9 comments/ 113256 views/ 9 favorites The Guy By: rha spike I'll call myself James. It's not my name but it will serve the purpose for this account. It wasn't until recently that I found out that a significant number of married men out there are anxious to share their wives with other men. Now, I'm not naïve; I've been around the block often enough to know that there are all kinds of people in the world. Even if you only consider straight males there is a terrific variety of personalities, needs, desires, etc. And I was aware, even before it happened to me, that some men shared their wives with friends, associates, and even strangers. But I had no idea that the practice was so widespread. Purposely seeking out another man to have intimate relations with your wife seems, well, a little on the odd side, and ---. Never mind. The account I'm going to give you here is told from the point of view of "The Guy" who is invited to share the charms and services of a married woman while her husband watches. I'm thirty-one and tall --- about six-four, not bad to look at and very athletic. I even played a little pro ball in the NFL but that was back a ways. I don't want to sound too immodest but I guess all this makes me a prime candidate as a surrogate because I've been "The Guy" more than once with mixed results. I want to tell you specifically about the last time it happened because it was, for me and for her, a life-changing experience but I'm going to give you a quick version of the other two times first so you gain some perspective. I've never advertised myself as a "third partner" in any of the adult publications. All of my experiences at this threesome game have come to me uninvited and unasked for. The first time was in Atlanta where I was on temporary assignment for tech training. On my last weekend, I'd visited a couple of strip clubs --- there are plenty of them in that city --- and become tired of viewing a smorgasbord that I couldn't have any of. They tell me that it's possible, that the dancers do go home with customers from time to time, but I evidently lacked either the money or the connections, probably both. Now, these are pretty nice establishments, upscale and fashionable and they do a land-office business, believe me. Not just to gangs of horny men either, several couples were in attendance at the clubs I visited. I struck up a conversation with one of the couples or, rather, they struck one up with me. I had just enjoyed --- if that's the word to describe mounting frustration --- a lap dance by a particularly voluptuous dancer and had decided to call it a night when they sat down at the table next to mine and began talking to me. They were Hal and Marie Siegel from Chattanooga, Tennessee. We exchanged superficial information and comments on the show and individual dancers. At one point, Marie called the same dancer over and paid for a lap dance for Hal. Situated as we were, with only two or three feet of floor space between my feet and Hal's, it was a dance for me as well. As the dancer gyrated and undulated between Hal's knees, Marie watched with a smile. I noticed that she watched me as much as Hal but thought nothing of it at the time. Anyway, at about eleven and I excused myself and started to get up. Hal and Marie exchanged meaningful looks with arched eyebrows and short nods. Then Hal grabbed my sleeve. "Wait a minute, James!" I stopped and turned, a little annoyed. "We were thinking," he continued, "Since we're all just visiting here and all, and you're heading back to the West Coast on Wednesday, we thought maybe we could buy you a drink --- someplace quiet where we could talk a little. We'd really like to settle down before turning in and some company would be just the ticket." It was a little earlier than I had planned to give up and it couldn't hurt to pass the time with them so . . . "Sure, I guess so. Where?" "We're at the Double Tree out on the northern perimeter --- not far from here. They have a terrific lounge. What do you say to that?" "OK, I know where it is. I'll meet you there." At least they went first class; the Double Tree was just a bit above my means or my expense account. As I drove, I sized up the Siegel's. Hal was what you think of when you hear somebody say "salesman." A little brash and pushy but pleasant enough to pass the time with if he's not trying to sell you something. He was about six feet tall, with a noticeable spare tire around his middle and thinning hair but energetic and voluble. I could easily picture him on the golf course in plaid polyester. Marie seemed to be just the empty-headed little Southern beauty that he would prize and love to show off to his cohorts and anyone else in sight. She had a head full of blonde curls that tumbled to her shoulders and a short, slender body that tonight she balanced on strappy four-inch stiletto heels. I remembered seeing her inside the club and thinking that she looked better than half the dancers. She was a knockout for sure with big innocent blue eyes and a valentine face. I could easily have encircled her waist with my hands but the curvaceous, hourglass figure promised much, both above and below the shiny black belt