0 comments/ 11025 views/ 1 favorites Fun House Mirrors By: oldhornywriter Author's Note: The primary version of this story, "Why Don't You Just Fuck Me?" was written from the husband's perspective: what he saw, what he felt, what he thought he knew. The following three stories mirror the primary, but are from the female's perspective. They go to the facts that there is a lot going on that we (guys) don't know, and that what we see may represent entirely different things depending on what is going on in her head. Each version shows the wife going through the same motions as described in the primary, but in each "the wife" is a different woman based on her mental state. The "A" Version presents a woman who is conflicted going in and who comes out the other side still conflicted. The "B" version shows her more open than she appeared to be, and less conflicted at the end. The "C" version, in which out heroine discovers what some guys would like to think of as her "inner slut" (but which I prefer to see less perjoratively as her inner wild child), is suggested by a comment from one of the readers of the primary: Spreading her legs For other men, what was yours alone now is not, the things she said and did just for you are not just for you. Other men make her come,who will she think about late at night,who will she say "just fuck me"too next? If this life style turns you on,than you got it,hope you can handle it. So, there is quite a lot in each version that is verbatim identical, which can make for tedious reading. Sorry about that, but it is necessary for developing the point that much of what is perceived as fact can be interpreted only with reference to what is in some (particular) one's head. Consider Rashomon. Or, better yet, see the pre-release and released versions of Baby Face to find what changing only a few lines of dialog can do to change a movie. I would like to thank KaeDoll for her comments on earlier drafts of these stories. Writing from a woman's perspective is, at least for this guy, daunting, and KD's generosity in helping me get into the head of my heroine is greatly appreciated. She got me to fix some of my more glaringly wrong-headed guy-think but, since I am pig headed, we are still not in complete agreement on all points. What I have gotten wrong is in spite of, not because of, her help. Please send feedback, good or bad (except along the lines of "I loathe myself for reading Loving Wives stories, so I have to flame you and your story to make up for having read it in the first place"). Ladies, especially, I am wondering whether or not you see a credible female in any of these versions. Why Don't You Just Fuck Me? -- Mirror Story A I recently came across Richard's "Why Don't You Just Fuck Me?" so-called "story" while going through his old papers. Of course it wasn't a story at all, but his account of what happened not too long after we had been married. I wish that he's asked me about it at the time he wrote it, so many years ago. I'd have been able to set him straight on a few things. Better late than never, I guess, so here goes. As Richard said, we were young back then, and had been married for just 3 years. That we were virgins when we met was more or less true. He said he was and I am pretty sure that he was telling the truth. His love making certainly got better over time. As for me, while I'd never consciously slept with a guy, I am pretty sure that my former boyfriend had date raped me one night when I was passed out drunk at his place. All I know for sure was that the morning after my pussy was sore and he kept going on about how we "were one," with this big shit-eating grin on his face. He wasn't my boyfriend for much longer after that. When Richard and I had sex for the first time, he was surprised that he was able to enter me without any resistance. When he asked me about it, I told him about my ex-boyfriend and my suspicions about that night. I could have lied to him and made up some story about a bicycle accident or some such; that sort of thing really does happen. But I didn't feel like lying, and I wanted to know up front if this was going to be a big thing for us, so that I could dump him if he was that sort of asshole. He said that it wasn't a big deal, and it never seemed to bother him as he never brought it up after that first time. I guess that since he said in his "story" that we were both virgins when we first went to bed with each other, he figured that being raped by my ex-boyfriend when I was unconscious, if that's what really happened, didn't count. Richard was right when he said that from not long after we got married, he had been trying to get me to go to bed with other guys. I think he wanted to feel that it was okay for him to tomcat around, but he wasn't sure that I would be okay with it unless I was playing around too. Maybe also he was just too insecure or too lazy to go hunting for sex on his own, and he figured it would be easier to swap than to swing solo. This hurt my feelings, because I felt that sex was something that you did with someone you loved, and I didn't want either of us loving anyone else. But Richard was way different on this, and I was smart enough to understand that he could separate the sex from love in a way that I couldn't, or at least didn't want to. You've got to remember that this was the early 1970s, right in the middle of the sexual revolution that had been helped along greatly by the introduction of the birth control pill in the early 60s, and that it was a decade before anyone had heard about AIDS. Sex was everywhere. Playboy had been around since the early 1950s, and its circulation peaked in the early 1970s only because of the advent of Penthouse, Hustler and other magazines, not because people were less interested in sexual liberation. Sexploitation films were being churned out like mad, and serious cinema included the likes of "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice" and "Last Tango In Paris." What I'm trying to say is that if you weren't young then, you probably can have no idea of how much pressure all of this generated on people to see sex as play rather than sex as love. As I said, this caused a problem for Richard and me, because what he saw as liberating I saw as an assault on the values that I'd been raised with. Maybe I was just more naïve then, but I felt that I should be enough for him, and he should be enough for me, and that sex without love was cheapening. Maybe I was just a prude. In any case, it's true that about a year or two after we had been married I finally let him talk (nag might be a better word) me into going to a bar by myself. But I felt hurt that he's asked, and cheap that I went, and I chased off the first guy who wanted to buy me a drink, and then I left. Richard didn't hide his disappointment very well when I cam back early, but at least he gave up on that idea. He's always been pretty straight about "just try it and if you don't like it we'll drop the whole thing." Now we come to the Robert and Donna part of the story: dinner, their place, downstairs from our apartment. Richard was doing most of the talking from our side, while Robert and Donna were also very chatty. Mainly I ate (the food was actually quite good), answered when someone asked me something and, as the course of the conversation progressed, drank more and more of the red wine that kept finding its way into my cup. Richard was clearly impressed with Robert, not just because he was older and more self assured than Richard was but, of all things, because he was a maintenance man in some apartment complex. Richard's