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Passion & Perspective Ch. 01

By: adamgunn



This is a novel, of twenty-five chapters. It deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those aren't subjects that interest you, you might choose not to read this.

Please read my comment on anonymous comments in my biography.

copyright 2013

*

'Not bad,' I thought, 'for an old geezer.'

On the night before my sixtieth birthday, I was lying on my back, my good friend Bobbie rose and fell above me, doing all the work and enjoying herself, as I could tell from her moans.

Beside me, my wonderful wife Molly was on her knees, Nick behind her pounding, she was giving out those wonderful birdlike calls, I reached over and pinched one of her nipples, it seemed to amplify her sensations, and she became louder and Nick let go, filling my wife's womb with his sticky residue.

"We're always behind them," Bobbie jested. As I prepared to do my part for her, I thought - as the Grateful Dead wrote - what a long strange trip it's been. 

Chapter 1

Molly returned home from a dinner with her old friend Kat and had a revelation. "Kat told me tonight she's a hotwife!"

"What's that?"

"Well, she has sex with other guys. She says that sometimes her husband watches her. She told me some of the raunchiest stories!"

"Why did she tell you?"

"Apparently, she thought I'm a hotwife too!"

I could see why Kat jumped to that conclusion. Molly is three years younger than I am, at that point she was 53, and has always flirted with other guys in a totally harmless way. The men like it, she's five feet nine with shoulder length dusky auburn hair, still at a hundred and thirty-four pounds, and if her bra size is only a 32b, she wears it with pride. Molly loves to tease men, it's as much a part of her personality as her grand smile or intense cobalt irises. If we were at a party, Molly had a tendency to easily put her hand on a gentleman's arm, laugh joyfully at a joke or offer sincere compliments to him. I'd watched scores of times when a man would respond, wondering if she was coming on to him, and when he took it a bit too seriously, I'd seen Molly just as easily cool him with a joke.

Molly told me a few of Kat's stories, enough to get me in the mood, and fifteen minutes later we were in our marriage bed, doing what married couples do. After twenty-seven years we knew each other's bodies well enough, and if the lust had dimmed over the years, our love was enough to compensate, or so I thought. That night, Molly and I spooned in a comfortable position, and chatted as we made love.

"Have you ever thought about being a hotwife?" I asked.

"Like Kat is? No, of course not. Oh, I've had fantasies like everyone else - like you have for Sigourney Weaver. But I've never thought about just going out and getting a guy." Something in the tone of her voice indicated she might be spinning her response for the intended audience, me. 

"Would you like to? You know, just once, meet a guy at a party and take him someplace and have your way with him?" The question was met with a hush, but I thought I got my answer in the way she pushed her hips at me, and the accelerated onset of an orgasm. For seven or eight minutes we played silently, I climbed on top of her to finish myself off, and then in the afterglow we continued our talk.

"You've never done anything like that, have you?"

"Of course not. Not since we were married, you know I had lovers before then." Not a shock, we were wed in our late twenties, both of us played the sport before we met. "Not even a serious kiss! You haven't either, have you?"

"No, I've never done anything," I renounced, and it was the truth. We drifted off then, and during the night I had a strange dream of Molly writhing beneath a strange man's torso, and my reaction was far from angry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At a party a week later, I watched as Molly, garbed in a one-shoulder dress, frolicked flippantly with a few of our friends. The wives didn't seem to mind, we'd all been there before, they were positive Molly wasn't trying to steal their husbands. Then, late in the evening, I was in a conversation with three or four guys when I spied Molly sitting in a corner with a handsome man I didn't know. My wife was in full flirt, and her hand covered his as he reached for a drink. He nudged closer, the dialogue seemed a bit more intense, and then he placed a hand on Molly's knee. She let it be for a couple of moments, then she moved a few inches away from him, his hand left her leg, a couple of moments later she rose and left him.

That night, again in bed, I asked, "Who was the guy?"

"What guy?"

"You know. The one you were sitting with just before the party broke up."

"Oh, you mean Alex. He's a friend of the Franklin's, just in for the weekend."

"You were getting pretty close to him."

"Was I?" she rebuffed.

"Uh huh. He had his hand on your knee. I didn't mind."

"You didn't?"

"No, there wasn't any harm in it, was there?" A long silence. "Or was there? Tell me, would you have liked to take him home?"

"Of course not," she rejected, and yet a clutch in her voice gave me an idea.

"What if it was okay with me, if I didn't mind. What would you do then?"

"Would you ever let me do something like that?" The voice in the dark room was incredulous, yet interested.

"I don't know. But if I didn't care, would you?"

Another long silence, I toyed with her nipples which were suddenly rock hard. "Maybe . . ." she admitted, "maybe. Since Kat's been telling me her stories, I've had this, I don't know, this sort of dream of being with someone else. It's just a fantasy, I'll never do anything about it, of course, but it's been sort of exciting."

"If you could have taken Alex home tonight, what would you have done with him?"

In her fantasy world, she opened up to me, "I guess I'd take some time just kissing him . . ." For the next twenty minutes she described the various ways Alex would toy with her, strip her of her clothing, perform oral sex on her, and then make satisfying love to her. While she was depicting her mirage, I helped her with my hands, my lips and, finally, my manhood. She came at least twice, a rarity at that point in our lives, and I had a gigantic discharge, thinking of another man who was, in dream, violating my wife, my possession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We played the game for months, I found out Molly's dream man was taller than she, at least six feet, hair color was unimportant but she wasn't in favor of facial hair, and that he'd be gentle. When I asked about size down there, she thought back to her single days and told me, "I've never had a really big guy, more than nine inches or so, and I don't think I'd want one. It really doesn't matter. You're the best I've ever had, and you're not much bigger than average." 

When I asked her who her best lover other than me was, she told a story from her youth. "Oh, that has to be Ralph."

"Ralph! You've got to be kidding me. You're making that name up."

"No, really, that was his name. Or at least the name he gave me."

"Tell me about it," I solicited.

"Really?" She was unsure, we had never talked of our lovers, but when she realized I was sincere and simply interested, she continued. "Okay. It was when I was living with Tommy, I must have been, oh, twenty-three. I had a big fight with him, I walked out, and didn't have anyplace to go. After driving around for a couple of hours, I stopped at a hotel, I figured they had a bar where I could warm up. I was sitting there, minding my own business, when this very handsome man in a suit offered to buy me a drink. I said yes. It was Ralph. I knew Ralph was married, he had a ring on his finger, but he was willing to listen, and you know how I am, if someone's talking to me, I've got my hand on their arm, and he kept looking at me, and then, after the third drink, he said that either he could keep on buying at the bar, or we could raid the minibar in his room. I knew what I was getting into, but I was really pissed at Tommy, and Ralph was pretty sexy, and I was drunk, so . . ."

"So what happened? Why was it so great?"

"It just was. I was completely uninhibited, and didn't mind when he took my clothes off, or kissed my toes, you know how I like that, and his peter tasted great. It must have been forty-five minutes before we got around to the main event, and once he started doing me, we shifted positions every few minutes and he lasted forever, longer than anybody I ever had until you came along. He came two or three times, I think, and we kept at it until three or four in the morning. Then we woke up about eight, and did it again, and he ordered room service. It was wonderful!"

"What did you tell Tommy?"

"I said I was over at a girlfriend's."

"Did you ever see Ralph again?"

"Yeah, every time he came to town he called me at the office, and I'd try to meet him. Eventually, though, Tommy figured it out, and that was as good an excuse as any to break up. The funny thing is, once Ralph found out I wasn't living with Tommy, he stopped calling."

"Huh!" It was a good story, and I noticed that just telling me gave Molly a different kind of glow, her nipples became compacted. "So tell me, just what was it that Ralph did that made it so good?" And as she was divulging further secrets, I pretended I was Ralph. I don't know, perhaps she did, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly over these months, my mind began to shift from an attitude of 'wouldn't it be interesting if she did something' to an actual desire for her to become an adulterer. I'm an analytical sort, and so I considered it thoroughly. What was my reason for wanting my wife to be with another man?

Certainly, the primary reason seemed to me to be her pleasure. Our talks had convinced me she had an actual desire to feel the attentions of another man, to be passionate with someone other than me. Perhaps that's true of most women, just look at the incidence of adultery in our country. Why shouldn't I let her scratch the itch?

And being honest, I felt I had reasons of my own, from the possibility of a better love life to a voyeuristic nature. Already our sex had improved since we'd been chatting about the subject, both in quality and the amount of time we spent in the sack. And I fully admit I liked porn, I spent my hours late at night looking at pictures of nubile females and videos of couples having sex. The prospect I might be able to watch my wife actually screwing someone excited me.

I realized there were potential problems, of course. Our society publicly condemns adulterers, but I never worried about them, from Clinton to Woods and all the others. Neither I nor Molly were particularly religious, I decided it was nobody's business but ours. And then there was the stigma of being a cuckold. That word has some pretty nasty connotations - submissive, fetish, desire for humiliation, and even a competition to see if I provided more powerful sperm. I laughed at those, to me Molly going to bed with another guy just seemed like fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took me a few weeks, but finally in bed one night, I opened the topic. "Molly, would you like to take on another lover?" I asked seriously. "It would be all right with me if you did."

A long silence, she actually ignored the suggestion, and we silently proceeded to foreplay and coitus. I was able to give her a pretty fair orgasm, and when we were cuddling, I brought it up again. "You'd like it if somebody else was in bed right now with you, wouldn't you?"

Slowly, she responded, "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I've thought a lot about it, if you wanted to I think it'd be fine."

"Is this just an excuse so you could go to bed with another girl? You haven't already done that, have you?"

"No dear. I've been faithful, you don't have to ask me that. And honestly, that's not something I've been thinking about. I've just been wondering what it would be like if you had an affair. Be honest, would you like that?"

Another long pause. "You asked me to be honest. So I will. Yes, I've thought about it. It excites me. But I wouldn't ever do something like that!"

"Why not? If I said it was okay, wouldn't it be all right?"

"I guess so." We talked about it some more, and the upshot was she decided she'd think about it, and we went to sleep on that note.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six, seven weeks went by. Whenever I'd try to revisit the subject, she hushed me. I was given clues when a book of erotica showed up on her bedside table and one night in the den when I caught her reading a webpage that said, "Many couples enjoy the ritual of the husband helping the wife prepare herself" but the laptop was quickly closed. At social events when she flirted with a man, I wondered if she was studying him, trying to find a way to pick him up, but of course it was never any more serious than it had been before my suggestion. 

In bed, she wouldn't share fantasies with me, didn't talk about other men, ignored me when I did. 

And then, one day when we were on a long drive, she unexpectedly asked, "Have you thought any more about me taking a lover?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would it still be okay with you? Do you still want me to?"

"Yes," I exclaimed. "Are you going to?"

"I don't know yet. I'm thinking about it. If I do, I've got to be sure of a few things."

"Such as?"

"First off, you need to know that I'll only be doing it for fun. I love you. I'll always love you, and I'm not going to leave you for any other guy."

"I always knew that," I admitted.

"Good. And I need to be sure that if I do have sex with someone else, even if you decide you don't like it after, you won't hold it against me."

"I can promise you that. We've been together all these years. And I brought up the idea."

"Okay. And you won't have any say in who it'll be, it's my choice. I might only do it once, after that we'll have to see where we are. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure."

"And since you want me to do this, just because I do it once doesn't mean you get to." 

"Can I watch?" This was one of my huge desires, a longing to see my wife riding another penis.

"No. Not the first time, and if it's the only time, so be it. I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know about it. Maybe, maybe, after that I'll let you watch. I'll have to see." She saw my disappointment. "But I'll try to figure out some way you can meet him, or at least see him, before. And when I finally do it, you'll know when it's happening. Is that okay?"

Again I agreed. "So, do you have somebody in mind?"

"I've thought about it. I want it to be no strings attached. A one-night stand. No friends, neighbors, nobody I work with." And that was all I got out of her, that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week went by, two, still no other indication of what was to happen, or when it was to be. One Wednesday night after dinner, she came to me dressed in an old pair of jeans and a sweater, told me she was going out, not to wait up for her. While she was gone, of course I wondered where she was. Could it be that she was with someone, that she'd found her guy? Even though she'd told me I'd know, I couldn't help but think about it.

A little after eleven she returned, I was still up, I'm sure she could tell what I was thinking as she poured herself a glass of iced tea. "You're not busy tomorrow night, are you?"

"No. Why is something going on?"

"I certainly hope there will be," she admitted with a grin, then she told me her plan . . .

Passion & Perspective Ch. 02



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

*

I got home early the next afternoon, by the time she arrived, six-thirtyish, I had a glass of wine and a salad ready for her. "Are you nervous?" I asked.

"Tingly. Had butterflies all day, was pathetic at work," she conceded. "I'm still not absolutely sure this is the right thing to do. But if I don't do it tonight, I don't think I ever will. And I find I want to."

While I cleaned the dishes, she went to the master bedroom and I heard her take a long shower. She'd ordered me to stay out of her way, and I followed her command. Then, again according to the plan she'd developed, I got a text, and headed to the Marriott by the convention center. I'd never been there before, but it was as she'd described, a rectangular bar, seating on three sides, to the back of the stool I sat on was a series of semi-circular booths. The dance floor and a few tables were on the other side of the bar.

I ordered a beer, did some people watching. The place was perhaps half full at the 8:00 hour, mostly business men attending a convention, some nerds still had their name tags on, a few couples. Ten or twelve minutes after I'd sat, I looked to the doorway, and there was a wonderfully alluring woman - my wife. She was dressed in an outfit I'd never seen before, a thin floral blouse, ebony skirt that covered only the top half of her thighs, mesh nylons, black heels that added at least three inches to her already tall frame. Her hair was magically perfect, the lips ruby, lashes long, earrings sparkled from her lobes, a pendant drew attention to the exposed skin above her cleavage. 

A multitude of eyes watched as she parked herself on a stool, almost opposite of me, I could see her clearly, and she glanced quickly at me, smiled. 

Within a few moments, a man approached her, he was welcomed warmly by Molly to the seat beside her. I couldn't hear the conversation over the noise of voices and canned music, but it didn't seem Molly was giving out the proper flirting signals. He was a little short for her, I thought, and I noticed his shirt needed to be ironed. I was right, after five minutes or so she sent him packing. 

Another period of waiting, then she was approached by someone more suitable. He was tall, I thought he was handsome in a Roman fashion, wearing an moderately expensive suit with an open collared shirt. This time, she went into flirting mode, licking her lips, smiling, gazing directly into his eyes, touching his arm or hand every once in awhile. The man dropped his arm out of my eyesight, it's possible that he was fondling a knee. I had hopes, great ones, but after fifteen minutes I saw Molly smile and shake her head 'no.' Just a few minutes later, the man stood and walked away. Another miss!

I noticed a rather good looking man sat around the corner of the bar from Molly, I could see he was trying to catch her eye. She hemmed and hawed for a bit, playing with her hair, but then she looked to him. I could almost feel the lock of their eyes. He raised his glass to her, she smiled and nodded, and the man got up and sauntered over. He was tall, I could tell, at least six-two, in a suit, he still had his tie on. Hellos were said, names exchanged, he sat. Molly was in full-flirt mode, and the discussion seemed animated. The bar maid questioned if another round was in order, the man responded affirmatively, the conversation continued. Then he pointed at me, no, past me, and Molly nodded. In unison they stood, and walked around the bar, just a few feet from me, I could hear Molly saying, "The last book I read was Colter's Woman, by Maya Banks. Have you read . . ." and then she faded out. They stepped to the booth directly in back of me, sat, near but not near. In my position, in order to spy I had to turn my head, it was neither comfortable nor subtle. I shifted to a stool around the corner, from here I had a great view. They chatted, first she had her hand on his arm, then his hand was brushing a hair from her face. Another few moments passed, his hand was on her knee, then higher, even below the hem of her skirt. 

He leaned toward Molly, and I believe their lips met. She leaned back, just a little, I couldn't tell if she was signaling 'no' to him or if it was simply a tactic. And then, below the table, I saw her hand, the one with the ring on it, gently rest on his leg at mid-thigh. A few more words were spoken, I wish I could have heard them, and then Molly reached for her clutch, took her phone out, turned it on as if checking for something, then turned it off and returned it to her purse. Then, very deliberately, she placed her hand on his neck and led his head to her mouth.

This was my signal that the game was on. Pursuant to our agreement, I stood, tossed a bill on the bar. From twenty feet I looked at my wife, sitting with a man in a booth, and it was clear that he was in lust for the love of my life. Perhaps I took a little too long in my glance, perhaps it morphed into a stare. My sweetheart looked to me, our eyes met, she smiled, for me, not for her other man.

I broke the glance, walked to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I got to my car, the dashboard clock read '9:28.' I just sat there for a few moments, chilly in the mid-March evening, and tried to collect my thoughts. My wife was in that bar, making out with a guy, and in a few minutes would, I was sure, go up to his room, where he'd fuck her silly. The horror of that thought snapped to my attention, and for a few seconds I told myself I had to go back in there and tell her not to do it. But the the ecstasy of the apparition eased into my mind, and I knew I wanted her to have sex. I backed out of the spot, onto the road and headed for home. A dozen times during the ten mile drive I wavered between 'I need to stop them' and 'what a great time she's going to have.' I was close to pulling the car over a couple of times and calling her, but both times I either came to or lost my senses - your call.

When I got home, my emotions were still twisting my gut, I actually had to go into the bathroom. When I was done with that, I poured myself a drink and turned on a basketball game, but there was no way I could, or even wanted to, concentrate on it. Every few moments I wondered what Molly was doing. Was she in his room? Was she naked? Was he naked? Was she sucking on him? Was he eating her? Were they screwing?

I finally gave up on the television and turned the computer on. In a hotwife forum I read the tales of joy of both women and men, the stories of anticipation. I looked at pictures of naked women, and naked men, and what they were doing with each other. I admit I pulled my tool out and masturbated, wondering if while I was spurting into the air, he was coming inside Molly.

An interminable amount of time later, the clock ticking at half speed, another drink in my hand, I realized it was approaching 11:15, and Molly, if she kept her agreement, would be home soon. And, just a few seconds later, my phone lit up with a text. 'im fine going to stay longer'

Attached was a picture of my Molly from the waist up, disheveled hair, she was lying on crumpled bed sheets, and all she was wearing was an immense smile.

At least, now, I was absolutely sure what had happened that night - our wishes had been granted. Who said, be careful what you wish for? I texted back 'ok'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was after 12:30, I was in my easy chair in the den, when I hazily grasped something was happening. I'd dozed, helped by yet one more drink, half full at my elbow. Ah, that was it, Molly's car was in the driveway, I heard the click of the latch. I scuttled to the door just in time to watch my Molly enter the house.

She was properly dressed, all her clothing tucked in and fitting very nicely on that wonderful body. She seemed to walk fine, normally. The hair was sprucely brushed, if a lock or two was less than perfectly in line it wouldn't have been noticed by the neighbor down the block. Her makeup, if less than fresh, was no more mussed than if she'd spent the day at work. In short, most of her appearance was completely normal.

And yet, there was an aura about her, something had been altered. Her eyes, a bit larger perhaps, gay. And her skin seemed a shade brighter, luminous.

"Oh, you beautiful, beautiful man," she exclaimed as she ran to my arms. "I love you, I love you so much!" She encircled me with her arms, hugged me deeply, and before she raised her lips to be kissed she said, "Oh, thank you."

I kissed her, at first it was tentative, cautious on my part, but her rashness soon infected me, and we cooperated in the act, tongues twirling, lips lightly nibbled. Had I not known what she'd been up to, I never would have guessed she'd been kissing another. There was no difference in her embrace, save that, like the rest of her demeanor, it was more exuberant, frisky.

"Why thank me?" I asked.

"Because you let me have this night, dearest. I can't thank you enough." I was about to contest this, but she put her finger to my lip, shushing me. "Right now, I need to pee. Then I'll tell you anything you want to know. You do want me to tell you about it, don't you?"

I did. Very much. 

As she turned to head for the bathroom I asked, "Is there anything you need?"

"I'd love a cup of tea. And would you mind if I changed?"

I puttered around in the kitchen, and by the time the tea was steeped, I was joined by my wife wearing one of my favorite negligees, a little translucent aqua number, her aureoles seemed a little larger, darker, the panties hiding her recently violated bush, and I wondered that now, now that my lovely Molly was back with me, my emotions were calm, even mirthful.

Once again she hugged me, telling me wordlessly that she loved me, appreciated me, and I suggested we head for the den, where we sat sideways on the couch, her back to my chest, my arm draped over her shoulder. I held a breast, embraced it as she sipped her beverage.

"Well," she began, "what do you want to know?"

"Everything. You know you promised me every detail, and I really want to hear it."

"Where shall I begin?"

"When you first sat down at the bar."

