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Pillow Talk, Just Pillow Talk

By: PositiveThinker



The hot pillow talk I had with my second wife, Gloria, from June until September was a summertime event and something that I looked forward to having, an understatement, anytime we were alone and romantically in the mood. If you don't know what pillow talk is, if you never had hot pillow talk, we weren't talking about buying vibrant colored and bold designed pillows at Bed and Bath. Definitely, we were beyond discussing designer cushions. We were talking about sex.

After watching my wife flirting with our friends during our first pool party of the summer, I couldn't wait to have some hot pillow talk with her about it later. A summertime sexual phenomenon, I recently discovered what a real turn on pillow talk can be. It's something that I never had with my first wife, Jennifer.

Jennifer wasn't much into talking about sex with me. She wasn't much into having sex with me. She wasn't much into talking to me. She begrudgingly allowed me to have sex with her motionless semi-naked body before shoving me off of her, as soon as I finished.

"Are you done? Then, get off me. You're hurting me. You're too heavy."

"Thanks for everything. I'll see you the same time next year," I said sarcastically with a smug smile knowing that it probably would be a year before she had sex with me again.

"Asshole," she said under her breath.

"I love you," I said with an insincere smile.

Even though we had tried, we could never recapture the lost passion we had when we dated and that climaxed during our Honeymoon in Mexico, so many years ago. Living life as a married couple, making a family, and raising children, the two, young lovers obsessed with one another, laughing, loving life, and having fun was long gone. In hindsight, she was only interested in having kids and, once I gave her two kids, she hid behind the extra pounds she gained and never lost from her pregnancies.

That was the end of our sex life. Tragically, she had become the carbon copy of her mother, short, fat, and filled with a contemptible hatred for me. If only it had been in liquid form, the love she once had for me was replaced by a caustic disposition that could remove rust from the bumper of a '56 Nash Rambler that had been left out in the rain for fifty years. I'd make a million bucks selling that solution.

I stayed with Jennifer mostly because of the kids, but once they were out of college, we filed the papers and parted our separate ways. Rather than continuing living with me, she was happy getting the house and her monthly child support check and I was happy to give it to go. A year after my divorce was final; I met Gloria, my second wife.

I saw her across the aisle at a night baseball game. She was sitting with some friends. Only, as if the lights were shining only on her, she may have been sitting alone. One within a crowd, she was so strikingly beautiful that she made everyone else disappear. I was so captivated by her, and so eager to make a connection, that I don't remember who had won the game. I don't even remember who was playing the home team. I just remember her.

I spent the entire game pulling vendors aside and putting money in their hand to have them deliver whatever they were selling to her. From beer to cotton candy to hot dogs to ice cream to souvenirs, after the game, she was easy to spot in the crowd. She was the one wearing the baseball hitting hard hat, carrying the team balloon, and holding the pennant, the inflatable baseball bat, the stuffed mascot, and whatever else they were selling at the park.

Finally, the last thing that I paid a vendor to deliver to her was a one hundred dollar bill with my telephone number and message scribbled on it.

"Sorry," it read, "but I don't have any paper with me. Call me, Paul," and I wrote my cell phone number.

A shot in the dark and fun while it lasted, I figured she'd pocket the hundred and I'd never hear from her, but surprisingly she called me three days later on a Tuesday night. Maybe she was bored and lonely or maybe she was curious, without doubt, I figured she thought that I had money and she was right. As she was leaving the stadium after the game, I left my friends behind to follow her from a distance. I wanted to hear what her friends thought of a mystery man buying her gifts and sending her a C note at the ballpark.

"You should call him, Gloria. Maybe he has money. Maybe this is fate. Maybe he's Mr. Right and your knight in shining armor," said one girlfriend.

Her name was Gloria and all that I could think of was her glorious name, Gloria. I wrote Gloria everywhere. I couldn't work. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I felt as if I were a teenager again in puppy love. Even though, I knew nothing about her, other than what she looked like and now her name, instantly, I was in love.

"Yeah, he must be loaded to buy you all this stuff and then to have a hundred dollars delivered to you," said the other girlfriend. "I'd call him if it was me."

"He's probably some, old married guy looking for a mistress and wanting a blowjob," she said to her friends with a flip of her shoulder.

She was right on two counts. Obviously by the youngish looks of her, she was no more than thirty-years-old and I was surprised when I found out that she was 34-years-old. I was much older than she was and I was certainly hoping for a blowjob, but I wasn't married.

Lonely and looking for someone to share my life, the type of guy who can't live without a woman in his life, I had been without someone for longer than I could stand. I wondered how she felt about dating an older man. Yet, you never know. Maybe, if there was a spark when we met, if we met, the differences in our age wouldn't matter. Well, I'm happy to report that it all worked out for me and for us.

I'm Paul and that's my beautiful wife, Gloria, by the pool surrounded by all those captivated and horny men. She's the leggy, flirty blonde in the red bikini standing next to her best friend, Sheila, the equally as tall and beautiful redhead in the blue bikini. I love how my sexy wife looks in a bikini. She looks great. Doesn't she look great?

Jennifer would never shoehorn her fat body in a bathing suit. Her weight issue was as big as our house. Between asking me if she looked fat, being depressed because she was fat and trying and failing at every diet known to man, our conversations were all about her and her weight issues and never about me and my sexual needs. In the confident way that Gloria is around men, Jennifer never had a good enough self-image to flirt.

It wasn't that Jennifer was ugly; she was a good looking woman, especially when I first met her. It wasn't that she was obese; the issue she made of her being overweight was heavier than the weight she actually was. The twenty pounds she had gained with each of our two children was weight that she could never lose. She tried. Always on a diet and always sensitive about her self-image, God forbid I should look at a woman who was not as heavy as Jennifer. I'd have Hell to pay.

"Who's that?"

"Who?"

"That woman you were looking at."

"I wasn't looking at any woman."

"Yes you were. Who is she?"

"No one."

"Then, why were you staring at her?"

"I wasn't."

"Yes you were. You were staring at her ass."

That was the extent of much of our conversation when out together. I was always checking out other women. I was horny. Maybe, if Jennifer had given me sex, I wouldn't be looking. Only, if Jennifer had given me sex, then I'd still be with her and wouldn't be with my true love, Gloria.

Jennifer always wore shorts and a loose tee shirt in the pool. She wasn't much fun to be around during the summertime. Hot, moody, miserable, and sweaty, there was nothing sexy about her. Where Jennifer was short and fat, Gloria is tall and thin. Where Jennifer was about staying home, cleaning the house, and cooking, Gloria is about having fun, doing things, and going places. So opposite in their view of life, I wish I had met Gloria twenty years ago. Maybe I would have worked less and partied more. Then, again, if I had worked less and partied more, I wouldn't have the money to afford such a trophy wife as beautiful and as sexy as Gloria. She makes me happy. She's my soul mate and the love of my life. 

After watching her tease the husbands of our friends and neighbors, I couldn't wait to share my most intimate sexual thoughts with her. I've been hoping to talk her into having a threesome or a foursome or allowing me to watch her having sex with another man or a woman. Only, I'm not sure if she'll go for that, not yet, anyway, but I'm working on her. In the way that things have quickly progressed, especially after the smashing success of this pool party, it's only a matter of time before she'll agree to be more outrageously provocative with her sexual behavior towards others outside of our marriage.

I know what you're thinking. If I'm so happy with Gloria, then why would I want to share her with another man? It's complicated and I'll explain as the story progresses, but did you ever have a car that you loved and wanted your friends to drive it to understand why you made such a fuss over it? Further, even though you're allowing them to take it for a spin to see how she handles while hugging the curves, it's still your car and, at the end of the day, your baby will be coming home with you. Well, it's kind of like that. Yeah, I know, Gloria is not a car, but the passion that I felt for some of the cars that I loved is only surpassed by the passion that I feel for her.

With her high heels, she's as tall and taller than most of the men. Men love it when a woman wears high heels with a bikini. Don't you? I know I do. It's akin to wearing a fur coat with nothing else and I've already persuaded her to do that last winter. A win/win scenario for both of us, I had to buy her a fur coat for Christmas, a mink made from female matching skins, for her to oblige my sexual desire to see her naked beneath her fur, but it was well worth it. I wish you could see the photos I took of her wearing nothing but her mink. She looks as good as any photos taken at a Playboy layout. 

"Paul, I'm not wearing high heels with a bikini. I'm not a twenty-something-year-old. I'll break my frigging ankle on the pavers by the pool," she said while carefully walking around the carpeted bedroom with her high heels and modeling her bikini for me. "Besides, I'd feel foolish. I'll look like a damn Playboy Bunny."

She always needed to be coerced a little to have some hot, sexy fun. Just as she gave me a hard time about wearing a bikini, she had as many excuses not to wear her high heels with her bathing suit. Now that she's no longer a twenty-something-year-old hottie, she said she'd feel foolishly conspicuous with the other women in attendance, women who don't take as much pride in their appearance as she and Sheila do. Even though she did look quite a bit like a woman who could have been in Hugh Hefner's stable of blonde, busty beauties, I quelled her concern about looking like a wanna be Playboy Bunny with a little pep talk. 