with the silver cowboy buckle. Her skirt ended just above the knee and I had stolen a glance at the curve of her thigh while the dancer had Hal occupied. In fact, I thought she had caught me looking, might even have deliberately displayed that shapely limb for my benefit, but I couldn't be sure of any of that. As I pulled in to the parking lot at the Double Tree, I amused myself with a fantasy that their invitation might be for something more than drinks. It was fun, but I scoffed at the thought as mere wishful thinking by a guy who had been separated from his girlfriend for almost thirty days. It took about a half-hour for them to get around to it and when they did it was in Hal's best sales manner. He said that he and Marie had a very liberal view of marriage, that Marie was attracted to me and that he, Hal, loved to give her what made her happy --- and tonight that was me! Like I said, I had heard of the practice but never had been involved in it before so I tried to beg off. Just then Marie, who had listened with an innocent smile and bright blue eyes, placed her hand on mine, her stockinged foot on my leg and turned those heavenly blue eyes on me. "It's all just for fun!" she said. Her grin widened and her eyes glowed a little brighter. "And I don't bite!" That did it. The implication, however vague, that I was afraid was not to be endured. After making sure that Hal was just going to watch, not participate, I said, "OK, lead the way." In their room, Hal pulled out an expensive bottle of Scotch and we shared a drink. I held back, not wanting to impair my responses among strangers but Hal took a big gulp and refilled his glass. Marie merely sipped a little and put hers down. Hal turned on the radio, found some romantic jazz and took a seat across the room near the desk. Marie floated into my arms and we pretended to dance. She snuggled close from the first and pressed her tits flat against my chest. What the hell, I thought, might as well get into the spirit! My hand soon found the curve of her full, round bottom and gripped a handful of her. She purred and snuggled closer. The first warm kiss was long and wet. The second didn't seem to end, just slide into another and another. I was responding just fine and Marie pressed herself hard against the ridge that was building along the leg of my trousers. Now, I don't go around bragging about it but I'm "pretty well hung," as the saying goes. The last time I actually measured --- in high school along with three other guys after a beer bust at the lake that involved some magazines --- it was ten inches plus a fraction when erect. I doubt it had grown any longer since then but it had certainly increased in girth and Marie, her wandering hand encountering the blue jean ridge, was suitably impressed. She leaned her head back and gave me a surprised smile, her eyes grown larger, if that were possible, and glowing. I helped myself to a handful of tit. "Help me with my zipper?" she asked as she turned her back. From there it was just as advertised, all for fun! Marie and I got out of our clothes as fast as we could and settled on the king-sized bed. My hands were all over her petite but voluptuous body. I had been wrong: she wasn't better looking than half the dancers at the club. She was better looking than most and equal to any! Her legs were short, shapely and soft as clouds. Her tits were large, firm, cone-shaped delights with small strawberry-colored nipples, hard as little pebbles. I sucked one into my mouth and heard her gasp. Her hand pressed against the back of my head encouraging me to take as much as I wanted. I squeezed her tits, fondled and sucked them turn and turn about until she grasped my wrist and pulled my hand down between her legs. "Do this," she breathed, and slid my hand up and down her inner thigh. "I just love this! Oh-h-h!" she giggled, "You're going to have me ready in no time!" I continued caressing her thighs, pausing to feel her succulent flesh deeply from time to time. Her hand slipped down to my raging cock and began a soft, loose-fingered stroking that told me she was not nearly as innocent as the big blue eyes and the valentine face might lead you to believe. She knew what she was doing. Finally, I pushed her legs apart and began to settle in for the main event but she pushed me gently back. With a smile she slithered down my body and I felt her fingers gently pull my foreskin back and her lips fasten around the head of my cock. I got a grip and determined to hold back, to take this ride for all it was worth. She fondled my balls and sucked them into her mouth one at a time. She took my shaft as deep as she could and let me feel the dangerous nip of her teeth as she pulled her mouth up the length of it. I was gasping with the effort to keep from coming. Her lips slipped off of me and then were beside my ear. "Let it go, James! I want you to! Don't hold back!" she said in that soft voice. Then she ducked her head and resumed the sliding sucking action that soon had me gushing into her mouth. She pulled her lips off, rolled to the side and let my cum streak her pretty face and coat her lips and chin. I heard her whimper and was startled to