool sophisticated man was also human. The front of his boxers was distorted, pushed out by his arousal.

"Í think it's fair to say we're two consenting adults here. Some women," he said, "like to claim they were forced to have sex. I don't think you're one of them."

I knew about sexual harassment suits and what such a thing could cost this man.

"You're right, I'm not. I'm here because I want to be. "

"Will you take your dress off for me?" he asked. He sat on the bed, watching. 

I just reached behind me and pulled at the straps, then found the dress material and lifted that too. I watched him as the dress neckline rose and blocked my vision, and continued pulling at the dress until I could see him again. But now I was nude, except for my heels. I had never in my life been naked except for high heel shoes before!

"More beautiful than I could imagine," he said, reaching for me.

In a moment we were alongside each other, wrapped in an embrace and a kiss: I could feel his erection pushing against me, the most blatantly sexy thing I had felt in years.

After the kiss he rolled on his back: his shorts were tented by his erection.

I knelt beside him, put my hands on the elastic waistband at his hips. "May I?"

He bridged, and I just began drawing those shorts down, over his flat belly, over the start of that dark patch of hair. Then there was his shaft, slowly being revealed by the waistband as it moved down.

And down.

Finally, he – it – his penis – sprung erect. It was different: as long as Tony's, but thicker. 

Oh my.

He lifted his legs, and I finished removing that garment: it wasn't going to be needed any more.

"You're so thick," I told him.

"It's nice of you to say so," he said. I was on my knees beside him when he said "Please kick off those shoes, I want you totally nude." I thought having their women wear heels in bed was a turn on for men. Maybe so, but not for this one. I took them off. "I have this thing, I'm not proud of it, but I have this thing. I guess it's a power thing. I love to make love to a woman who's married to someone else, but I have never made love to a more beautiful woman than you."

My self confidence needed him to say that.

"Now, get on me," he said, and I lay on him, kissing him, feeling that erection between my legs.

"Have you ever noticed," he said between little kisses to my neck and throat, " how men love to watch their women go down on them, while most women like to be still with their eyes closed while their men do them?"




It's a Start: Tony's Version



It was a Saturday night. We had been to a show, got home about 11 PM, and were channel surfing, looking for another hour's entertainment before going to bed.

"I hadn't seen that," Josie – she'd rather be called that than Josephine -- said as we through the list of offerings. Zebra Lounge was just starting. 

"Neither have I." I clicked on the remote's Info button, and learned the movie was about a suburban couple who took a walk on the wild side.

"Maybe not that movie," my wife said. "I don't like that theme."

"It's the only thing that looks interesting," I reminded her. "Let's watch for a little while."

The movie started slowly with the couple confessing to each other about how each had an almost transgression, then deciding their sex life needed improvement. It moved on to them thinking about swinging. They placed an ad in a swinger's magazine, went through the replies, and then finally met an experienced couple.

The first swinging/seduction scene stirred a huge response in me. The other guy – being acted by one of the Baldwin brothers -- began seducing the wife and it was the sexiest thing I had seen in years.

My own wife was looking more at me than the TV. "You like that?" 

I told her I did, and saw she wasn't happy. "I'm going to bed," she said. I watched until the end of the scene and went to bed too, hard and horny. 

Josie wasn't responsive at all. "I hated that movie," she told me, "it completely turned me off."

"Why? I thought it was really sexy." 

"I saw the way you were looking at that seduction, Chuck. The thought of you enjoying that, seeing a guy having sex like that with a woman who was not his wife drives me crazy, it makes me feel insecure, it makes me feel bad, and inadequate, all kinds of negative things. It makes me think maybe you need more than I can give you. I saw you looking at what was going on, and I could imagine you were thinking what it would be like if you were that guy about to have sex with the other man's wife. Maybe it's a man thing, but if ever you did that I don't know what I would do. I couldn't take it." I heard a sob.

"Honey, you can't be more wrong," I told her.

"Wrong? It's dead wrong, there's no question about it. I saw how intensely you were watching," she said, "we've been married long enough for me to know you pretty well, you were really turned on. You came to bed wanting to have sex. It's obvious, you were projecting yourself into that scene, having sex with another woman and that's what you'd be thinking about when you were fucking me." I thought she was going to cry!

"You're right and you're wrong," I said.

She made a "huh?" sound in the middle of a sniffle.

"I did come to bed wanting sex, but you're wrong about the reason."