"Well, that's the idea, Honey; flaunt it if you have it and you've definitely got it," I said giving her boob a sensuous squeeze before giving her butt a little pat. "Forget about the other women. They're just jealous. The guys will flip when they get a load of you in that hot designer bikini. You look fabulous and your ass looks amazing."

A ten on a scale of ten, especially when you factor in her age, she definitely has it. To assuage her fear of breaking her leg, I had the caterers rollout some indoor/outdoor carpeting and rearrange the patio furniture to give her more of a direct runway to and from the pool. With the carpeting in place from the door to the pool, looking much like the red carpet for the Oscars, I liked thinking that, now, my little sex kitten had her private little catwalk to strut, while showing her stuff. Certainly, I didn't want my thoroughbred mare pulling up lame and ruining not only this pool party and our chances of having hot pillow talk but also our opportunity to have animal like sex later.

Finally, with the promise of a gift from Tiffany's, a sparkly bauble, if she wore the high heels for me, she relented.

"Gloria, Honey, take a look in the mirror, your ass and calves look incredible. You look like a Mrs. America contestant."

Once she got a load of how good she looked in the mirror that sealed the deal. The heels made her legs and ass look sculpted and carved from stone. Understandably, she had a few jitters about showing off so much of her hot body in a bikini that was so abbreviated. Once she relaxed with a cocktail and calmed her nerves about showing off her body, she felt better and more at ease after convincing Sheila to wear her high heels, too.

With one appearing sexier than the other, the two of them are such sexy bitches. I don't know who to look at first. The Stepford Wives should have looked as good as these two bodacious beauties. All that I know is, with just the sight of them, they both make my pulse race and my cock hard. I can only hope they'll agree to get in the hot tub with me naked later, after we've all had a few drinks and after everyone else leaves. Sheila and her husband, Ron, are always the last guests to leave. As excited as I am to spend time with Sheila without other guys vying for her attention, I suspect Ron hopes to get Gloria alone, too.

Now that I see Gloria and Sheila together, especially when comparing them to the other wives and girlfriends at the party, they do look a little conspicuously sexy wearing those high heels with their brief bikinis. It's a turn on for me and something to talk about with her later, when I tell her about all the jealous looks she received from the fat wives and all the lustful leers she received from the horny husbands. A cross between a beauty pageant contestant and a bikini model, the high heels give more shape to her legs, highlight her calf muscles, and raise her buttocks making them appear rounder and fuller.

It all started yesterday when I brought home the bikini that I bought her to wear today at this pool party.

"Honey, I bought you a new bikini for the occasion."

"Paul? I'm too old for a bikini. What's wrong with my one piece?"

"The one piece is for the body you used to have, Sweetie, before your personal trainer gave you your new, hot body. Besides, you wore that last year. Everyone has seen you in that."

"I can only imagine what you bought."

"I left it on the bed for you to model."

Pretending I was preoccupied with something in the hall, I delayed going downstairs and waited for her to peek in the bedroom and look at the bikini.

"Paul! Are you nuts? I can't wear this." I watched her reflection from the hall mirror holding the suit up against her while looking in the full length bedroom mirror. "Where's the rest of the suit? I'll be practically naked."

"That's the idea, Honey. That's the idea," I said under my breath while heading downstairs. "I'm glad you like it," I said loud enough for her to hear.

The bikini I chose leaves little to the imagination. After seeing her in this body conforming bathing suit, it's no stretch of the imagination to imagine her naked. And if all the men in attendance have half the active imagination that I do, which by the conversations we've had at the bar about our wives and other women, I know they've already imagined Gloria naked. As her horny husband, I've seen Gloria naked and I still imagine her naked, especially after watching her parade around in this sexy swimsuit.

Ironically, this expensive, bejeweled designer swimwear that I had custom made to show off her body really isn't made to get wet. Besides, she seldom goes in the water, anyway. It's made to compliment her body. It's made to show off the slim sexy and muscular lines of her new, hot body. It's made for her to be seen wearing, while lazily lounging by the pool and looking so much like the sexy Goddess that she is.

Once the alcohol freely flows as much as the flirting, she'll have to change into the second bikini I bought her to have some fun later in the dark, deep end of the pool. You'd think after spending a small fortune on a designer bathing suit, she could swim in it. Go figure. Yet, by the lustful leers and the attention she's receiving from all the men, I'd say that it was a good choice on my part to have had this designer bikini made for her. Only, wait until she sees and wait until all the guys see the fire engine red bikini that I bought her to wear in the water later.

"Paul, normally I don't wear this color, but I especially like this red one you bought. They both fit me like a glove. Now, I can see why you bought two bathing suits. The first one is for lounging and entertaining and this red one is for swimming. They are both so comfortable. I love them. Thank you, Sweetie. I can't wait to wear them."

"You're welcome, Hon," I said delaying my departure by stopping at the bottom of the stairs. I was more than curious to know how she'd receive the red bikini. She doesn't have a lot of red clothes. Red is not her favorite color. This bright, Ferrari red bikini will compliment her blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. The designer talked me into the color and I'm glad she did. She looks spectacular in it.

During the conversations we had earlier in the year about her wearing a bikini this summer, she suddenly did a one-eighty. To think that she wanted to wear a one-piece bathing suit to cover her hot body is beyond me. She wanted to wear something that showed less skin and saved more of her modesty. She didn't want to parade around in a bikini in front of all our friends and neighbors but, proud of all the hard work she's done to makeover her appearance, I was eager to show off her new figure to everyone. 

After delivering two children more than twenty years ago, she was embarrassed to show so much skin, but I persuaded her with the promise of a trip to the Caribbean, if she did. Afraid to take the first step, sometimes all it takes with her is a gentle push or an encouraging nudge. And it is my duty, as the loving, horny husband that I am, to do just that.

Someone who has her body has no reason to be embarrassed. Admittedly, with age, she was getting a little soft and flabby, but after working out all through the winter and spring and after having a little bit of liposuction, she's transformed her body in the way that Madonna created her hard, muscular body to make the movie Swept Away and Linda Hamilton did the same in preparation to make the movie, Terminator 2. There's not a stretch mark on her toned, flat stomach or cellulite on her shapely thighs, and her shoulders, arms, and legs have a sexy touch of feminine muscularity.

I talked her into having this pool party instead of having an indoor party. I've been counting the days for the weather to warm up enough to have a pool party, so that we could hopefully have some hot pillow talk later, about all the attention she received. In the way she looks in her bikini and with the attention she's been receiving, we'll be talking about this night for a long time. I can't wait for the party to end and to get her alone in bed and naked.

Whenever she's the center of attention, as she is now, Gloria enjoys the fun she receives when erotically teasing the guys with suggestive sexuality and sexy innuendoes. She acts like she doesn't enjoy the guys wanting her, but she does. She knows how to play the game. In the way she looks and walks and talks, she's a natural at driving men mad with desire.

I like thinking that I taught her everything she knows about how to be a sexy vixen and about what guys want. Only, I suspect she knew how already. A great cocksucker, she's a natural cockteaser. Now that she's a sexy siren, I'm always so hot for her. I can't get enough of her.


Pillow Talk, Just Pillow Talk



Enjoying playing the innocent virgin, she acted as if she didn't care to know what guys want, but look at her now working the men at the party. Watching her bending at the waist one way to show her bikini clad ass, while taking drink orders, she bends lower the other way to flash her cleavage and bikini clad boobs, while offering hors d'oeuvres. By showing so much of her hot body in her tiny bikini, she's giving them all what they want and more. It's obvious to me, while watching her from a distance, that they all want her. I can only imagine the pillow talk they'll wish they could have with their fat wives that I'll be having with my hot wife.

Because of the God given and man made body she possesses, with what she wears or doesn't wear and how she acts, she's provocative, another understatement. Classy and elegant, always surrounded by horny men, guys dote on her. They laugh at all her sexy jokes and hang off her every word hoping to get in her bikini bottoms later, while in the deep, dark end of the pool or receive a blowjob in the cabana, no doubt.

Sorry guys, she's mine, all mine. You can look all you want, but you can't touch, not now, maybe later, but not yet. I'm still working on her to agree to all of that. A bit premature to hope she'd have sex with another man, I don't want to frighten her away from the swinging lifestyle by pressuring her prematurely. Maybe once the pillow talk starts freely flowing in direct proportion to the alcohol this summer season, she'll be agreeable to a little more than just pillow talk and a bit more receptive to sucking another man's cock.

An encouraging factual tidbit is that she's the type of woman who has more male friends than she does female friends. I don't mind that she likes men more than she does woman. My first wife was just the opposite. Jennifer had no male friends, not even me, I dare say. She surrounded herself with cackling, fat, and ugly women. I figure it must have made her feel better to be more attractive than her friends.