hear a masculine grunt from across the room. Hal! I had forgotten all about him! Marie reached to the nightstand and retrieved a wet washcloth that had evidently been provided by Hal. She wiped her face and crossed the room to him. I could see clearly that he had his dick out and had come into a handkerchief. "How was that?" I heard her ask. Then she sat on his lap and caressed his softening cock as they kissed. Well, I thought, that's it, I guess. I swiveled off the bed and began to look around for my clothes. "Hey, James! Don't leave!" It was Marie, her voice urgent. She slid off of Hal's lap and crossed to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down into a soft, wet kiss. She put her lips next to my ear and whispered, "Don't you want to fuck me? I'll be real disappointed if you don't!" Well, now a guy can hardly resist a plea like that. I sat back down on the bed and Marie began to stroke the inside of my thigh as I had done for her. She was right, it felt good. I began to understand that this really was for her own physical pleasure, maybe more than for Hal's voyeuristic pleasure. "I've got just the thing for you," she said and sprang up to the credenza against the wall. She opened a cooler, poured a glass of orange juice and brought it to me. "Guaranteed to hasten recovery," she said. I drank it gratefully and as I was draining the glass I felt the warm silken sensation of her lips around my weak and flaccid member. I had my doubts, but she was definitely in charge so I let her have her way. After a minute or two she rose, pushed me back on the bed and settled beside me her head in my lap and her delectable bottom and tits within easy reach. I filled my hands with flesh smooth, soft and warm. She resumed her oral ministrations and to my astonishment, she had me hard in only a few minutes. With a cry of victory she leapt aboard, straddling my hips, and wriggled her sopping pussy down over my hard-on with giggles and whoops of delight. She drew in a deep breath and began to rotate her hips, then pump them up and down. All I could do was grab a double handful of her gorgeous ass and hang on while she rode me like a stallion. She could work her pelvis like no woman I had ever known and was soon writhing with unfettered lust on my rigid cock, fucking herself and me like a demented nympho which, for all I know even today, she was. We fucked in every position I had ever experienced and one or two that were new to me. In the end, she came in shuddering waves, collapsed against my chest, then kissed her way down over my stomach to lick me clean again. I left the Double Tree exhausted but satisfied and with a new perspective on what might go on in a marriage. The Siegel's warm goodbye included enthusiastic thanks from both, Marie and Hal and an invitation to visit them in Chattanooga any time I was "in that neck of the woods" and, I must say that I seriously considered it on several occasions. According to what I've read and been told since then, that was a rather mild, garden-variety experience. Marie was open and relaxed and very appreciative. Hal was wildly enthusiastic and seemed to enjoy the entire occasion almost as much as I did. OK, I thought, if everybody is happy and satisfied, where's the problem? My next experience was several degrees around the compass from that one. A guy I hardly knew, but who was evidently acting on their behalf, introduced me to Roger and Carolyn Eckles at a political rally. They were both older than I. Roger was a thin, dark, very intense man in his late forties, I'd guess. Carolyn was not much younger, maybe thirty-eight or forty and tall --- really tall. I'm six-four without shoes and she was nearly on eye level with me in her three-inch heels; that left her about two inches taller than Roger. She had a mane of rich auburn hair and a sprinkle of freckles across her face that gave her a fresh, country-girl look in spite of her age. She had been, I learned later, a fashion model in Europe and I believed it. She was still gorgeous in that manufactured way that models are. They asked me some pointed questions about the issues of the day and I responded with what I thought was a polite but truthful assessment. Finally, as people were drifting away, Carolyn took my arm and pulled me away toward the parking lot, Roger trailing in our wake. "Come have a drink at our favorite place," she said, "Do you know Emil's on Grand Avenue?" Emil's turned out to be a plush restaurant with a first-class bar. The Eckles' seemed to be known to the host and we were given a quiet corner in the lounge. The political stuff, it turned out, was just a way of getting acquainted. As soon as we were settled, the conversation turned personal. I gave them the short version of my interrupted athletic career and they told me their plans for building a house along the Front Range in Colorado, "somewhere near Aspen." Then I felt Carolyn's foot creep over mine and her eyes project that unmistakable invitation. Roger excused himself to the men's room right on cue. Carolyn wasted no words. "Come home with us." "Tonight?" "Yes. And if you're wondering why, it's simple. I want you!" "And Roger?" I asked knowing