"Okay. The first guy who hit on me just wasn't my type. The second one was, but it turned out that he lives here, I really wanted somebody from out of town. And then I saw Keith sit down. It was immediate, my attraction to him."

"I didn't see him sit down," I related, "I guess I was watching you."

"It was when the other guy was sitting with me. I noticed Keith right away. We were making eye contact, and I just wanted to go over and kiss him, but I tried to be cool. Later, Keith told me he knew what was going to happen from the very first moment. His first words were, 'You do know how beautiful you are, don't you?' He had me, right then. It might have been a lie, or a line . . ."

"It wasn't, you're beautiful"

". . . but I didn't care. We started by exchanging information, he's an account executive from Columbus, and then he asked me if I've ever read Mrs. Chatterly. I thought it was pretty bold, going straight for the subject, and I said I had, and then he said we should get a little more comfortable and I thought he was going to suggest we head for his room right then, but we went over to the booth."

"Would you have said yes, right then, if had invited you up?"

"Possibly. It's hard to say exactly. But anyway, there we were, talking about books, and there were all kinds of innuendoes flying around. And pretty soon, we were touching each other, and I was getting really hot. You were watching us, I could see, but Keith didn't notice, and then we kissed, and I couldn't believe I was doing that, in public, but I knew I wanted to kiss him hard, and I was pretty sure he was going to invite me up. So that's when I decided to use the signal. Dear, when you stood up, there was this sort of strange look on your face, did you know that?"

"I believe it."

"I was pretty sure you were going to come over and stop it."

"I thought about it."

"Honey, how come you didn't?"

"Oh, you don't know how torn up I was inside, not just then, all night. Half of me was just sick, but the other half was all excited, thinking about what you were doing. My minds been made up, of course, ever since we started talking about it, and when it actually happened, I guess, I wanted it more than I didn't."

"Are you ok now?" she asked with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine. Anyway, there you were, sitting in the booth."

"Uh, huh. Yeah, well, so we made out some, just a little, I knew a couple guys were watching us, and then his hand kept running up the inside of my thigh, he was this close to touching it, and finally it was me who asked if we were going to his room or not. So we get into the elevator and we were really kissing, and Keith had his hand on my rear end, pulling me to him, and I could feel his hard on against me, and I was so hot you could light a match by holding it against me. So then we got into the room, and he pushed me against the wall, I didn't mind, and we were kissing, and he was touching me all over, and then he got my shirt open, and then he was kissing my nipples, and I almost came just from that. Is this too much detail for you?"

It wasn't so I said, "Is that when you first touched his dick?"

"Yeah, I got his belt undone and got him unzipped, and he was as hard as anything."

"How big was he?"

"Not that big. Not any bigger than you are. A bit thinner, in fact. So at that point, we decided to go sit down, and on the way I decided I should use the bathroom, didn't want a full bladder, you know. And I'm sitting there peeing, and I cooled down a little bit. I wondered what the hell I was doing, and for a couple of seconds thought about calling you and asking if I should come home, but I didn't, and after I splashed my face with water I buttoned up and went out into the room, and Keith was sitting on the sofa. He still had all his clothes on, and I'm pretty sure if he was naked I would have ran right then, but he asked me if I wanted anything from the minibar, and I said I'd take a glass of wine, and I sat beside him.

"I'm pretty sure he knew I was getting hesitant, and we started talking again, about traveling. I told him about our trip to Paris, and he told me how much he and his wife loved Paris, they were there on their honeymoon, and then, after awhile, he touched my hair, told me how pretty I was and asked if he could kiss me. I told him yes, and it was a nice little kiss, and that turned into a bigger kiss, and then, all of a sudden, he's feeling my breast, and I'm holding his penis, and I'm hot again. I let him take off my blouse, and he was kissing my nipples, and then I unzipped my skirt and he helped me take it off. And then he was feeling me down there . . . you want me to keep going? . . . okay, and then he had a finger in me. Dear, it felt so good, I think because he was doing it so different than you do, not better, just different. And then he knelt in front of me and was eating me, and that's when I had my first orgasm. It was pretty big, let me tell you. And while he was eating me, he was taking off his clothes, and pretty soon we were both naked, and after awhile I was still sitting on the couch and he was in front of me, and we were kissing and hugging and he said he didn't have a condom and I told him to get one out of my purse and he put it on, and then he knelt in front of me again and had me put my feet up on his shoulder and then he put it in me."

"Was it good?" I asked.

"Fantastic. He felt so different than you do, somehow, his movements were different, and I was just loving it. I came again, and he just kept going, hard. After awhile he pulled out, and he sat on the sofa and I got on top of him. This was slower, and we went on like that for a long time, and then I could see he was getting close so I tried to help him and it worked, and he had a big orgasm. That was different than you, too, he was quieter, and his face scrunched all up, and then he was done, and I got off and went into the bathroom again. When I came back he was lying on the sheets and I went over and laid down beside him, and we started talking. He asked me if this was my first time, and I told him it was. He said he got the idea because of something I'd said, and how I was so hesitant when I came out of the bathroom, and he asked me if I felt bad about it, and I told him I didn't, and he asked why I was cheating on you. I told him I wasn't cheating, that you knew I was there, and that you had been encouraging me, and he thought that was cool. And then I said I should be going, and he told me he wanted me to stick around, he had other ideas, and I said okay, but I didn't want you to worry so I texted you."

"That was a great picture, how did that happen?"

"Oh, that was Keith's idea. When I told him I was texting you he asked if you'd like a souvenir and I let him take that picture. You liked it?"

"I really did. Did you let him take any more?"

"Uh-huh. You want to see them?" She got her phone, and started flipping through them for me. There was the first photo, of her on her back, and then a full length picture of her on the bed, and then one of her with her legs wide open, the pussy lips all red, and then one of his face, and then one of him standing up naked, and then, a surprise, a close up of his dick, with a condom on, half buried inside her. 

"So you did it again, I see."

"Yeah, he got on the bed next to me, and we started kissing and fooling around, and I went down on him and got him hard, and he got on top of me, and we both came again. It was just about midnight then, so I got dressed and came home. And that's my night."

"Just till now, right?"

"I guess so, you've got plans?"

"Well, you said you never had two guys in one night. You want to change that?" She did, so we started kissing, and she got me naked and went down on me. I was, at that point, as erect as I've been in a decade, and after just a few strokes, I pulled her around to a sitting position and knelt in front of her. I had a desire to give her cunnilingus, but I admit I hesitated. The overriding factor was a psychological barrier, that I'd have my mouth where Keith's penis had already been. I told myself Molly had taken it into her mouth, and I'd kissed her there, so that boundary had already been taken care of. At the same time, I wanted to closely examine my wife's genitals, to see the effect of a night of wanton sex. I put my face between her legs. 

The labia was a bright pink, but no more than usual. Perhaps it was a remnant of her evening of passion, perhaps it was simply normal as she was readying herself for me. When I inserted a finger inside, she was slightly parched; again, possibly a by-product of her previous exercises, but then again we had reached the point in our lives that lubricant was no stranger to our bed. When I put my mouth to her clitoris, I found a strange, acerbic flavor that I didn't care for, the residuum of the condom Keith had worn. I wasn't disappointed when Molly explained she was quite sensitive and asked me to stop.

Like Keith before me, I sat on the couch and suggested Molly climb on top. When she settled, we commenced the movements of love, Molly kept her eyes closed. Was she thinking of me, or reflecting on her other lover? As we bounced, I thought, 'he was there, he felt that, he kissed her there,' until the erotic notions brought me to the brink of combustion.

When I had finished I asked, "You didn't come, did you?"

"No," Molly said, "but it's okay. I'll come for you tomorrow night, okay?"




Passion & Perspective Ch. 02



"I've got a better idea. Let's both phone in sick tomorrow . . ."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We didn't, of course, and as I walked through the office or sat at my desk I found, at times, that I was sporting a giddy visage. One of my peers asked what I was so happy about and I wanted to say, 'My wife got laid last night!' but, of course, I gave a more bland excuse. As I navigated the rush hour, I found any desire to have the past reversed, any animosity at Keith, was completely absent. I was satisfied at the result of my decisions and was rather certain that Molly, as well, was contented.

That evening, we visited a moderately expensive restaurant, an excellent dinner with a bottle of Prosecco, then took in a french sex romp at an art theatre. At home, we made sweet love in our bed, Molly had the double orgasm she'd promised me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday morning we were sitting at the kitchen table, coffee and an egg casserole of my invention on our plates, the mood was calm, serene. I fired the first shot across the bow. "So, are you going to see Keith the next time he comes to town?"

"No," she smiled, "I can't." At my upraised eyebrow she explained, "Honey, I don't have his phone number or email or address or anything, and he doesn't have mine. In fact, I even told him my name was Anne. He can't contact me, I don't know how I'd find him. So, Keith's over."

"But why?" I protested. "You seemed to enjoy yourself, why wouldn't you want to do it again?"

"Ah, that's it, isn't it? Don, I really did enjoy myself, immensely. And I'm pleased that now I've done it, you're happy with it as well. But going into it, I wasn't sure, not at all, that this would be the result."

"Really? You doubted what you were doing?"

"Not the action, the aftermath. Let me tell you a story. I hired a young little thing, right out of college, and in the first month, she had a big sale. Of course, she thought she'd done it all alone, not realizing that sales reps before her had called on the client, broken the ice. So when I tried to coach her, she figured she knew it all and went on her merry way. A couple of months went by, and she had no other sales at all; in fact, she was about to be put on notice when she realized what she needed. She gained perspective. And after that, after she thought about what she needed, when she remembered and appreciated that first sale, but realized they wouldn't all be like that, only then did she understand what she needed to do."

I didn't quite understand what Molly was trying to tell me, it seemed a bit detached from the subject at hand, and I tried to bring the conversation back. "Well, okay, you won't see Keith again. But what about other men, do you think you'll want to do anything like this again sometime?"

Molly gave me a shrewd smile, said, "See me in a month or so. I need to gain perspective."



Passion & Perspective Ch. 03



It was the first weekend of summer, Molly and I joined our neighbors in the rite of trimming the lawn, planting bright annuals and hanging banners attesting to the holiday. As the sun declined into the cocktail hour, I helped my wife shower, always a pleasure, and we readied ourselves for the annual party at the yacht basin. Molly wore a new summer frock, halter top, wide waist that showed her statuesque figure off, and billowy skirt that swayed in the ever-present breeze, all in patriotic hues.

The party was held aboard a line of boats, some only 36 feet, others reaching to 64 feet. Revelers move from boat to boat, eating and drinking, greeting friends that have been absent from our lives since the Christmas party.

Molly was particularly animated that evening, I watched her flirt from man to man. That has always been her style, it was the attribute that first attracted me to her, way back in the mid-'80's. It's quite harmless as she smiles and touches a gentleman's arm, even brushes him with a breast, laughs with him. No one seems to mind, with the possible exception of a few insecure wives. And none of the men seem to take it earnestly, and if they should, Molly is adept at deflecting any untoward propositions; if they attempt to touch an improper zone, Molly simply laughs and moves away. As I said, it's all quite innocent.

Except that this evening, only Molly and I perceived the ground rules were shuffled, that she was possibly evaluating the various gentlemen to discern their desirability. For earlier in the week, Molly had informed me that she was thinking of taking another lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a weekday night, Molly and I had come to bed and then, as old married couples do, we decided a little love making was in order, and as old married couples do, we proceeded to follow the tracks we were comfortable with. A kiss here, a fondle there, a nibble, a shift in position, a period of friction. The fact that each of us had an orgasm attested to the intuition each had developed for the other's body. Fifteen minutes after we began, we were content, lying naked next to each other, and began to converse.

"I think I'm going to get another dress for the party Saturday," she said.

"You've got plenty of dresses," I remarked.

"But I was looking, and quite a few are out of fashion, and I saw this pretty red, white and blue number."

"Go ahead and buy it then."

"I ran into Jill at the mall, she sends her love."

"Gee, we haven't seen them in awhile, have we?"

"Bob had to do a six-month stint out in California and they just got back last week."

"Are they going to be at the party?"

"I'm sure of it. And honey, listen, if it's still okay with you, I think I'm ready to get another guy."

This was a segue to put a crink in anyone's neck, but I was used to my wife quickly heading for the next topic. The particular issue she'd referred to, however, was extremely significant. It had been eleven weeks since Molly had screwed Keith, and since then she'd been cautious, quiet about whether or not she wanted to do it again. I'd almost thought she'd forgotten about it, and now, out of the blue, here was my naked woman saying, 'yes, let's do it again.'

"Do you have a guy in mind?"

"No, not really. Got a couple of ideas, but I'm open to suggestions . . ."

Needless to say, even though I'd been appeased just minutes before, my mind turned to the possibility that once again my wife would share her body. She turned over, began to breathe slowly in slumber. It took me two hours before I was calm enough to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the Saturday evening, we were returning from the party, well after the witching hour, and I queried, "Find anyone interesting?"

"A few. A couple of guys actually propositioned me, and I got one phone number. I don't know, though, I'm not sure it's wise to mix pleasure and pleasure."

"Even if you don't know the guys?"

"But they know people we know. If it ever got out, dear, think of the troubles. I think I'd better look somewhere else." While she talked, I thought I detected a gruffness in her voice, I suspected that she was ready, would be playing soon.

A week went by, we chatted about possibilities, it was Sunday morning before she confided, "Let's try the Marriott again, okay? How about Tuesday?"

"Sure. Can I watch this time?"

"Awww, honey, not yet. I'm still nervous about that. And what if the guy doesn't want you to? It could all fall apart." I was disgruntled, a little child who couldn't have his play toy, but I saw her point. To soothe me she continued, "Let me have this second night, then I promise I'll do all I can to see if we can't make your dream happen, okay?" I decided I'd be okay with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday after work Molly was in the bath, shaving her legs, and touching up the most sensitive area into the landing strip she'd adopted. A robe was donned, we created a light dinner, salad and salmon, and again, while I was cleaning the dishes she made her face and dressed. When she joined me in the den, she had costumed herself as she normally went to work, as an efficient yet beautiful businesswoman. Lightweight gray suit with hem at the knees, navy blouse with just a bit of vee, no cleavage displayed. Pearl earrings, elegant watch, a sapphire ring on her right hand to match the wedding band on her left. Sensible pumps with inch and a half heels. The only clue to her intended objective I could see was, perhaps, a darker shade of rouge, more eyeliner and shadow than normal, a whiff of perfume she probably wouldn't wear to the office. With my eyes and hands I applauded her efforts. Then she kicked me out of the house, told me she'd be ten minutes behind.

The lounge at the Marriott was a little quieter that evening, perhaps thirty five men trying to mitigate the solitude, not one other woman. I found the seat at the bar that had been successful in March, settled in to observe the action, if any. As promised, my wife entered, her heels clicking on the wooden floor, and most eyes snapped to her erect frame. She made her way to her favored stool, made the space her own. It took less than seven minutes for the first contestant to approach, he was short and pudgy, I handicapped him at fifty to one, and was glad I hadn't placed the wager; she icily rejected the offer of his company.

A few of the men were taking stock of her, one frankly stared, and there were a few that I thought might be acceptable to Molly's standards, none approached. Twenty minutes passed, Molly still sat alone. Then a man entered the lounge, carrying with him an air of confidence and élan. Salt and pepper hair, polo shirt, athletic build. I gave him only three to one chances because he seemed a little short, a full two inches less than my tall wife. He paused in the middle of the floor, surveyed his domain, and unswervingly approached my wife. I couldn't hear them over the buzz of the bar, but I saw his question, Molly waved to the seat beside her. The barmaid poured him an expensive scotch, he and Molly chatted, she looked him directly in the face, smiled and licked her lips, twirled her hair. Within moments her hand was lightly touching his arm. He ordered a second glass, they palavered intimately, hands were hidden under the bar, I imagined who might be touching what. 

The man leaned into Molly, I could sense the question. Her response was the cue we'd agreed upon, she put her hand on his neck, her mouth was an inch from his ear. I thought I could lip read the heated response, 'Yes!'

And now, it was my turn to respond. We'd changed the signal, and I acknowledged her gambit by raising the glass almost to my lips but didn't drink, set it on the bar again. She looked at me, caught my eye and smiled directly at me, I don't believe he noticed, nor do I think he would have cared. He swallowed the last of his drink, threw a couple of bills on the counter, and escorted my wife to the elevators. As they left, I noted that his palm was cupping Molly's ass.

I was enjoying my beer at the bar, and decided to enjoy a second. I sat and played a game with myself, trying to predict what was happening in real time: Now they're unlocking his room, now they're kissing and he's cupping a breast, she's undressing for him, he has his cock in her mouth, he's performing oral sex on her, she's on top of him, orgasming. It seemed a fun game to play, even if the details in actuality had to be in variance.

More than four innings of the televised baseball game slipped by, I left the hotel and drove home. A few moments later, I'd barely had time to settle myself, I got the text, 'on my way home luv you.'

I made us both a drink, went upstairs, rolled the covers from the sheet, took off my clothes and waited. It wasn't long until I heard the click of the latch, and the call, "Don?"

"Up here, sweetheart!" She climbed the stairs and when she saw my attire, she stripped herself. "How do you feel?" I asked.

"Like I just ran a race." She was bare now, and I tried to discern a difference in her, but like the first time, I could see no effect of her joie de vivre save, perhaps, that once again her flesh was bathed in a flush caused by happy exercise. She crawled beside me, took a long swallow of her drink, then started, "You want to hear all about it, don't you. I know you do, and I'll tell you, of course, but I'm sort of hoping that while I do, you'll make slow, gentle love to me."

I arranged us in one of our favorite positions, she on her back, I on my left side, our bodies nearly perpendicular, her knees above my hips. Slowly I entered her, foreplay was unneeded in our state of ferment, I began a slow, steady rhythm, only four or five beats to the minute. She began her narrative. "You saw Colin in the bar, didn't you? Cocksure, brash." 

"Yes," I admitted, "He thought he was every girl's dream. I was worried that he'd be a little short for you."

"When I saw the rest of the package, I decided he was tall enough. He came onto me right from the start, daring me to stop him, telling me how much he liked women and, more importantly, how they liked him. He told me he runs four miles a day and lifts weights, his summer sport is competitive rowing and squash in the winter. He put his hand on my knee and when I didn't stop him it was a mid-thigh, anyone on that side of the bar must have seen my skirt hike way up. His question was, "Can I make your desires come true?" By that time I was so hot it was unbelievable, and you saw how quickly I said yes. Dear, did you have any thought tonight of wanting me to stop?"

"No, none at all," I replied, continuing to pump in and out, in and out.

"I'm glad. If you had asked me not to, of course I would have walked away, but I really wanted to see what that guy had. We were all over each other when we got up to his room, and pretty soon he had me down to bra and panties and then I stripped him, and first he went down on me, but he wasn't very good at it, so we flipped around and I started working on him with my mouth."

"Was it big?"

"No, just average size, and when I first started it wasn't even half erect. It took me a good five minutes to get any life out of it at all, and then he got pretty hard, and it was time to go for it, and he didn't want to use a condom. Don't worry, I told him the night was over if he didn't, and he gave in and I put it on him, and then - you're not going to believe this - we were standing in the middle of the room and he picked me up by my waist and held me to him, my legs were around his waist and I was able to reach down and grab his tool and put it right there, and then I was able to sink right down onto it. He held my ass and helped me, and my nipples were scratching on his hairy chest, and every so often he'd pause and then we'd kiss, and then he'd start up again, and I had one of the best orgasms of my life, it was so forceful and intense and it went on and on and on . . ."

At this, I couldn't stand it anymore, the warmth of her tunnel combined with the torridity of her tale put me right there. She understood what was happening and encouraged me, "That's right dear, let it go," and I did, gushing and robust, and she helped me by pushing against me so I was buried as far as any man could go. Then I relaxed, and she continued.

"He stood there, letting me ride him, until finally his legs gave out, and then we went through half of the kama sutra. Good lord, he can screw, we shifted positions every few minutes until finally he had me in some pretzel position, my shoulders on the bed and my rump way up in the air, and I could feel him coming and he was very quiet and silent, and when he was done he just stood up and wandered into the bathroom. I was sweating from everyplace I've ever sweated from, and I felt a little sore down there, and he came back and you could just tell it was over, so I put my clothes on and drove home."

I was done with my own passion, but what with her story, I was still erect, so I started thrusting a bit faster. Molly responded, and I played with her clit, and soon she was in her own come, I knew it was good, but probably not of the caliber of what she'd felt earlier that night. 

When she returned from her wanton journey, she smiled and said, "Four orgasms in one night. I think that's a record. Thank you so much, dear." 

We hugged, and kissed a little, and I fondled her breasts and well used pussy, and she asked, "You're not jealous, are you dear?"