It's different with Gloria. Hoping for some promiscuity, hoping she'll tell me about what she did and who she did it with, hoping she'll, eventually, allow me to watch her have sex with someone, I encourage her open sexuality. It makes me hot to know that others desire my wife, as much as I desire her. Whenever I see her laughing and having a good time with other men, I wonder if she's having an affair and if the one she's having the affair with is in my house as a guest. It's a turn on to imagine her having sex with someone else.

"Who are you fucking, Gloria? C'mon, you can tell me," I said during one of our pillow talking sessions. "I don't care if you're getting a little on the side, as long as you tell me about it. I just want to know who's sliding their cock in my wife. Tell me, Gloria. Who is it? Who are you fucking? Who are you blowing?"

"That's crass, Paul, even for you. For the last time, I've been faithful to you. No one is sliding their cock in me but you and I'm not blowing anyone but you. And if you continue to suggest otherwise, I won't be blowing you either, buddy boy." She gave me a sour look, turned away, and covered her naked body with the sheet. "I think this pillow talk has gone to your head. Maybe we shouldn't have any more of it." 

It was obvious to me that I was bringing her along too quickly. I decided to back off with the accusations for now. Accusing her of having an affair was just an extension of the pillow talking game. I didn't mean anything by it. I was only hoping to inspire more pillow talk. 

Certainly, I wouldn't be mad if she was having sex with someone else, so long as she told me about it and we talked about it, while she stroked my cock before blowing me. Always excited by having pillow talk with her, I didn't want to risk the chance of her not playing the game by pressuring her too early to admit to her affair. I'll just play it cool and wait until she's in the mood again.

As the summer progressed with our pool parties being the hit of the neighborhood, just as I bet she's having an affair, I bet her lover is here, as one of my pool party guests. I imagine him watching her, while enjoying her playing her little teasing game with all the other men in attendance. Maybe they have pillow talk too, when having sex.

I enjoy watching her from a distance; somewhere she doesn't notice my surveillance of her. Sitting across from her on the far side of the pool with a few of the friends' and neighbors' wives, I watched for her secretive glances and subtle touches, while looking to see which man she paid the most attention to or which the least. Just as I know he's here, I know she's having an affair. I can tell. I can just feel the pheromones in the air.

From the way she acts when around him, blushing, flirting, touching her hair, touching his arm when she's standing and his leg when she's sitting, my bet is on Ron, Sheila's husband. I think those two have something sexually going on between them. It's okay with me if they do because I'd love to do his wife. I'd love to do Sheila. I'd love for us to have a foursome. Only, a bit premature, I'll wait for her to make the first move, before I make mine.

Call it a hunch, a feeling, but I don't mind if she is having an affair, as long as she tells me about it in great detail. It makes my cock hard to think that she's fucking and sucking another man and I can't wait to confront her with my suspicions later. It's fun to question her in bed with the hopes she'll confess the dirty details of her affair, while she's stroking my cock before she blows me. She makes me so hot with desire that I can't wait to share her with others, so that she can tell me all she did to them and all they did to her over some hot pillow talk.

Without doubt, we'll discuss her private sexual thoughts later over pillow talk. First I'll ask her if she's having an affair. Of course she'll deny it, no doubt. Then I'll ask her what she said to the guys at the party and what they said to her before asking her who she'd do. I figure from what she says or doesn't say, I can figure out who it is she's doing. Only, I know she's doing Ron and if she's doing Ron, then I can't wait to do Sheila.

She's transparent in her desire. She can't fool me. I know she's cheating on me. I just can't wait to find out who it is, so that we can get to the next level in having her give me some hot pillow talk, before inviting whoever it is in our bedroom and in our bed, while I watch.

She'll be reluctant to talk about it, of course, that is, until I share with her what I did with the wives in attendance, what they did, what I said, and what they said. A game she plays, she always feigns indifference, before faking being insulted that I'd dare accuse her of having an affair. A Defense Attorney by profession, she can't fool me. She pretends she doesn't like it when I ask her to talk about her most secretive sexual desire, but she does. I know she does. She calls it an interrogation, but I call it pillow talk. Whatever we call it, it's obvious that we both enjoy the verbal titillation.

"Paul, please not again. You must stop accusing me of having an affair with someone. You must stop asking me to have sex with someone. Sex is all you want to discuss. Sex, sex, sex, since I've married you ten years ago, I've had enough of sex to last me a lifetime. Give it a rest. Can we talk about something other than your sexual perversions?" 

See? I told you. It's just a game she plays. She acts annoyed and bothered that I want more pillow talk. Only, she loves it. I know she does.

Before she leaves the house, I ask her where she's going. When she returns, I ask her where she been, who she was with, and what she did. What's wrong with that? It only shows that I care what she does and with who she does it. 

Certainly, I'm not a controlling husband. I just love my wife. Besides, she loves the personal interest that I take during her every waking moment. I'm a man who appreciates not only what he has in her as a wife but also as a sexual partner. She's my most prized possession. I don't mean that she's a thing, but you know what I mean. 

I even pick out the outfits she wears every day and if she allowed me to dress and undress her, I would. I love feeling her through her clothes before touching her through her lingerie and feeling her naked body after. She calls it groping, but I call it being sexually attentive. I can't help myself from touching her, while watching her dress and undress. Besides, she loves all the attention I give her.

She makes me wild with desire. When she's trying to get dressed, my sexual touches are nothing more than foreplay, if you will, for what is to come later. Paying attention to her clothes, I love helping her in that intimate way and she loves having me make all her wardrobe decisions for her. It's a game we enjoy playing. 

"Paul, I'm not wearing what you put out for me to wear."

"Why not?"

"I'll look like a hooker."

"C'mon, Gloria, if you wear it for me, I'll bring you home a surprise later."

"Okay, but I can dress myself. I'm not a child. I don't like you hovering over me and groping me while I'm trying to get dressed."

"I only wanted to help you."

"You mean you only want to help yourself feel my body," she said pushing by me. "Gees, Paul, give me some privacy to get dressed, will you? I feel smothered. I don't bother you when you're getting dressed."

You'll have to ignore her. Feeling a bit overwhelmed with suddenly being under the microscope, she's not usually like this. She's just a little tense. She's acting this way because you're all here reading this story about her, no doubt. Let's all give her some privacy to get dressed and go out by the pool to have some real fun.

"I wish you'd bother me when I was getting changed, Gloria," I said while leaving the room. "From now on, I'll leave my dressing room door open, whenever I'm putting on my boxers for you to lend me a hand. You can help me dress and undress any time you want, Honey," I said with a laugh.

"Don't hold your breath, Paul." 

Pool parties with hot women wearing bikinis and powerful men with money, attribute to the erotic excitement that enhances our sex life. Immediately after the party, we enjoy an electric sexuality that flows directly from our friends and neighbors to us via pillow talk. When turned on by the loud music of one of our pool parties, the sexual current is so hot that it jolts us to live on the wild side. Between the touchy feely teasing of partying with our friends and neighbors and the erotic pillow talk that I have with my wife later, I don't remember having as much sexual fun, as a married couple in my twenties and thirties with my first wife, that I'm having now in my fifties with Gloria. Mix in a healthy dose of alcohol and everyone's inhibitions go down the drain with their modesty.

The second marriage for us both, in a new house and in a better neighborhood, it was another chance to usher in a new age of sensuality and sexuality without the worry of pregnancy and the woe of what would our friends say and our neighbors think. Done with the kid stuff, we fulfilled our family obligations. Our kids are grown and except for occasionally seeing our children visiting with our grandchildren, we wouldn't care if we ever saw another relative again.

No mores, no more having to attend this function or that gathering, this time was our special time to enjoy sex. Going into this marriage with our eyes wide open, we both knew what we wanted. We wanted to have fun without all the responsibility that ruined our sex life and weighed down our lifestyle in our first marriages. Finally, free to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted to do it, to come and go as we pleased without even so much as a pet tying us down, life was suddenly so much better now than it ever was before.

Just as it was really good with my first wife, Jennifer, it was really good in the beginning with Gloria. Newlyweds, we were like rabbits doing it multiple times a day, every day, on different surfaces, and in every room. I've never received so many blowjobs. Now that the heat of our love affair has cooled and that part of our relationship is over, we needed more to spark our excitement.

Back then, Gloria couldn't get enough of me. Back then, Gloria wanted me as much as I wanted her. Close to being a nymphomaniac, I remember her as being insatiable sexpot. She couldn't keep her hands off me. Only, she may remember it a little differently than me.

"You need to find a hobby other than sex, Paul. I'm sore. I'm tired. I have lockjaw. I'm not in the mood. I have a headache. I have my period. I have the plague. I'm dying. Pick whatever excuse you need to leave me alone. We did it twice already today and it's not even lunch time."

"I can't help myself, Gloria. I love being with you. You make me so horny."

"You're smothering me, Paul. Don't you have errands to run? Don't you have any guy friends to bond with? Shouldn't you be out getting drunk at the country club or at a strip club? When's the last time you played golf or went to a ballgame? You have season tickets you don't use and give away. Maybe you should get a mistress and have an affair."