already the answer. "He would be there, of course. He'd be --- watching --- if you have no objection." I've said before that I am no fan of these threesome things. I mean, I just can't wrap my brain around the idea that a man would want to watch his wife being pleasured by some other man, no matter how much she may have wanted it. But this woman was gorgeous beyond any woman I had ever known. Those legs! I couldn't help but imagine those long, slender legs bare, gleaming in the lamplight and wrapped around my waist --- or neck, her choice. Seeing my hesitation, she smiled and took my hand in both of hers. I then got the routine explanation of their open view of marriage and how Roger wanted to give Carolyn that which would make her happy and fulfilled --- yeah, yeah yeah. Over her shoulder I saw Roger just emerging from the men's room so I agreed with what I hoped was a confident smile and we sat back, eye beams entwined, as the poet put it, and finished our drinks. They lived well. A stunning house in a gated community set among tall trees high in the hills above the city --- several million bucks worth of real estate. Roger informed me as we strolled around the pool, that it was situated on fifty acres, included a stable of six horses for Carolyn's morning gallops, a complete horse park and a couple of guest houses nestled in the woods out of sight. I was impressed. We finished our drinks and Roger, looking past my shoulder, said, "Time to go in." I turned and was treated to a view of Carolyn in the sheerest of negligées, standing at the glass wall that looked out onto the patio and pool. The light from the lamp was behind her and her long, lithe form was perfectly displayed. Her legs were slightly apart and I could even see the light fringe of neatly trimmed hair at the apex of her incredible legs. Inside, on the giant white sofa, Carolyn and I were soon naked and jousting in fine fashion. We traded kisses -- both above and below the waist --- and she wrapped her lips around my instant hard-on and licked like a barroom tramp. But, unlike Marie Siegel, Carolyn needed only a minimum of preliminaries. After only a minute or two she pulled me on top of her and grabbed my cock, moving it aggressively up and down between the slick hot lips of her cunt. I felt her long fingers clutch at my ass, her nails digging in enough to spur me to action. Her face was mottled with red blotches caused by raw lust and she rasped in my ear, "Fuck me, you giant stud! Fuck me good!" I tried to oblige and in less time than any other woman I've known before or since, she came in a violent spasm, quaking and bucking so violently beneath me that I was nearly unseated. It ended as quickly as it had begun. She dropped away and settled like a rag doll on the sofa, her hands still raking my butt. I withdrew and spurted semen all over her stomach and thighs. Later, after some snacks and another light drink, we adjourned to the master bedroom where she again became the amorous kitten --- if a six-foot woman can be considered kittenish. She went to her knees and soon had me as hard as before. Her small, stylish tits were standing up stiff and eager and those long legs gleamed in the lamplight just as I had imagined them back in Emil's. This time she took a position on knees and elbows on the bed. As I knelt behind her she turned her head and said, "Roger! Bring your chair over here." Roger got up and carried his chair to a point behind me. "A little further over," she ordered and he complied, putting himself in a position to see the action. I winced a little at the sharp manner in which she ordered Roger around, but he obeyed every order --- not meekly, but precisely. His movements were strong and assured, his demeanor slightly bored which puzzled me. Isn't this his turn-on? I thought to myself, isn't this what he sent Carolyn after me for? He might as well have been watching television for all the reaction he gave. Just then, Carolyn moved her gorgeous ass back against my groin and I lost my train of thought. I'm bad that way. I slipped my cock between her glistening pussy lips and sank into her with a long low sigh. She took a lot longer this time. I slammed into her and made my balls slap on her ass. Her cries mounted the musical scale as I thrust harder and faster. I decided to take charge, whether for myself or to avenge Roger and our collective masculine pride, I have no idea. I let go a series of sharp slaps to her shapely ass and was rewarded by cries of passion as she dug her fingers into the bedclothes. I withdrew, lay on my back and pulled her on top of me. She sank onto my cock and twisted her long, lithe body as I mauled her tits. She gasped and sobbed and finally came with an intensity that topped the one before. She collapsed on my chest and I rolled on top of her seeking my own climax. Suddenly she pulled my face down and whispered hoarsely, "Come on my face! On my lips!" Just what I wanted to hear! I barely got my cock out of her and levered myself into position when I came in hot rapid spurts onto her full, pouting lips. One long streak crossed her face diagonally from eye to jaw line. The Guy I'm the girl who lost "the