"Not at all, I'm just happy for you. Would you like to see him again?"

"Since you mention it," she coyly petitioned, "he asked if I wanted to get together tomorrow night, and . . ."



Passion & Perspective Ch. 04



"Your wife's a wonderful dancer," Colin complimented, in a voice with a twinge of British accent.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. Dancing. As we did last night. Anne did tell you we danced, didn't she? After, all, that's why you're here, am I correct? To watch us dance?"

"Oh." I got it, 'dancing.' Not the worst word to use in public for the erotic act.

We were sitting at a table at the Marriott restaurant, I across from Molly's lover, Colin - she still hadn't told him her name wasn't Anne - and, of course, Molly between us. We had the remains of a meal in front of us, crab cakes or something, and a very expensive bottle of wine. As we laid in bed the previous evening, Molly had told me she'd confessed my desire to watch to Colin, and he'd agreed without hesitation.

I continued. "Yes, I'd love to see the two of you 'dance.' That's something I've been longing for."

"Then see it you will," Colin conceded, "providing Anne doesn't have objections."

"I don't think so," she said, "although I'm a bit nervous about it. I've only danced in private, and you're only the second man I've danced with."

"There's no need to be concerned," Colin soothed, "you'll find, I think, that it's child's play. Just follow my lead, and if you simply concentrate on me, you'll find that either you won't mind, or you'll forget that Don's there at all. You might even enjoy being watched."

"You've danced with people watching, then?"

"Quite a bit. My second wife was quite the dancer, we often danced with others, I wish my last wife would have been so open." Colin had already filled us in on his details, he was the owner of a company that consulted with government agencies, he was here for a week, born in Australia, came to the States for college, liked it, so he stayed, now - to hear him tell it - a multimillionaire on his second company.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Certainly, Don."

"When you walked into the bar the last night, you picked right up on Anne. Why were you so sure that she would . . . well . . . dance?"

"You were there?"

"Sitting across the bar. Anne let me watch her while she picked you up."

"I see. Quite the voyeur, aren't you? Well, to answer your question, dancing is a sport I quite enjoy, and I've made a study of the women who also enjoy it. Anne showed all the attributes of such a lady, although her dress was conservative, she had a bit of wild eye about her. When I approached her, offered to buy her a drink, the way she licked her lips - just as she's been doing all through dinner - gave her away. And so I felt fairly sure that an offer to dance would be welcomed, or at least rejected politely. And, Anne, how did I do?"

"Let's see, we were in the bar for less than fifteen minutes, and then . . . I'd say you did fairly well in your analysis. Speaking of which . . ." I was sure that they were playing footsies under the table, so when the waitress asked us if we wanted dessert or coffee, Molly declined, setting the stage for Colin and I to reject it as well; it seemed all three of us were anxious to be in private.

As Colin signed the check, Molly leaned to me and whispered, "You're still okay with this? Not having second thoughts?"

"No, are you?"

"Ummm-ummm. I'm pretty randy, to tell the truth. I hope we can put on a good show for you."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," I promised.

They started in the elevator, Molly entered his arms and they kissed, deeply, Colin had his hand on her ass again before we reached the top floor. Colin's room was a junior suite, king bed, full L-shaped couch facing the windows with a view of the trees in the park, dining table with a silver bucket and a bottle of champagne. "I took the liberty of ordering this, would you like a glass?" He popped the cork expertly, poured each of us a flute. "Well, Anne, shall we put on a ballet for your husband?"

"I think so," she agreed.

"Then come here." In the middle of the room, they kissed again, standing, and I watched as my wife, my wonderful, beautiful wife, melted into the arms of her lover. Her hands were on his shoulder, in his hair, but his were roaming, fondling her ass, pulling her closer to him, her waist, the side of her body, the sides of her breasts. I was intensely aroused, sitting on the couch, watching this man take advantage of my willing spouse. 

He twirled her until she was facing me, then stood behind her, kissing her neck, which she craned for his lips. One of his hands were on her waist, the other in front of her, on her belly, and as he nibbled, it drifted up, up, to the underside of the breast, and then the globe was nestled in his palm. With both hands, Molly grasped his fingers, pulling them to her nipple, still disguised by the fabric of her white blouse. And then his other hand met the first at the cleavage, and unbuttoned each stud in sequence, from top to bottom, pulling the fabric apart until I spied Molly's slight breasts, and he tugged the garment from her shoulders. They kissed again, Molly's mouth over her left shoulder meeting Colin's lips, and Colin had both hands on the black translucence of her bra. Molly's hands went to the side of her skirt, unzipped it, and with gravity's assistance, it slipped down her legs. I visualized her cameltoe, and wondered if her insides were moist, ready.

She turned then, and as he'd undressed her, she took his clothes off, excepting only the boxers. Again they were kissing, but this time Colin was cupping a breast, Molly's hand was fondling the still hidden manifestation of her desire. And then she knelt in front of him, and pulled the boxers down. Colin's tool was revealed to me, limp and seemingly uncaring, although my own was uncomfortably hard inside my pants. She handled the dangling balls, the lump of flesh, and the seconds seemed to take minutes as Molly pointed the noodle at her mouth, kissed it, then took just the tip inside her mouth. I was wild, for the first time I was seeing another man penetrate my wife's body, and as she bobbed I was thrilled by the specter. Colin closed his eyes and although he was free-standing, he seemed to relax as Molly sucked, played with the testicles. I could see the rod gradually straighten, Colin's low sounds divulging his enjoyment. After six or eight minutes, when the phallus had reached the requisite rigor, she stopped, stood beside him and said, "My turn." 

With a quickness I was astounded by, she reached behind her back, performed the magic and threw the bra to the floor. And just as suddenly, the panties joined the rest of her clothes, she was her lover's Eve to his Adam. She then sat on the couch, reclined actually, and Colin seemed to know his part. Bowing in front of her, he first kissed each nipple, sucking it to extension, Molly let her face relax, her breath was expelled through the mouth, and then I watched as Colin's finger played with the labia, and then it was inserted to the second knuckle. My mind exploded with the vision of my wife being tormented by this other man, and she responded, her breaths deep and loud, and then he knelt to her pleasure.

I rose, ostensibly to refill my flute, but in actuality I wished to more closely observe the action of Colin's tongue. It flicked in and out, then his lips closed on the clit, his cheeks hallowed, and Molly leaned back, closed her eyes, enjoyed the attention. Her breaths were deep, her aureoles crinkled, the tone of her skin darkened two or three shades. Yet she didn't seem to close in on an orgasm, as she often does with me. After a few minutes of this particular foxtrot, Molly opened her eyes, smiled at her swain, giving him a signal that he could move onto the next dance. He rose, stood in front of her, his erection shy of fullness, but Molly knew how to help that out, once again the spike was surrounded by the wetness of her mouth, and again Colin was incited to rigidity. He was ready, I could tell from his demeanor, to head for the tango. "Honey, get a condom from my purse, will you?" Molly asked, and as I handed it to her, I realized I was no longer simply an observer, but an accomplice in the sin, nay, Joy, that she was about to commit. 

How many condoms had she put on a man in the past months? Not many, perhaps four, but she seemed to have a command of the technique, a flick of the foil to loosen it, pulling the latex out of the packet, a final slurp of the proffered dick to ensure it's readiness, the placement of the plastic at the tip, and then a smooth roll until the flange was near the testicles, Colin was prepared. Molly flipped over, her knees on the couch, her arms upon the back, her backside presented to her ally. He placed one hand on her rump, with another he guided his cutlass to her scabbard, and I watched him push. 

From my vantage point the bulk of his body hid the motion, but from the sharp intake of Molly's breath and the satisfaction of Colin's face, I was sure he was at least half immersed inside her. I was having my fantasy, watching another man take my wife carnally. And they moved together, first away from each other, then towards entwinement. Molly's breasts swayed with her movements, forward then back, from the brightness of her eyes and the smile that traversed her features I knew she was delighted with the lewd exercise. This went on some moments, and then Colin switched it, Molly's chest fell to the couch cushion, Colin grabbed her by the waist until she was in a half-vertical orientation, her legs in the air, and once again they were fastened. This seemed to excite Molly a bit more, her breaths came in time to the quick thrusts that Colin controlled, I thought she was on the brink, but the position was too demanding, Colin's knee buckled, almost spilling Molly on the floor.

It was she that twisted onto her back, her rump just on the edge of the bolster, she spread her legs. For an instant I was able to study her womanhood, the lips flushed with blood, the slit open and humid, and then Colin was on his knees, and again he inserted himself within her. He grabbed her ankles, positioned them on his shoulders, and pushed and prodded. This seemed a more relaxing attitude, the movements became deeper and a bit slower. By sitting on the couch a few feet from the couple, I was able to see between Molly's legs, and the rod was visible, slipping in and out. Once again, Molly was getting close, her nipples elongated, the skin of her torso crimson, her eyes scrunched tight, but I didn't hear the moans that usually indicate her release. Was it different with another man, could the orgasm be so divergent? Colin pumped faster and faster, I came to the realization that he was getting ready to let go, when Molly exclaimed, "Don't come yet!" and pushed him away, out of her.

"Sit on the coffee table," she demanded, and when he did, she pushed him back until he was lying. Putting her feet on either side of the table, she faced him, faced me, clutched the appliance that had been pleasuring her for the most part of half an hour, and lowered herself until her pubis was on top of his. "That's better," she proclaimed, and now that she had control commenced her movements in three dimensions, up and down, back to front, left to right. Colin held his head up in the air, fondled a breast, felt her belly or leg, for her part she tickled his nipple, reached behind her to stabilize herself on his thighs. Five minutes went past in this position, the two lovers inspiring each other, ten minutes, and Molly placed her hand squarely between her legs, seemed to grasp the baton inside her, tickled her own clit, and her eyes closed, her head snapped back, and I heard the excited, loud moans that have always signaled my wife's complete release. It lasted for hours seemingly, I watched as she writhed on top of her partner, and then she gradually regained her composure, looked at Colin and without any verbal warning, she seemed to perceive his need. She bent toward him, her hips moved faster, a little further up and down, and Colin's face was covered with a grimace of pain, or was it the ultimate pleasure? A grunt or two, and I realized that Molly was extracting the juice of love from his body. 

She glided with him until he was completely done, then seemed to collapse unto him, catch her breath. Then she raised her face to mine, and confirmed, "That was a pretty good dance, don't you think?"

The two began to extract themselves from the awkward predicament they'd sported in, Molly rose as if dismounting a horse - a very apt description - and when he was released, Colin sat up, rubbing the underside of a thigh that had been scraped in the efforts, stretching the neck muscles back into position, removing the now full condom and tossing it into a wastebasket. Molly, in her royal costume as Queen of Carnality, approached me, sat in my lap, kissed me. I fondled a breast, tickled the lower province, so well utilized by Colin, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than exploit her body for my own purposes. But in my unfamiliarity with the customs of hotwifeing, I wasn't sure of my rights, how Molly would react, for she'd just allowed one man to watch her make love, would she want to let Colin see her with me? And so when she rose and took her panties from the floor, I did nothing to stop her. 

Colin rose, got his clothes, took them into the bathroom, for our privacy, I assume. As Molly snapped the bra strap into position, she asked, "Did you enjoy it?"

"Very much. It was better than I thought it would be. You're beautiful, you know, and when you're making love you're even more beautiful."

"You're prejudiced," she laughed, and by the time she had her blouse tucked into her skirt and was brushing her hair in the mirror, Colin rejoined us, perfectly garbed, and said, "Thank you both for the honor, it was a pleasure." Molly approached him once more, a kiss, neither deep nor meaningful. 

"We had a great time," she told the man she'd been intimate with.

"Perhaps, the next time I'm in town, we could meet again?"

"Maybe," Molly agreed, "I've got your number, I'll call you."

He escorted us to the elevator, took it down to the lobby with us, a final kiss on the cheek for Molly, a handshake for me. Then we were out the door, he was heading into the bar. "Probably looking for another conquest," Molly joked.

As she was driving us home, I asked Molly, "Did you mind me watching, were you even aware I was there?"

"Oh, I knew where you were every moment. At first, it was a little struggle, on the one hand I wanted you to see what you came for, but on the other hand, well, it was a bit strange. Never unpleasant, mind you, I never didn't want you to be there, it was just a little strange."

"Like when he was eating you?"

"Yes, tonight he had me, and I was on the cusp of coming, but then I thought about you watching me, and I cooled off just a little bit. But then, when we actually got into doing it, I just figured what the heck, and I was able to let go."

"I saw what you mean about Colin being athletic. I don't think I could ever control you in the position you were in."

"You mean the one where he had my legs up in the air? That was fun, but it took a lot of strength on my part just to stay with him. There were sensations that were new to me, but I don't think I could ever let go in a position like that."

"When you did, it looked like a big one."

"It was, a really grand one. Believe it or not, I think you being there actually helped it, it was one more thing that spurred me. Did you mind it when he came?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe everything would be okay up to that point, but you wouldn't want him to, you know, actually come inside me."

"That's the whole point, isn't it? You know what would have blown my mind? If he wouldn't have worn a condom, dumped it into you."

"I know. I'm a little sad I don't get to feel it, and the damn rubber pinches sometimes, I can't imagine how uncomfortable it felt for him. But the idea of catching something just isn't worth it."

"After you guys were done, you know what I wanted?" I asked. "I wanted to screw you myself."

"Really? That's what I wanted too! How come you didn't do it?"

"Well, Colin was right there, I didn't know if you'd be cool with it."

"Whoa, I wouldn't have cared less. The next time, do anything you want to, if I don't want it I'll let you know, and who cares what the other guy wants."

"So there'll be a next time?"

"Maybe, we'll see," she prevaricated, but I translated her tone as, 'Hell, yes!' It was at that point she put her hand in my lap, felt my hardness. "My goodness, you're ready, aren't you! You want me to pull over into that dark parking lot, give you a blow job?"

"No," I laughed, "it's only a mile to home. But drive fast."

She did, and when the door of the garage was closed she pulled her panties off, sat on the workbench, and I let my trousers fall to the concrete slab, I was inside her in a trice, and after just a few strokes where Colin had been half an hour earlier, I was filling her up, a wonderful release. She didn't come, of course, but later, in bed, going over the details of the evening, she came twice more in a two-step and a hokey-pokey.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 05-07



Chapter 5

A month went by, six weeks. The sexual boost we'd felt after Molly's exploits with Keith and Colin wore off in the heat of summer, she no longer wanted to make love at the drop of the hat or in different places, such as the cabin of a boat I was sailing.

We talked about another lover for her, but she seemed hesitant. "It's not that I don't want to," she explained one night, "I'm just not sure about it. There's the moral issue, of course."

"That's silly," I argued. "I don't mind, you don't seem to mind, who else's business is it?"

"A point. But is it right for me to have other lovers when you don't? I know, you say you don't want a woman, but eventually I wonder if that won't change. And then what?"

"Would you mind if I went to bed with someone else?"

"Of course not," she repeated.

"Well then, if I change my mind I'll let you know, okay? Until then, don't worry about it."

"All right. But there are other concerns. What if it gets to be a habit. Like drugs. Maybe I'll want it all the time, and then what'll happen? I can't let myself get careless."

"I can't ever see you getting careless," I countered, "you're one of the most careful people in the world."

"That's what you think, but I know how I can be sometime. And there's one more problem, if we do go ahead, we've got to find a better way to get a man. This idea of picking guys up at the hotel is going to be a problem sooner or later. A guy won't be what I want him to be once I get up to the room, I worry about getting hurt or something, and what if somebody we know happens into the bar while I'm talking with a guy? Think of the rumors that would start! That's something we don't need."

The last point was valid, and so I looked for a solution. 

The first idea I had was a craigslist personal. I soon convinced myself that was a bad idea. There's plenty of flakes out there, and anecdotes I read on forums told me that using that medium seemed to attract each one of them.

But the hotwife forum did have a good idea, use a swinger's site. So I went looking for one, and found SwingLifeStyle.com, which will be known forthwith as SLS. Although the site was mainly for couples, I found that within fifty miles of us, there were more than four hundred guys that wanted to 'play.' Surely, we should be able to find one that would be suitable.

I shared my research with Molly, and this time she was more positive, if not giddy about the prospects. "Let me take a look at it," she demanded, "I'll get back to you." I thought she was treating it like a project proposed by an intern - in retrospect, that's pretty much what it was. And so I waited, four days.

Over a dinner at home she told me, "Okay, SLS looks fine, maybe you can find a guy there, maybe you can't. Go ahead a create a profile, but make sure you don't use any information that anybody could identify us with, absolutely no pictures." She agreed that we should pay for three months of access.

Well I did what she said, I saw the wisdom in being cautious, and within a day we had fourteen offers. Most of them said things like, 'i wanna fuk ur wife,' not the most erudite fellows around, two were from guys that were frankly fat and one, perhaps, was from a man that knew how to spell and used more than one sentence. Molly and I talked about it. "Okay," she said, "It's got possibilities. Write up a real profile, but don't post it. Let me edit it first."

So I did, and this is what I came up with.

   What we are looking for: A single gentleman, good looking 
   and fit, who is rather tall. He should be polite. If, after meeting,
   we feel you are compatible, we may invite you into a situation 
   where you will please the wife while the husband watches.

   Description: We are a couple in our fifties, she is quite fit. She 
   has some experience with men outside the marriage. We like 
   theatre, fine dining, sailing the bay and long walks in the 
   woods. She likes romance, candles and superb wine. A refined 
   man might find her quite receptive.

I left the fantasies section blank and in the other section I put 'If you've got any questions, please contact us.' She told me to lose the stilted language and the sentence about experience, and after another review she okayed it.

Offers continued to pour in, a lot of junk mostly, and when I showed Molly the ones I liked, she winnowed them down to two. "Are there any guys out there we should be looking at, ones that haven't sent us an email?" I did some searching, and within twenty-five miles, I found eight. They were based on height and weight, an interesting and well written profile, pictures we could see, and the fact that they were paid members on the site - we figured that guys who paid were less likely to be fake, and possibly experienced, although that wasn't a necessary attribute. Molly reviewed my list, vetoed two of them for no particular reason, and told me to write the other six, inviting them to enter a dialogue.

So I did. The exact phrasing was, "Dear , we have seen your profile, and think you are interesting. We are relative beginners in this sport, and would like someone to show us the ropes. We hope you might be the one. If you are interested, please write and tell us more about yourself."

Within a week, all but two had responded. I reviewed them, was fairly sure that two would be nixed by Molly on the basis that they were too crude in the reply, I was proved correct. So Molly said to write the remaining guys and see if they'd like to meet us for a drink without obligation for anything more.

In the three weeks it took for all this, Molly and I discussed a few other details we winnowed from various forums in which people discussed their experiences, deciding what might or might not work for us.

We thought that some of the restrictions other people had were just plain silly. For example, some people didn't mind screwing somebody, but they didn't want to kiss. "Hell," Molly said, "I went to bed with Keith simply because he was a good kisser." Some people didn't want to go further than a handshake on the first date, and we decided that if all went well, why not just go for it on the spot? On the other hand, if either of us was unsure, we should take some time to think about it.

Where to meet was a hot topic. We saw three options: a hotel bar where we could just bounce up and get a room if we felt like it, a restaurant near our place, or someplace near him. Molly didn't feel like the hotel, she thought it might be interpreted as a presumption that we would play, and said other than that the choice was mine. Did that mean that if things went well, we might invite him back here? "Why not?" Molly conjectured, "We have lots of people coming all the time, the neighbors won't think anything about it."

One guy never responded to our invitation, the other two wanted to meet. We found we had a weekend open two weeks out, and decided to invite Mark, who was six feet one, 185 pounds, a single gentleman for Friday night. Mark wrote back and said he was attending a concert that night, would Saturday work? We agreed. But Mark also wanted a picture of Molly. I told her the conundrum. "He has pictures on his profile, I'm sure he wants to believe you aren't a four-foot, 800 pound gnome." Since we had insisted on pictures of him, Molly let me take a few pictures of her at a park, then had me crop her head off before I posted them.

Since Mark couldn't make it Friday night we offered Steve, five feet eleven, 170 pounds, the first shot. He quickly accepted. "What are we going to do if Steve pans out," I asked, "and everything works well? Are we going to cancel Mark at the last moment?"

Molly just laughed. "I hope we have that problem. Maybe we should keep the Saturday night date, too, and have a really, really great weekend?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All this preparation, advance planning, making of plans had almost sucked the life out of a fling that was supposed to be fun, and Molly seemed nonchalant about her dates as they approached, nearly oblivious, I thought. She didn't want to play the what-are-we-going-to-do game in bed, and I wondered if perhaps I'd done something wrong. But during the days preceding the twin dates, I could tell that Molly was becoming fitful.