She's such a kidder. Yet, it didn't take me long to realize that we needed some outside stimulation to relight our libido, fire our desire, enflame our imaginations, and rekindle our lost lust. She was reluctant to admit that she needed to flirt with our friends and neighbors to maintain our sexual interest and pique our desire with some hot pillow talk. Yet, once I showed her the way, once I revealed the possibilities to her of what could happen and how much fun she could have, she followed my lead. With the advent of summer and the excuse to wear fewer clothes, the rest of it just happened.

"Pool party! Last one in the pool naked is not yet drunk enough to get naked. Pool party!"

We had such fun at our pool parties over the years. Once, we once had thirty naked people in the pool. That was fun. After watching Gloria flirting with our friends and neighbors for years and watching her getting felt up in the deep, dark end of the pool, after she's had one too many drinks, it's surprising why I never discovered pillow talk before now. Maybe then, I'd rather do it than talk about it. Now that I'm older, I'd rather talk about it than do it. Unable to sometimes get it up, I can never get enough of the verbal titillation and pillow talking stimulation.

"You want me to do what with whom? Eww...gross. Where do you come up with this stuff? Not in this lifetime, in your dreams, Paul. Maybe you should see a therapist."

"Yeah, that would be fun to see a sex therapist. We can do that."

"I meant, just you seeing a psychiatrist, Paul."

Maybe she doesn't enjoy the open sexuality as much as I do, but she will. Not that I needed to stimulate anyone's interest in her by the way that she looks, but I've talked to my friends and instigated their interest in her by telling them what she looks like naked and what she's like in bed. I've even showed some of them a few of the photos of her posing naked for me and they reciprocated by sharing their naked photos of their wives, but their wives all pale in comparison to Gloria. She doesn't know that I shared her naked photos with a few of my friends. She'd kill me if she did.

"You'd better not post those photos on the Internet, Paul. I mean it."

"Don't worry, Doll. I'd never disrespect you like that," I said knowing that she'd never find the site where I posted her photos, NOW, Naked Oblivious Women.

(For those of you leaving this story to look for the site, NOW, I made it up for the purposes of the story. I'm sure a NOW site exists, just as I'm sure that a site exists with photos of naked and oblivious women but, to my knowledge, there's no such site as Naked Oblivious Women.)

I've even encouraged a few of my friends, those who I thought she'd be attracted, to touch her, especially when alone with her in the deep, dark end of the pool, after she's had a few drinks, as long as they tell me what they did and what she did. I've even given her my permission to touch my friends. Blame it on the alcohol, if that makes her feel more sexually adventurous and sexually uninhibited with a touch here and a feel there, it's nothing more than erotic foreplay to encourage and lend fodder to the hot pillow talk we'll have later.

A little uninhibited sexy behavior on her part goes a long way to enhancing our sex life, especially if she were to touch the cocks of some of our friends and neighbors, while they felt up her voluptuous body. We guys don't mind taking the ball and running the field for a touchdown, once she's the one to start the play. Just as it's so much fun to imagine her touching and being touched, it'd be so much hotter if she actually wanted to do it, as much as I wanted her to do it. Notwithstanding, the real fun starts before she does anything. For me, the real fun is talking about it and when she tells me what she wants to do with whoever and what she wants someone to do to her.

"Paul, I'm not going to stick my hand down his bathing trunks and stroke his cock. What's wrong with you? That's just nasty. Eww. I don't care if he's hot for me and if he jerks off over the naked thought of me every day or every hour. His wife is my friend and I can't do that with her husband. I'd be embarrassed to see these people ever again."

"So, if his wife wasn't your friend, then you'd—"

"Paul, stop. Enough."

Used not so much for her to have an affair, my motives were merely to have some hot pillow talk later, about what she did with whom and what were their reactions to her doing it. Her sexy behavior enlivens the pillow talk, whenever she shares every dirty detail with me of what she's done or what she'd like to do. Only, reluctant to take the bull by the horns or, in her case, a cock in her hand and/or mouth, sometimes, I need to give her a little push of encouragement for her to loosen up and enjoy herself.

"Why are you just standing there by the edge of the pool, Gloria? Why aren't you in the pool having fun, Honey? The water is beautiful."

"I'd rather go for a swim in the Amazon with Piranhas than go back in the pool again with a bunch of drunken, horny men," she said with a troubled look on her face.

She stood pouting with her arms folded across her chest, while watching several of the men lined up at the deep, dark end of the pool with wariness. In the way she stood at the edge of the pool, so cute and so sexy, she looked so much like a nervous gazelle. I peered to where my friends and neighbors gathered at the deep, dark end of the pool. I gave them a nod of encouragement, along with my thumbs up wave, and a wink. They looked so much like hungry crocodiles waiting and watching for their prey to take a dip or accidentally slip in the water.

"What do you mean, Doll? The guys are just being friendly and having some fun. It's obvious they like you, especially in that fire engine red bikini. You look so hot."

"Friendly? Forcing me to have sex with them is not what I'd call friendly. I'd call it being sexually assaulted."

Hot with desire for her, while thinking of the pillow talk we'd undoubtedly have later with her telling me why she climbed out of the pool, I couldn't wait to be alone with her.

"You look amazing," I said feeling her sweet ass. "Don't be such a stuck up prude. Go on, you have my permission to have some fun, too, so long as you tell me about it later," I said giving her a suggestive wink and a pat on the ass.

"I don't need your permission to have fun, Paul," she said flipping me a cold shoulder and giving me a rebellious look with a toss of her pretty head.

I love when she tosses her long, blonde hair like that. It reminds me of how she tosses her head to move her hair out of the way just before blowing me. 




Pillow Talk, Just Pillow Talk



"Gloria, you're being overly sensitive. Where's your glass. I'll get you another drink. You need to chill."

"Chill? I'm already frozen by the action of what's going on at the deep, dark end of the pool. And if you think I'm going to do anything with that bunch of perverts worth telling you over pillow talk later tonight, you're nuts, blue ball boy."

Blue ball boy? I can't believe she called me blue ball boy. She can't be serious. The way this pool party is progressing, I won't have blue balls tonight. That's for sure. With all the sex in the air around the pool, if I'll be anything, I'll be macho man. 

"Gloria, relax, Honey. You're getting bent out of shape over nothing."

"Nothing? Our friendly friends and neighbors practically stripped me naked a few minutes ago. When I went in the pool for a swim and to cool off, men grabbed me from behind. It was dark, I was a little bit drunk, and it happened so fast that I couldn't tell who did what. I was mauled, Paul. They violated me. Don't you care?"

Don't I care? Fuck yeah, I care. I can't wait to talk about it in detail later. Immediately, my cock reacted to her telling me that my friends and neighbors practically stripped her naked, mauled her, and violated her. I was beginning to get a nice erection by the thoughts of all the pillow talk we'd have.

"Mauled? Seriously? You're over exaggerating," I said baiting her and hoping she'd tell me more of what I missed.

It didn't matter to me if I had my pillow talking session now or later. Preferably, with so much already to tell me, I certainly hoped to have a pillow talking session now and later.

"Over exaggerating? One of those drunken perverts swam underwater and in between my legs, pulled down my bottoms, and tried to finger fuck me, while another lifted up my top and started groping my tits before sucking my nipples. I felt as if I was being attacked by an octopus. There were hands touching me everywhere. Is that over exaggeration?"

"They're just having some fun with you, baby. It sounds like nothing we haven't done at other pool parties."

"I don't know what pool parties you think you've been to with me, but I can assure you that most of whatever I told you in the past was purely just pillow talk. This is for real."

"Gloria, so someone felt your tits and sucked your nipples, you love the attention that your breast implants give you. That's why you had them done."

"Wait, there's more. Then, while one was trying to finger fuck me and the other was sucking my tits, two others held my arms behind my back and forced my hands down their bathing trunks. They made me touch their cocks, Paul. Eww," she said making a sour face. "The sexual deviates already had erections. They forced my fingers around their cocks and tried to get me to give them a hand job. I'd cut my hands off if they ever ejaculated on them. Eww! Gross," she said wiping her hands on her bikini bottoms. "I need to shower."

The way she spit out the word gross was as if she had just swallowed a bug and was trying to cough it up to spit it out. If I was as excited by what she was telling me now, I couldn't wait for the real pillow talk later.

"C'mon, baby, it isn't like you've never touched a cock before. You've given plenty of hand jobs to me, your first husband, and all of those boyfriends you've had in between marriages. It's something you do well. You have gifted hands," I said smiling at her. "If you die before me, I'm going to have your hands stuffed, along with your breasts and keep them by the bed."

"You're such a sick fuck, Paul. I don't know why I even bother complaining to you," she said looking down at the growing bulge in my bathing suit. "You're getting off on all that I'm telling you, aren't you?"

"It's just a hand job Gloria. It's no big deal," I said lifting her right hand and kissing it, before sticking it down my bathing trucks. She pulled it away as if there was a rattlesnake in my swimming trunks.

"I admit that I've touched a few dozen pricks and I've given my share of hand jobs, but it was by my choice and not forced upon me by someone," she said with anger in her voice, before lowering her voice and looking around to make sure no one else was listening to our conversation. "Someone actually tried to stick his cock up my ass," she said with a look of shocked disgust.