Enough light was spilling into the bedroom from the night light in the hall so I could see her sit up to look at me. "What other reason could there be?"

"Josie, honey, when I was watching that seduction scene, I wasn't thinking about me being the guy. What really turned me on was thinking about you being the woman. I didn't think about me being the guy doing the seduction, I thought about how it would be if you were in that scene, if you were willingly seduced while I was watching. That's the idea that really got to me. And what I would be thinking about, if we had sex, was how it would feel to be a man making love to you for the first time, and how you would feel, feeling a different man in you like that."

The room went silent for a few breaths. "The thought of you having sex with another woman really upsets me," Josie finally said, "and you're telling me the idea of me having intercourse with another man excites you?"

"I thought of how sexy you can be, and when I was watching the movie I was seeing you being seduced and it really touched something in me."

"Oh." She settled back onto the bed. "I'm not sure that's any better than you having another woman," she said. "I need to think about that." In a little while her breathing went smooth, she was asleep.

I was horny and erect but after a while I went to sleep too.

We woke up together the next morning. Sunday mornings for us often started with sex: I wondered if last night's discussion would stop that tradition. Josie rolled toward me, her leg moved over mine. Well, that was promising, that's the way she often started foreplay. I held her close, and she put her hand on my chest. Oh yes, this was going to happen. I stayed still, concentrating on every sensation and was pretty sure there was more than the usual warmth where her groin was pressing against my hip. 

Then her hand migrated lowed, onto my belly. 

"YES!" I thought, all had to have been forgiven about last night. Her fingers moved under my pajamas, and then -- she does this so well, she has a magic touch -- they caressed my erection. "You feel good," she said as she stoked me.

"And that feels good, too," I told her as her fingers moved along my very erect penis. 

Her touching me led to me undressing her, kissing her. I was fondling her breasts, teasing her very willing vagina. 

She stopped me for a moment. "Chuck, I want to congratulate you on thinking fast last night. I don't believe your story for a minute, but I admire your fast thinking."

"You're wrong if you're thinking I was lying," I told her, "but we can talk about that later. For now, though. . ." 

It was great sex! I may be forty five (she's forty three), we may have been married for nine years, but sex was always fresh and new with her. 

So she didn't believe me when I told her it was her being seduced that excited me? I thought about how to bring that topic up again. I thought about it when we had sex the next Tuesday night and when we had sex on Thursday. I didn't talk about it, but thought about it, thought about what another man would be thinking and experiencing if it was his penis in her, if he was looking down at her slender and fit body, and at that face, those lips, and what he'd feel if he looked down between the two of them and saw his cock moving in her. And I thought about how I might feel if I knew that was happening, or watching that happen.

I recognized it was an experience I wanted to have.

Sunday morning came -- today, I decided, was the day I was going to tell her. I took the sexual initiative that morning. When we were both awake I rolled toward her, kissed her. She kissed back with a comfortable pre-sex kiss, fully expecting the transition to foreplay. 

It would be a different kind of foreplay today. 

"I want to take you on a sexual trip this morning. I want to work on your mind and your body." I told her. "Ready to take off?"

"Sounds like fun," she said. "You're the pilot: fly me."

A kiss or two later I mentally crossed my fingers, swallowed hard -- not that she knew that, of course -- and whispered "Do you remember last weekend, when I told you what excited me was the thought of you being seduced?"

She stiffened a bit: "It was a clever lie. It really wasn't all that original, but it was clever, and you're forgiven. Now do what you said, fly me."

I kissed her and reached under the sheets, pushing at her pajamas bottoms -- she helped and kicked them off -- then unbuttoned her top until she could pull it over her head.

I pulled the sheet back over her.

"I'm naked under this sheet, and you're not," she said when her hand drifted down until it found my erection. "Mmm, judging from that thing, it won't be for long, will it? Was that Freudian, saying it won't be long? It feels long enough."

I was caressing her arm and shoulder. A second later she said "I'm ready for you to take advantage of me," while she fondled that part of me that would do the taking.

She was on her back, mostly covered with the sheet, her legs were slightly opened, eyes closed. I had a turned on wife.

"Honey?" I said it softer than a whisper.

"Mmm?" She made a noise in reply.

"You don't have to touch me now," I told her. "But I like too," she objected. "I like it too, but right now I want to give you pleasure, this is going to be all about you." I took a deep breath, then whispered into her ear "Put your arms over your head, stretch out really tall. It's the start of the trip I promised. Ready to go?"