dad had died when he was young, and he and his younger sisters had been brought up by his mother, so he never had worked on a car or fixed a lawnmower or built anything with his hands outside of a shop class he took in the ninth grade. All he'd ever done was go to school, and now he'd finished his Masters and had just started working on a PhD. He was good at what he did, but it seemed like he had this notion that what Robert did was better because at the end of the day you could see the results and get paid for it. Then there was the matter of sex. As the evening went on and the wine flowed, the conversation got more and more into sex and Robert and Donna's sexual escapades. Poor Richard; since he was so shy as a teenager he'd only had me to sleep with, while it sounded like Robert had had dozens or maybe hundreds of women. Richard was a Robert wannabe. If Richard was clearly in awe of Robert, he was even more obviously in lust with Donna. As much as I resented it at the time, I guess he had more than ample reasons to be. Where I had small breasts and a shyness almost as deep as Richards, and sexual experience that had progressed slowly from zero all the way to one, Donna oozed sexuality, had a sexual history as big and even more varied than Robert's and, as the old joke about the Pope sort of went, "she'sa gotta ... beeg tits." Richard says that he wasn't sure how much I was picking up on the hints about swinging that Robert and Donna were dropping into the conversation. Well, I was picking up plenty. And I was picking up how Donna was playing up to Richard's ego by comparing his education to her lowly status as a secretary and a bit player in the local rep theater. And I was picking up on how she kept grabbing his arm when set talked to him, and how she let those big tits of hers brush across his arm when she reached across the table to fill my wine glass. I would have had to be passed out already not to pick up on it, things were so thick and obvious. So, yeah, by the time we finished supper and things moved to the living room, I was more than "clearly pretty woozy;" I was more like pretty drunk. But I wasn't so drunk that I didn't notice that Donna sat down on the sofa next to Richard, and that she soon had her hand on his thigh and continued to brush him with her big tits from time to time. I decided that if I didn't get myself out of there pretty soon things might get nasty, even though I'd never been a nasty drunk before then. So, I let my head fall forward and when Donna noticed this she got up and took me to the bedroom. After she'd put me on the bed she left and I got up and groped my way to the bathroom to pee, because my bladder was about to burst from all the wine I'd consumed. Then I got back in bed and drifted off. At some point I was awakened by someone kissing me on the lips. At first I was confused about where I was and I thought I was back in our bed in our apartment, and that it was Richard who was kissing me. When I got my senses around me enough, I realized that the person kissing me was Robert. What's more, I noticed that we were on a bed in a dark room and that we seemed to be the only ones there. I don't know what my first thoughts were after I figured this out. What does a deer think when the headlights first shine in its eyes? I wasn't sure what to do at this point. I was still pretty drunk and I was startled to find myself in this situation. So, for a minute or two I just lay there and let Robert kiss me, without kissing him back, but also not doing anything to stop him. When I felt Robert start to unbutton my shirt, I figured that doing nothing wasn't going to be an option for long. Maybe I'm remembering this in way more detail than it actually happened; certainly it takes longer to write it out that it took me to reach a decision. Maybe I wasn't even thinking as clearly as I say here, and was just reacting emotionally. But this is the way I remember it. I figured that if I did nothing, I was about to get raped -- again, if my suspicions about my old boyfriend were correct -- and I knew that I didn't want that. If I started crying for help, it might or might not do any good. I didn't know where Richard was; probably off somewhere fucking that cow Donna seemed like a good guess based on the evening so far. At best, even if he were close enough to step in, it would produce a very messy situation, maybe even a violent one. Then I thought about all the times that Richard had tried to talk me into sleeping with other guys. It had occurred to me earlier in the evening that maybe Richard had known that Robert and Donna were swingers, and that this evening's dinner was a set-up. That had really kind of pissed me off, and probably led me to drink as much as I had. In any event, the booze was a factor, not just in getting me onto that bed, but also in lowering my inhibitions. I wouldn't be the first or last woman to find herself with more than a hangover in the morning because of drinking the night before. After all, Robert was a good looking guy, he was clean, he was articulate, he was educated way above what his job indicated, and he'd lived so much more than either Richard or I had to that point. So, for whatever reason or reasons -- the booze, social pressures to be more "liberated," revenge, or just being chicken -- I finally decided that "Okay, Richard says he wants me to fuck other guys, I'll let this guy fuck me, and then we'll see how he likes that." At that point I started kissing Robert back. I'll say this for Robert, he was a pretty decent kisser. When he got my shirt open, he started licking and sucking on my nipples, which was okay, even good, until he started using his teeth a little too forcefully. I've never been into pain much, and apparently my nipples are very sensitive. I was happy when he returned to kissing me and started to use his hand to unbutton my jeans. When Robert got my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, he slipped his hand inside my panties and I felt his finger slip easily into my pussy. I guess I was kind of wet, and I got even wetter as he slid his finger in and out of me and rubbed it around my clit. I guess I also forgot that I was supposed to be angry at having maybe been set up, or at least about this guy taking advantage of me when I was supposed to be passed out drunk. Actually, I don't think I was doing a lot of thinking once his fingers -- he now had two if them in me -- kept working slowly on my clit while he continued to kiss me. Like I said, he was a good kisser, and he also knew how to finger a girl. After a little while Robert got up and started to undress me. After he'd gotten my shoes off, he started to pull on my jeans, and I raised my ass up off the bed so they could come off more easily. Then I dropped back down on the bed and lay there with my legs a little open, waiting to see what he would do next. What he did next kind of surprised me. I'd never had my toes sucked before. It felt kind of interesting, and gave me a little tingle in my pussy kind of like having my nipples sucked, but not as strong. Then he started licking his way up my legs, first one leg up to the knee, then the other all the way up to my pussy. I was about to tell him to stop because for some reason I've never liked it when Richard licked my pussy, and I didn't want Robert to do it either. But before I could say anything he tongued his way back down my thigh and then started up the other thigh. All of this felt okay, but it worried me that he was going to start lapping at my pussy, so when he was almost there I said "Why don't