"I admit, that's a bit much," I said knowing that Gloria doesn't do anal, but I've always wanted to try it with her. Jennifer, my first wife, didn't speak to me for weeks when I suggested anal to her. "That's so wrong, Gloria," I said repositioning my growing cock in my bathing trucks.

I wondered who tried to fuck Gloria up the ass. Damn, I really need to install cameras in the backyard. I would have loved to watch that over and again on video.

"Is having me groped and violated by five men your idea of friendly fun, Paul? Is this what you want? Did you put them up to this?"

Friendly fun? Hell no, I wanted to say. It's my frigging fantasy to watch five men groping you and violating you.

"Gloria, I would never force you to do something you don't want to do, and how dare you suggest that I'd put any of our friends and neighbors up to groping you," I said thinking that I'd be buying drinks all around at the country club for a while after this pool party.

"I apologize for suggesting you had anything to do with the inappropriate behavior of our guests," she said.

"If the guys get a little too frisky—" 

"Frisky? You're such an asshole, Paul," she said shooting me a look that made me take a step back. "Frisky is when someone tickles me. Frisky is when someone teases me. What they did could be legally regarded as sexual assault and rape even."

"If the guys get a little too aggressive, just climb out of the pool until they've calmed down."

"Every time I tried climbing out of the fucking pool, there was another guy, a sixth man, trying to stick his cock in my mouth and he almost did, had I not turned my head away in time and spit it out of my mouth."

Damn! Fuck me! Oh, my God! No way! Wow! My mind was whirling with sexual visuals of Gloria being taken by five men with a sixth one forcing her to blow him.

I couldn't help but imagine her with her bikini bottom down around her ankles, while an underwater diver played with her pussy and tried to finger fuck her. I couldn't wait to talk about her holding a cock in each hand, while a fourth man fondled her big phony tits and sucked her nipples. I couldn't believe one of my horny friends tried to stick his cock up her oh, so sweet ass. It must have been Demetrius. He's a big pig.

I couldn't believe someone stuck his cock in her mouth. I wonder who that was. She's a great cocksucker and gives a Hell of a blowjob. If only they knew, they'd have never allowed her to swim away before finishing them off. Definitely, I need to put cameras by the pool. Boy oh boy, I couldn't wait to be in bed with her later with her telling me all that they did to her in detail, while she stroked my cock before sucking it. This is going to cost me that Rolex she's been eyeing and hinting at me to buy her for her birthday.

"Well, it's good to see you getting better acquainted with our friends and neighbors, Gloria," I said with a sly smile. 

"Better acquainted? You're such a dirty bastard, Paul. I figured you'd be the last one to give me sympathy, blue ball boy."

Blue ball boy? I couldn't believe she called me blue ball boy again. Then, she gave me the finger.

"Ah, it's good to see that I'm still your number one," I said taking her glass inside with me. "I'll refresh your drink, while you go for a swim."

"Go for a swim? I'd rather eat razor blades than go back in the pool," she said turning away from me to check where her attackers were in the water.

Suddenly, the imagined music from Jaws played in my head and, as I reached for her glass to bring her another gin and tonic, I accidentally on purpose gave her a hip check and pushed her in the pool. Happening almost in slow motion, it was surreal watching her fall head first in the clear blue water. I made a note to tip the pool man and the landscaper and another note to call the jeweler to order her the Rolex. The pool is spectacular and the grounds are pristine. Gloria must have told them we were having a party. 

I stood there watching her fall in the water with a splash before she briefly disappeared below the surface and then resurfaced with a look or horrified panic on her face. With her blonde hair plastered to her pretty face, it was fun watching her swim her little ass off trying to make it safely back to the edge of the pool.

"Paul, give me your hand. Paul, help me. Paul, pull me up. Paul! Paul! Paul! Hurry!"

She made me feel that I was Michael Phelps poised on the edge of the pool ready to take the plunge in a relay race at the Olympics. Only, I was more like Police Chief Martin Brody, played by Roy Schneider in Jaws, when after serving up his meal of fish chum, he saw the shark coming and backed away.

"What? I can't hear you over this loud music playing in my head."

As the music from Jaws grew louder and louder in my head, suddenly, the water came alive with hands, arms, and legs. Immediately, five men surrounded her and pulled her down to the deep, dark end of the pool. Just as Captain Ahab was in Herman Melville's Moby Dick and Captain Hook was in J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan, she was doomed. With plenty to tell me later, she'd be naked soon. This blue ball boy would surely become macho man with all the pillow talk he'd surely have tonight.

"Music? What music? Paul! Help! Paul!"

Looking so much like a trail of blood, I turned in time to see Gloria's bright red bikini bra floating to the surface, as she disappeared down to the deep and dark end of the pool. With the imagined music from Jaws still playing in my mind, it was fun to imagine her being groped and violated, I mean, having as much fun, as I'd have with all the pillow talk she'd surely have to tell blue ball boy, later.

"Tell me what the bad men did to you, Gloria," I imagined asking her later.

"Well, first they removed my top and then they removed my bottoms. I was naked, Paul. Even though I was submerged in the water, they kept diving below the surface to look at me and touch me. They saw me naked, Paul. I was so embarrassed. They all saw my tits, my ass, and my shaved pussy. Surrounded by hands and cocks, they were all groping me, feeling me, touching me, and caressing me everywhere and all at the same time."

"And then what happened, Gloria, tell me," I said. "Stroke my cock while telling me," I imagined saying to her later.

"There were hands all over my body. Men were touching me everywhere," I imagined her replying as she slowly stroked me to the hardest erection I've had in years. "Someone was playing with my pussy, while another was sucking my tits. One man tried sticking his cock up my ass and fucking me from behind, while two more stuck my hands down their bathing suits and wrapped my fingers around their cocks. Holding my hands in place with their hands, they started slowly humping my hands with their hips forcing me to give them reluctant hand jobs. It was horrible, Paul, just horrible, and then they ejaculated their cum all over my hands. I was more than mortified that I held the cocks of our friends and neighbors while masturbating them and while others explored every inch of my naked body."

"Yeah, baby, stroke my cock faster, while telling me all that happened next," I said wanting to hear her tell me about the sixth, deranged man who tried to make her suck his cock. "If it was so horrible for you, Gloria, why didn't you just climb out of the pool?" 

"I tried, Paul, I really tried but every time I tried to climb out of the pool, there was another man putting his hand to the back of my head and trying to force his cock in my mouth. When I opened my mouth to scream for you, he filled my mouth with his cock. I had another man's cock in my mouth, Paul and he wouldn't let go of my head. He was forcing me to suck his big, hard prick. Then, when I finally spit it out, he pulled my hair so hard that, when I went to scream, he filled my mouth again with his dick. With him holding my head in place with his hand, he fucked my mouth and practically gagged me with his cock. It took all the strength I had to turn my head away and spit out his cock just in time, before he shot his load of gooey cum in my mouth." 

"Show me what the bad man did, Gloria. Show me how he made you blow him. Show me. Pretend I'm him and stick my cock in your mouth, while you show me what he did."

Gloria stopped masturbating me to get comfortable between my legs. My mind was filled with images of her being sexually violated and assaulted by six men. I imagined them stripping her naked. I imagined them touching her everywhere. I imagined her giving two men hand jobs, while being fucked up the ass by another, while a fourth finger fucked her and a fifth man sucked her tits. Then, I imaged her sucking the cock of a sixth man. I imagined Gloria being gangbanged in the pool. With her mouth poised to take my cock inside, she finished the pillow talk before blowing me.

"Instead of cumming in my mouth, he gave me a cum bath. I had cum all over my face, in my hair, and across my tits. If I hadn't resisted, they all would have gangbanged me, Paul. If I had shown them any encouragement, they would have pulled me out of the pool and carried me in the cabana, where they all would have taken their turn fucking me. I never had so much fun, I mean, it was horrible, Paul, just horrible."

I couldn't wait to talk to her about this later.

"Have a good time, Sweetie," I called out to her, while watching the frenzied activity at the end of the pool and giving her a wave, before disappearing inside to take my time getting her a drink and getting myself another scotch.

From watching porn movies together, to visiting strip clubs, to enjoying nude beaches, to imparting sexy innuendoes and touchy feely teasing with our friends and neighbors, we've traveled all over the world, while watching the actions and reactions of other couples playing their sexual games, before experimenting with more of an open marriage ourselves. With furtive looks and stolen glances, before discreetly but inappropriately touching a neighbor or a friend, we waited for the perfect place and the right time to try it ourselves. Treading new ground, depending on our senses, we were playing everything by ear, as to when we could put the moves on someone without being rejected.

It had to be a mutual desire with one wanting to be touched, as much as the other wanting to touch. We didn't want to ruin a friendship or have to move to another neighborhood, should our sexual behavior offend someone enough that they complained or talked disrespectfully about us behind our backs. We didn't want to be ostracized from the neighborhood, from our neighbors, and from our friends. We only wanted to have some sexy fun with others.