guy." Heed my words ... I know what I'm talking about. Have you ever fallen so hard in love with someone you felt like you couldn't breathe without them? Your whole world was falling apart and coming together at the same time and nothing, nothing could stand in the way of your happiness? It's floating and falling, good and evil, freedom and a cage. I know first hand what it feels like because after so many failings in relationships, in life, in everything I tried - all of a sudden - I was that girl. The girl everyone envies because she's got the guy. The guy who is absolutely amazing in every single way, the one who you know will never cheat, never lie, never hurt you on purpose. The one who says everything you need to hear and you believe him because he's the guy! You may notice, I said "was," I was that girl. I was her because I had him, and I lost him. I really don't know how exactly it happened, I'm sure it was something I did to push him away before he was actually gone, but he was there one day, and then, I lost the guy. I suck. No, really, I do because I'm the idiot girl who lost that guy. When we're little girls we have this fairy tale idea in our heads about our Prince Charming. He's going to come riding into our lives at our worst possible moments, sweep us off our feet, and take us home to the perfect castle. We'll have the fairy tale wedding, the marriage everyone else wishes they could have and spend our lives happily ever after. We grow up and we keep that fairy tale somewhere in the back of our minds - even though we become jaded. Ah, and that's when the lightning strikes. Out of no where, Prince Charming arrives, just appears. He's not really riding a perfect horse, like in our fairy tales, but he shows up and suddenly, the world is perfect. But, we, we're not so perfect anymore. We look for ulterior motives, we've lost our childhood faith and trust in those around us. Nothing is what it seems, we tell ourselves. If it's too good to be true, it probably is. We rush headlong into the future with our Prince, but then ... reality hits us like a ton of bricks. You see, we're damaged. Every adult out there. We're damaged. We've been through and seen so much as adults, we forget that little fairy tale in the back of our minds and let the damage take control of our thinking. We start to doubt, question, and yes, second guess this Prince coming in to rescue us. Fact is, by the time we realize he's come to save us from ourselves, it's usually too late and we've done damage because we're damaged people. Too much TV? Too many bad relationships, too many bad experiences, too much reality, too much. Suddenly, we're out there, in his arms, risking it all and, well, we pull back. We start doubting, what if he isn't really the one? Who's that he's with, where is he, why isn't he here, we've become dependent on him and suddenly feel weak. No one likes feeling weak, so, we push and we push hard. We listen to friends, family, and take things at face value without finding out the truth. We assume, and well, assumption is a bad trait. Yes, it's human nature to make assumptions, even presumptions, but unfortunately, they always lead to our demise - don't they? We start to notice little things we don't like, we start to see things we didn't see before, and sometimes, we find things we hate. Isn't that life though? Well, it is, but we don't take that into consideration. We suddenly feel boxed in. What if he isn't really "the guy," what if he doesn't really mean what he says? What if the promises are just to appease us? Our friends really don't help because in truth, people like to keep their friends close and are afraid to lose us. We're no different. Think about it, we've all done it, we've all taken part in the decimation of a relationship or two in our lives. So, we suddenly push "the guy" away. It just happens, it suddenly becomes a tornado rolling through our lives and he's blown away. By the time we realize we've just destroyed everything we'd ever wanted, it's simply too late. Or is it? Is it ever too late, really? I don't know, but I do know when you find "the guy" with all his faults and annoyances, but with so many traits we love, we have to change, let go of our past, find a future. Give up. Let go, and hold on. Drop your guard, let down your walls. Let him in, don't do it half way, let him all the way in. Never keep him at arms length. If you do, you will lose everything you've been waiting for all your life. Prince Charming is a once in a lifetime deal - you won't get a second chance to find the guy, or to have him find you. He's THE GUY, the one. The one you dreamed about, the one with the shiny castle, the one reaching for your hand and saying "Let's go build forever." Hold on to him. You're going to fall, you're going to falter. Yes, you're even going to question him a time or two, if not more, but, I guarantee that every fall is worth it because ... he's the one there picking you up after the fall. He's the guy. The Guy Catherine turned to me, kissed me and said, "Give me a chance to freshen up a little, then meet me in the bedroom, the one at the end of the hallway. That is if you're still willing." "I