"You don't have to do anything special, but you make it sound nice," she said. She moved around a little, got comfortable, then extended her arms and asked "like this?"

I didn't answer in words but spent a moment or two caressing her, feeling her respond.

"Keep your eyes closed, OK? Remember that guided imagery relaxation course we took? Do that. Empty your mind, just concentrate on what my fingers feel like when they touch you. Then I want to talk about something while I touch you, I want to guide you to some sexy images. You have no idea how excited I'd be if you let me do that," I whispered. "Would that be OK?"

She nodded her head.

I know my wife pretty well, and thought, or hoped, that she'd be receptive to what I wanted to do. It was time to find out. 

"Remember that I told you thinking about you being seduced excited me? Let's imagine together that you were being seduced right now. I'll do the seducing. Would you mind?"

There was a pause: did I go too far? She moistened her lips again, and then said "No, if it pleases you you can imagine that."

I spent the next moment or two just stroking her body, near her breasts, on her belly, but teasing, just brushing pubic hair, making glancing contacts to those places that I knew excited her: her ears, her neck, the side of her knee.

I had to ask: "Will you imagine it too?"

"You're a tease," she whispered, moving a little as my fingers did their work, not answering my question..

I waited another minute, then made my next request: "I need you to help."

"Help how? What do you want me to do?" 

"Will you imagine you are being seduced by someone else, that it's not me next to you, but someone else?"

She was silent.

I added "that would really turn me on."

There was what seemed to me an uncomfortable pause, but it had to be only a second or two long, and she, eyes closed, nodded her agreement.

"And imagine I know what you're being seduced, OK?"

Another pause, then another nod.

"Would you mind if I imagined myself watching?"

She licked her lips.

I teased her a little more, watching my wife respond, stretched out tall on the bed, as turned on as I had seen her in a long time.

"Would you mind?"

Her face was a little red, but she shook her head no and whispered "If that's what you want to do, I wouldn't mind."

I played with her body a little more, then said "If I was watching, I'd want to see something."

She didn't respond but I could see her entire body was tense – almost rigid: it was like she was afraid of something.

That didn't stop me, I was too much into it now. "I would want you to show the man next to you that you wanted him. He'd want that too."

She was still very tense.

"It wouldn't be hard to do."

Her whisper was a little raspy. "What do you want me to do?" 

"You're all covered by the sheet. He'd know there's a beautiful and sexy body next to him, and I'd know it too. But he doesn't want to force you to do anything, and I wouldn't allow him to force you, either."

There was another pause, then she asked again: "What do you want me to do?"

"Show him you're willing. He'd want to see your entire body naked on the bed next to him, wanting him. Think about that. Then, when you're ready, when you have that in your mind, when it's real enough, do what he wants, and what I want. Take the sheet off so he can see you and touch you."

Could she? Would she? It was so different from anything we had ever done before. "I'd want you to be exposed, ready to be touched, ready to be loved, ready to be fucked."

I could see her face flush a little more.

"So, when you're ready, would you take the sheet off for us?"

Seconds went by. Her eyes were still closed. I could see her biting her lip, but she moved and brought a hand down from over her head and pushed the sheet down a little, almost exposing her breasts.

She wet her lips again, and whispered "If you want him to see the rest of me, you do it. You take it the rest of the way off."

Oh my God!

I had a hard time recovering my own voice. "Is that what you want me to do?"

Would she agree? An eternity went by, then she nodded, whispered a quiet "yes," and stretched under the sheet, nude under the sheet, spread out, available. 

I, deep in the fantasy, drew the sheet across her belly, her groin, then over her legs and off, imagining I was a different man, seeing this woman, this offering, beside me. I couldn't help myself. I made a sound that was part groan, part sigh "aaahhhhh. . ."

"Is this what you wanted, am I doing what you want, is my body what you want him to see?" she whispered.

I couldn't resist. I sat up, pulled at one leg, pushed at the other, opening her wide, then leaned down over her groin. I put my arms around her legs, reached up between them, spread her center wide, smelled the heat, felt the warmth, let my tongue just barely touch her clit.

It was like she exploded: she rolled her hips up, thrust them against my face, and my tongue went deep into her.

I felt her hands on my head, pushing me into her.

"No, no -- keep your hands over your head!" I told her, speaking into her vagina but loud enough so she could hear me.