you just fuck me?" Apparently he couldn't think of a good reason not to, because he immediately hopped off the bed and started getting undressed. There was a little light coming into the room from the hallway, so I was able to look at him while he was doing that. When he dropped his boxers, his cock was standing straight out. It was circumcised, like Richards, but it didn't look as long or as thick. Maybe this was because Robert was shorter than Richard, I don't know. Anyway, I was halfway expecting Robert to try to get me to suck his cock. Richard certainly likes this and my earlier boyfriends had asked me more than once to do that when I wouldn't let them have intercourse with me, so I guessed it was something that all guys wanted or even expected. But I'd turned them down and, at least as far as I know, Richard was the first guy to get his cock into my mouth. Robert didn't want a blowjob though. He just spread my legs out more, raised my knees a little and climbed between them. Then he lowered himself onto me and I could feel the head of his cock pushing against the lips of my pussy. I don't know what I was thinking then, waiting for that first strange prick after my husband's to enter me. Probably I wasn't thinking anything, since I'd done all my thinking earlier. I don't recall any sense of dread or of elation. I do recall that Robert had fingered me nearly to the point of orgasm, so I was probably wanting him to get on with things so that he could get me over the top sooner rather than later. All I know for sure is that he entered me slowly, and that it felt good, even if his prick was a little smaller than Richard's. Richard says in his "story" that I gave out a little sign and a moan. Probably he's right, I don't know. For better or worse I'd made my decision to lie back and enjoy it already, so that by that point I was not unhappy to be getting fucked by Robert. Richard described Robert as an experienced cocksman. I'd have to say yes, he was. He might not have been as big as Richard, but he knew how to use what he had to the best effect. He continued to fuck me slowly, and I soon experienced a little orgasm that I muffled by biting his shoulder. It was a surprisingly gentle fuck, almost like making love, rather than the self-centered, pussy-stealing date rape that I had expected when things started out. By that point my body was responding so that I had no trouble getting into it, wrapping my legs around him, kissing him, swinging my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. This must have gotten to him, because Robert then began sawing back and forth fast across my clit, slamming his prick into me so hard that I could hear his balls slapping against my ass. I was getting closer and closer to a really big orgasm, moaning and gasping loudly. After the first couple of times that Richard and I had sex, I'd had no trouble achieving multiple orgasms, so if Richard says that I had two more of them before I hit the big one and Robert came in me, I'm not going to argue it. I wasn't counting. All I know is that the last one was mind blowing enough that I wasn't thinking or emoting or doing anything but feeling every nerve in my body. Robert slid off and held me as we both lay there gasping to get our breath back. After a little while he got up, put his clothes on and then helped me get dressed. After he left, I went to the bathroom. I'd been on the pill for the past four years so I wasn't worried about the cum that he had left in me, but I still needed to pee again, and I wanted to clean up my pussy that was pretty sloppy with my juices and Robert's cum. Then I went back to the living room where I found Richard and Donna sitting on the couch, with Robert on the love seat, just as I'd left them. Richard asked me how I was doing and I said fine. Then he said it was late and it looked like I needed to get to bed (some joke, I thought), so we said goodnight and headed back to our apartment. We got ready for bed and then hopped in, naked as usual. I didn't know at the time that Donna and Richard had been watching while Robert fucked me, but I felt pretty sure that there was no way that Richard could miss the fact that I'd just had sex. I hadn't showered, and in spite of my washing off my pussy twice, I could still smell the sex on me. My face was still puffy and flushed, and my nipples were as hard as M&Ms. So, to clear, or at least clarify, the somewhat musky air I just told him straight out that I'd let Robert fuck me, and asked him if he was okay with that. Not only was he okay with it, he was instantly hard and excited. He asked me if I was okay with it and I told him I was, which was more or less true at that point. I certainly couldn't say that I had not had a good time once I'd decided that this was something I was willing to do, for whatever reason. I'd just gone with what turned out to be a very pleasant flow. In fact it had been a good fuck, and at that point I wasn't having any real strong feelings of guilt or resentment. Fun House Mirrors So, we kissed and made out for a few minutes, and Richard kept breaking the kisses to tell me how happy I'd made him, until I got tired of hearing that and shut him up by saying "Why don't you just fuck me." As he pushed his dick into me, the realization that I was being fucked be two guys in the same night, that he was pushing his dick not only into my pussy but into Robert's cum, made it more exciting than any fuck we'd ever had before then. The next afternoon, while Richard was in class and Donna was at work Robert came to our apartment and we fucked again. "Why not?" I thought, given the night before, including Richard's joy and excitement? That evening Richard went down to Donna's apartment to fuck her while Robert came up to our apartment and fucked me yet again. We continued to swing with them for about a year after that, at which point they moved away. I'm sure that I was never into swinging with them as much as Richard was. He and Donna were definitely attracted to each other, and I'm sure that he got more joy from fucking her that I got from fucking Robert. Mainly I think I was just going along for the ride (more like to be ridden) to keep him happy. Yes, the sex was good; but no, it wasn't as fulfilling for me as it was for people to whom sex is an end in itself. I still need love to make it all that it can be. After that Richard tried for a while to get me to consider some more swinging with people we knew, or to join a swingers' club. I told him I just wasn't into that, and though I did have a one night stand a few years later when I was on a business trip, I didn't enjoy it enough to want to repeat that sort of experience, especially after AIDS entered the equation . So we agreed that we'd have an open marriage, where either of us could screw around on the side as long as we didn't bring anyone or anything home. Long story short, he did, and I chose not to. I had pretty much buried the memory of the Donna and Robert episode until I came across Richard's "story" last week, while going through his papers after the funeral. I think I never completely got over the idea that, whether I had actually been set up or not, I had been forced into a decision that I would not have made had I not been drunk and under a lot of pressure in advance. I admit that it was my decision; I am woman and I am strong and all that sort of shit. But still it rankled a bit, so for the next 40 years the best thing for me was to think about it as little as possible. Even so, at this moment I think I'd be willing to fuck all the Troopers in the Household Cavalry if