don't think I could be stopped," I replied and kissed her again. She took a napkin that Alan had thoughtfully left on the coffee table and held it to her as she left the room. I picked up the clothes and piled them on the sofa then started down the hall to the bedroom. I could hear water running in the master bath as I entered. Alan was already there, sitting in a chair in the corner, shadowed as before. He seemed disinclined to speak so I merely reclined on the bed and waited. It didn't take long. Catherine came into the room, her face wreathed in smiles, her magnificent figure naked and in full view. Her tits bobbed as she climbed onto the bed with me. She had not even glanced at Alan. "I'm so glad you're here! And that you decided to stay!" she said. Her eyes still held the glow that was part delight and part pure lust as her fingers closed around my already-responding cock. It stiffened in her hand and she tightened her grip. "You have a big beautiful prick!" she said loud enough for Alan to hear, "And I love to hold your balls! Your sack is so soft, like warm velvet!" The conversation seemed strange to me but I figured it was for Alan's benefit --- something else that he liked --- so, not to be outdone, I replied, "Well, you have a luscious figure --- and a very tasty pussy --- or do you prefer cunt?" "She blushed down to her nipples and said, "I --- I don't care! As long as you like it you can call it whatever you want to." She looked up at me then and said solomnly, "I loved holding your prick in my mouth! It felt so strong and --- and hard! It was exciting! I want to do it again!" Without replying, I pushed her head down into my lap and made as if to force my hardening cock between her lips. She pretended to resist a little, then let it slip in. She sucked and bobbed her head up and down the shaft till I was at full erection, then pulled off and we slid down into the bed together. She put her lips next to my ear and whispered, quietly this time, "I want you inside me so very, very much!" That sent my blood racing. I rolled between her thighs and was soon thrusting away inside her wet and welcoming pussy. Her legs locked around my waist and she murmured encouragement in my ear --- encouragement that Alan, on the other side, could not hear. "Oh, Yes, James! Like that! Deeper! ---- Oh, that's so nice --- so lovely! Please don't stop! I want to give you all of me --- everything that is me! You can have it all! My need! My heat! My readiness! It's all for you tonight!" As you might expect I responded by thrusting deep and hard, rocketing along between her thighs till I felt the tide begin to rise. To forestall it, I withdrew and turned her up on her knees and elbows. I teased her slit with my cock until she sobbed for it then pushed deep into her in one long thrust that made her give back a long, loud moan. I held myself there, still, not moving as I reached under and mauled her tits, twisting the nipples and pulling them, squeezing the firm, warm flesh between my fingers. I began a very slow in-and-out movement that used every centimeter of cock that I could use. I ground my pelvis into her soft round ass and pulled out till her lips closed after my cock head, then in again, slow and strong to the hilt. Slowly I increased the tempo. She pushed back, following my rhythm, seeking all she could get. She reached back and slapped herself, on one cheek. I took the cue and loosed three sharp slaps to each side. She whimpered and writhed. Three more to each side, then down her flanks till they began to redden. "Turn me over!" she gasped and I complied. When she was on her back I hooked my arms under her legs and bent her knees back to her tits. Her eyes widened as I sank into her again. Her fingers dug into my shoulders and she pulled my head down so she could pant into my ear, "Fuck me! Hard!" I redoubled my efforts, slamming away at her sopping cunt. Her eyes rolled back and her face grew mottled and red. Her breath was ragged. Suddenly she gripped me and came for the second time that night, her face contorted, her gorgeous body writhing and bucking under me. Her tits flew as she spent herself on my rock-hard cock, then collapsed holding me to her with arms like steel bands around my chest. I felt my climax rising and knew I couldn't stop it. She murmured, "Come on, baby! Come with me!" And finally I exploded in a blinding burst deep inside her. I felt her cunt contract around my spasming cock and milk me of every last drop. I lay there beside her, spent, as she caressed my face and hair. I slowly trailed a hand over her hip and bottom. I heard a rustle and saw a shadow move over the ceiling. I started to rise but she tightened her arms. "Sh-h!" she said, "let him leave." "Should I leave?" I asked. "No, stay here with me. He'll go to his own room in the basement. That's where he wants to be. I'll explain it later. Just please hold me now. I need to be held!" I stayed there with her all night. I fucked her twice more, urged to hardness each time by her skillful lips and tongue. I woke her in the morning by kissing her cunt till she stirred and clasped my head to her. Then I mounted her one last time and we enjoyed