It didn't hit full stride until the night of the first date, and to make it worse Molly had a problem at work and had to stay forty-five minutes late. She rushed through her bath, threw clothes on, took little time with her makeup, but even if she didn't radiate sheer allure as we drove to the restaurant where we planned to meet Steve she was, at least to me, still fetching. 

On the way I remarked, "You know, we need some sort of a code to figure out how we're feeling, without giving it up to Steve."

"I thought about that, too. Here's my idea: At some point, I'll bring up things we like to do, if we like the guy we'll say we like monkeys. But if he's a dud, it's elephants. What do you think?"

"As good as anything else, I guess. Monkeys good, elephants bad." 

We entered the bistro, and I searched faces for someone I could recognize from the photographs. We were finally greeted by a man who almost whispered, "Anne? Don?" Cautious Molly had decided to use her 'stage name.'

"That's us," I agreed, as I was shocked by the diversity between what we were led to expect and what was presented. Steve's picture had to be taken at least twenty years prior, he wasn't as tall as he'd led us to believe, a couple inches shorter than Molly. He wasn't exactly portly, but he could have lost twenty pounds without missing it. His clothes were obviously purchased a few years ago, he needed a trim. Molly later confided that her first response was even harsher than mine. We sat at a table, I was continually jostled by other people trying to find a place to sip drinks before dinner, the noise was abnormally high.

That didn't stop Steve. Within a few moments he was loudly dropping sexual innuendoes, "Do you like the beach? 'Cause I really, really like to swim deep." We found out more about him but nothing that attracted him to me. He focused almost exclusively on Molly, never asking a question of me, when I tried to insert myself into the conversation he answered almost in a syllable then went back trying to impress Molly.

A half hour after we'd sat, Molly said, "You know, one of the things we like to do is go to the zoo. Steve, what's your favorite animal?"

"Oh, I guess the anteater. He's got a really long tongue."

I laughed out loud. Molly turned to me, "Dear, I don't really know what your favorite one is."

I admit it. Although I wasn't fond of Steve, I was still excited about the chance of seeing my love laid, and I dodged the issue. "Well, I like monkeys but I think the elephants are cute, too."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Elephants are just so big!" Steve nearly split a gut on that one, I'm sure he was thinking Molly was returning it as good a she was getting. It took us another fifteen minutes, but Molly finally swallowed the last of her wine quickly and said, "Steve, thanks so much for meeting with us. Don and I need to think about this - you know it's something we've never done, and we need to be sure."

For having been shot down, Steve was certainly composed. "I figured it was going to end this way. It's not the first time. But, listen, if you guys decide you want to get together . . ." He laid a few dollars on the table, barely enough to cover his two beers.

After we got in the car, Molly and I had a good laugh. "Did you see the indentation on his finger? I wonder what his wife's doing tonight!" It was still early, we decided to grab a sandwich and then see the new super-hero flick. It wasn't a good movie, we decided the protagonist's name should have been Steve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6

I was down about the failure with Steve, but Molly has an outlook that things can always be better. She woke me up with the announcement, "Tonight, we're gonna meet Mark. Do you know what I want to do with him?" And she showed me. By 9:30 I was worn out, Molly was just starting.

"Come on, I'll buy you breakfast." And at a restaurant I was treated to waffles and bacon and eggs, she had a fruit cup. "Now," she demanded, "you're taking me shopping."

"But . . ."

"But nothing. Let's go."

And it was into the mall. The first stop was Frederick's. She shopped first for a dress, and although she solicited my opinion, the choice was clearly hers, a garment that the salesgirl referred to as a tube dress, metallic teal, of a pliant material that hugged her curves. Sans shoulder but with very definite cleavage, by some sorcery it seemed to add two sizes to her breasts, her already thin waist became minuscule. She also found a pair of panties that were held at the sides only by strings, a black lace band at the top, meager mesh that would slide between her legs. "I can't wait to put these on. Bet you can't wait until they come off." Then at the shoe store, she found a pair of white sandals with intricate strapping, heels more soaring than I'd seen her wear in a decade. "I don't need jewelry, dear, I've got just the item." Later, as we were having an iced coffee, she whispered, "If I don't get laid tonight, my love, it won't be my fault."

She took a run that afternoon while I puttered around the house, and when she returned at five, sweating and bedraggled, she told me to leave her alone until it was time to go. I complied.

Two minutes before we needed to depart, she appeared, fresh, stunning. The gown fit her perfectly, the heels added at least three inches to her already stunning height, the hair had additional curl, the eyebrows were black and thin, the eyeshadow matched the teal of her outfit, the ears were punctuated by diamond earrings, a diamond heart pendant accented her neck, silver and stones at her wrist and finger. Yes, she was gorgeous. On the half hour drive to the restaurant where we'd meet Mark, I couldn't keep my eyes off her legs, skin uncovered by stockings, the hem failed to cover two-thirds of the area above her knees.

We entered the wine bar, mahogany and leather, crisply air conditioned, to be met quickly by a suave - that's the only word for him - gentleman, taller than Molly in her heels. He wore, from the bottom up, boat shoes, beige trousers, knit leather belt, azure dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sports coat of an undetermined yet matching subdued plaid.

"Don? Anne?" We agreed that we were, he said to my wife, "I'm glad you got the memo about colors."

She laughed, answered, "Actually, my name's Molly. You don't mind the ruse, do you?"

"Of course not, I completely understand."

He escorted us to a table he'd obviously pre-arranged, deep leather club chairs scattered around a timbered table at knee level, perfect for placing glasses while providing views. A waiter followed and offered drinks. "What are you having?" Molly asked Mark.

"Rex Pinot Noir, Willamette Valley."

"That sounds fine." I ordered one as well. Mark took the opportunity, after asking if we had diet restrictions, to order three plates of hors d'oeuvres, shrimp and beef, a platter of cheeses.

I studied the man. Handsome was not quite the right word, perhaps stately would be more apt. Hair not quite grey, yet the original brown had faded slightly, it was flowing without being long. Elongated nose, thin lips, firm chin, extended neck. I was sure that physically, Molly was sweltering.

The conversation was quiet, gracious. Mark discovered what colleges we had graduated from, what our professions were, paying as much attention to me as he did to Molly. We easily discovered Mark had his undergraduate degree from an Ivy-league school, Yale law. He was working as a consultant for an environmental concern, assisting the legislature in drafting regulatory policy. We ran on to pastimes, Mark enjoyed golfing and skiing, Molly said we enjoyed the zoo, particularly the gorillas. I chimed in that they were my favorite as well. Molly scooted her chair closer to Mark than I, and I witnessed the magic she had with men once more. Mark's arm was suitably petted, if he held her hand once or twice it was unobtrusive, yet pointed. An hour passed, quite pleasantly, and Mark scanned the environs, assured himself that no other customers were within eavesdropping range.

"Don," he began, "I'd like to inform you, assuming you don't already know, that your wife is quite beautiful, and you are a very lucky man. I wish I could be in your shoes for just one evening."

I looked at Molly, allowed her to respond. "Mark, I think that can be arranged."

"Well, I live not ten minutes from here, I have a fine bottle of Hermitage that I've been dying to open, would you like to try it?"

I looked at Molly, made sure she was positive of the decision, in that unspoken way that long-time couples have, saw the fervor in her expression. "Should we follow you?" I promised.

Don lived in a second floor condominium, we entered into a marble foyer decorated with antique lithographs. The kitchen was just past the living room, beige shag carpeting, wheat fabric on Mackenzie sofa, matching chair a few feet away. The very first thing Mark accomplished was to open that bottle, and my first taste told me it was exquisite, perhaps the best wine I'd ever had.

"Shall we sit for a few moments, or would you like a tour?" Don queried.

Molly spied the bait, nibbled, "Oh, I'd really like to see the other rooms." 'Including the bedroom' was an implicit augmentation.

He started by pointing out a few curios in the living room, gauging our interest, lingering no longer than necessary, then pointed us to a hallway, photographs on the wall of family and friends. The den was entered, a workspace full of topical books, computer, papers, but it defined neatness. A guest bedroom, bright and breezy, a bathroom was pointed to, and then we entered the ample master suite, a king size bed, neutral rug and comforter, navy pillowcases and sheets tucked with military preciseness. A long chair, not quite a couch with one end armed, was placed appropriately. Another door was obviously a closet, it remained closed, but Mark led us into the master bathing suite, double sink, enclosed lavatory, whirlpool bath, free standing shower, and a small wooden enclosure that Mark informed us could function as a steambath as well as a sauna. Two could lounge comfortably, four could cause pleasant congestion.

The tour complete, we exited to the bedchamber, and Mark suggested, "Let me show you this." He led us to a niche, turned on a spotlight, and there was a wonderful sculpture of a woman reclining on an angel. "Canova's Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, of course." In the act of explaining the sculpture Mark placed his arm around Molly's waist, his hand on her hip, the first time he'd touched her other than the innocent brushes at the bar. Standing behind them a little, I watched as Molly snuggled into the embrace. "It's a reproduction, but I found it in an collectable shop off a backstreet in the opera district of Paris, perhaps you know it?" He half turned to Molly, she half turned to him, I sensed what was to happen next, but Mark looked to me. "Don, it appears that your wife desires a kiss, do I have your permission?"

"Certainly, and I consent to any thing else she'd like."

"Very well. You have my thanks. And now, dear woman." He turned to her once more, her wrists surrounded his neck, in her heels he had only to bend a bit, their lips met. I could see Molly's mouth open for him, I was sure their lips entangled. They disjoined, a breath was taken, and Molly pulled his head down again. It was a kiss of epic proportions, eyes closed, his hands at her back unmoving, hers stroking the scruff, his hair. Molly's torso was pressed against his, I could almost feel her breasts merging into his chest. Then, without breaking the kiss, hands commenced to move, hers against his back, arms and face, his in the same places and more. Moments later, the fingers of her hand were twirled in his locks, the other dandling at the curvature which marked the transition from the small of the back to his rump.




Passion & Perspective Ch. 05-07



"I'd like to relax a bit," she suggested. 

"Certainly," he agreed, "Bed or love-seat?"

"Bed, I think, if it's okay with you."

"Surely." As they moved across the carpet, Mark looked to me. "Don, feel free to make yourself comfortable in any manner you wish. Sit on the chair, the bed if you prefer. Move around as you like." And then my wife unstrapped her sandals, kicked them off, reclined on the bed awaiting her new courtier.

He was quickly beside her. Once again they kissed, more passionately if possible. Although hands remained in relatively safe zones, their bodies writhed against each other, stimulating nerve endings. They seemed in no hurry to progress, and yet the movements evolved. His hand was on a knee, then moved up the thigh until it was a half dozen inches from her groin, she made no effort to stop him, indeed arranged herself to allow access. She unbuttoned his shirt to the sixth clasp, stroked his chest, it seemed to my view smooth with a modicum of hairs, when she touched a nipple he sighed.

She craned her neck, he moved his lips to it, then without haste to her collarbone, across the creamy flesh, to the periphery of her dress. It was she that pulled the fabric down, her left breast was exposed, the aureole dark, crinkled, the nipple carmine and extended. His lips surrounded the curvature, Molly leaned back, allowed his teeth to clasp the flesh, I felt my erection through my pants. 

The couple on the bed - I was standing beside it - seemed to flounder, I realized they were jointly attempting to unzip the side of the dress and when that had been accomplished, pull it over her head. Their movements were inelegant, but I supposed they were beyond caring about that, abruptly Molly was naked except for the flash of fabric meant as a fig leaf.

She helped him pull his shirt off, then she gently pushed him until he was on his back. Molly unbelted him, pulled the zipper down and spread the fabric and the lump in his pants was exposed. He was wearing briefs, I saw, of a metallic navy interspersed with asymmetric flashes of pink, red, yellow. 'I should get a pair of those,' I thought. Molly fondled the enclosed mass, I looked to see Mark's reaction at the touch.

The pants were pulled off, and he was clothed as she was, only their pubic areas were covered, and not with much. She laid beside him again on her side, they kissed, mashed bodies together, legs intertwined, her breast against the side of his chest, one globe exposed, he fondled it, pinched a nipple, their groins were almost as close as, I felt sure, they were going to be during the ultimate act. He suckled again, bit slightly, and I heard her mutter, "Harder. Harder!" I never realized she liked that, but when she squirmed in an obvious rush of pain and pleasure, I knew I had things to learn that this man was teaching me. I wondered how many more lessons I'd have that night.

Another shift, Molly slid down the sheet, her head was now at the level of his waist. Molly pulled the cloth down, Mark was exposed. My examination showed that it was no larger than normal, slightly curved, circumcised. Molly stroked it with a finger, Mark breathed his pleasure. Molly bent, and the tip was touching her lips, she was kissing it, then she kissed down the shaft, her tongue moistened on the way back, and, at last, her lips opened and the rod was between them. Only a bit at first, I presume Molly was pondering the reaction of the man, then further, even further, until more than half was inside her mouth. She pulled the briefs down the legs, he kicked them off, and she fondled the testicles, dark and heavy. Mark's hand was on her head, toying with her locks. Other tricks were performed, long licks of the shaft, gentle sucking of a testicle, wanks of the shaft with a spit filled palm, but always the primary objective was a full fledged swallowing of the thick stem. I sensed Mark's difficult, uneven breathing, I wondered if Molly would go further than I anticipated, but at the last possible instance, it seemed to me, Molly released the penis. "Don," he exclaimed, "do you get that all the time? Oh, you're lucky." The compliment was rewarded by Molly with a kiss on his lips. 

She postured herself on top of him, her breasts falling onto his chest, and then she spread her legs wide, wriggled, and the penis was entrapped between her legs. I visualized the tip emerging from between her limbs, the shaft obviously pressed to her labia. They bussed in this position for some time and then shifted again, Molly on her back, Mark to her side. Once again he kissed her neck, globes, even sucked a stray finger. 

His hand wasn't idle, one was dripping across her belly around her hip, and then the stings were untied. I gasped! Molly was watching my face as I gazed at her mons, completely bare of hair. "Do you like it?" she said to me, "You've been asking for it."

"I do," I said, and Mark chimed in, "me too." And then a hand was stroking the smoothness, Molly kept her legs together a few seconds and then relaxed, I could see her blushing labia split in two by the deep slit, a small bit of flesh emerging from the folds. And soon Mark's fingers were feeling the puffy skin, then he touched the button and Molly's entire body twitched, as if she'd had a small jolt of electricity.

Her legs fell apart, the knees wide, and Mark's middle finger made an excursion into the earthy valley. "She's quite moist," Mark remarked, "is she always like that?"

"Sometimes," I answered.

"I'm wet," Molly yelled, "do something about it." The other man and I had a good laugh about that, and he went back to work, dipping his finger into the tunnel for moisture and to massage the top of her tunnel, then he'd withdraw it and fondle the clit. I could see it clearly now, thick and extended, filled with blood. Mark knew the craft of love, he drew her emotion out, soon Molly had her eyes sealed, she tensed, one hand was caressing a breast, the other clutched a pillow, and she held her breath, a long moment, and then uttered an explosive "Oh!" followed by a longer "ohhhhhhhhhh." Was it a little different from her normal squeal, or was I just imagining that? She tensed again, she released again, and again. Mark kept twirling his finger against her clit as she came for the first time that night, I didn't think it would be the finale.

She opened her eyes, smiled first at Mark, then at me, and remarked, "I think I'm done!"

"I don't think so," Mark protested, and he shifted until he had his head between Molly's upraised knees, he was licking and sucking the clit, the hole. Molly relaxed, enjoying the attention, I knew there was time before her next orgasm, and I took the moment to step back and enjoy the tableau. Molly was limp, her eyes slits, a glow covering her body, aureoles large, nipples elongated but not tight. One arm was spread to her side, the other drooped across her torso, gently stroking Marks ear. 

I don't believe I'm gay, but I also enjoyed Mark's body, the strength of his muscles, the tenseness of his jaw as he lightly chewed on her clitoris. He was kneeling and I could see his penis drooping from his body, still erect if not as firm as it had been twenty minutes prior. I now saw what Michelangelo enjoyed about the male form.

Within moments, Mark's ministrations were rewarded by a warming of Molly's temperature, again she tensed, she exhaled in spurts, and there it was again, this time an "oh-ohh-ohhh-ohhhh!" Quickly she cooled, and Mark relaxed. I figured his jaw muscles were tired, mine normally are after such exercise, and they shifted until they were both in a half seated position, aside each other, their backs supported by the head board. They were relaxing, regaining strength for the next act, one which I was tremendously anxious to observe.

"You know, if you wanted to, you could take of your clothes," Don remarked to me.

"Yes, please, dear. I'd be a lot more comfortable."

I began to comply, my shirt was off, I neatly folded it, and while I was removing my slacks and briefs, Mark and Molly embraced again. By the time I was naked they were kissing and feeling each other again, Mark's hand was snaked across her rear and toying once again with the crevice, she was softly holding his peter, fiddling it into full firmness. Molly looked to me, smiled, "Are you having fun, dear?"

"Quite a bit."

"I'm glad." Then Molly climbed above Mark, a knee on either side of his hips, his hands were on her bubbles, and in that particular position, even though I thought there was little possibility of penetration, I was sure Mark's tip was right there. Her hand was behind her, clutching the rod, rubbing it back and forth between her legs. Were they going to go for it? Right then? But . . . 

Mark saved the day, I thought, but Molly later told me no, she wouldn't have allowed it, they were just playing. "I presume you want to use a condom?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Molly replied, and I wondered where her purse was, then I remembered it was in the living room. Would I have to go get it, miss some of the action? But Mark said, "They're in the drawer there," pointing to the bedside table, the opposite side of the huge mattress from where the couple were passionately trifling.

"Would you mind getting one, dear?" I pulled the drawer open, seized a packet, climbed onto the side of the bed and handed it to my sweetheart. She scooted down until she was able to gain access to Mark's member, sucked a couple of more times to moisturize it, gave it a kiss on the tip, then rolled the plastic onto him.

"I'm ready, are you?" Molly asked, I wasn't sure if she was addressing me or Mark, and then she raised up above him, he shifted until he was barely sitting up, with the help of her hand the rod was vertical, and ever so slowly, she lowered herself. I was still on the bed, my head three feet from Mark's, and I clearly saw the first penetration, a hair, then a bit, then an inch, and finally the other man's prick was completely inserted within my wife - she had taken yet one more lover!

She was in no hurry, neither was he. His hands were on her hips, assisting her in the movements she desired, she shifted the leg furthest from me until it was in front of her, the sole flat on the bed, the limb nearest me was more to the side, I had an unobstructed view of the interment. I was as excited as they, if I held my own penis and rubbed it, I doubt they minded.

For an undetermined amount of time I concentrated on Molly's labia and how the plastic coated shaft was alternately inside her and then partly loosed - at one point Molly struggled so violently that it escaped and had to be reinserted - that I missed the rest of the visage, how Mark was trying his best not to release prematurely, how Molly's breast rose and fell with the exercise. But I finally tore my eyes from the lurid sight, and observed on my wife's face an attitude of great happiness, the joy of a little girl on her first roller coaster, the liveliness of receiving the perfect gift for her birthday. This action of taking a lover pleased her, how could I be anything but happy for her?

I watched as the color of her chest brightened, her nipples condensed, she moved her leg until she had the perfect balance, and the rhythm of her hips changed from up and down to forward and back, and she moaned her ohs. After perhaps twenty seconds she slowed, Mark was allowing her to completely control the act, after a complete stop of five seconds, she was back to it, furious and swift, until she at last calmed.

"Whew," she sighed, "that was a good one," and again she grinned at her new valentine, then at me. I was fairly certain Mark was still aroused, that he hand't released when he said, "Mind if we shift and I take you from behind?"

"Of course not," Molly agreed, and in the middle of the bed she kneeled, resting her torso on her elbows, her rump raised high. Mark kneeled behind her and plunged into her. In a way, this was even better, as he pulled back I could see the prick disengage, then when he slammed back in I watched Molly's breasts flow back and forth. Her cheek was now on the bed, facing away from me, so I was unable to observe what emotions she might be feeling as the man frankly had her. Within two or three minutes I watched Mark rise up, tense, then shudder. He was releasing into my woman, and I was glad for him. 

They disengaged, Molly laid on her side, facing us, an abundant grin spreading across her face, she was proud that she'd been able to pleasure this man while enjoying herself immensely. Mark sat back, removed the rubber and deposited it into a waste can, offered Molly a tissue to wipe her bottom, used one on himself. He then leaned to Molly, kissed her again in gratitude for her service, she kissed him back in thanks, and then he offered, "Drinks, coffee? I have some key lime pie."

"A glass of water, very icey," Molly requested, "and a sliver of the pie."

"Coffee and pie for me," I said. Mark departed on his chore.

Molly came to me, we embraced. "Did you enjoy yourself? Was it what you wanted?"

"Even more so, you were fantastic," I complimented.