She stretched out again, legs and arms, her hips were moving under my lips. I couldn't have been more erect, more excited. 

For the first time in years I was able to take my wife to an orally induced orgasm!

It didn't take me long to kick off my pajamas, or long to fill her vagina with my penis. And for the first time in years, I lost control early. It didn't matter, so did she. Orgasms, two to one. Not that I cared.

It might have been morning, but we fell asleep again in each other's arms.

"Lover," she said when we awoke again, "lover, you're a naughty man. That was quite a trip you flew me on. Any chance for an encore?"

"Now, or later?" I asked.

"Tonight?" she replied. We shook hands on that deal, and started the rest of our day.

We don't often have double headers, but somehow by mutual consent we somehow agreed to go to bed early.

"Take off those pajamas, but stay under the sheet," I commanded.

"Sounds interesting," she said. "Same trip, Mr. Tour guide?"

"Not quite, I don't want to be boring -- at least in the figurative sense," I told her.

She struggled with her clothing, then was still, and quiet, arms at her sides, covered by the sheets. She was already excited; her nipples were poking at the sheet. Well, I wasn't going to be that easy on her.

"Ready?"

"Ready," she agreed.

"Are you going to help?"

"Sure, just like this morning," she said.

"Not quite. Close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths," I said.

She did. 

"You know I got turned on by thinking of you being seduced?"

She nodded. 

"Do you believe me now? That it wasn't just something I said to make you feel better?"

She didn't do anything for a moment and then said "I guess so."

"Want me to try to prove it again?" I asked.

"You did a pretty good job at that this morning," she said, with her eyes still closed.

"That's not an answer."

"OK, try to prove it again," she said. "Want me to stretch out again? I liked that."

"Not yet." I was going to take a big chance here. Long ago we promised each other that asking what either of us might have done before we became lovers was out of bounds. We could tell the other one something if we wanted to, but asking was over the line. 

That was a line I was going to cross. "OK. I'm going to start. You have to trust me on this, OK?"

She nodded.

"Keep your eyes closed."

"OK."

"Now, I want you to let your mind go to when you were feeling really sexy."

"That's easy, that was only few hours ago."

"No, honey, not then. I want you to think about a time before you met me, sometime after your divorce when you were feeling really sexy."

"I don't like to do that."

"Please? Do it for me," I almost pleaded.

She hesitated.

"I want you to think about a real flesh and blood man, a man you, you know, ah, went to bed with, had sex with. It's important to me. Will you do that?"

She took a few seconds and then nodded yes.

I wanted a few breaths' worth of time, then asked "Do you have that time and place and person in mind now?"

She nodded.

"Good. It's turning me on more than watching that movie, knowing you're thinking of a real time in your life when you were feeling sexy. I like that you're thinking of another man when I'm right here. I want you to think about the man you were with who helped make you feel so sexy. Think about him for a little while, how hot you were, and how much he wanted you and how much you wanted him. Just nod your head when you've done that."

A moment or two later she nodded.

"OK, now pull off the sheet, show me what he saw."

It took a moment or two. I noticed her body was making little movements. Then she did it -- she pulled the sheet off her body --her slightly flushed body.

"Beautiful," I said. "He must have thought you were beautiful, too."

Her body was almost quivering.

"Did he look good to you? Think about that, did he look good, did he look excited? Was he hard?"

Did I go too far? Was she upset?

Then she said "He did look good, and he said I looked good enough to eat. And. . . . . . and yes, he had a hard on, an erection."

"Do you remember what it was like touching him? Touching it?"

She nodded her head -- she was into it!

"I'll bet he went down on you." She nodded just a little bit. "I'll go down on you too. I know you don't like to talk about those times, and that's OK, you don't have to tell me about it."

Then I did what I said, I went down on her, just like I did in the morning.

I was enjoying exciting her, enjoying tasting her. I lifted up just a little bit, and said "You don't have to tell me what you did, but you could show me," then I went down on her again. 

She moved. I was beside her and she rolled toward me, she held my cock.

I heard her say "I did this," and my penis was captured in her mouth, she was stoking me, one hand reached around me, down the crack between my buttocks, caressing my anus, the other was pumping me, I could feel her mouth, then her tongue, moving down my shaft, touching my scrotum, teasing me.

I ejaculated only a few hours ago, but I was ready to again, all too soon. I pulled away, turned, moved between her legs, entered her.