that would bring Richard back to me for even one more day. Why Don't You Just Fuck Me? -- Mirror Story B I recently came across Richard's "Why Don't You Just Fuck Me?" so-called "story" while going through his old papers. Of course it wasn't a story at all, but his account of what happened not too long after we had been married. If he'd asked me about it, I'd have been able to fill in a few things. Better late than never, I guess. As Richard said, we were very young back then, and had been married for just 3 years. That we were virgins when we met was more or less true. He said he was and I am pretty sure that he was telling the truth; his love making certainly got better over time. As for me, while I'd never consciously slept with a guy, I am pretty sure that my former boyfriend had date raped me one night when I was passed out drunk at his place. All I know for sure was that the morning after my pussy was sore and he kept going on about how we "were one," with this big shit-eating grin on his face. He wasn't my boyfriend for much longer after that. When Richard and I had sex for the first time, he was surprised that he was able to enter me without any resistance. When he asked me about it, I told him about my ex-boyfriend and my suspicions about that night. I could have lied to him and made up some story about a bicycle accident or some such; that sort of thing really does happen. But I didn't feel like lying, and I wanted to know up front if this was going to be a big thing for us, so that I could dump him if he was that sort of asshole. He said that it wasn't a big deal for him, and it never seemed to bother him as he never brought it up after that first time. I guess that since he said in his story that we were both virgins when we first went to bed with each other, he figured that being raped by my ex-boyfriend when I was unconscious, if that's what really happened, didn't count. Richard was right when he said that from not long after we got married, he had been trying to get me to go to bed with other guys. I think he wanted to feel that it was okay for him to tomcat around, but he wasn't sure that I would be okay with it unless I was playing around too. Maybe also he was just too insecure or too lazy to go hunting for sex on his own, and he figured it would be easier to swap than to swing solo. This hurt my feelings, because I felt that sex was something that you did with someone you loved, and I didn't want either of us loving anyone else. But Richard was way different on this, and I was smart enough to understand that he could separate the sex from love in a way that I couldn't, or at least didn't want to. You've got to remember that this was the early 1970s, right in the middle of the sexual revolution that had been helped along greatly by the introduction of the birth control pill in the early 60s, and that it was a decade before anyone had heard about AIDS. Sex was everywhere. Playboy had been around since the early 1950s, and its circulation peaked in the early 1970s only because of the advent of Penthouse, Hustler and other magazines, not because people were less interested in sexual liberation. Sexploitation films were being churned out like mad, and serious cinema included the likes of "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice" and "Last Tango In Paris." What I'm trying too say is that if you weren't young then, you probably can have no idea of how much pressure all of this generated on people to see sex as play rather than sex as love. As I said, this caused a problem for Richard and me, because what he saw as liberating I saw as an assault on the values that I'd been raised with. Maybe I was just brought up differently, or was more naïve then, but I felt that I should be enough for him, and he should be enough for me, and that sex without love was cheapening. Maybe I was just a prude. In any case, about a year or two after we had been married, I finally let him talk me into going to a bar once by myself. But I still felt hurt that he'd asked, and cheap when I went. The first guy who wanted to buy me a drink kind of creeped me out, so I left. It wasn't just because I thought that letting myself get picked up in a bar was a cheap or slutty thing to do. Remember that I was pretty sure that my old boyfriend, who I knew and who was supposed to have loved me, had gotten me drunk and raped me when I was passed out. The idea of getting boozed up and then going home with some stranger, without anyone knowing where I was, just didn't seem like a good idea. Richard didn't hide his disappointment very well when I came back early, but at least he gave up on that idea. He's always been pretty straight about "just try it and if you don't like it we'll drop the whole thing." I'd tried it, so that was that. Now we come to the Robert and Donna part of the story: dinner, their place, downstairs from our apartment. As far as I knew, this really had started out as just an invitation to dinner from neighbors, so we were wearing what we usually wore at the time: shirts and jeans. This was the 70s and I had small breasts, so as usual I went without a bra. I'm pretty introverted and I was the youngest at the table, so Richard was doing most of the talking from our side, while Robert and Donna were both pretty chatty. Mainly I ate (like Richard, Robert was a very good cook), answered when someone asked me something and, as dinner progressed, drank more and more of the red wine that kept finding its way into my cup. Richard was clearly impressed with Robert, not just because he was older and more self assured than Richard was but, of all things, because he was a maintenance man in some apartment complex. Richard's dad had died when he was young, and he and his younger sisters had been brought up by his mother, so he never had worked on a car or fixed a lawnmower or built anything with his hands outside of a shop class he took in the ninth grade. All he'd ever done was go to school, and now he'd finished his Masters and had just started working on a PhD. He was good at what he did, but it seemed like he had this notion that what Robert did was better because you could see the results and get paid for it. And then there was the matter of sex. As the evening went on and the wine flowed, the conversation got more and more into sex and Robert and Donna's sexual escapades. Poor Richard; since he was so shy as a teenager he'd only had me to sleep with, while it sounded like Robert had had dozens or maybe hundreds of women. It occurred to me that Richard was a Robert wannabe, and I began to wonder if this evening was the innocent dinner with neighbors that had been billed. If Richard was clearly in awe of Robert, he was even more obviously in lust with Donna, I guess with more than ample reason. Where I had small breasts, a shyness almost as deep as Richard's, and sexual experience that had progressed slowly from zero all the way to one, Donna oozed sexuality, had a sexual history as big and even more varied than Robert's and, as the old joke about the Pope sort of went, "she'sa gotta hava beeg tits." Richard says that he wasn't sure how much I was picking up on the hints about swinging that Robert and Donna were dropping into the conversation. Well, I was not as far gone with the wine as he says he thought I was, so I was picking up plenty. I was also picking up how Donna was playing up to Richard's ego by comparing his education to her lowly status as a secretary and a bit player in the local rep theater. And I was picking up on how she kept grabbing his arm when set talked to him, and how she