I felt her breasts against my chest, she sensed what I needed. "This poor little man needs some help," she offered, touching my rigidity. 

"Do you think Mark will mind?"

She giggled. "I doubt it, after what he got. Come here." And she reclined, spread her legs. Quickly I was between them, I was inside her, where Mark had been, and we were making love as she and the other man had. She cooed me, touched my face, said "I love you," and even though I tried to control myself, I spurted hard into the womb of my love. After my throbbing was done, I collapsed onto my wife, my body in a complete crash, and I was still lying there when Mark rejoined us. 

"Ahh, I was hoping you'd join the party. Glad to see you're with us," he told me, 

"I think we made a mess on your sheets," Molly mentioned with a hint of amusement.

"That's what the good lord made washing machines for." Mark deposited a high-tech tray filled with our refreshment on the bed, moved through the room adjusting lighting. I got off of Molly, she took a comfortable half lotus position, completely exposed, unashamed, I leaned against the head board, Mark half reclined, roman fashion, and we began our repast, and chatted.

"This is a wonderful room," Molly told our host, "serene, but a little erotic, too." Most of the objects d'art were suggestively curved, a few were positively bawdy.

"I'm glad you think so, a friend helped me decorate it. Take that lithograph there," it was a sensitive depiction of a couple reclining on their left side, the woman in front, her full breasts laid bare, the man behind her, looking over her shoulder. The woman's expression was contentment, the man still had desire. "I picked it up in San Francisco, it's by Robert Wallace, he made quite a name for himself a couple of decades back. He passed last year, I'm sad for him but happy for me, the work has appreciated quite nicely." Molly asked about other works around crumbs of the pie - the 'morsel' had morphed into a full portion - and Mark explained the significance and derivation of each. 

Soon we had finished the snack, Mark removed the tray to a nearby table, Molly boldly interrogated, "I'm a little surprised a woman hasn't snapped you up."

He turned back to us, I couldn't help but notice that his rod continued to droop but seemed thicker than it had a few moments before. "You want the story? All right." He returned to the berth, reclined near Molly on the opposite side of me. "I do have a woman I'm tremendously enamored with, I'd call it love, others might disagree about the definition. She's my ex-wife Dee, we've been divorced eighteen years next month. She lives on the opposite side of the city so we don't bump into each other accidentally. We care about each other deeply, get together every few weeks, travel together. The problem is that when we spend too much time with each other, we begin to fight like cougars. A week with her is wonderful, ten days is problematic, two weeks and we're at each other's throats. So we've decided to have a part time relationship, and what we do in between is our own business, neither of us has the gene that develops jealousy. In fact, a couple of months ago a girlfriend of Dee's from the west coast came to town, Dee suggested I take her out to dinner, it turned out rather well, and after the woman headed home Dee wanted a full book report. Many people think it's strange, but the relationship works for us."

Molly was now fully reclined, I was lying on her left side and Mark was on her right, close by. Mark stroked Molly's belly, she was almost purring, and when he circled north to a breast, her breaths formed a quiet song. I watched as she took his penis in hand, and was a bit surprised when she performed the same service for me simultaneously. "So tell me," Mark enquired, "what brought the two of you to this point?"

Molly indicated I should tell the story, so for three or four minutes I gave him the abbreviated account, that after decades of marriage our sex life was trite, I fantasized about her with other men, she was reluctant at first, then willing, how she'd begun our journey. While I was relating the tale, I noticed that Molly fondled both of us thoroughly, I was thick again and could see that Mark was in semi-erection.

After I'd completed the narrative, complete with a couple of questions from Mark to indicate he was paying attention, Molly announced, "Guys, I want to try an experiment. Mark, would you mind kissing me?" He half covered her, their lips met, his hand cupped a breast and twiddled the nipple, for her part she fondled his sac and the scepter above it quite thoroughly. They went on for three or four minutes, one hell of a 'kiss.'

She turned to me, "Now you, dear." I tried to match the other man, her lips were soft, and if they had a slight taste of the stranger I didn't object. While we nuzzled she paid every bit of attention to my baton that she'd ceded to Mark, and I let my hand explore her vaginal area. She was still quite puffy, and the doorstep was soggy - I wondered if it was from the deposit I'd left earlier, or was she joyfully anticipating another incursion? "Thank you so much, my dear," she whispered in my ear, then she turned to Mark again, without prompting he put his mouth to hers, the kiss mutated from sweet and gentle to raging, hard. He was groping her teat, tweaking the nipples stiffly, as he attacked her she stimulated his shaft with full strokes, he was now in violent hardness. I sensed that they would soon be united in fury, but my hand still rested on her opening. I was joyed that I could feel the throbbing of the skin as blood flowed to the area, that the slot widened of it's own accord, readying itself with ancient instinct. 

Mark broke the kiss, begged of me, "I'd like to take Molly again, would you mind?" I just waved him on, and then got another condom ready, opening the packet and giving it to Molly, who rolled it onto him. He shifted, knelt below her, gathered two pillows and placed them beneath her bottom so that it was higher than her head, put both of her feet over his shoulder, rose vertically above her and plunged. Once again my wife was full of the visitor, helping him to push and beat inside her. It was, for him, an athletic endeavor, and he needed his arms and legs simply to maintain balance, tempo. Molly was alert, looking to me, smiling, and I leaned over and kissed her as the other man performed. "Touch me," she beseeched. I started at her breasts, heavier somehow, brushed the nipple, tentatively at first, then boldly following my instincts, my fingers traveled to her mons. It was shaking with the efforts of the man, and without concern for consequences, I grazed the clit, I heard Molly mutter, "Yes!" and I continued, my finger moving in the circle I know she delights in. There was no way to avoid the foreign pubic hair that descended on the back of my hand in rhythm, briefly my knuckle tapped against the plastic enclosed shaft that was pumping in and out, Molly's breaths came in spurts, a shudder parsed her body, it was over in seconds, I removed my hand.




Passion & Perspective Ch. 05-07



You could tell by Mark's expression that he was approaching his ferment, and Molly and I locked gazes as we heard him grunt and sputter, we sensed he was exploding a second time. He quickly concluded, then fell to the bed, exhaling and inhaling fiercely.

I was erect again, the lecherous visions had the desired effect, and I wondered if Molly would want me to take my turn, but I wasn't truly disappointed when she rose from her position hurriedly, hollering, "Sorry, boys, I've really got to go," as she ran for the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It was suddenly weird, two men lying on the same bed, he was coming down, his arm covering his eyes, his tool still throbbing while it calmed, still encased in latex. I sat on the edge of the bed, not sure what my next action should be - I didn't know the protocol, and I didn't want to offend - until I heard the door open and Molly, in all of her unclothed glory, appeared and gave the signal, "It's late." Actually, it wasn't, just a bit past eleven.

Mark rose from the bed, gathered his briefs, trousers and shirt and headed for the door. "How about some coffee before you go?"

"Please." When he'd departed, the door closed behind him and Molly and I were in private, I stood to hold her, her head drooped to my shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Perfect," I assured her, "you?"

"I don't think I'll be able to walk for a week! You two wore me out."

"Him more than me, I think." She smiled in gratitude. We got our clothes on, I zipped her up, she went into the bathroom to try to repair her face and hair, she finally decided it was a losing battle, but I thought she was fetching. We walked to the living room, Mark had the coffee table set, he invited us to sit. We discussed trivial matters as friends. Mark poured us each a glass of twenty year old port, the apparition of dark chocolate appeared to accompany it. Mark found out I could sail a bit, he promised to come out to the bay during the summer for a ride. A round of golf at his country club was proposed, but no date was set. Various global destinations were compared.

Molly got a case of the yawns, I suggested we head home. "I truly enjoyed myself," he said to both of us, "if you'd like to, I'd love to see the two of you again. Honestly," and now he turned to Molly, "I haven't had such fun in a long time."

Molly smiled, embraced and kissed him, full on the lips but less than passionately, and complimented, "You were fantastic. Let's not lose touch." 

Under the glow of the porch lamp we walked to our car, Molly decided she'd drive. It should have taken twenty-five minutes, due to the lack of traffic and Molly's lead foot we approached our exit in seventeen. Molly was quiet on the drive, I didn't mind, I knew analysis of the event would come, if not tonight, certainly soon.

The lights of the restaurant park still shone brightly, Molly pulled into the parking lot of the Bleu Turtle Sports Bar. "You don't mind, do you? Right now, I could use another nice piece of meat."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 7

The sun was barely creeping above the horizon when Molly rousted me out of bed. "Come on, times a wasting, I need exercise to get my kinks out - and you and Mark put in plenty of kinks just where I needed them - and you're coming with me."

"Go away. I'm going to sleep some more. I don't need any exercise."

"Oh, right, you're so in shape. Wait! Is that a heart attack I hear calling? Up!" I know sometimes there's no arguing with her, so I got up, put shorts a tee and walking shorts on. At least she had coffee waiting for me. We headed for our favorite place to walk, Calm Waters county park, 340 acres of woods and riverfront only a few minutes from our house. We headed out, Molly setting a brisk pace, in a few minutes we were entering the park and found a nicely paved bike path. It seemed rather quiet this morning, so we felt free to chat.

"So, how much did you enjoy it last night?" she asked.

"It was wonderful. When we're making love, I can't really watch you. Oh, bits and pieces, your face sometimes, but since I'm involved, I can't concentrate. Last night, I could see anything I wanted, and it was fantastic. You seemed like you had a good time."

"I really did. Mark seems like a very nice man, he had me at the wine bar, as much mental as physical. I liked the way he talked to you like you were part of it, Steve was such a jerk that way. What was your favorite part?"

"Oh, definitely when you first got on top and had an orgasm. You were hot! How about you?"

"It might sound strange, but when you made love to me when Mark left."

"Really!?! It looked like Mark was taking pretty good care of you."

"Oh, he was, he really was. But you were so ready, and I loved the way you took charge."

"Do you want to see him again? I think he likes you."

"I think he likes us," Molly corrected. "I'd like to, he's a nice man and a good lover, although he was pretty forceful with me the second time around."

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"It was easier just to let him do what he wanted, I guess. Anyway, I'm a little worried."

"About what?"

"A couple of things. This could get out of hand pretty easy. I wouldn't ever go to bed with a creep like Steve, but I'm thinking there are many, many wonderful men out there, and I want it to remain special, not just something I do whenever I want to, or just have any kind of an opportunity. So I'm making an inflexible rule: I will never, ever go to bed with someone when you aren't present."

"I don't like that," I argued. "There may be times when I can't be there for some reason, but you might want to go ahead. How about this: You won't go with a new guy without me around, but it would be okay with someone we already know, like Colin or Mark, as long as I know you'll be there. Okay?"

"Sounds good," she agreed, "you're very wise, you know."

"And, in very special circumstances, I'll give you one hall pass that you can use in the next year. If you bump into someone and he really floats your boat, one time you can do what you like after you've phoned me."

"I don't think I'll use it."

"If you want it, it's there. What's the other thing?"

"Huh?"

"Molly, you said there were two things bothering you about what we're getting into."

"Oh, now I remember. I'm worried about our relationship. You're the love of my life dear, I don't want to do anything to lose you. I'm concerned you'll get jealous, maybe because I'm getting too close to a guy, or perhaps you'll get mad thinking I'm screwing around but you can't."

"Okay, you haven't got it figured out yet, have you? I'm letting you do this, it was my idea in the first place, and after that first time with Keith I've never felt badly about you being with another guy. Not one moment. When I saw all the positions you were in with Mark last night, I didn't think, 'oh, she's not doing that with me,' I thought, 'cool!' And as far as you doing it when I'm not, that's my choice. I get the feeling that if I met a girl, and she was willing, I'd have your blessing, right?"

"I'd have to know about it in advance, just like you do with me."

"Of course, that's a given. Any other worries?"

"No, how about you?"

"Just one - when are we gonna do it again?" I joked. This got me a playful swat on the rump accompanied by a laugh. "Not tonight though, we're going over to Liz and Stan's tonight."

"I don't know, maybe Stan would like to take a shot at me."

I thought for a moment, "Why do you say that? Has he said something to you?"

"Never, he's a dear. And even though I know Liz thinks you're pretty good looking, she's never said anything like that. But think about it, dear. They're an attractive couple. And the best statistics I've seen say that 17.4% of the married population are doing something with somebody else, I get the feeling that it's probably higher than that. Think about that. At the yacht party next week, out of ten of the women you talk to, two of them are willing to screw your brains out. Why shouldn't Liz be a hotwife?"

"I don't know," I resisted. "They're such a nice couple."

"And we're not?" she laughed. "I'll bet Stan wouldn't believe he had a chance with me!"

"Does he?"

"No, of course not. No one we're friends with, nobody you or especially me work with. But you see my point, right?"

"I guess I do."

We were at our decision point, halfway into the park. If we turned around it would be a three mile walk, heading for the river would mean another mile and a half, she decided we were going to see the water. The rest of the walk I griped about my boss, she told me about her project that was going fairly well, then she bought me breakfast at Grumpy's. We worked around the house the rest of the day, getting ready for Memorial Day the next week, then had a nice barbecue with the Stonesons. Molly had ruined it for me, I kept wondering about Liz: Does she or doesn't she?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later, Mark invited us to his place for dinner, Molly was, if anything, more eager for the return match than I was. We showed up around seven on a Friday night, it was cold for June, Mark made a salad and grilled perch he'd picked up fresh at the fishmonger, we swirled the wine in the living room after dinner, and when it was getting a little boring, Molly forced the issue by standing up and pulling her blouse off. "Any body going to join in?" Of course, both of us were ready. I was more active this time, more sure of myself, touching her without restriction during foreplay, kissing the breast Mark wasn't using, we played with her pussy simultaneously, Molly thought it was absolutely amazing, and then, when she sat back on the couch and Mark kneeled between her legs and entered her, she motioned me over and took my prick into her mouth. It was so erotic that I came quickly, getting come in her hair, but Molly didn't care, she just swallowed with abandon and kissed me. I stepped back, let them go at it, and they did four or five positions on the couch and rug. Molly came two times before Mark did. After they were done we had coffee and desert, naked like the first time, and then we drove home. Just a nice little night out with a friend, Molly laughed loudly when I referred to it as a 'fish and fuck.'

Two weeks passed, Mark accepted our invitation to a sail, and he was due to come over on Friday, spend the weekend. Molly spent the whole week cleaning, redoing what the maid had already done, worrying over imperfections. This was a big deal for her, we'd never had one of her boyfriends to the house, this was a barrier to be broken. We discussed what room we should use, I finally decided by fiat that it made no difference if it was our bed, or the guest bed, or, for that matter, the grass in the back yard. That seemed to calm her down.

Of course, Mark was the perfect gentleman, he brought a bottle of french wine and cognac. After dinner we sat for perhaps an hour and chatted, Mark was engaging, told a long story with a lot of inside information about a client of his, and we recognized the story was about a political scandal a few years back. Mark was, apparently, playing in the big leagues.

I continued to question Mark about his business, Molly retreated from the room and I hardly knew she was gone. It was twenty minutes before she returned dressed in a negligee, a black cape that covered her shoulders, provided a nest for her breasts, a wide mesh that formed the link between them, a pair of very brief panties. "Mark, this is Don's favorite nightgown. I was wondering if you like it better on me or off me?"

"Hmmm, perhaps I should answer, 'both'?" With that, Molly took his hand, led him into our bedroom, I followed. She'd lit a dozen candles, prepared the bed with rose petals. This night, she paid almost exclusive attention to her second lover, I didn't have any problem with the strategy. Mark was getting better with her, if possible, he was learning her likes and dislikes. She encouraged him to disrobe nearly as soon as they entered the boudoir, stoked his tool while standing, kneeled in front of him to give him a deep blow job. He knelt in front of her while she was sitting on the side of the bed, proceeded to give her head. I undressed, got behind and supported her. Her panties had been discarded, she was still wearing the robe, although the front was open to exhibit her breasts. Due to his diligence she came after a few moments, blowing hard through her mouth. She seemed to enjoy the idea that I was sucking her fingers as Mark was sucking the clit. When she was off her high, Mark stood, asked, "Are you ready," and when Molly simply said "Yes!" he donned a rubber, placed the tip at her opening. From my vantage above and behind her, I could see all. Mark was playful that night, first moving the live dildo to massage her entire labial area, entering a bit, then pulling out, then entering again, he thrusted a few times, pulled out, bent down, licked the sensitive area a bit, repeated his play. After four or five cycles, Molly was panting, told him, "You can play like that all night if you want, but if it was up to me, you'd get it in right now." Mark gave the lady what she asked for, deep, long thrusts that surely touched her cervix, I felt every drive push her shoulders against my chest, and when she reached culmination, she was holding my hands, our fingers intertwined, when she clenched her fist my hand was in pain. When she returned to us, she asked the man who was lancing her, "What position would you like?"

"How about this?" He laid on the bed so that his lower legs were dangling, encouraged her to sit on top, facing away from him, knees to her sides, feet on the bed. This position was a stroke of genius, while he relaxed and let her do the work, I was able to approach her from the front, and we kissed, I fondled her breast, belly, and, yes, once more I played with her clit as it rose up and down, side to side. She shuddered, hard but briefly, I leaned to kiss her breast, she rocked. We kissed again, it was clear she was off her peak, and she waved me away so she could concentrate on Mark. She reached between her legs, I watched her fondle his testicles, varied her strokes to give him maximum friction, she encouraged him, "Come on, baby, fill me up." In a few moments, Mark was flaring, his body shuddering, his now-familiar call filling the air. I sat in a chair, and was a little amazed when she put her head near his groin, pulled the condom off and bent to take his wet dagger into her mouth, cleansing it, then leaning up to him, kissing him deeply. I remembered it as a technique she'd used when we were young, but had forgotten somewhere along the path of wedded life. A couple of days later we discussed it, she was worried I was upset, but of course I wasn't. But she's reinvigorated the quirk into our own lovemaking.

It was late, after midnight, and Don decided he'd hit the rack, Molly made the bed for him, I presume she gave him a long good night kiss, and then she returned to me. My wife knows me, knows what I like, and she got me hard with mouth, climbed on top of me, and lying so that her breasts rested on my chest, her mouth on mine, she encouraged me to fill her as she had Mark. I willingly, joyfully cooperated. When we were done, it didn't take but ten minutes, we laid in our marital bed, the one that now had been used for happy adultery, and talked.

"Are you sleepy?" I asked.

"Not really."

"What would you like to do?"

"I don't know."

It hit me. "Would you like to go into Mark now?"

"Oh, I couldn't . . . it wouldn't be right . . . I don't think . . ."

"If you want to, go ahead. It's all right with me. Just come back to me when you're done."

She was timid, she fretted that what she was doing was improper, but in the end, she shyly climbed from our bed and walked out the door.

In less than two minutes, she was back, "He's asleep," she announced a little unhappily as she crawled back into bed with me. 

"Don't worry," I said, "there'll be other times."

We held each other until we slept, I was fitful, awaking each time Molly shifted, went to the bathroom. I was still half awake as the morning birds called the sun to work. 

It was eight o'clock when Molly called to me, "Wake up, dear," She had shorts and a tee covering a bikini bra. I brushed and peed and put shorts and a tee on. When I hit the kitchen Molly was at the range, Mark was sitting at the bar sipping coffee. I wondered if there had been any morning sit ups, Molly later told me the early morning was chaste.

We skipped out, grabbed breakfast at Grumpy's on the way to the dock, and then the guys brought me the 24 footer we'd rented for the day. It was predicted to be a beautiful, sunny day with eight to ten knot winds on the bay, a perfect day for sailing. I took her out, we sailed around the head into the town harbor over by the college, it's something that guests always love to see, and then back out to the open water. We were sailing against the wind, progress was slow, and it took us more than three hours to navigate around Danny Point to Chicken Island. There's a marina and a casual restaurant there, we tied up and had lunch. I only had one beer, I like to have my wits with me out there, but Molly had two - one more than her usual - and Mark had three.

After lunch we went back out, and it got fun. Mark took off his shirt, Molly lathered sunscreen over his back and chest, he returned the favor making sure every inch was covered, including under the hem of the bra. The breeze was off the starboard stern, we made good speed to the Danny Point Shoal lighthouse, Mark was impressed that I was able to get so close, then I turned north, we were running almost dead downwind, I was able to make her fly. We were under the towering bridge in less than forty-five minutes, Molly suggested we turn around and head back at that point.

All day I'd been watching Molly and Mark, there were glances popping back and forth, hands had been thrown across thighs, if Molly moved from one side of the boat to the other she might 'accidentally' bump into Mark, to right her he might have to grab a breast! She bumped into me a few times, I got the feeling it was just so I wouldn't feel left out. I didn't mind, that's what we'd invited him for, right? On the trip back to the dock we were beating into the wind again, going was slow and for them, at least, the sailing was getting boring. But they had a solution - the Rainbow had a small cabin and an even tinier berth. They went below, supposedly to escape the bright sunshine, and while there they began to kiss and otherwise excite themselves. Before Mark removed her bra he looked to me, they hadn't closed the hatch, and asked, "Is this okay with you?"