"He was a lucky man," I said, now a little more in control, moving in that warm space in my wife, enjoying every stroke.

Josie was quiet, so I went to the next level. "Think about what it was like when he was fucking you, and I'll think about that too."

She was moving so nicely, nodding yes, and I said "Call me his name, tell him you want him!"

She was holding my hips, biting at her lips, then she whispered something she never ever said to me: "Come in me, Frank, give me everything you have. Come in me now!"

And she orgasmed.

I didn't, not yet.

When she came down from her high, sighing as she sank into the bed, she felt me still moving in her.

"Are you OK? Did I leave you behind?"

"I'm fine," I told her. "I loved watching you then, when you were saying what you were saying, and doing what you were doing. It was beautiful."

"But you're still hard."

I was feeling less inhibited than I ever had with her. "Honey, sometimes I masturbate thinking about you."

"That's OK. Maybe even, that's good. It makes me feel good, knowing you think about me when you masturbate.

I was still on her, in her. I held myself up with one hand, gripped my cock with the other, and began stroking myself as I, well, as I fucked her.




It's a Start: Tony's Version



"Do you mind if I think about you and Frank, and masturbate in you while I think about that?"

I could see her pupils dilate until the blue of her eyes was almost all black.

"Do it. Masturbate in me. Think about that, and so will I."

Her hand covered mine, we both stroked my cock as I moved in her until after two or three minutes I pulled my hand, and hers, away, and pushed in as deeply as I could. I could feel that surging in me, and so could she. She raised her knees, tilted her pelvis, and accepted all I had to give her.

It took a few minutes to recover, we were both short on breath.

"What a ride," she said. "Whoever said that thing about old dogs sure did not know what he was talking about. And you're the most erotic and sexy man in the world. For sure one with the dirtiest mind, and you're so persuasive too, you take me right along with you."

"Do you know what would happen if you ever did that with someone now, like what we just did?"

"Yes, you'd go crazy."

I shook my head no. "I want to show you what I'd do. Remember that country song you used to laugh at, it was this guy singing about how he liked his women on the trashy side?"

She said she remembered, and I said "I want to be a little trashy now."

"You already are, sweetheart, and I love you for it," my woman said, hugging me. 

I wasn't done. 

"Want me to be trashy?"

"I don't know what else you can do, you already came," she said. 

I took that as an invitation, and rolled on top of her, kissing her. "That's nice," she said, "there's nothing trashy about that, but it is nice."

"Not trashy yet," I agreed, then moved down, kissing her throat. It was the move I often made when I was going to go down on her.

". . .ah. . ."

"Stretch out tall."

"Chuck?" she said, but I insisted: "stretch out tall."

She put her arms up over her head again, and I moved down, nibbling at one nipple, then the other, and enjoying every sensation.

Then I moved lower, nuzzled into her belly.

"Uh, Honey, you just, ah, we just. . ."

"Shhh," I said, "I know, but I want to be trashy. I told you it would turn me on to see you seduced, and I just did, and this is how I want to thank you. . ." And I moved a little lower, to the start of her bikini cut.

Her legs were tight together. That would never do. I moved a little to the side and a little lower, and kissed at her hip and sensed a quivering in her leg.

I pushed at one leg, pulled at the other, spreading them a little, and was able to kiss at the inside of her upper thigh, and could feel all sorts of tension, all sorts of little motions. I could just turn my head and be over her center, but I had a different idea. "Do you think this is trashy?"

She made a soft affirmative noise. 

"Want me to be trashier?"

"I'm not sure. . ."

Another kiss, closer to center.

"Want me to be trashier?"

"I'm, uh, I'm. . . "

I reached up, put my hands on her shoulders, then pulled, sliding my hands over her arms as she lowered them until they were at her sides, at her hips.

I nuzzled into her upper thigh, and she whimpered.

Then I drew her hands together over her vagina, positioned her finger tips at her lips there, and paused for just a moment, wondering if I wanted to really do this.

I did. 

I spoke, not softly, not making a request, but issuing an order. "Hold yourself open for me."

"Chuck, I . . ."

"I want you to think about Frank and roll your hips up and spread yourself for me. Do it now. Say 'Do, me, Frank,' and do it now."

An hour long moment passed, then she raised her knees just a little, and tilted her hips. Her fingers moved, opening her lips, and she whispered "Do me now, Frank, do me now."