let those big tits of hers brush across his arm when she reached across the table to fill my wine glass. I would have had to be passed out already not to pick up on it, things were so thick and obvious. It became clear to me as the conversation focused more and more on sex that Robert and Donna were inviting us to swing with them. Clearly Richard was willing; the big question was whether I would be. I tried to think it out rationally. Maybe I was the one out of step with the times. Maybe I should, as Richard kept suggesting "just try it and if you don't like it we'll drop the whole thing." Maybe I should find out if Richard really could separate love and sex the way he said he could, and find out if he still loved me after I'd slept with another guy. After all, Robert was a good looking guy, he was clean, he was articulate, he was educated way above what his job indicated, and he'd lived so much more than either Richard or I had to that point. So I began to think along the lines that maybe I should see if I also could separate sex and love like everyone else seemed to be doing at the time. Definitely the wine had its effect, as my inhibitions were considerably suppressed by the time we moved into the living room. I was not as "woozy" as Richard described me in his story, though I let it appear that I was farther gone than I actually was. Probably this was for two reasons. First, I was still the most prudish person in the room, and I saw a difference between going with the flow and actively encouraging it. Second, I'm basically insecure and if I was wrong about the signals I was getting any move that I made might be one that everyone else would have thought was comically out of place. So, I opted for the more passive role, and figured "What could be more passive than appearing to be damned near passed out?" Being drunk didn't keep me from noticing that Donna had sat down on the sofa next to Richard, and that she soon had her hand on his thigh and continued to brush him with her big tits from time to time. I decided that the best way to find out whether this was really going to go where I suspected was for me to get into a different room from them. So, I let my head fall forward and when Donna noticed this she got up and took me to the bedroom. After she'd put me on the bed she left and I got up and groped my way to the bathroom to pee, because my bladder was about to burst from all the wine I'd consumed. Then I got back in bed and drifted off. At some point I was awakened by someone kissing me on the lips. At first I was confused about where I was and I thought I was back in our bed in our apartment, and that it was Richard who was kissing me. When I got my senses around me enough, I realized that the person kissing me was Robert. What's more, I noticed that we were on a bed in a dark room and that we seemed to be the only ones there. I wasn't sure what to do at this point. I was still pretty drunk and at first I was startled to find myself in this situation. So, for a minute or two I just lay there and let Robert kiss me, without kissing him back, but also not doing anything to stop him. But when I felt Robert start to unbutton my shirt, I figured that doing nothing wasn't going to be an option for long. Maybe I'm remembering this in way more detail than it actually happened; certainly it takes longer to write it out that it took all of these thoughts to go through my mind. Maybe I wasn't thinking as clearly as I say here, and was just reacting emotionally. After all, is a deer frozen in the headlights of an approaching car really thinking? But this is the way I remember it. I figured that if I did nothing I was, effectively, about to get raped -- again, if my suspicions about my old boyfriend were correct -- and I knew that I didn't want that. If I started crying for help, it might or might not do any good. I didn't know where Richard was; probably off somewhere fucking Donna seemed like a good guess based on the evening so far. At best, even if he were close enough to step in, it could produce a very messy situation, maybe even a violent one. Then I recalled all the times that Richard had tried to talk me into sleeping with other guys and my thinking at supper about actually going along with the program to see whether I liked it or not. So, finally, I decided "Okay, Richard, you asked for it. I'll let this guy fuck me, and then we'll see how each of us likes that." At that point I started kissing Robert back. I'll say this for Robert, he was a pretty decent kisser. The rest of his technique was okay too, as far as I was concerned. When he got my shirt open, he started licking and sucking on my nipples, which felt good until he started using his teeth a little too forcefully. I've never been into pain much, and apparently my nipples are very sensitive. I was happy when he returned to kissing me and started to use his hand to unbutton my jeans. When Robert got my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, he slipped his hand inside my panties and I felt his finger slip easily into my pussy. I guess I was kind of wet, and I got even wetter as he slid his finger in and out of me and rubbed it around my clit. I guess I forgot that I was supposed to be an insecure prude. In fact, I don't think I was doing a lot of thinking once his fingers -- he now had two if them in me -- started working slowly on my clit while he continued to kiss me. Like I said, he was a good kisser, and he also knew how to finger fuck a girl. After a little while Robert got up and started to undress me. After he'd gotten my shoes off, he started to pull on my jeans. By then I was actually very excited and looking forward to being fucked, so I raised my ass up off the bed to help him pull them off more easily. Then I dropped back down on the bed and lay there with my legs a little open, waiting to see what he would do next. What he did next surprised me. I'd never had my toes sucked before. It gave me a little tingle in my pussy kind of like having my nipples sucked, but not as strong. Then he started licking his way up my legs, first one leg up to the knee, then the other all the way up to my pussy. I was about to tell him to stop because for some reason I've never liked it when Richard licked my pussy, and I didn't want Robert to do it either. But before I could say anything he tongued his way back down my thigh and then started up the other thigh. All of this felt okay, but it worried me that he was going to start lapping at my pussy, so when he was almost there I said "Why don't you just fuck me?" Apparently he couldn't think of a good reason not to, because he immediately hopped off the bed and started getting undressed. There was a little light coming into the room from the hallway, so I was able to look at him while he was doing that. When he dropped his boxers, his cock was standing straight out. It was circumcised, like Richards, but it didn't look as long or as thick. Maybe this was because Robert was shorter than Richard, I don't know. Anyway, I was halfway expecting Robert to try to get me to suck his cock. Richard certainly likes this and my earlier boyfriends had asked me more than once to do that when I wouldn't let them have intercourse with me, so I guessed it was something that all guys wanted or even expected. But I'd turned them down and, at least as far as I know, Richard was the only guy to get his cock into my mouth. Robert didn't want a blowjob, though. He just spread my legs out more, raised my knees a little, climbed between them, and lowered himself onto me. Suddenly, I could feel the head of