"Go for it," I vigorously consented, and go for it he did. It was a little comical watching them clamber about the minuscule space they had available, and when they had their clothes off, the only real position attainable was missionary. It turned out that Molly had a condom in her pocket, she'd either hoped or planned it to happen, and I joyously watched Mark's bottom bounce up and down while they humped. The breeze was too brisk and blew their sounds away, but I was able to see Molly's face, it was clear that she was having the ultimate fulfillment, Mark's grimace was unmistakeable. It was just a quickie, not fifteen minutes exertion, and after they'd somehow contorted themselves to put clothes back on, Mark offered me a chance at her. "Not necessary," I retorted, "Molly and I have done it on a boat plenty of times, and besides neither of you can sail." After the screw, I noticed Molly's flirting was subdued, although she still sometimes stole a long glance at her lover. When the boat was docked, we made our way to a convenient saloon where more beers were murdered, Mark and I each had five, Molly decided she'd drive us home.




Passion & Perspective Ch. 08-09



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

*

Chapter 8

It would turn out that we wouldn't see Mark again for over two months. It wasn't that we didn't want to get together, just the opposite, but we got busy, then he did, then vacations hit and Mark had to go to Europe for business, and there simply wasn't a time. There were a few occasions that Mark and Molly could have met by themselves, Molly decided not to. "I think it's just as well that we let it cool down, dear. It got a so intense that weekend, I scared myself a little."

Nearly every day, we'd get one or two enquires on SLS. After consulting with Molly, I figured out a procedure to handle them. First we changed our profile to state that we were only accepting very select males and providing a template for emails: they must be polite, spelling would be graded, we didn't need to know the size of the tool, simply the man's height and weight, age must be over 40. I told them we preferred men over five feet ten, but it wasn't a hard and fast rule.

Most of the guys didn't bother to read our desires, if I got a note that was obviously out of the ballpark, I'd flash out an answer, 'thank you but no.' If they didn't respect our reply, they got blocked so they couldn't email us further.

We had other proclivities that I paid attention to. If the man was not a paid member, I was immediately suspicious; it wasn't impossible to get past that barrier, but I figured that if he wasn't serious enough to lay a couple of bucks down, he might not be real. If the man said he was married, but the woman didn't play, he was immediately rejected as a probable fake.

And lastly, I very much preferred a profile that had pictures in which we could get an idea of the look of the man. A facial picture got extra credit, a picture of the man's supposed assets got a demerit. If that was the only picture, he was rejected. 

With the restrictions, I received only a few a month that I felt were worth presenting to Molly. She'd take a day or two, then would give me permission or not to continue correspondence. When I did, I looked for signs of impatience, many men wanted us to meet at the drop of a hat. If three or four emails went by and the man was still gentle and polite, I'd report back to Molly. This winnowed the herd down to about one per week that I talked to Molly about, perhaps two, often none. Molly sometimes looked at the site without me, interested in what I was going through, perhaps fantasizing, although she never tried to overrule me or suggest I look at that one a little harder. She let me run the show.

When I'd show a profile to Molly, she'd look at the entire situation, what the man had on his profile, his pictures, certifications from other people, and the emails that went back and forth. And then, more often than not, she'd reject the guy. Sometimes she had a good reason, but other times I was baffled by her elimination. "It just doesn't feel right, dear," she'd explain.

Our own sex life was at a high. Before Molly became a hotwife, we'd get it on maybe five or six times a month, and mostly it was a simple release of accumulated pressures, lasting ten minutes or less. Now we were banging at least three times a week, and we seemed more interested in pleasing each other. Sometimes we'd make love for a half hour, it would seemingly be over, then we'd start talking about a past or possibly future escapade, and we'd start going again. Molly's orgasms seemed to last longer and mine were more powerful.

July, hot and still, was morphing into August. We'd been to a party on a Saturday night, six couples, dinner, talk late into the night. The gentlemen had been enamored with Molly, she'd been her usual self, gay and not afraid to touch a man during a conversation. I'd let myself have one or two glasses of wine too many, and Molly decided she'd better drive home. On the way, she told me, "Hey, guess what Stan did tonight? He got me alone in a bedroom, and kissed me."

"He did! Stan?" Stan and Liz were old friends of ours, fifteen years at least. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I let him kiss me, kissed him back, he was a little slobbery, and then he reached for my teat. I let him cop a feel through my dress, but when he tried to go a little further, I stopped him with the 'what are we going to tell Liz and Don, this is a really bad idea' line. He was as drunk as you are, but he got the idea, we came back out to all of you."

"Wow. Would you ever think about doing it with him?"

"I always thought he was pretty good looking, if things were different . . . well, I'm never going to let myself be alone with him again, an affair like that could really mess things up."

When we got home, we tried to make love, but I'd had too much to drink, it wouldn't work right, and I had to settle for helping her as she used a vibrator to bring herself off.

The next morning she came back to bed sometime after ten, her breath tasted of coffee, mine probably tasted of the sewer. She laid with me, her hand was on my peter, which now decided to be just fine. "I'm horny," she announced.

"Climb on," I offered.

"Nope. You were bad last night."

"You were the one who kissed Stan."

"Um, hmm. So I had the chance to be good with two guys last night, but neither one worked." Yeah, she had a point there. 

"So you're horny, but I'm not getting any. That doesn't seem right."

"It isn't," she teased, "when you put it that way. But what if we get one of the guys you've been emailing to come over and make me unhorny?" My dick got even harder. We put the plan into place. I was chatting with three potential men on SLS at the time, Molly would send out invitations for that afternoon or evening to all three, if anyone could play, there would be fun for all.

By the time I'd pulled myself together, taken ibuprofen, and ingested my second cup of coffee, she'd sent out the feelers. One of the guys had other plans, he was sorry, and as we were finishing the crossword puzzle, the computer went 'ding!' and we got a response from Eric, he had the whole day free. After a couple of emails back and forth, it was decided we'd meet him at the Bleu Turtle in two hours, he'd be at the bar wearing a green shirt. Molly was excited, I helped her take a shower, and played with her clit until she was nearly at the point of fulmination, then I stopped.

"Bastard," she playfully complained, to which I responded, "You're all the more ready for Eric."

She serioused up, "There's a chance we won't like him, dear, you know that, don't you?"

"That'll be more your problem than mine," I joked. "If it doesn't work out, we'll just come back and screw. I'll get mine, but you'll only get one guy."

"That'll be fine," she promised.

She got into tailored shorts and a polo shirt, no bra, made herself up, marginally more seductive than she would be if we were just having lunch, and we got to the restaurant a few minutes early, sat at the almost empty bar, in a few minutes we were joined by Eric, six foot one, shorts, shirt, smile. I watched the two of them give each other the once over, figured from their body language that there was some initial attraction, we got a booth, he across the table from us. We ordered lunch and drinks, the conversation was conservative, safe. He was forty-three, divorced four years, a sixteen year old daughter that didn't have much time for her dad anymore. He lived in a two bedroom apartment, had a male roommate, worked for a wireless company as a technician, enjoyed tennis, but didn't have a regular person to play with. Molly asked if he had a good drop shot, the first innuendo, he said it was okay but it needed work, Molly suggested she help him with it. The only drawback I saw was that Eric didn't have the most athletic body in the world, a bit of a paunch, but I thought his blond, well coiffed hair might make up for it. 

After we'd finished our lunches, he got up for a few moments to go to the men's room. I looked at Molly with a question. "He's okay," she analyzed, "not the most handsome man in the world, but he'll do. I'm truly horny! Monkey?"

"Monkey," I agreed. I was pretty horny too.

When he got back, Molly checked to see that no one was in earshot, and asked, "Eric, have you ever been in a threesome before?"

"No," he admitted, "but it's something I've always wanted to do."

"Well," she offered, "if you're up for it, maybe today's your lucky day. I know I'm older than you . . ."

"Oh, you're beautiful," he exclaimed.

"Thank you. We've been in a few threesomes, both Don and I like them. He likes watching me, maybe joining in after awhile. Would that be all right with you?"

"I'm not gay or anything," he nervously sputtered.

"Neither am I," I countered, "Molly will be the center of attraction for both of us."

"Well then," he answered, "I guess I'm up for it whenever you guys are."

"Right now," Molly offered, "if you've got the time."

He did. We arranged that he'd follow us to our house.

After the thirteen minute drive, we were in the kitchen, Molly poured us all a glass of iced tea, when she handed Eric's glass to him, their hands touched, Molly stroked his finger. Eyes were locked, smiles exchanged, Molly stretched her face for the first brief kiss. "We could give you the whole house tour," she offered, "or we could just head straight for the bedroom." When she wanted to, Molly could be very direct. Eric opted for the bedroom, Molly took his hand and led him down the hall, I followed.

In the bedroom Molly was the aggressor, leading him to the sacrificial bed, lips met, they were half reclining against the headboard. I dragged a chair into position four feet from the side of the bed. As quickly as I'd ever seen Molly work with a man, his hand was on her teat, then she pulled her shirt off, his lips were at her breast. She unzipped his shorts, pulled the waistband apart, and she had her hand inside his boxers, holding the object of her hunger. His hand went to her groin, she unfastened her shorts and pulled them and her panties off in one motion, I observed my wife's beautiful, naked body.

Every so often Eric would look to me, I'd just smile, let him know everything was fine, Molly constantly checked my temperature. In a few moments, Eric's final bits of clothing were thrown from the bed, I could see his tool, perfectly straight, a bit thick, uncircumcised. As always, it excited me to think that thing would soon attack my lovely woman. Molly knelt above him, began her routine, pulling back the foreskin, tasting the thick fluid beginning to drip from the tiny hole, fondling the testicles, swallowing the rod. I stood, disposed of my own clothing, and travelled to the other side of the bed, where I could see Molly's rump in the air, her fleshy labia surrounding the barely open slit below the smaller hole above. I let my hand descend onto her rump, appreciated the smooth skin, then gently traversed the geography, feeling every inch of her butt and the back of her upper thighs, until finally the hole was reached, I inserted a finger and massaged her g-spot as I know she likes. Her tunnel was moist with desire and anticipation, through manipulation I got her to shudder briefly. 

The couple on the bed shifted, again they laid facing each other, their heads on the pillow. A little kissing, a lot of fondling, Eric pushed Molly on her back, climbed on top, between her. His unprotected penis pointed, I was sure, at the holy spot, I was about to protest when Molly took care of it, "You've got to put on a condom."

"No, it's okay, I've had a vasectomy, and I was tested recently."

"It's not okay," Molly insisted, "either you use one, or you're not gonna get any."

I could sense his thoughts about it, I was still concerned that he might just decide to push it in, Molly was vulnerable in that position, but after a few seconds he decided in favor of safety, not only from transmission of disease, but also from what I'd do to him. He climbed off Molly, I handed him the packet I had waiting, inexpertly he tore it open and rolled it on. In the meantime, Molly climbed up, faced him on his knees, they approached each other, kissed, she suggested, "Mind if I get on top to start?" and without waiting for his protest, she pushed him down, straddled him, and in a moment or two he was inside her. She moved slowly, front and back more than up and down, I could see she was trying to massage her g-spot. 

I was surprised when she uttered, "Oh, you're so big! You fill me completely up," for she had never talked that much during sex. Eric responded with a delighted look on his face, he felt her boobs. "Pinch them," she appealed and when he gave into her wish, I saw the quiver that indicated my wife's orgasm, but it didn't last. Only fifteen seconds later, she opened her eyes wide, smiled at me, said, "come here, dear." I approached her, standing at the side of the bed, and she leaned, a very awkward position, and took my penis into her mouth, bringing me to a roaring condition as her other gash kept moving, working on Eric. Because of the awkwardness of her position she couldn't keep it up for very long, but I enjoyed the double penetration while it lasted. 

Then, quite suddenly, she ceased her motions with Eric, climbed off him - he hadn't come yet - and as a movie director sets a scene, she guided us to our positions. "Don, lie across the top of the bed, would you please." I took my place. Then she reclined, my belly forming a soft pillow for her head. She raised her knees, opened them wide, and reached for Eric, "Come here, screw me as hard as you can." He delighted in following her instructions, and was soon engulfed in her again. This was fun, for as he pushed in and out, pressing Molly's scalp against my torso, I could use my hands to massage her breasts, soothe her hair, put a solitary finger into her mouth so she could suck on it. Molly used her hands as she wished, stroking the hairs on Eric's chest or his throat, gently fondling my face or wanking on my penis as the spirit moved her. I could see her efforts at using her leg muscles to meet Eric's drives, I wondered if she was tightening the muscles of her vaginal walls as well, making the receptacle snug for Eric's pleasure. 

Eric tried to slow his movements and was fairly successful, but I could see in his face that he was fighting a losing battle; soon, I was sure, he'd have to either withdraw or gush. Molly saw the same conflict too, and encouraged him, "Go ahead and let loose! Fill me up!" and a minute later, I witnessed his grimace, saw him tense and rise from her body, the condom was being swelled. Eventually he relaxed, crumpled on top of her, another kiss, and then he sat up. "I need to go to the bathroom," he announced.

"Quick," Molly whispered to me, "put your clothes on." And while I was dressing, wondering what she had in mind, she put her top and shorts on as well, by the time Eric emerged from the toilet, his dick limp and uninterested, Molly was brushing her hair.

"Thanks so much for the great time," she said, "you were just what I wanted."

Pulling his shorts up, Eric looked a bit mystified, feeling much the same as I. Why was Molly pushing him out the door so quickly? "Maybe we could get together again?" Eric suggested. 

"Sure, maybe," Molly equivocated. "Give us an email sometime." Fifteen minutes after he came, he was gone. 

"What was that?" I pestered.

"I'll tell you later. Get your clothes off." Once again we were on the bed, and she begged, "Now screw me, long and gentle." I got us into that position, her legs over my hip, and I used lengthy stokes to excite her, I played with her nipples and clit, and soon she was coming, and coming hard. I was in no great hurry to get there, I did everything I could to keep her up on the mountain, it was a very long one for her. Then she came down, I was still inside her, moving ever so slightly, and we could talk.

"Okay, explain. Didn't you like him?"

"Eric was fine," Molly said, "for what I wanted. I thought he'd be okay at the Bleu Turtle, but when we got naked he was just a little off. He was doing the right things, but they didn't get to me, I got the feeling that since this was his first threesome he wasn't very sure of himself. Or maybe he's just not a great lover, I don't know. I only had that one little orgasm, and I sort of knew that no matter how long he went at it, that was going to be it. And the way he did it, well, it was like he had a lot to learn. So I let him have his fun, and couldn't wait until I got you alone. Which is what I really want." She moved her ass, I was inspired, I put her on her knees and came at her from the rear. I pounded her hard, she gave her shrieks of glee, and there I was, depositing a gob inside her. It was wonderful, my toes curled, the pleasure reached from my feet to my scalp. 

Five minutes later, when we'd both recovered from the torment, she walked naked into the den, suggesting I follow her. She poured vodka tonics for both of us, we sat on the couch, looking at each other. It was a little strange, I thought, we never used to cavort in our house nude, I liked the change in behavior.

"So are you sad you let him have you?" I inquired.

"No, not at all. Are you?"

"I wish he would have been better."

"Well, I do too. But we've got to realize that not all men are as good as Mark or Colin."

"How about Keith?" I asked. I remembered how she was so excited, so many months ago.

"I've thought about that. It was my first time, so I had nothing to compare it with, but now that I'm educated, well, probably he was just average. I'm willing to settle for average once in awhile, I still like the variety, Eric was a little different, and he did get you all hepped up. That was a marvelous screw, dear, thank you."

"I had a great partner," I complimented back. "You know, when he tried to get in bareback, I was worried. I was just about to pull him off you."

"Thank you, I'm glad you were there. If you weren't, he might have just done it. I guess I've got to be a little more careful, not let them get so close unless they're protected."

Then she dragged the laptop over to us, we opened SLS and saw that Greg, the third guy we invited had sent us a tardy 'yes.' "Wouldn't it be lovely," Molly observed, "if Greg was here right now?" The fantasy of her having three guys in one afternoon got us both going again, we spent another hour playing with each other, until the passion was extinguished, at least for that day.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later we met Greg in a bar, he was charming and when Molly got his resume from him, he let us know that he'd been in four or five threesomes, he had a regular married girlfriend that he saw four or five times a month, sometimes with her husband present, sometimes alone. Then he took us back to his apartment and showed Molly a great time, after they'd played with my assistance for an hour and fifteen minutes he encouraged me to have a go, and while Molly and I were linked he assisted us, encouraging Molly with kisses and caresses, for the first time another man touched me incidentally, it didn't upset me.

Our hobby seemed to be working out just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Chapter 9

"I got a text from Mark today. He's back, and I called him while I was driving home," Molly related the second week of September, with enthusiasm. "He says he's got a couple nights open, wanted to know if either of them work for us."

I was amused to see Molly, a schoolgirl dressed in plaid jumper awaiting the arrival of the quarterback. It had been nearly three months since that weekend he'd come to stay, 48 hours of friendship and sex. In the interim, we'd chatted of him at intervals, she wishing he was around, I encouraging her in the desire. Of all her lovers, he was the one I liked best, full of energy, respectful of my situation, free and easy. "When can we get together?"




Passion & Perspective Ch. 08-09



"He's got Saturday a week out open . . ." 

I mentally checked our schedules, didn't see a conflict, "Good by me."

"Great! And he's got this Thursday open, too." The last a bit uneasily. 

Again I checked . . . "Honey, you remember I have a business meeting that night."

"I wasn't sure it was still on." 

"It is."

"Ah, well, we'll just have to wait a week, I guess."

The evening went as evenings always do, the meal imbibed, dishes washed, she watched a show on the Home and Garden network while I read my latest history book, a bit of distraction marring my concentration. "Molly," I suggested during a commercial, "just because I can't meet up with Mark on Thursday doesn't mean you can't."

She considered it, as if she'd not allowed for that possibility. "No, I think I'd feel strange about it. We should just wait."

"Why?" I argued. "It's not like we haven't done anything like this before."

"But we haven't," she disputed.

"We have." Now I was the little boy, anxious to prove my point. "The first two times, I wasn't there. Heck, you've been alone in the guest bedroom with Mark."

"The times with Keith and Colin, well, that was different, they were in a hotel and we didn't know what we were doing. And you could have come in to the guest bedroom anytime you wanted." I saw we were talking two sides of the wall here, neither was right, neither was wrong.

"Okay," I reluctantly agreed, went back to my book. The air in the room was still flustered, two commercials later Molly came to me, kissed me, tossled my hair. "Want some tea?"

"I'd like that," I agreed, and while she spent time in the kitchen, I tried to figure it out. I was ready by the time she got back.

"Molly, what are you worried about, if you go over to Mark's house Thursday?"

"I'm not sure. It's just different somehow."

"Do you have feelings for him? Romantic, not just sexy?"

"I guess so." The look of a fox in the woods, perused by dogs, showed in her face.

"Molly, this is important. Do you love him?"

"No! No, not love. The only person I love is you, the only person I'll ever love is you."

"And your feelings for Mark are what, friendship?"

She thought about that one for a while, I let her have her muse. "I'm not sure there's a word for it. Maybe it is some sort of a fondness, in a way. A lot less than I have for you, but something more than I felt for any of the other guys."

"You're not going to leave him for me, are you?"

"Oh, God, no! No! If I ever thought that, even for a second, I couldn't live with it. I'd stop seeing him, I'd never see him again. In fact, I'd stop seeing anyone."

"Good," I expounded, "I know that, I knew it all the time. I trust you dear, completely. And I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have Mark as a friend. I guess it's called a 'friend with benefits.' Go on over there Thursday night, have dinner, catch up with each other, have some fun if you want to, then come back to me. You'll see, it will be just fine."

She was still dubious. "I don't know, can I think about it?"

"Of course." She went back to watching how to remodel a house she'd never enter with wall paper that would never grace our home, Jefferson was still in France in the pages of my hardback.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thursday morning arose, drizzly and cool, I still didn't have an answer as to where Molly would spend the evening. She was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the paper, dressed in the most severe of business suits. "Good morning," we kissed, and before she left the house she admitted, "If it's still okay with you, I'm going to meet Mark at a restaurant tonight."

"Of course it is," and she was off.