I had never gone down on my wife after being in her. She was warmer, wetter, saltier -- that salt could have been me!

I may have ejaculated a little while ago, but I was hard too as my tongue touched her everywhere, probing, licking, exciting both of us. I became even more inspired, took the wrist of one of her hands and pushed her fingers into that little void, too. "Finger yourself, think of him, and finger yourself!"

My tongue could feel her fingers moving there, and sooner than I could have thought, her body spasmed in another orgasm.

"Enough, lover, I can't take any more. Enough," she said a moment later.

I moved up beside her, my face wet with both of our juices. I felt her hand on my back, then tentatively on my hip, then on my erection.

She was staring at me. "You have an erection!" 

"I told you this excited me, of course I have an erection."

She was coming down from her high: "do you want me to take care of that thing for you?"

"No," I assured her, "I am a very satisfied man. I don't need any more gratification, except to hear you say one thing."

She thought for a moment, then held me close. "Honey, I do believe you now, I do believe you do get off on the idea of me being seduced or seductive."

"And that was the one thing I wanted to hear you say," I assured her.

We slept.

Somehow over the next few days we avoided talking about our erotic encounter, but the next weekend we were driving to one of our favorite restaurants -- it was thirty miles away. It was a happy time, we were celebrating my promotion: I now led a group of a couple of dozen engineers. I guess it's important that you know our company designs and manufactures very little devices, pumps and things like that, that other companies use in their products. They are mainly used in instruments that are used in the chemical industry. 

Anyhow, it was a happy time, and Josie decided the dark of the car was a good place to bring up what we usually confined to the bedroom.

"Did you really mean it, that me being seduced turns you on?"

"Do you expect a different answer here?"

"Well,' she said, "we're not in the middle of sex and won't be for hours so there's none of that pressure. Maybe your answer would be different."

"It's the same answer."

We drove on for another mile or two. I was sure I knew what was coming next. I knew she had to ask. She did. "Just suppose for a minute I was going to do something like that. I think you'd go crazy in a jealous rage."

"I'd be ragingly horny, not angry. I thought I proved that."

"That," she said, "was just pretending."

"Only because we haven't done it for real yet," I told her. "I think I'd really get off on that."

She thought about that for a few moments, then asked "I'm not sure that's true. What would I have to do to satisfy that urge you have? Have you thought about that?"

"Of course I have. I'll tell you what I think, it's my wish, and then you can tell me if we could make it a plan."

"I'm listening."

"If I have to travel, I'd like you to come along on a business trip to a meeting with me, somewhere away from home so the chances of meeting anyone we know, or of someone you meet ever meeting you again is very small. 

"You mean go somewhere far away? Be anonymous?"

"Sure. I'd have us registered in two rooms at a hotel. If it's a place where businessmen stay, the hotel lounge is usually really busy. I'd like you to go there, be friendly, if a guy you like happens to hit on you, let things go where ever you want them to. If the guy excited you I'd want you to have sex with him, but in my ideal world it would be somewhere where I could watch you being seduced. I wouldn't want to interfere, or even have the guy know I was there, so he wouldn't be inhibited."

"I guess if that couldn't happen, next best thing would be for me to know you were with someone, and that you'd come to me as soon as you could after whatever happened happened. What I mean is, I wouldn't want you to spend the night with someone. I'd want you in my arms all that night."

"How come you want it to be at a meeting instead of on vacation?"

"Because the guys who travel on business are usually straight arrows, they're not out to pick someone up. They have families at home. I know that because I talk to a lot of them when I travel. Sex away from home for them is a fantasy, something they may think about but never chase after."

"And I'd be a single woman?"

Well, no." I had considered that too. "I like the idea of you being there married. You'd have on your wedding ring and engagement ring and all that stuff. If something happened you could claim it was just spontaneous, something the two of you just fell into. And for you, seeing your wedding ring on your hand, a hand you're stroking him with, that would be really hot."

"Wow." She thought about that for a while. "The nice thing about a fantasy is that there are never any practical problems, like sexually transmitted diseases and things like that."

I had an answer for that, too. "Suppose you were talking to a guy in the hotel lounge," I said, "and he told you about his wife and kids. That's the kind of guy who goes to these conferences, they really are straight. They would be safe. And you would tell him about your marriage too, but how you were there alone."

She thought about that for a while. "Interesting theory. You actually spent time thinking about this, huh?"

"Yeah."