his cock pushing against the lips of my pussy. I don't know for sure what I was thinking then, waiting for that first strange prick after my husband's to enter me. I don't recall any sense of dread or of elation. If anything, it was more like anticipation or maybe "Wow, I'm actually going to do this." I do recall that Robert had fingered me nearly to the point of orgasm, so I was probably just wanting him to get on with things so that he could finish getting me over the top sooner rather than later. All I remember for sure is that he entered me slowly, and that it felt good, even if his prick was a little smaller than Richard's. Richard says in his "story" that I gave out a little sigh and a moan. That sounds right to me. Richard described Robert as an experienced cocksman. I'd have to say yes, he was. He might not have been as big as Richard, but he knew how to use what he had to the best effect. He continued to fuck me slowly, and I experienced a little orgasm that I muffled by biting his shoulder. It was, I guess, a surprisingly gentle fuck, almost like making love, rather than anything so crude as a self-centered "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" fuck, or the rape that it could have been if I hadn't decided that I wanted it. Because of this, and the booze, and the fact that I was now feeling very, very good from the friction in my pussy, I had no trouble getting into it, wrapping my legs around him, kissing him, swinging my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust, moaning and gasping as I usually did when Richard was making love to me.. This must have gotten to Robert, because he then began sawing back and forth fast across my clit, slamming his prick into me so hard that I could hear his balls slapping against my ass. I was getting closer and closer to a really big orgasm, moaning and gasping faster, more loudly. After the first couple of times that Richard and I had sex, I'd had no trouble achieving multiple orgasms, so if Richard says that I had two more of them before I hit the big one and Robert came in me, that's probably true. I wasn't counting. All I know is that the last one was mind blowing enough that I wasn't thinking or emoting or doing anything but feeling every nerve in my body for at least the next minute. Fun House Mirrors Robert slid off and held me as we both lay there gasping to get our breath back. After a little while he got up, put his clothes on and then helped me get dressed. After he left, I went to the bathroom. I'd been on the pill for the past four years so I wasn't worried about the cum that he had left in me, but I still needed to pee again, and I needed to clean up at least some of my juices and Robert's cum from my sloppy pussy. Then I went back to the living room where I found Richard and Donna sitting on the couch, with Robert on the love seat, just as I'd left them. Richard asked me how I was doing and I said fine. Then he said it was late and it looked like I needed to get to bed (some joke, I thought), so we said goodnight and headed back to our apartment. We got ready for bed and then hopped in, naked as usual. I didn't know at the time that Donna and Richard had been watching while Robert and I fucked, but I felt pretty sure that there was no way that Richard could miss the fact that I'd just had sex. I hadn't showered, and in spite of my washing off my pussy twice, I could still smell the sex on me. My face was still puffy and flushed, and my nipples were as hard as M&Ms. So, to clear, or at least clarify, the somewhat musky air I just told him that I'd let Robert fuck me, and asked him if he was okay with that. So I told him that I'd just let Robert fuck me, and asked him if he was okay with that. Not only was he okay with it, he was instantly hard. He asked me if I was okay with it and I told him I was, which was true at that point. I certainly couldn't say that I had not had a good time once I'd decided that this was something I was willing to do, for whatever reason. While I had started out going with the flow, it had turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant experience. In fact it had been a good fuck. So, we kissed and made out for a few minutes, and Richard kept breaking the kisses to tell me how happy I'd made him, until I got tired of hearing that and shut him up by saying "Why don't you just fuck me." As he pushed his dick into me, the thought s that I was being fucked by two guys in the same night, and that Richard was pushing his dick not only into my pussy but into some of Robert's cum, made it very exciting for me. Afterward I asked Richard if he'd fucked Donna while Robert and I were fucking, and he told me that he hadn't -- yet. I asked him if he was expecting us to swing with them and he said he hoped so. And, as it happens, we did. But that is another story. Why Don't You Just Fuck Me? -- Mirror Story C I recently came across Richard's "Why Don't You Just Fuck Me?" so-called "story" while going through his old papers. Of course it wasn't a story at all, but his account of what happened not too long after we had been married. If he'd asked me about it, I'd have been able to fill in a few things. Better late than never, I guess. As Richard said, we were very young back then, and had been married for just 3 years. That we were virgins when we met was more or less true. He said he was and I am pretty sure that he was telling the truth; his love making certainly got better over time. As for me, that depends on how you look at it. As it happened, my former boyfriend had gotten me into be and fucked me one night when I was too drunk to resist. I don't remember how it started. I do remember the pain when he broke through my hymen, his grunts and moans as he came inside me, and my sense of being soiled and degraded at having had something taken from me that I should have been allowed to give. The next morning my head was sore, my pussy was sore, there was dried blood and cum on my thighs and my asshole boyfriend kept going on about how we "were one," with this big shit-eating grin on his face. I never let hi touch me again, and he wasn't my boyfriend for much longer after that. When Richard and I had sex for the first time, he was surprised that he was able to enter me without any resistance. When he asked me about it, I told that I suspected that my ex-boyfriend had date raped me when I was passed out. This wasn't quite true since I wasn't passed out all the time, so I more than suspected, but I figured it was close enough. After all, I could have made up some story about a bicycle accident or some such; that sort of thing really does happen. But I didn't feel like lying that much. After all, I had been raped, and it wasn't my fault, so if Richard couldn't live with that I wanted to know up front, so that I could dump him if he was that sort of asshole. He said that it wasn't a big deal for him, and it never seemed to bother him as he never brought it up after that first time. I guess that since he said in his story that we were both virgins when we first went to bed with each other, he figured that being raped by my ex-boyfriend when I was unconscious didn't count. Richard was right when he said that from not long after we got married, he had been trying to get me to go to bed with other guys. I think he wanted to feel that it was okay for him to tomcat around, but he wasn't sure that I would be okay with it unless I was playing around too. Maybe also he was just too insecure or too lazy to go hunting for sex on his own, and he figured it would be easier to swap than to swing solo. This