The business meeting that night was what business meetings always are, a kickoff conference of a task force meant to resolve a problem that was solved with one model three years ago, another would meet three years hence, I assumed. I kept an ear up as the speakers droned on, as I sipped my coffee I had another lobe of my brain focused on what might be happening thirty miles away, my wife at dinner with Mark, fingers interlocked, a drive to his house, the shedding of clothes - what lingerie might she be wearing? - then full bore passion. A pleasant diversion made all the more amiable by the fact that the keynoter seemed to have little real world experience of the impact of his edicts, while I had actual knowledge of Molly's abilities, how she was able to screw a guy's brains out.

I got home perhaps 10:30, I soon had a text, 'just finishing up home in 45 luv u' I waited for her in bed, was still up for her when she entered the bedroom, beige trousers, powder blue blouse. No one not having the covert intelligence would have realized what she'd been doing, but I picked up the signs - the lipstick on her upper lip smudged, the hair on the back of her head not quite perfectly combed, a rosy flush on her arms and neck. Oh, yes, this was a woman quite definitely, and quite well, slept with.

She seemed tired as she stepped out of her clothes, a pair of blue lace panties and bra that I was certain Mark had enjoyed with his eyes as much I was doing, and we cuddled as she revealed her evening. "Mark was a sweetheart, it seemed he's missed me a bit - you too, he said - and we went to a steakhouse, I had salad and scallops - I only ate half of them, the rest are in the fridge, you can take them for lunch if you like. Then I went back to his place and we played for an hour or so. It was just what I needed." She didn't seem to want to share details, positions and who kissed who where and such. To tell the truth, I didn't really need them for Mark was a friend, I'd seen his techniques. And it seemed that Molly was fagged, perhaps from work, perhaps from her exertions, for the first time we didn't make love after she'd had another man. But I was at ease with the lack of passion, and the next evening I was rewarded as she took me to dinner, then drove to an out of the way parking area and gave me a blow job, then continued her provocations an hour later in our den. 

We attended a party on Saturday night at a friends house, thirty couples in the garden and scattered through the house, Molly was the hit as usual, gossiping with the women, flirting with the men. I lost track of her for forty minutes, went surreptitiously searching for her, a fantasy that perhaps I'd find her behind closed doors with a handsome gentleman I'd not met before that she'd been talking to. Of course, I discovered her in a mixed company of seven in the garden, telling a story about my sailing expertise. I was glad that she was able to separate our platonic and passionate playmates so well, but later when I told her, she remembered a gentleman she could fancy under other circumstances, and in our bed we playfully made love with his poltergeist.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a week later that I and Molly travelled to Mark's house, where he grilled prime steaks on his patio, served with it two bottles of Côtes du Rhône, and with gentility we switched from feasting to frolicking, Molly being satisfied by her two gentlemen completely and simultaneously. For her part, Molly made sure we were both pleasured with whatever tools were available to her, hand and mouth and certainly her alluring tunnel. 

We were relaxing on the bed afterward when Mark felt free to ask, "Don, I'm just wondering, do you ever go for other women?"

"Haven't so far."

"Hope you don't mind me asking, but why not?"

Molly piped up, "Good question. I'm not sure I know the answer to that one."

I tried to put my emotions about the subject into words. "It's not that I'm not interested. Molly's told me many a time that she wouldn't mind . . ."

"Of course I wouldn't," she piped up, "I'm getting plenty, no reason why you shouldn't!"

". . . but, well, there's been no opportunity. And I'm having a great time helping Molly get laid."

"Thank you, sir!" she exclaimed.

"Okay," Mark observed, grasping Molly's right breast, "I guess I understand. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't monopolizing the situation."

"You aren't," Molly said, and she took the opportunity to travel the length of Mark's torso, positioning her head at Mark's groin, taking his member into her mouth, positioning her rear within easy reach of my fingers, wriggling to let me know I should play with her. 

Mark let Molly do her thing, he knew we might be in for a long night, and while he accepted her courtesies, he remarked. "Don, if you two get into the mood, you know about swapping, don't you?"

"I've heard of it, yes."

"Well, sometimes finding a compatible couple, particularly the first time, can be a little difficult. I know a few other couples, if you'd like I could introduce you."

That wasn't a surprise to either Molly and I, we knew he was a swinger, either individually as he was doing with us, or as a couple with his ex-wife. "Thanks," I said, "If we decide to go that way, we'll let you know. It's very kind of you."

"Not at all. Oh, do that again." The last sentence had been addressed to Molly, she did it, again and again.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 10-11



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

 Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

Chapter 10

It was dark, I was in bed having a dream about flying an airplane, I think, when the plane started ringing. Gradually, I realized it was the phone that was ringing, wondered why Molly didn't answer it. Then I realized Molly wasn't there, she was on the Coast on business, so I picked it up. "Hello?"

"I woke you up, didn't I? I'm so sorry." 

I was groggy, looked at the clock, it read 1:20. What was Molly calling me about at that hour, we'd already talked earlier in the night. Then the fear of being woken hit me, "Are you all right?"

"Just fine dear, nothing's wrong, except I've got a little bit of a problem that I need your help with." Problem. What problem? Was she in trouble? She continued, "I'm sitting here at the hotel bar with Randy. Randy says he's twenty-three, but I don't know, he doesn't look more than twenty. But he's got a beer, and I saw the bartender card him, so I imagine he's at least twenty-one. Well, he and I got to talking, and he says he's got a Mrs. Robinson complex." Mrs. Robinson. Where did I know that from? Simon and Garfunkel, wasn't it? I was still out of it, trying to put together what Molly was saying. Wait, Mrs. Robinson. The graduate . . . The Graduate! Oh! "I told him, dear, that I wouldn't mind helping with his fetish, but I need to have your permission." 

I laughed, "Really!"

"Um-hmm."

"Do you want my permission?"

"Yes, I think I do."

"Is he good looking?"

"Oh, quite the beach boy," she remarked. "He says he's trying to be a law student at Saltine University out here, and he's got an interview tomorrow afternoon, and he should be relaxed, and I can help him relax, he says."

"Oh, I'll bet you can. Go ahead, have fun!"

"But sweetheart, I told him he's the one that has to ask you. Can I put him on?"

"Okay, sure." 

I waited a few seconds, heard the phone jumble, then a very young voice. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Don. You're Randy?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hear you've got something you want to ask me."

"Yes, sir. Well, I guess . . . I mean . . ." I waited for him to spit it out. "Well, I'm here with your wife, Anne, and she's very pretty, and we were talking to each other, and, well . . ."

I couldn't take it anymore, decided I'd help the poor guy out. "So you'd like to take her to bed?"

"Well, yes, sir, I mean, if it's all right with you."

"It's fine with me, son. Can I give you some advice?"

"Yes, sir."

"First, it's okay if you sir me, but don't ma'am her, that's not going to get the effect you want. Secondly, my wife likes plenty of variety. If you want to get anywhere with her, you can't just do one thing, you've got to keep it moving, got it?"

"Yes, sir, I think so."

"And lastly, listen, don't become a lawyer."

"Sir?"

"You sound like a nice guy, and the only people you want to screw should be women like my wife."

"Yes, sir," he replied seriously.

"Put her back on, would you? And have a nice night."

"Yes, sir."

Molly was back talking to me. "You sure about this?" I asked, "he seems pretty straight laced."

"A little. Saltine is a Christian college, after all. But I think I can work the kinks out." That made me laugh, if I knew my wife, he wouldn't be anything but kinks.

"Watch yourself. Do you have condoms?"

"There's a gift shop that's still open, I'll make him run an errand."

"Okay, well, have a lot of fun. Don't stay up too late, you've got meetings tomorrow, after all."

"I'm not running them, I can sleep through them. I'll just have to concentrate on not smiling too much. Randy's getting itchy, dear, gotta run."

"Call me tomorrow, let me know. Love you."

"Love you too!" and she was gone.

Sleeping was done for me, and least for awhile. I got to thinking about what my wife was doing, what Randy would be doing to her, what she would be doing to this young man. I got on the computer, looked at porn, masturbated thinking about Molly and Randy, and got tired again. Finally, I hit the pillows.

The next morning I took a break and called Molly's cell, 7:30 her time.

"Hello, my darling," she answered.

"So, how was it?"

"Absolutely wonderful. The boy was a little inexperienced, but he made up for it with attitude. I came twice as many times as he did."

"Two times zero equals zero," I joked, and she came right back with, "and ten times two is twenty! Actually, he came three times! It was so nice having a young thing like that. I'd love to tell you about it, but I've got to get ready for work."

"And I've got stuff around here I need to do. Call me tonight?"

"As soon as I get in the hotel, not later than ten your time, okay?"

"Okay."

~~~~~~~~~~

I was waiting for the call. "How was your day, dear?" We talked about the details of our lives, how the leak in the bathtub was running faster, I should call a plumber; her meetings and what her boss's boss said to her, the weather (her's was sunny and warm, mine not so much,) and after fifteen minutes we got to the topic I was most interested in. "I was sitting at the bar, dear, looking over the material I was going to present, and the bartender gave me another glass of wine. I told him I didn't want it, I was a little pissed at him because the one I was drinking wasn't half empty yet, and he pointed to Randy, about six seats down. I ignored him for a few minutes, trying to collect my thoughts, and he sat next to me. I thought he was handsome, in a Southern California way, blond hair and muscles, he was in jeans and a tee shirt. We chatted for a little while, we flirted, and all of a sudden he just asked out of the blue if I'd like to see the art in his room. I told him it was the same art in my room, and he said we should compare. I asked him if he could handle it, he said he'd like to find out, and I said okay if my husband doesn't mind. That's when we called you.

"He bought some condoms and we went up to his room, we got it on right away, you won't believe this but he was at least an inch longer than any of the other guys we've been with and much thicker." That meant he was a lot bigger than me, as well, but I didn't care, I know I satisfy Molly, and I wanted to hear about how she liked it. "I let him pretty much do what he wanted, I was wondering what a young guy was thinking, and the first time like every guy in the world he wanted missionary so I put a couple pillows under me, and he just went at it, pounding as hard as he could, it didn't do anything for me, and after about three minutes he started coming! I didn't have a clue, and then he was so quick. He apologized, and I said it was okay, even though I was a little pissed, and then an amazing thing happened - he didn't get soft. Oh, just a little bit, but I didn't have any trouble keeping him in me, and we shifted and I got on top. You know how I can move anyway I want, and with his big penis, I could do things I've never done before. Are you masturbating? I can hear your breathing."

I was, and my wonderful wife picked up on it, helped me.

"Oh, his huge cock was wonderful. When I sucked it, I could barely get my lips around it, and he tasted so sweet. When it was inside me, it stretched me, I was so tight, and if he went too deep he bumped up against the end of my hole, and it was so delicious. I've never felt anything like that before." That did it, I was spurting, and she waited for me to calm down.

"So what else did you do?"

"We went at it for a couple of hours. He was pathetic at eating me, didn't have a clue. but if we got into a position where he could be slow, it was incredible. He came again a half hour later and finally got soft, then we talked and played around and he got hard again, so I got him into some weird position on the chair, and we went round and round, and an hour later he came once more, just a little one."

"And you came?" 

"A bunch, it was erotic with me being out of town, and him so young and so big. Finally, I just got dressed and went to my room and got some sleep."

"Are you going to see him again tonight?"

"No, he drove home after his interview, and I've got a business dinner tonight, and even if he was in town I don't know if I'd want to - I was pretty sore down there this morning, used a lot of muscles I didn't know I had."

She had to get ready for dinner, I told her I loved her and I'd see her the next night when she got back in town.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly eleven when she finally made her way to the house, I was waiting for her with a glass of wine. It took her little time to make herself comfortable, and we got into it in the bedroom. She shared a few more details of her unexpected romp with Randy - how at one point he'd been pumping so hard while he was behind her that he fell off the bed, a new position she'd found on the coffee table. We were messing around, I found her ready, she came hard when I got behind her, standing on the floor, soon she turned around, her back on the bed, her legs locked around my waist, I couldn't hold back very long thinking (as always) that I was where another man had been not too long ago.

We laid together, embracing and fondling, talking. "One thing sort of upset me with Randy," she admitted, "he called you a cuckold. I don't think you're a cuckold, do you dear?"

"Depends on what you mean. If you mean a guy who's wife takes other men to bed, yes, and it doesn't bother me at all. If you mean a guy who's wife cheats on him, or he's being used, or that he's submissive and doesn't have any control over the situation, no, I'm not one."

"I'm glad to hear that. Randy's point, I guess, is that I'm free to do what I want, but you don't do anything. He thought that was a little weird."

"Maybe it is, for him. For us I think it's fine, that's the way we want it, and who's to tell us it's wrong?"

"Right," she agreed, "but dear, is it okay with you? Would you like to have other women?" She asked me this from time to time, I think she wanted to make sure my attitude wasn't changing.

"If it happened, I might want to, I won't rule it out. But I'm not in any hurry, and if it never does, I won't worry about it. I love you, dear, and you keep me satisfied. I don't need other women."

"I love you too. And I really don't need other men, either."

"But you like taking them to bed, don't you?" The sheepish look on her face told me silently that our hobby was a real pleasure for her. "So, are you going to pick somebody else up on your next business trip?"

"Oh, I shouldn't have done it this time. I don't want to get too wanton."

"I don't mind," I soothed her, "if you want to, it's fine with me."

"Well, I feel I should be careful, that's all. If this becomes a habit, I wonder if I'll be hurting our marriage. I don't ever want to do that."

"Don't worry about it, dear, we'll be together until we're old and grey and you're banging every guy in the nursing home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 11

Molly really did enjoy her hobby, making love to various men. We were discussing the topic one day, and she told me, "I like how they're attracted to me. It's not that I ever felt ignored or anything, but back when I was in my twenties, before we met, it seemed like every guy wanted to pick me up. Then, after we got married that went away. Of course, I didn't want the attention, I was a bride and that meant I had to give up other guys."

"But you've always flirted," I protested.

"Yes, but it's always been innocent. Even if the guy took it the wrong way, I knew nothing was ever going to happen. Now, when we meet a guy and I flirt, there's this dangerous little overtone that something might actually happen, that I'll be able to take it to the next step or even all the way. Sometimes I'll meet a guy while I'm jogging or in the supermarket, and I tingle for awhile, thinking 'what if'. And that's very exciting. Of course, when we meet a guy from SLS, and I know that there's a good chance I'll wind up in bed with him, it's intoxicating."

Another time she related, "I love the way men aren't the same. They do things just a little different. It's not that I'm bored with you, dear, it's just that we know each other so well that we do things almost by rote. With a new guy, I never know what he'll do next. And I find myself exploring - will he like a nipple tweaked? What will he smell and taste like?"

"What's the best part of sex with somebody new?" I asked.

"Oh, that's easy. The first kiss. You can tell so much by that. If he'll be aggressive, if I'll have to take the lead, if he's gentle or rough, oh everything. And then there's the foreplay. The first time with Mark, I was amazed at the way he felt my breast. He came up from the bottom, wasn't in a hurry, and played with the aureole for awhile without going directly for the nipple. It drove me nuts, and when he actually did touch it, it was like electricity. That's just an example, dear, nearly every guy I've had since we started had some little quirk that was different. It's fun! What's your favorite part?"

"You mean when I'm watching you? Well, the moment that drives me nuts is when he enters the very first time, watching you accept him inside you. It means you've got one more man that you're a lover with. And then, I love watching your face as you're having an orgasm."

We talked about things such as that quite a bit, it made the hobby a shared sport, and not just something she did alone.

Through the fall and winter we normally had between two and four men that we were corresponding with on SLS, men that might or might not become Molly's partner. One man was on our list for seven months before we finally met, it was an issue of our schedules not meshing. A couple of the guys got frustrated, said that we were teasing them, that we had no intention of ever meeting them. Molly insisted we drop those guys immediately, if we ever did meet them for a drink the atmosphere might be acrimonious, and if she decided not to take it further, then it could get uncivil. We could afford to be picky, there were so many single men looking for a woman that the ones who disqualified themselves could be replaced easily.

Throughout those six months we met nine men, three of whom Molly, and in one case I, rejected because they just didn't feel right. The one I rebuffed was all about himself, boasting of how he'd been with so many women, that all of them felt he was the best lover they'd ever had, that two women had wanted to leave their husbands after they'd had sex with him. Molly joked later that I caused her to miss God's gift to women, and said she was tempted just to see if he had anything at all in the sack, but I was sure she wasn't upset with my veto.

Why so few? From the pool of applicants Molly could have easily had a new lover every week, even two a week. But we didn't have unlimited time, there were other things in our lives, work, social engagements, the holidays came upon us. And then there was the thought that we wanted these things to be special, not become just an every day occurrence. For example, after Randy we waited three weeks until we both nearly exploded, "Let's have some fun." And we sent an invitation to one of the men on our list, it was accepted for the following weekend, we met at a bar then went to his place, both Molly and I enjoyed ourselves. The man thought it was great as well, but Molly chose not to give him a return engagement, he'd been less than fiery in the bedroom, and with so many others wanting a turn . . .

In fact, we only gave one of those guys a second chance, Molly didn't want another person in our life, for there was Mark.

As time went on, Mark became more and more of a friend, and we would see him once, perhaps twice a month, and Molly might sneak over to his apartment - with my knowledge and permission, of course - two other times during the month. And, surprisingly, sex wasn't always something that happened. When it did, it was wonderful, Molly thought Mark was a fantastic lover and when the three of us went at it, we meshed perfectly, Molly always crawled away from our triads gratified. And Mark and I constantly joked about, and sometimes found, a novel way to excite our lady. But when it didn't, when we just went to a play or jazz club together or for whatever reason we weren't in the mood, it was still a nice night with a friend.

Mark knew we saw men in addition to him, Molly said that a few times when she was in bed with Mark and I wasn't around he'd ask if she'd learned any new tricks, and she'd tell him a tale, and that would excite both of them further. As I said, it was a hobby, and hobbies are better when shared, aren't they?

It was a cold day in February, we were snuggled in bed on a wintry Sunday morning, and I tried to get Molly's attention. "Okay, you've been with two men at one time, would you like more?"

"More than two at one time?" She thought about it. "No, I really don't think so. I mean, I can do things with another guy and you, and sometimes you just like to watch, but if I had three or more guys trying to get my attention at the same time, I don't know what I'd do." The idea of a gang bang was discussed, Molly didn't want to be in one, she didn't think she'd feel safe or in control in such a situation, but it did give her another idea. One we acted on.

There were two men that Molly really liked on SLS, Kendall and Pat, and we sent out invitations for both of them to meet us the following Saturday, Kendall in the afternoon, Pat later. We got a hotel room about twenty miles away. After checking in we puttered around, I put six condoms on the night stand, and Molly made herself up. She donned a scarlet mesh chemise and matching panties, nylons, high heels and a choker. She was a temptress in red, and at 4:30 she sat in a chair and began reading a hardback of erotic stories while I headed for the bar. Kendall was already there, and when he saw that Molly wasn't with me he was a bit taken aback, but we sat at a table and chatted a bit. After I'd sized him up, decided he was acceptable, I got my phone out, dialed Molly, then handed the phone to him. 

I could hear his side of the conversation, "Yes, this is Kendall . . . oh, it's nice to hear your voice, too . . . I'd like to meet you, too, I thought you'd be here . . . really? . . . room 417 . . . All right." He handed the phone back to me, and I slid him a room card. "Have fun," I proffered, and he left the table. I sipped my beer, waited the agreed amount of time and then, eighteen minutes after Kendall had left the table, I headed for the elevators. I hesitated at the door to our suite, I could hear the faint slapping of skin but no words, then, precisely twenty minutes after Kendall had entered the room, I followed. There was Molly, kneeling on the bed, her top had been discarded but she still wore her heels, nylons, and panties - they were crotchless - and behind her stood an absolutely naked Kendall, his penis inserted where penises should be, Molly was moving away from him while he pulled back, then with gusto they roared towards each other, creating that lovely smack. I went to the chair, sat, Kendall smiled at me, Molly waved me a kiss and gasped, "Oh, Kendall's pretty good. In fact . . . I think . . . I'm going to . . . oh! OH! OHHHHHHH!" Kendall did seem pretty good, and he just kept going while he made my wife come hard, and then they shifted, Molly in reverse cowgirl. He had his hands all over her ass, with one arm she supported herself, with another she was tickling his balls, and then she started to come again, I noticed her hand went to her clit, and when she was done she laid on the bed, next to him. They kissed, fondled, and then she encouraged him to get on top, her heels high in the air, and she whispered encouragement to him as he let go, his moans soft yet intense. I watched him in his apparently painful grimace, Molly looked at me as he orgasmed, smiled as she gained another satisfied customer. It took him a few minutes to finish, then collapse in exhaustion, then they embraced. "Well, that was different," he remarked.




Passion & Perspective Ch. 10-11



"How so?"

"Usually, I have to spend at least an hour or two telling you two how much I like you, how it would be an honor and all that, most of the time it's obvious that I should just leave, sometimes they say we'll get together another time, maybe not. It seems like there's so many games to play. I've never just been offered to go into a room and just go at it like I did today. Thank you! Do you guys always do it like this?"

"No," Molly responded, "as a matter of fact, this is the very first time. We wanted so much to meet you, and this was the only time we had for a month or so. I'm sorry you can't stay longer, but we've got that function tonight . . ." we'd told him we were attending an awards banquet at the hotel ". . . and I really do have to get ready for it. Or do you think I should go like this?" We all laughed, he put his clothes on, gave her a last kiss, shook my hand, and he was gone.

"Good?" I asked.

"Pretty good, yes, quite nice in fact."

"Ready for act 2?"

"Can't wait. Order us a salad from room service, won't you?"

While we waited for the tray, Molly took a quick shower, I put the bed clothes back into position and straightened up the rest of the room so it would be impossible to tell Kendall had ever been there. After we finished our salad Molly got into her getup again, and a few seconds before seven o'clock I was back in the bar. There was Pat, and I knew immediately this would be Molly's fancy, tall, slim and athletic, an aggressive air without being egotistic. It only took me a few moments to put him at ease, then I got the phone out. He seemed surprised at the turn of events, but rolled very well with the punch, he quickly gave me a smile, accepted the card and was out the door.

I waited the settled upon twenty minutes, when I arrived in the room Pat and Molly weren't as far along as she had been with Kendall, in fact Pat still had his briefs on, Molly was down to her nylons, she was on her face on the bed, her rump in the air, Pat had his mouth on the button. Molly greeted me, "Glad you got here," and went back to the business of being pleasured. Pat seemed competent with tongue and fingers, Molly came quickly thereafter, scooted around and soon had his underwear off, his baton in her mouth. They seemed in no great hurry to unite, going back and forth between the two types of oral sex and kissing combined with fondling. At last they seemed ready, he put on the condom, sat on the coffee table, she faced him and straddled, it was clear from her wriggles and his grateful expression that he was inside her, the second of the night. Molly had a nice come in that position, they dropped to the carpet and Pat guided her into a angle I'd not seen before, he reclining, she on lying top of him, her back on his legs, his left leg pinioning her to him. She was able to control her movements by pushing with her arms, he could grab her hips and pull or push. "Oh, you should feel this Don, it's hitting my g-spot perfectly," and then she moved into a low groan. Pat smiled at me, it was obvious he'd been in threesomes before, knew that by pleasing the wife he was pleasing the husband as well. I took my clothes off and knelt on the floor, titilating Molly with kisses on lips and nipples, fondling the breasts, and then moving my fingers to her clit, rubbing her to assist in the ravishing, as usual my fingers scraped the top of his penis, it was almost unavoidable and by now I was used to the sensation. I placed my erection at Molly's face, she swallowed it, I closed my eyes, allowing the elation to spread through me. Molly sucked well, and then I felt a hand at my testicles. I thought it was Molly's, but when I looked, it was Pat, fondling my balls. I wondered about this, was it forbidden, was he gay, was I gay, but as it didn't seem to bother Molly, I thought, 'ah, what the hell' and just let it be, although a few moments later, when the paired couple shifted I removed myself from his vicinity. They were in another strange position, he kneeling in front of her, her shoulders on the ground in front of him, somehow she had her bum on his lap, he was able to push in and out of her. From a visual standpoint it seemed quite interesting, but I could tell it wasn't exciting to either of them, and before long he stretched his legs, they were in missionary, I put a pillow under her head, and they went to work. I could tell he was close, Molly pressed up with her legs, alining her vagina a little better for his thrusts, and he was grunting, spouting into my lovely bride.

Moments later they kissed, thank-you-it-was-wonderfuls were exchanged, Pat got up and strode to the bathroom. Molly stood as well, we faced each other, embraced, her breasts against my chest, her well used groin pressed to my cock. "So how was it," I asked, "two in one night?"

"Wonderful, fantastic. They were so different, I enjoyed them both. But I've had two in one night," she meant her other men and me, "and I want three."

"That can be arranged. No problem."

By that time, Pat had emerged from the toilet, he walked to Molly's back and pushed against her, pressing her harder into me. It seemed to a nice sensation for her, and as I kissed her lips, he kissed her neck. We moved to the bed, Molly wasted no time climbing on top of me, Pat sat beside us on the bed. While Molly moved her privates to her own rhythm, taking me along for the ride, Pat kissed her nipples, rubbed her ass. Then, he let his hand descend, I could feel it on my thighs, and then I could feel one of his fingers enter her canal from the rear, it was right next to my penis, inside her, his other fingers bumped my testicles as Molly rose and fell.

For me, the feeling was strange. It didn't feel bad, in fact I was able to enjoy the bizarre sensation, but of course my mind, conditioned to the idea that male to male contact is forbidden, rebelled at the idea. Perhaps he tired of the play, perhaps he felt my unsureness, he moved away, again he was behind Molly, straddling my legs with his, pressing her back with his front, his hands freely roaming her belly and breasts, and when he dipped to tickle her clit there was no more contact with me than I'd found to be normal. This closeness of two men excited Molly, she went into orgasm again, and this brought me to completion, I disgorged, it felt like a large load, for I'd been on the cusp so many times that day, first watching Kendall make love to Molly, then watching and participating as Pat did the same. 

This time it was me that went to the bathroom, and when I returned I found that Molly was once again in embrace with Pat, his shank still as limp as mine was, but Molly was having her fun as his hand invaded the promised land. I joined them on the bed, and Molly now made a game of facing first me, then him, toying with both of us, letting us play with her, it was clear she didn't want the night to end just yet. For a few seconds I fantasized that I might go down to the bar, find yet another culprit and let him come up to the room to stimulate Molly with her third - no, fourth - mate of the night, but I soon dropped the idea, for I didn't know if Molly would want it, and the logistics of the plan seemed complicated.

Before long, I saw that Pat was shifting until he had his face between my wife's legs, he was eating her with the slurping noises that accompany such activities. And his rump was in the air, within easy reach of my arms. His penis hung there, semi-erect now, it had been at least forty minutes since he'd peaked, it seemed he might be ready once again that evening, and I was struck with a sudden inspiration. Was it right, I wondered, and then realized I didn't care. I felt the strange rod with my palm, felt the heaviness of his testicles. The shaft responded to my touch, became a bit harder. He didn't take it away from my hand so much as moved to take care of Molly a bit better, in a few moments he had her on her knees, he put another condom on, and thrust into her once again. I was lying next to them, watching the festivity, and he bent and took my limpness into his hand, caressing it gently. For a few seconds I allowed it, after all, hadn't I started it? But soon the strangeness of the situation got the better of me, I shifted above Molly, she took me into her mouth.

I could tell that Molly was enjoying the coition, but was unlikely to come again, she'd reached her wall. On the other hand, she wanted Pat to have everything he wanted, so once again she moved below him, on her back, and he was above her, inside her. She whispered the magic words, "Screw me as hard as you can," and he did, furious heaves meant to push into her as deeply as he could, plunges designed to release the fluid, Molly helped him by putting an arm between them and grabbed the stub of cock she could reach. It took four or five minutes, but discharge he did, Molly taking yet another load. 

This time it was Molly's turn to head for the toilet, and the two guys laid on the bed, a good four feet from each other on the gigantic mattress. "Do you guys do this often?" Pat asked.

"Every once in awhile."

"You seem so used to it, so comfortable."

"We are, I guess. Molly likes a variety of men."

By this time she'd rejoined us, sat on the side of the bed beside Pat. "That's not bad of me, is it?" she asked. "I like having different men, I really enjoyed you, Pat, is it any more wrong for me than it is for a man?"

"No, absolutely not," Pat philosophized, "I've always felt that sex is meant to be fun, and I had a lot of fun with you guys tonight."

"I'm so glad," Molly responded. "So did I. How about you, Don?"

"A ball." The undertone in Molly's delivery was kind, but it was obviously meant to convey that the night was over for Pat. He took the hint, put his trousers and shirt on, I got fluffy hotel robes from the closet for Molly and I. When he had everything buckled and buttoned, he took his leave, once again thanking us for the hospitality, a final kiss and hug for Molly, nothing more than a firm handshake with me.

I would have excited Molly more that night had she wanted, but she seemed suddenly fatigued, she dropped off to sleep not more than fifteen minutes after Pat left, I held her then slept myself. 

When we were able to dissect the revelry the next day, Molly agreed that it was a ball, but it seemed a little contrived, she was a little sorry that she'd had to kick Kendall out so quickly. Pat was a great playmate, and she might have been tempted to have another fling with him, but since I was ambivalent about it, the male to male contact hadn't quite settled with me yet, we never got around to it. 

It was weeks before I brought up the subject with Molly, and her attitude was one of assurance. "Dear, all the preachers say it's wrong for me to have sex with anyone other than you. I don't buy it, you don't either. So the preachers say it's wrong for Pat to touch you, or the other way around. I don't believe that any more than the other. So, it's really up to you. If you don't mind, and Pat doesn't mind, why should I? The next time, if there is one, if you want to do whatever, go right ahead. If I'm the one sitting on the sidelines, I'll be cheering you on, just like you do with me. Don't worry about it."

And I didn't.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 12-13



Chapter 12

As the days went on, I discovered Molly was really turned on by having had two guys one after the other, and we discussed the vagaries of the evening for quite a few of the ensuing nights. We may have set a modern record for days of sex in a row. In her wisdom Molly decided not to suggest Pat again, I'm sure she realized I had ambivalent feelings about the way the other man and I had touched, although we both recognized that he was a more than competent lover. We also fantasized about having three, four or even more partners for Molly in a night, or even at one time. Molly reconsidered a group event in which she was the center of attraction, but except in fantasy she was concerned it might get out of control. "What if one of the guys started hitting me, or didn't want to use a condom, or something like that?" In the end, it remained a pipe dream.

The week before Valentine's Day I got a call from Mark. "Listen, Don, I need to know how you'd feel about something. You know I like Molly quite a bit, and in the romantic spirit of the season, I'd like to take her out some night. Of course, I don't want to interfere with anything you're doing . . ."

I saw where he was going, quickly decided it didn't bother me in the slightest. "Don't worry about it, take her out, let her know how you feel, have a great time. When were you thinking about inviting her?"

"Either the eleventh or the twelfth, depending on schedules. If that doesn't work, perhaps the week after. I'm sure you'd like the weekend to yourself."

"That's very thoughtful." This was a little odd, coordinating Valentine's Day with my wife's boyfriend. "Just one thing, Mark, don't go overboard if you get her a gift, we don't want to make it a competition or anything."

So I wasn't at all surprised when Molly asked me if she could meet Mark on a Wednesday evening and I quickly consented. I waited up for her, she was home before midnight, and she wore a red knit dress, not too short, a bit conservative even. "How was it?" I started.

"Lovely, really nice. He took me to a nice Italian restaurant and gave me these," showing me a pair of red heart earrings that sported her lobes. They were simple metal, but I could tell Molly fancied them, or at least the sentiment behind them. 

"And then?"

"Oh, we went back to his place, he was on his game tonight, we began in the kitchen, went to the living room, ended up in the bedroom." It was then that she turned the charm on me, we made love passionately, if not acrobatically, but the time we spent was a bit short owing to the hour. "Dear," she said as we were preparing to sleep, "you know how much I love you, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, I appreciate that you let me see Mark, but I just have to tell you that if there was ever a time I had to make a choice, it'd be you, hands down. I wouldn't think twice. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do! But I don't think you'll ever have to make that choice. Don't worry about it." And we nodded off to sleep, naked and cuddling.

Molly made arrangements for the weekend, we drove up into the mountains to a resort, had a deluxe suite with a jacuzzi, there were hiking trails through the snowy forest, the restaurants had specials for the romantic weekend. My gift to her was a crystal wine carafe inscribed with our names enclosed in a heart, she had a new, quite expensive, wrist watch for me. The room was filled with candles and flowers, and on Sunday afternoon, we were almost ready to swear off sex but, of course, that didn't last very long.