She was thinking aloud. "Oh, here's a problem. A guy like that wouldn't be on the prowl, out looking to pick someone up."

I agreed: "That's right."

"So," she continued with a 'see, this wouldn't work smirk on her face, "he wouldn't be carrying a condom -- if he did, it would mean he was a player, and we wouldn't want him to be someone who screws around, because of STDs."

"That's right," I agreed.

"And I shouldn't have one either, because if I did that would change everything, he'd know it was planned. So, hubby, it looks like your idea has a lethal flaw."

I looked at my wife, not sure she'd accept what I was going to say. "No, you shouldn't have one, either. I wouldn't want you to have one. We used to call it bareback: I would want you to have skin on skin contact, I would want you to, when he is starting to push into you, to feel cock, not latex."

That stopped the conversation for a moment, then she said "I guess the way you're describing it, it would be safe to do that in theory, but that's pretty intense. And besides, you had a vasectomy so I wouldn't have to be on the pill. I could get pregnant." 

"I wouldn't want that either and I know birth control pills had an awful effect on you."

"So, practical considerations rule this game out. That's good," she said.

"Well, not really. Suppose I got you some of those RU 486 morning after pills?"

"You can't get them in the US."

"Suppose I did get some. What then?"

"Well, I guess in theory, if it was something we wanted to do, and the circumstances were right, you have answers for most of the practical questions. Not that we talked about ethics, or marriage vows or things like that yet. It's kind of kinky fun talking about it, but it won't happen in real life, will it? And anyway, here's the restaurant. Let's go satisfy a real hunger, not a pretend one."

"Wait a minute," I told her. "You said it's fun talking about it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let's play the game some more. Here's the new rule. When we're away from home, like now, you keep an eye out for men who are alone. Get used to looking at them, checking them out, seeing if you like what you see -- if they are 'possibles'. When you find one you think you might look, just tell me about him, OK? It'll add to our fun in the bedroom later."

Well, readers, you can be sure that added fun for months. We had a rich sex life, and Josie had become much more aware of men who might be looking at her, what we called "possibles."

I'm going to end this story with something that happened last summer. It was at the end of another Sunday morning sex feast, and we were relaxing in each other's arms in the afterglow.

"Honey, something's come up at work and it's given me an idea."

"There are better times to talk about work than just after sex, sweetheart. Usually you're a lot more sensitive and romantic than that."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Josie," I told her. "Remember, I told you I was bugging the marketing guys at work to get me more exposure to the companies that use our pumps?"

"Yes."

"It turns out there's a conference in Somerset New Jersey each November, where those companies have exhibits, It's called the Eastern Analytical Conference. I'm going to attend it for three days."

"That's nice," Josie said, still puzzled about why I brought this up.

"I'd like you to come. You could go to New York City during the day if you wanted to."

"It sounds nice, and I have comp time I can take off from work, but . . ."

I interrupted her. "Honey, I have a little present for you."

I gave her a gift wrapped box. She is not graceful about opening presents, she tore the package apart and found a blister pack with 4 pills in it.

"What. . .?"

"Those are RU486 tablets, honey. A lot of tech types like me attend that conference, there'll be a lot of 'possibles' there. I've booked two rooms with a connecting door at the hotel in Somerset right next to the convention center. Come with me, and bring those, and get to use them."

She was holding them in her hand with a look on her face I couldn't describe.

"Lay back," I said, "and stretch out."

She didn't, she just looked at me. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. She went willingly, and stretched out tall, arms over her head, the blister pack still in one hand.

A moment later she kicked off the sheet that was covering her from the waist down, and let her legs part just a little bit.

I bent down and nuzzled into her belly, and felt movement. Her legs opened a little wider, inviting me.

I traced down over her hip, then the front of her leg to the inside of her thigh. I was so close to that warm damp spot in her center. I moved a little so I was right over it, right over that slit that connected to her center. She moved too, her own arms came down, and this time without my help her fingers found her lips and opened them, exposing that sensitive interior for me.

I began teasing her there, and heard her say something.

"What did you say, honey?"

"Tell me the dates of that conference, Chuck, so I can put in for getting those days off. And honey? I like my man on the trashy side," she said, as she tilted her pelvis up for me.

Josie has read this story, of course. I think this is a good stopping point for me. You can let your imagination extend the story. Or better yet, wait a while. Josie said she might like to write the next chapter.

Stay tuned.