a slow, sweet fuck that was more a farewell caress then a sprint to orgasm. I collapsed for the final time and sighed a deep sigh as she caressed my chest. This, I knew, had been the best sex of my life! Breakfast was a sunny, pleasant meal for the three of us with no mention of the night before. Alan was up and had the coffee made when we came into the kitchen, I in my traveling clothes, Catherine in a lovely floor-length silk robe. She made pancakes as Alan and I perused the Sunday paper and discussed the economy as it related to our businesses. It was Catherine who drove me to the airport. On the way, she gave me the promised explanation. "Alan doesn't have much interest in me sexually. He loves to watch me with other guys; we've done this a couple of times before and he really enjoys watching. I said that we got together with Dave and Ellen and --- swapped, or whatever. Everyone is cool with letting you know these things. We figured that if you're going to visit on a regular basis, --- and I, for one, hope that you will ---you should know. And don't worry! Nothing could pry Dave and Ellen apart. Those two are welded together like no two people I've ever known." We drove in silence while I absorbed what she had told me. Finally I asked, "About last night, when Alan left, you said you'd explain." "He just prefers to sleep in his own space that he fixed up himself just behind the family room in the basement. When we were first married, Alan was a good lover but by the time he had become so well known in the business and successful and started his own firm, I was aware that something was wrong. He could satisfy me sexually but didn't seem to want to. Our sex life dropped off to almost nothing. I'm a very sexual person as you may have noticed so I had a couple of quickie affairs. Alan found out about one and sat me down for a talk. I was anticipating divorce and even thinking it might be a good idea. But he wanted to stay with me at least for a while, mainly for business reasons. I'm a good hostess and so forth --- you know that drill. I wasn't too sure about that arrangement and said so but I have no money of my own and no real profession. Then he told me. He said that he became extremely aroused thinking of me with another man. That he would agree to my having any man I wanted if he could be present and watch. He even said that I could have affairs in private if he could be present occasionally. He offered to help set up occasions for me with guys I approved of. So we agreed and it has worked out --- sort of." "What do you mean, 'sort of'?" "I haven't found any opportunity for an affair that I want to take advantage of. Also, a couple of the 'arranged occasions' turned sour. The guy turned out to be a jerk or too rough or insulting to Alan --- or something. That's why I wanted to drive you to the airport today. I need to ask you something." We were pulling into a spot in short-term parking. Catherine turned the engine off and turned to me. She looked directly at me, then said very quietly, "I enjoyed being with you last night more than any man I've ever known. I know that sounds --- what, exaggerated or something, but I mean it literally. I have never had sex like that before. I want to know if you're coming back, if you are interested in continuing to -----" I stopped her by pulling her over to me and kissing her. "Like I said last night, if you remember: I don't think I could be stopped." "I promise I won't make any trouble for you or interfere if you find someone you want to be with." I explained that I was in single status and solitary mode at present and assured her that she was welcome in my life. We parted at the airport with a warm kiss and a promise of "again --- soon!" I stopped over two more times during the next three months and Catherine and I came together with a rush and a passion that amazed us both. On the last stopover I detected a different atmosphere. Alan left us to ourselves, didn't watch or join us for breakfast. Catherine shrugged it off, said he was "preoccupied." Our good-bye was long and lingering and a little more reluctant than before. A week later she showed up at my townhouse in San Francisco. She had a suitcase with her. "I've come to stay if you'll have me," she said. "Or I can go if you would rather." I brought her in to the living room and gave her a cup of coffee. "What about Alan," I asked. "We got a quiet divorce --- actually what is called a 'dissolution of marriage' --- it's faster, cheaper and there are no adversarial positions. He's moving to Europe to live with another man he met while we were on vacation." I sat there gazing at her blonde perfection, looking a bit waif-like and forlorn in her belted raincoat, her hair just a little disheveled from travel and the misty morning. "If you stay," I said as evenly as I could, "I'd prefer that it be for good." Her eyes grew bright. "Fine with me," she said. "Catherine, there are conditions." "Name them." "It's just me and you. I will never share you with anyone." "I would never let you. And the same goes for you, you know." "Agreed!" She moved in that afternoon, sent for the rest of her things, and has been here ever since.