Using the private pillow talk we had behind closed doors as our sounding board, if you will, to play out our lustful desires with one another, before we actually did anything, it was gratifying to discover that we were on the same page with not only ourselves but also with so many of our friends and neighbors. Judging from the success of our teasing and with our touchy feely being reciprocated, it seems that there are many other married couples who enjoy extramarital horseplay as much as we do. As matter of fact, many of my friends share my fantasy of watching their wives with another man.

Okay, I do admit that it has sometimes been a challenge to convince my wife to participate in my new spirit of sexuality. She claims that it doesn't turn her on for me to watch her having sex with someone, just as it doesn't turn her on to talk about her having sex with other men and me having sex with other women. It's probably just coincidental that she more embraced the idea, by participating more in the pillow talk of it, after I bought her a new Jaguar.

"I'm not going to have sex with anyone but you, Paul. And if I did have sex with someone, I certainly wouldn't want you sitting in the room watching me nor would I even feel comfortable telling you about what I did and what he did. Eww. That would be so creepy gross."

"What if I stripped you naked, tied you to the bed, blindfolded you, turned off the lights, and invited a few my friends over to—"

"Have you lost your mind? Paul, no."

"What color Jaguar did you say you wanted?"

"I want it blue," she said flashing me her sexy smile, "the same color as my eyes and the same color as your balls are going to be soon, blue ball boy." 

Understandably, in hindsight, I figured she was only hesitant, reluctant actually, and resistant to embrace having sex with another man because she didn't want me to think she was a slut. Yet, of course she's a slut. I know she is, but that's okay. I love the fact that she's a slut. A perfect match, I'm a pervert.

Some may think that she prostitutes herself by coercing me to buy her expensive gifts, but I don't mind. I freely give her whatever she wants, whenever she wants it, so long as she returns my favor and gives me what I want, when I want it, and what I want is hot pillow talk. What good is having money if I can't buy anything my baby doll wants or needs? I love spoiling her in that way. 

Experimenting with the talk of having an affair first, we didn't realize that we stood perched on the precipice of the swinging lifestyle. It was a slow progression, after all, a mindset, if you will, before even entertaining the thought of attending our first swinging house party or dance. Still not there yet, we were nearly there. Surveying the scenery for booby traps, considering the pros and the cons of welcoming others into our marriage, we discussed our sexual feelings and twisted desires, while alone at night.

"Paul, did you buy me a surprise?"

"No, why?"

"Then, what are you hiding behind your back?"

"Nothing, just these scarves," I said removing my hands from behind my back to show her the scarves.

"Scarves? What are you doing with my scarves?"

"I thought we'd have some sexy fun."

"Oh? What do you have in mind?"

"I thought I'd strip you naked, tie you to the bed, and blindfold you."

"Paul that was just pillow talk, I wouldn't really want to be tied to the bed and blindfolded. I'm not into bondage. Being bound adds to my feelings of claustrophobia. You know I don't like feeling helpless. I enjoy playing more of an active than a passive role when making love to you. Why don't I just tie you up," she said with a knowing smile, "and I'll invite a bunch of horny homosexual men over to have their way with you...while I watch, of course."

For a split second, what she said in jest gave me a semblance of insight into what I was asking her to do. Yet, as soon as I thought about it, I erased it from my mind. It was a ridiculous thought. She'd never want to watch me being with a bunch of horny homosexual men, just as I'd love to being with a bunch of horny heterosexual men. Surely, with me wanting to watch her with a bunch of horny men, one had nothing to do with the other. Now me being with a bunch of horny women is another matter and closer to the image that I was hoping her to do with me wanting to see her with a bunch of horny men.

"C'mon, Gloria, it will be fun."

"It would be more fun for you than for me," she said with seriousness. Suddenly, a noise took her attention away from me, "Paul, who's that downstairs?"

"That's Phil from work in accounting. He's the guy that I told you about. I was hoping you'd play nice with him, while I watched."

"Play nice? Watched what?" She shot me a heated look that made me realize that Hell hadn't frozen over, yet, and looking closer at her, she showed no evidence of her sprouting wings to make me believe that pigs could fly. "You mean you want me to have sex with him?"




Pillow Talk, Just Pillow Talk



"Well, yeah."

"That will happen when Hell freezes over and when pigs can fly," she said putting a hand to her hip.

See, I told you and I certainly don't think of my wife as a pig. I think of her as more of a slut. Nonetheless, she's always saying that to me, especially when she wants to pontificate her point with something to make me understand that it will never happen.

"Gloria, I just thought that—"

"Paul, I thought you were kidding. I thought we were just having a little pillow talk. I didn't think you'd seriously want to strip me naked, tie me to the bed, and blindfold me, while you watched me having sex with another man," she said peering down the stairs to get a better look at him. "And I never figured you'd just bring someone home without telling me," she said lowering her voice to a hoarse whisper.

"Actually, Bill and Jim are coming over, too."

"Our neighbors Bill and Jim?

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that? What's wrong with you?"

"Gloria, I just thought that if you and Phil met and got better acquainted over a few cocktails, you might hit it off and—"

"Get him out of my house this instant. I've never been more embarrassed."

"Gloria."

"Now, Paul!"

"Just come down and meet—"

"Now, Paul! Now! And if you bring home another man, I swear, I'll kill you," she said stomping her foot and shooting me a look. She turned and opened her closet. "Where's my gun?"

"Okay, okay, he's leaving."

The fact that she said she'd kill me, if I brought another man home to watch her have sex with him, was early in our sexual exploration and has nothing to do with how she truly feels about our uninhibited, sexual lifestyle now. She overreacted then. Perhaps, she wasn't ready or attracted to the man I brought home with me that night. I think she was just embarrassed. She was kidding about killing me, I think. She forgave me when I gave diamond earrings.

At first, she was reluctant to talk about those things that I needed to imagine for it to excite me. She thought it reckless that I'd want her to have sex with a stranger, a friend or a neighbor, especially with a friend or a neighbor. Yet, it was more exciting for me to imagine her doing someone that I know. She thought it perverse that I needed to think of her with another man.

Afraid of sexually transmitted diseases and the social stigma that would surely attach itself to her reputation, as one who slept around; afraid of losing her respectability, she thought that no good would ever come of having an open marriage. She was so wrong. She was so naïve. She had a difficult time imagining how much fun she could have, by just playing along and going with the flow. 

"You want me to wear what, while serving drinks to you and your poker buddies? What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

It was summer and she was wearing pants and a sleeveless mock turtleneck. She couldn't be more covered up if she wore a parka. I had picked up a little something from Victoria Secrets on the way home. I removed it from the box and tissue paper and handed it to her.

"I bought you this little outfit to wear when—"

"Paul, I'm not a whore. The only thing missing from this outfit is the wings that the Victoria Secret models wear," she said holding up the outfit with two fingers, as if afraid to touch it. "This is what a stripper wears before getting naked," she said throwing it in my face. 

"Yeah," I said thinking about those Victoria Secret wings the models wear and wondering where I could buy them, while thinking about pigs flying and Hell finally freezing over. I caught the outfit, looked at it, and then looked back at her, "I know. So? Try it on for size. I can't wait to see you in it."

"I'm not wearing that in front of your friends. I'd be embarrassed to death. It's so sheer that it's see-thru. They could see my nipples, my pussy lips, and my ass crack through that skimpy outfit. I'd rather be naked than wear that."

"Sure, okay, if you're more comfortable naked and rather serve the drinks not wearing anything at all, that's okay with—"

"Paul! I was being sarcastic. I'll not be made a spectacle of, while your horny buddies leer at me, touch me, and feel me up in the hopes that I'll fuck them and suck their cocks. You only want me to do this, so that I'll jerk you off later before blowing you, while talking all about it over pillow talk. Well, that will never happen."

"Loosen up, Gloria. Get in the spirit of it and have some fun."

"Have you lost your mind? You don't even play poker. You play bridge and you're a terrible bridge player at that."

"I've been watching those poker games on television. I'm a fast learner. I even played a few games on the computer. I'd thought I'd get a game going with a few of—"

"No."

"Just try it on so that I—"

"No."

"Gloria, what if—"

"I don't want to have sex with anyone but you, Paul," she said slamming the bedroom door in my face. "I'm happy having sex with just you," she said through the door. "Okay? Do you understand? And if you continue down this perverse road, I won't even be having sex with you. Next you'll be buying me a pole and installing it in our bedroom."

"A pole? I never thought of that. I can do that. I never thought you'd want a pole. Do you want a pole? We have room for one in the sitting room. It will be hot to watch you twirling around that thing, before hanging upside down naked on it. It's good for that abs. It's great cardio. I'll call a bunch of the guys over to install it and to watch you and we'll even invite all their wives to take a turn."

"Paul, no, I was just being sarcastic. I don't want a pole. If you bring a pole in this house, I'll stick it up your ass."

She was only kidding about sticking the pole up my ass, I think. Still, I decided not to get her a pole, just incase she wasn't kidding. She told me she didn't need or want anyone else and was happy and satisfied with me. Yeah, right, tell me another one.