hurt my feelings, because I'd been brought up to believe that sex was something that you did with someone you loved, and I didn't want either of us loving anyone else. But Richard was way different on this, and I was smart enough to understand that he could separate the sex from love in a way that I couldn't, or at least didn't want to. You've got to remember that this was the early 1970s, right in the middle of the sexual revolution that had been helped along greatly by the introduction of the birth control pill in the early 60s, and a decade before anyone had heard about AIDS. Sex was everywhere. Playboy had been around since the early 1950s, and its circulation peaked in the early 1970s only because of the advent of Penthouse, Hustler and other magazines, not because people were less interested in sexual liberation. Sexploitation films were being churned out like mad, and serious cinema included the likes of "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice" and "Last Tango In Paris." What I'm trying to say is that if you weren't young then, you probably can have no idea of how much pressure all of this generated on people to be cool with the idea of sex as play rather than sex as love. As I said, this caused a problem for Richard and me, because what he saw as liberating I saw as an assault on the values that I'd been raised with. Maybe I was just more naïve then, but I felt that I should be enough for him, and he should be enough for me, and that sex without love was cheapening. Maybe I was just a prude. In any case, because it was so important to him, about a year or two after we had been married, I finally let him talk me into going to a bar once by myself. The first guy who wanted to buy me a drink kind of creeped me out, so I left. It wasn't just because I thought that letting myself get picked up in a bar was a cheap or slutty thing to do. There were some basic trust and safety issues here. Remember that my old boyfriend, who I knew and who was supposed to have loved me, had gotten me drunk and raped me when I was too far gone to resist. The idea of getting boozed up and then going home with some stranger, without anyone knowing where I was, just didn't seem like a good idea, whatever my views on extramarital sex. Richard didn't hide his disappointment very well when I came back early, but at least he gave up on that idea. He's always been pretty straight about "just try it and if you don't like it we'll drop the whole thing." I'd tried it, so that was that as far as he was concerned. He was always very good about keeping his side of bargains. Now we come to the Robert and Donna part of the story: dinner, their place, downstairs from our apartment. This really had been presented to me as just an invitation to dinner from neighbors, so we were wearing what we usually wore at the time: shirts and jeans. This was the 70s and I had small breasts, so as usual I went without a bra. I'm pretty introverted and I was the youngest at the table, so Richard was doing most of the talking from our side, while Robert and Donna were both pretty chatty. Mainly I ate (like Richard, Robert was a very good cook, so the food was excellent), answered when someone asked me something and, as dinner progressed, drank more and more of the red wine that kept finding its way into my cup. Richard was clearly impressed with Robert, not just because he was older and more self assured than Richard was but, of all things, because he was a maintenance man in some apartment complex. Richard's dad had died when he was young, and he and his younger sisters had been brought up by his mother, so he never had worked on a car or fixed a lawnmower or built anything with his hands outside of a shop class he took in the ninth grade. All he'd ever done was go to school, and now he'd finished his Masters and had just started working on a PhD. He was good at what he did, but it seemed like he had this notion that what Robert did was better because you could see the results and get paid for it. And then there was the matter of sex. As the evening went on and the wine flowed, the conversation got more and more into sex and Robert and Donna's sexual escapades. Poor Richard; since he was so shy as a teenager he'd only had me to sleep with, while it sounded like Robert had had dozens or maybe hundreds of women. It occurred to me that Richard was a Robert wannabe, and I began to wonder if this evening was the innocent dinner with neighbors that had been billed. If Richard was clearly in awe of Robert, he was even more obviously in lust with Donna, I guess with more than ample reason. Where I had small breasts, a shyness almost as deep as Richard's, and sexual experience that had progressed slowly from zero all the way to one, Donna oozed sexuality, had a sexual history as big and even more varied than Robert's and, as the old joke about the Pope sort of went, "she'sa gotta ... beeg tits." Richard says that he wasn't sure how much I was picking up on the hints about swinging that Robert and Donna were dropping into the conversation. Well, I was not that far gone with the wine, so I was picking up plenty. I was also picking up how Donna was playing up to Richard's ego by comparing his education to her lowly status as a secretary and a bit player in the local rep theater. I was picking up on how she kept grabbing his arm when set talked to him, and how she let those big tits of hers brush across his arm when she reached across the table to fill my wine glass. And I was also picking up the fact, unknown to Richard, that Robert's foot kept rubbing up and down my leg under the table. Clearly, between the sexual conversation and the un-subtle physical contacts Robert and Donna were inviting us to swing with them. Clearly Richard was willing; the big question was whether I would be. I tried to think it out rationally. As far as Richard, Robert, Donna and what seemed to be the majority of my college-educated peers were concerned, I was a prude. I was willing to concede that maybe I was the one out of step with the times. Maybe I should, as Richard kept suggesting "just try it." Maybe I should find out if Richard really could separate love and sex the way he said he could, and find out if he still loved me after I'd slept with another guy. Maybe I should find out if I could, too. Maybe now was the time and place to just deal with all of this. Okay, maybe I was even a bit turned on at the prospect. Definitely the wine had its effect, as my inhibitions were considerably suppressed by the time we moved into the living room. I was not as "woozy" as Richard described me in his story, though I let it appear that I was farther gone than I actually was. Probably this was for two reasons. First, I was still the most prudish person in the room -- while everyone else was clearly at "Yes," all I was still willing to admit to was "Maybe" -- and I saw a difference between going with the flow and actively encouraging it. Second, I'm basically insecure and if I was wrong about the signals I was getting any move that I made might be one that everyone else would have thought was comically out of place. So, while I was still opting for the more passive role, the fact is that even before we left the table, I had been thinking somewhat positively about the idea of joining the sexual revolution. No, that's a lie. While I was still not willing to admit to more than "Maybe," in truth I was actually getting excited about doing it. Being a bit drunk didn't keep me from noticing that when we moved to the living room Donna sat down next to Richard, soon had her hand on