Yet, the older I grew, the more I wanted to talk about sex and, the more I wanted to talk about sex, the more brazen I became in my need for her to describe her wanton desire and how she felt about sexually experimenting with others outside of our marriage. I wanted to watch her having sex with someone else. I needed to know what she'd say and what she'd do while watching her fucking someone before sucking another man's cock or licking a pussy or having her pussy licked.

Even if we didn't swing and never did participate in the swinging lifestyle, it was still sexy fun for us to talk about an alternative lifestyle. Yet, after seeing her distasteful reactions to my sexual schemes, I knew she wasn't ready to have sex with others...yet. That was okay though because it was more fun for me to talk about her having sex with our friends and neighbors than it was for her to even entertain the thought of having sex with others.

I was eager to escalate the pillow talk to include men we'd pick up at the bar for her to fuck and suck, while I watched. I wished she was more of a complicit partner, in that regard, and was just as excited for me to watch her with another, as I was to watch her with someone else. Unfortunately, by her negative reactions to my sexy ideas, it was apparent to me now, that I needed to slow the pillow talk down, rather than to risk offending her by making her feel pressured to have sex with others.

Nearly as exciting as the actual affair, the pillow talk I hoped to have heightened my lust for her. Only, she had a knack of bringing me back to reality, whenever she peppered what I wanted her to do with someone outside of our marriage, a man, a woman, a man and a woman, or two men with her insightful words of wisdom.

"Over my dead body, Paul," and sometimes, she exchanged her words with, "Over your dead body, Paul."

I knew she was only kidding. I knew she was just teasing me while thoughtfully considering the possibilities of having sex with another, while I watched. Her way of protecting her reputation, I knew she was only saying that because she didn't want me to think less of her. She didn't want me to know that she was as interested in having sex with others, as I wanted to watch her having sex with others. Yet, after giving her my credit card and encouraging her to do some shopping at my expense, she was eager to make me happy and satisfy my sexual peccadilloes by giving me some hope with a delightful exchange of pillow talk later.

After she brought home all her purchases, she allowed me to whisper my hot fantasies in her ear, while I felt her naked body and she stroked my cock before blowing me. It was only pillow talk, after all. What harm can possibly come from having some hot pillow talk? We're just talking about sex. It isn't as if we're actually doing it with others.

Maybe that's the difference between older and younger men. We older guys want to savor the moment, relive the experience, and imagine what if. We more appreciate the titillation and the erotica of the sexual act, the possibilities, and all that it encompasses. We want to talk about it before, during, and after. Whereas the younger guys just want to hurry it up, do it, and move on to another conquest, so as not to have to commit to a long-term relationship with one woman, we more mature men love to watch the one we're with and the one we love, while she's having sex with one of our special friends. 

At first, she was reluctant to even admit that she was attracted to other men. Yet, I knew she was. She didn't want to hurt my feelings, she confessed to me later, after I bought her that diamond tennis bracelet, along with my apology of pressuring her to have sex with other men. It was just pillow talk I told her. It had become obvious to me that persuading her to see my way of thinking about sex was quickly becoming a very expensive proposition.

I told her she wasn't hurting my feelings or making me jealous when talking about having sex with other men. I explained that she was stimulating my libido, while inflaming my desire for her by helping me to imagine her with another. It was erotic fun to imagine her being with a friend or a neighbor or a stranger. We laughed as much as we sexually excited ourselves with the thoughts of having a threesome, a foursome or with me in the room watching her doing a man, a woman, a man and a woman or two men. We laughed so hard that she cried tears of joy, at least, at the time; I thought her tears were happy tears.

After having one failed marriage, she feared failing with another and ruining what we had by playing this risky game. I can see now that it wasn't easy for her to release her sexual inhibitions and even talk about having sex with another, never mind actually watching her having sex with another. Only, for me, playing the sexy game of pillow talk was intoxicating. Imagining and wondering what it was like to watch her with others, while still maintaining and holding onto the safety net of our marriage, was my fantasy.

'Until death do you part' was still intact, so long as we eliminated our feelings of jealousy, possessiveness, and pettiness. Unfortunately, I failed to consider the consequences of losing her, while playing the game. All that I knew was that she made my cock hard and made me want her even more, whenever I imagined her with another man and/or a woman.

Every time we were out at the mall or the beach, I'd see her looking and her interest in someone else stimulated my desire to see her with whoever she was watching. She denied she was looking, of course. She didn't think I noticed her checking out other guys and staring at other men, younger men, while daydreaming of doing them, no doubt, but I did and I knew she was.

"Gloria, look at that guy in the Speedos. He has an erection and it's huge. It must be nine inches long."

"Eww! Paul, I'm not going to ogle some guy's package, just so it will give you something to talk about, while I masturbate you later before blowing you. That's gross."

Whenever I saw her looking at some young dude, later that night after she retired to bed, when she was too tired or not receptive to having a pillow talking session, I'd stay up for a nightcap and imagine her with him. While my hand slowly stroked my erection with my imagined thoughts of her with him, that fantasy always morphed to another, my favorite one. I'd think of her tied to the bed blindfolded in a pitch, black bedroom while, one by one, my friends had their way with her, as I watched.

Now, finally agreeable to go to the beach topless, especially after I bought her implants, she still is shy about going to a nude beach.

"It's all guys at the nude beach and most of them are gay, Paul. I'm not comfortable getting naked in front of a bunch of gay guys."

"Oh, so, if they weren't gay guys, you'd feel more comfortable and you'd get naked?"

"I don't mind exposing my tits, but I'm not comfortable being naked in public, period, Paul. Okay?"

"You tan naked in the backyard."

"That's different. No one can see me back there. It's private."

Nearly fanatical about her appearance, I figured she didn't want anyone to see her imagined flaws by going to a nude beach. She never left the house without her hair fixed just so. Never without her lipstick and makeup, the time she took choosing her outfit with my help, of course, even if only going to the market, bordered on neurotic and compulsive. Even her lingerie matched. 

"For Christ sakes, Paul, I'm only going to the market. Why can't I wear jeans and a sweatshirt? Why must I dress up and make up my face every time I leave the house?"

I have to admit though that she always looked good and the way she looked made me feel proudly excited to be seen with her. She was my hot cookie. At the same time, in the way that she cared and fussed about her appearance, it made me wonder if she was cheating on me. I wouldn't care, so long as she told me. In the back of my mind, I always wondered if she was having a sordid affair with someone, someone who I had previously imagined.

I imagined following her and finding her with some guy with her reapplying her lipstick, before blowing him in the backseat of a car. I knew she wouldn't do that, of course. Yet, it was fun to imagine she would. She's a lady with more morals and class than that. Besides, she's the type who'd check in a posh hotel and have room service and champagne and lobster with her affair and charge it to her credit card that I pay.

Only, her having sex with someone else would be okay, so long as she told me about the affair in detail. Yet, just as I knew she wasn't cheating on me, I knew she wasn't a slut. Still, it was fun, exciting even, to imagine that she was on both points. Fantasizing about her was what I needed to get off.

More than a dozen years older than her when we married ten years ago, now that I was getting older, I was curious to know if I still measured up to her standards. I was curious to know if her standards had changed over the years and I wondered if I still sexually satisfied her. Now in my late fifties, I had hit my sexual peak more than thirty years earlier and with her in her early forties, she was still in the middle of enjoying hers.

I couldn't help but wonder if I was exciting enough for her with my Viagra drugged cock and my testosterone supplements or if she needed more. Sensing the change in her passion for me, I couldn't help but wonder if she wanted someone else and was thinking about another, someone she just met or someone she already knew, while having sex with me. As part of our pillow talk, after telling me about the sexual relationship she had with her first husband, those boyfriends she had before she married her ex, and those boyfriends she had after she divorced her ex and before she met and married me, it was exciting to imagine her with another man now.

Certainly, she was no virgin, but she was no whore either. In pressuring her to trust me by opening up and talk more about her sexual feelings, I admit that I was the captain of this ship, one that followed a treacherous course. Hoping not to hit a sandy patch of resistance and beach our little love canoe, I was willing to rock the boat a little to elicit a bit more turbulence to ride the waves in to shore. Still new at having pillow talk with her, I was searching for a safe harbor, one that we both felt secure enough and one that encouraged us to continue, expand, and explore our sexual horizons with a bit more private discussions, in regarding our joint decision to have an open marriage.

In letting out my sail with the wind at my back and the salt air in my face, while hoping to enjoy all that encompassed the freedom of an open marriage, we skimmed over the surfaces with pillow talk instead of real dialogue. Without first considering the consequences of our actions, we failed to examine all that could sink our ship and all that could go wrong. Anchored out too deep, I was hoping not to overturn our relationship and capsize our little love boat.

I admit that I was looking for a paradise that didn't exist, a tropical deserted island in the back of my mind that was safe from a tidal wave of accusations and acrimony. Hoping not to drift too far out to sea, I was seeking a land where we could share everything without feeling guilty and without taking a torpedo hit to our starboard side that would make this desire to have a swinging lifestyle blow up in our faces. Still excited by the thoughts of all of it, I wasn't prepared or ready to go down with the ship. I still wanted to set sail to faraway waters with her and experience even more erotica. 