his thigh, and continued to brush him with her big tits from time to time. I decided that the best way to find out whether this was really going to go where I suspected was for me to get into another room from them. So, I let my head fall forward and when Donna noticed this she got up and took me to the bedroom. When she put me on the bed, I made my decision. After all, Robert was actually pretty good looking, he was fit, clean, experienced, brighter than he should have been for the job he was doing, so an all-round good candidate for me to fuck in a place that was safe. I looked Donna in the eye and said "If you're up for this, send Robert to me." She didn't appear nearly as surprised at this as I was at having said it. Instead she just looked at me for a couple of seconds then said, "Are you sure?" I said "Yes," and then she really shocked me. She leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. During supper Donna had made it clear that she was bisexual, but I'd never been kissed by a woman before and I hadn't been expecting that. Before I could react though, the kiss was over and she was heading back to the living room. I think the main effect of that kiss was that it more than half sobered me up, and it certainly gave me something to think about because, to be honest, to my surprise it kind of turned me on. After Donna left I got up and groped my way to the bathroom to pee, because my bladder was about to burst from all the wine I'd consumed. Then I got back in bed and, even though I lay there thinking about fucking Robert, I must have drifted off, because at some point I was awakened by someone kissing me on the lips. At first I was confused about where I was and I thought I was back in our bed in our apartment, and that it was Richard who was kissing me. When I got my senses around me enough, I remembered that that I was in Robert and Donna's bed and that I'd told Donna to send Robert to me. Then I realized that he was the one kissing me. What's more, I remembered that I had decided to fuck him, so the fact that we were on a bed in a dark room and that we seemed to be the only ones there meant that things were working in that direction. At first I wasn't sure what to do -- after all, a moment before I had been asleep, and despite my decision this was this was a new experience for me -- but since he was kissing me it seemed that the natural thing to do was to start really kissing him back. So I opened myself to him, sucking on his tongue when he thrust it into my mouth, and flicking mine into his. Even as Robert started unbuttoning my shirt, I could feel my pussy starting to tingle and cream. What was I thinking at this point? Some of these thoughts had been going through my mind, probably as early as at the table and in the living room, and certainly as I was drifting off after announcing it to myself and to another woman while lying on her marriage bed that tonight, for the first time, I wanted to engage in premeditated intercourse with her husband. And if not before, at least afterwards, I wanted it to be clear in my mind that my intention was to fuck him, not just be fucked like I had been by my loser ex-boyfriend or like I was when I spread my legs for Richard for the first time. That I was declaring my right to fuck whoever I wanted to, just because I felt like it. But the truth is that, like any woman in the throes of passion who has given her body permission to go off the reservation, what I was thinking, feeling, emoting, as Robert and I began our love making all came down to simply "I want you inside me." As I said, Robert was a pretty decent kisser and I soon found that the rest of his technique was okay too, as far as I was concerned. When he got my shirt open, he started licking and sucking on my nipples, which felt good until he started using his teeth a little too forcefully. I've never been into pain much, and apparently my nipples are very sensitive. I was happy when he returned to kissing me and started to use his hand to unbutton my jeans. When Robert got my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, he slipped his hand inside my panties and I felt his finger slip easily into my pussy. I was already wet, and I got even wetter as he slid his finger in and out of me and rubbed it around my clit. My inner insecure prude quickly went into hiding and my inner wild child emerged as Robert's fingers -- he now had two if them in me -- started working slowly on my clit while he continued to kiss me. Like I said, not only was he a good kisser, he certainly knew how to finger fuck a girl. After a little while Robert got up and started to undress me. After he'd gotten my shoes off, he started to pull on my jeans. By then I was so excited and looking forward to having him inside me, that I eagerly raised my ass up off the bed to help him pull them off more easily. Then I dropped back down on the bed and lay there with my legs a little open, waiting to see what he would do next. What he did next surprised me. I'd never had my toes sucked before. It gave me a tingle in my pussy like having my nipples sucked, but not as strong. Then he started licking his way up my legs, first one leg up to the knee, then the other all the way up to my pussy. I was about to tell him to stop because for some reason I've never liked it when Richard licked my pussy, and I didn't want Robert to do it either. But before I could say anything he tongued his way back down my thigh and then started up the other thigh, adding little bites as he again moved toward my creaming cunt. All of this felt more than okay, but it worried me that he was going to start lapping at my pussy, so when he was almost there I said "Why don't you just fuck me?" Apparently Robert couldn't think of a good reason not to, because he immediately hopped off the bed and started getting undressed. There was a little light coming into the room from the hallway, so I was able to look at him while he was doing that. When he dropped his boxers, his cock was standing straight out. It was circumcised, like Richards, and it glistened with pre-cum. It didn't look as long or as thick as Richard's. Maybe this was because Robert was shorter than Richard, I don't know. Anyway, I was halfway expecting Robert to try to get me to suck his cock. Richard certainly likes this and my earlier boyfriends had asked me more than once to do that when I wouldn't let them have intercourse with me, so I guessed it was something that all guys wanted or even expected. But I'd turned them down and, at least as far as I know, Richard was the only guy to get a blowjob from me. My mouth began to water as I expected to be sucking on Robert's dick soon, but it turns out that he didn't want a blowjob. He just spread my legs out more, raised my knees a little, climbed between them and lowered himself onto me. Suddenly, I could feel the head of his cock pushing against the lips of my pussy and all I could think, waiting for that first strange prick after my husband's to enter me, was "Fuck, me, fuck me, fuck me," because Robert had fingered me nearly to the point of orgasm, so I wanted him to shove his cock in me hard, to get me over the top right then. All I remember for sure as he pushed into me is that I was surprised that he entered me slowly, and that it felt sooo good, even if his prick was a little smaller than Richard's and he wasn't giving me the hard ramming that I'd been screaming for in my head. Richard says in his "story" that I gave out a little sigh and a moan. Probably he's right, since I had a little orgasm even before Robert was completely in me.