It was exciting to imagine watching her making love and giving oral sex to another man, while masturbating over the thoughts of it. Moreover, now that she was getting older, too, and was no longer a hot bitchin' babe, I wondered if she was suddenly attracted to younger men, men with harder cocks, who could make her feel younger and more attractive and sexually desirable than I ever could. 

Perhaps, she needed those compliments and accolades now from a younger lover to make her feel sexy and wanted. I don't know, but I imagined she did and it was exciting for me to imagine her with a younger lover and, maybe by her imagining a younger lover, that was her motivation to continue with this pillow talk. Only, I wouldn't know, as she hasn't confessed that fantasy to me, yet, during our pillow talk but, no doubt, eventually, she will.

Now at this stage of my life, as long as she was sexually satisfied, even if by another, I was happy just to watch. I know I wrote it many times before, but it's my fantasy and I'd love to see her blindfolded, while tied to the bed. It excited me to imagine her being violated by several men, a gangbang, with her pulling a long train. I imagined her taking cock after cock in her pussy and her mouth, while I watched, of course.

Only, to be secure in a relationship, such as this, I had to set aside my feelings of jealousy, possessiveness, and pettiness. A side effect of aging and now relegated to taking more of a passive than aggressive sexual approach in romancing her, I was satisfied just to talk about what she wanted to do with whom, while she stroked my cock before blowing me.

Certainly, I knew that taking care of my sexual needs wasn't enough for her. Certainly, she wanted to cum, too, and too much for my weakened heart, she could still fuck for hours, while maintaining yoga like positions of the Karma Sutra. Only, the yin and the yang of it, when out in public with her, I couldn't help but feel how Michael Douglas must feel with a blonde version of Catherine Zeta Jones on his arm. Gloria always received a lot of attention. Guys gave her a lot of looks and I always imagined what they must think.

"Look at her with the old guy. Either that's her father or he's loaded. He's such a lucky bastard to have a hot broad like that," I imagined them saying and I am a lucky bastard to have Gloria. G-L-O-R-I-A, Gloria.




Pillow Talk, Just Pillow Talk



She had that confident posture and statuesque presence that told men that she was more than just a hot body and a pretty face and it didn't bother me that some mistook me for her father. She didn't look her age. She looked thirty-something. With the long hours I worked to build my career to make the money that I made that afforded her a luxurious lifestyle, and with the excessive alcohol I consumed from entertaining clients, I looked older than my years. I looked sixty-something.

Admittedly, there were times she made me yearn for a woman more my age. Yet, she was so beautiful and so damn sexy, she made my cock hard. I was lucky to have her, even if I couldn't always enjoy her in all the sexual ways and positions that I wanted and she so needed.

No longer able to satisfy her, I feared losing her. She wants more and I want less. I'd rather talk, listen, and watch. She'd rather dance all night and fuck and suck later.

Even though she was still smokin' hot, guys want young chicks and I knew she was safe around the young help she hired. Since I was always working and she was home alone, I couldn't help but imagine her with the pool man or the landscaper or the pool man and the landscaper, nonetheless. Even though they were both young, dumb, and full of cum, it was just a fantasy that I enjoyed having and something to talk about when lying on our pillows. After seeing them work around the house in the hot sun in their shorts and without their shirts, if I were her, I'd be attracted to them, too.

"Help yourself to some lemonade," I imagined her walking outside in her bikini and high heels and saying to the pool man and the landscaper, while approaching them with a tray of drinks. "I'll be out back getting some sun, if you need anything, anything at all, just come and get me."

No complaints about wearing a bikini and walking around in a bikini in high heels, is there, now, sister? Still, I knew she wouldn't do anything. I knew that I could trust her. I knew she wouldn't risk the lifestyle that I could afford to give her by throwing it all away just to have some quick, hot sex with lesser men than me, men whose only attributes were that they were half my age and able to make love without tiring, before sexually satisfying her. I'm an old man compared to them. Yet, what I can do that they can't do, is to buy her whatever she wants and whatever she needs.

I figured she was going through a stage and possibly experiencing the beginning of menopause. Along with hot flashes, I figured her raging hormones were making her horny. Embarrassed that I could no longer make love to her, for as long and as hard as she needed for her to cum, certainly, she was hard for me to sexually please anymore. With her sexy lines, she was a Ferrari, an exotic sports car that I could no longer drive fast or a fine racehorse, an Arabian mare, that I was no longer able to control and too afraid to jump with, while riding her fast and hard. 

Nonetheless, peppered by our pillow talk and inspired by our sexual openness, it was fun to imagine her being oblivious to her surroundings with her eyes closed, while her earphones played sweet melodies. I enjoyed thinking about the pool man and the landscaper coming upon her and surprising her, while she was sunbathing topless or totally naked by the pool. I imagined them tying her arms to the chaise lounge and forcing themselves on her. I imagined her screaming for help, while trying in vain to fight them off, until they took her. 

Once they plunged their stiff cocks in her pussy, once they felt all they had imagined she was, and once she felt their heated desire for her, I imagined her wild with passion. Wrapping her legs around their strong backs, I imagined her returning their humps with hers. More than once, she wanted me to pull her hair, while slapping her ass raw red and I did. Her favorite was when I squeezed her tits and pulled and twisted her nipples. Embarrassed by her kinkiness and always reticent and reluctant to relate them to me, she was a woman who needed to be coerced to confess her sexual desires.

"It wasn't my fault, Paul," I imagined her telling me through crocodile tears. "Really, you must believe me. The landscaper and the pool man forced me to fuck them. An hour later, they forced me to blow them, too, both of them, numerous times before spinning me around and boning me up the ass."

Sometimes, a bit too much for me, especially after a long day, I was content to just fall asleep. I knew she needed more. I knew she wanted more. I knew she was insatiable in her lustful desires.

"Now that Paul is slowing down, Sheila, it's a relief, a Godsend," I overheard Gloria saying to her friend. I knew that she knew I was there and could hear her talking. She, no doubt, was saying all she was saying for my benefit. Obviously, she just didn't want me to think she was an insatiable slut. "He'd more rather talk about sex than actually do it. He was wearing me out before. I don't know where the man gets his energy. For an old fart, he's insatiable. I swear, the way that I feel about sex now, if I don't have sex again, I'll be happy."

"I feel for you, Gloria. I feel the same way about sex, too. Give it a rest. My husband Ron is a letch, too. He can't get enough."

Only, content to imagine her getting it from someone else, the thoughts of her having sex with another excited me more to talk about her doing it, than it did for her to do it. I feared, if in talking about her having sex with another, during one of our pillow talking sessions, she'd take the next step and actually have sex with someone, someone who could give her what she wanted and needed. 

"I thought this is what you wanted, Paul," I imagined her saying. "All the times we talked about me screwing another man, I thought you wanted me to do that, just so I could tell you about it later, while giving you hot sex."

It was just the beginning of a long, hot summer and excited by the volume of pillow talk that our bikini pool parties would instigate, in the back of my mind, I feared losing her. I was afraid our pillow talking sessions would encourage her to have an affair with a younger lover. What if she fell in love with someone else, a younger lover, and someone who had as much money as me?

I wouldn't want to live without Gloria. She's my passion. She's the love of my life. I'd do anything to make her happy. I'd even stop this nonsensical pillow talk, if she asked me to refrain from talking about her having sex with another.

I was excited about hearing her tell me what she'd do and how she felt when thinking about doing something sexually to someone and someone doing something sexually to her, but I was reticent to continue in this lifestyle for fear of pushing her away. A bittersweet excitement that could only lead to a lifetime of regret and sorrow, much like fooling around with an Ouija board and unleashing the unknown demons within, pillow talk was as dangerous a game to play. Indeed, I needed to proceed with caution. Indeed, I needed to cherish more of what I had with her.

What if our pillow talk progressed to an extramarital affair? How would I feel knowing that it was no longer pillow talk? How would I feel knowing my hot, trophy wife was fucking and sucking another man? How would I feel about another man cumming in my baby's pussy and/or mouth? How would I feel that she was really thinking about someone else and not just telling me that she was just pretending, while giving me hot pillow talk to appease my sexual perversions of wanting to watch her have sex with others? 

It was certainly fun to imagine she was doing another, but how would I feel is she really was? I didn't know and wouldn't know, until it actually happened. Maybe it's happened already? Would I be jealous if it had? Probably. Would I be hurt? Probably that, too. Would it ruin our relationship? I don't know. I hope not. I didn't want to lose her. I love her.

What will happen next? I'm afraid to even go there. I have a funny feeling that it's not going to be good. Only, the chance to have more and hotter pillow talk makes me want to continue down this dangerous road.

I didn't know what to do. Just as I love talking dirty to her, I'd hate to give up the excitement of her whispering her dirty thoughts in my ear, while I fondled her big, phony tits and she stroked my cock, before blowing me. What would you do? You tell me. Should I stop having all this pillow talk or should I continue with it to see what will happen next?