~~~~~~~~~~

That week over dinner Molly told me, "I got a call from Mark today. One of his clients gave him four tickets to the play at the John Fitzgerald Center Saturday night, and he wanted to know if we were interested."

We'd been thinking about that comedy and I was interested. "Do we have anything going that night?"

"There's a cocktail party over at the Stoneson's. I don't think they'd be upset if we cancelled." 

My mind went to the thought of a threesome, "Why not? Let's go. Wait, did you say four tickets? Is Mark bringing someone?"

"Yeah, his date is going to be his ex-wife." We knew about her, how they still saw each other from time to time, so sex wouldn't be a part of the evening. Still, it sounded better than another stupid party. We accepted the invitation.

~~~~~~~~~~

We showed up at Mark's house about 5:30, had cocktails and got to meet Dee. I sized her up, a medium height blond which made her the shortest of the group by far, her dress was a conservative frock, a bit tight for her noticeably overweight frame. She had an aggressive demeanor, I noticed she was critical of the water spots on her wine glass, Mark just ignored it. We drove into downtown and ate at a cafe Mark was familiar with, then headed for the play. I thought the entertainment was amusing if not superb, at intermission Dee remarked that the lead actress had a very soprano voice, it came across at times as shrill.

After the play there was a quandary as to if we should have a late snack in the city, or head for Mark's, he had a cake, and the decision was made for the condominium. At a stop light Dee pulled Mark to her for a kiss, Molly and I followed suit.

In the apartment the romantic atmosphere continued, Mark turned the fireplace on and while Molly and I sat on the couch, Mark sat on a chair, Dee at his feet, she stroked his leg suggestively. The conversation was about culture and travel, Dee seemed to have seen every play, gone every place, had an opinion about everything. I noticed at times she'd look at me, wink or perhaps lick her lips. After the coffee and cake, and an after dinner drink or three, the conversation slowed, and Dee climbed into Mark's lap. My wife and I picked up on the ambiance, started kissing. Soon we noticed that other couple was doing quite more than kissing, Dee had Mark's shirt open, his hand was a long way up her skirt.

When in Paris, eat at the sidewalk cafe, I figured, so without resistance I began to strip Molly, she did the same for me. The other couple was more advanced than us, though, Molly didn't object when I watched Dee get down to bra and panties, then Mark removed the bra revealing heavy breasts, a bit droopy, and when Dee stood in front of her ex-husband, facing us, and looked me straight in the face as she dropped her panties, I got my first look at a naked woman, other than my wife, in decades. 

Dee sat in the chair, Mark went down in front of her, performed cunnilingus upon her, and Molly, now dressed as Dee was, laid upon me and whispered, "Dear, I think that if I went over to Mark, Dee would come over here. Would you like that?"

Sex with another woman! Did I want that? And I came to a quick decision, "No, dear, I want you."

We continued at our pace, the other couple loitered at theirs, and Molly didn't mind that I watched Mark and Dee copulate because at the same time, Molly and I were linked in love. I heard Mark and Molly's familiar keens, Dee's were loud and exuberant, and I added to the chorus. It was rousing watching Dee's large breasts sway as Mark took her from behind, and I came watching the other couple in cowgirl, Dee's plump behind whirling rapidly, Mark's penis visibly pumping in and out of his ex-wife.

After forty minutes had passed, all four of us were drained, Molly and Dee strolled to the kitchen for more coffee arm in arm, their backs deliciously exposed. "Well, that was interesting," I observed.

"You two ever do anything like this before?" Mark asked.

"No, but there's nothing like the first time, is there?"

The girls returned, we sipped the liquid, another slice each of the cake was consumed, there was no shame being dressed as a pair of Adams and Eves. I felt that Dee was taking inventory of my assets, and although there was no desire in my body for her, I felt a new chink in our joint pastime had been opened, I wondered where it might lead. A half hour after the sex, Molly and I were in the car, heading for home. "You didn't want her, did you?" Molly asked.

"No, not really."

In a concerned, kind voice she asked, "Why not? I'm sure she wanted you. Is it because you don't want to have another woman?"

"No, that isn't it. It's just that, well, her attitude about life turned me off."

"I know what you mean. An opinionated little bitch, isn't she? I can understand why Mark doesn't want to live with her." We both laughed at that. Then Molly continued, "But you liked watching her and Mark, didn't you? As much as you like watching me with Mark or somebody else?"

"I did enjoy it," I admitted.

"You old pervert," Molly laughed, "I can't wait to get you home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13

One Saturday morning over coffee Molly asked, "Are you planning on watching basketball all day? It's that stupid tournament, isn't it?"

"I might watch a little bit, but it's only the second round, nothing important, why?"

"I was thinking we could go out to dinner tonight. There's a new restaurant open out by the highway that I've heard quite a bit about."

"Okay." I didn't think anymore about it until about 6:30 I heard the shower running, I went up and got in, soaped Molly's back, may have played with the front. She didn't ignore me, but stopped short of letting me release into her mouth. "Save it for later," she demanded, "I've got plans." I complimented her on her get up, a little sexy with short skirt, halter top under a three quarter sleeve blazer.

We headed for the restaurant, it was one of those that have lighting so low you can't read the menu, after a forty minute wait we shared an appetizer, a bottle of red and ordered steaks. It was after ten by the time we were done, and as we passed the Marriott on our way home, she said, "Let's stop for a nightcap." Molly needed to head for the girl's room, so I waited for her on a bar stool. I was a bit surprised when she decided to sit on the opposite side of the bar, as she had those many months ago. Fifteen minutes later I watched as she was approached by a man, middling height, thirty-fiveish, brown hair. She let him sit next to him, accepted his drink, went into full flirt, her hand on his arm, smiling, playing with her hair, perhaps a hand on his knee. I could see them chatting, and after she finished her drink she led the man to a booth. After a few moments, Molly let the gentleman kiss her, his hand was on her thigh, I could feel his desire. Soon her hand was in his lap, I could sense the question he asked. 

It was then that Molly gestured to me, demanding I join them. I strolled to the table, sat beside her. "Peter, let me introduce Don. Don, this is Peter. He wants to go to a room with me. I told him I would. But, Peter, here's the thing. Don likes to watch me when I have sex. Is it okay if he watches us fuck?" 

As I would, he looked skeptical. "Is this some kind of a scheme? Are you going to blackmail me or something?"

"You're not married, are you Peter? Of course not, you're not wearing a ring." It was possible that a few hours before there had been one on his finger, but it was naked now. "So how could we blackmail you? No, the only thing I'm interested in is seeing how big of a dick you've got. And then what it feels like. Is there anything of mine you'd like to see, to feel?" She took that moment to lean toward him, let him smell her. 

"Well, I guess so." He still seemed a little hesitant, wondering what stroke of luck had come his way, what entrapment there might be in the offer. But he bit. "Yeah, sure, I'll show you a good time."

"All right then," and she pushed him out of the booth. "Get the check, dear," after laying a bill on the table I had to hurry to catch up with them. We grabbed an elevator, Molly pushed the seventh button, and when the door closed she pressed into Peter, kissed him thoroughly. "Oh, I can feel it, you're hot for me."

The elevator opened, Molly led us, almost as a trot to room 724, opened the door with a key she had. Inside she turned on the desk lamp and the two bedside lights, then brought her pawn to the bed. "Kiss me, Peter," she requested in a sultry voice. They began foreplay, Peter looked to me once or twice, but then seemed to decide he was in high water, might as well start swimming, and he grabbed for Molly's breast. Molly took a moment to toss me her purse, commanded, "Get the camera out, dear, go ahead and take pictures." Whoa, wow! I'd asked her before to let me document her indiscretions, but she'd resisted the request, and now she was going to let me go ahead!

By the time I got the camera turned on, Peter had her halter down, was kissing a nipple, Molly started moaning, but I knew it was fraudulent, meant to excite Peter. I started snapping, there was plenty of light, she had her breast in Peter's mouth, then the blouse over her head, Peter was wondering which teat to pay attention to, Molly was stripping Peter of his shirt, they were lying next to each other, their chests meeting. I photographed the next act, Molly's skirt flying off, the zipper of his pants being unfastened, the garment surrounding his knees as Molly took his rather ordinary penis into her mouth. Unlike Molly's, his groans seemed quite realistic. Another scrum as the rest of their clothes were discarded, then Molly was on her back, her nipples extended as Peter was sucking on her clit. Her noises now seemed more genuine, but I couldn't ascertain the graduated gasps that are the audible sign of her orgasm. Five minutes passed, Molly let him get into 69 above her, they sucked together. Another shift, you could tell Peter wanted to climb aboard but Molly entreated, "You need to put a rubber on."

"It's a lot better without one," he whined.

"I know, but Don always insists I use one." He reluctantly accepted the packet, she helped him wear it. Before she let him go any further, she turned to me, "What position would you like, dear?" She'd never asked me how she should use another man before, I wondered why now. "What do you think would make the best pictures?"

"Oh, probably you on top of him," I suggested.

"Good, I think so, too." She pushed him onto his back, kissed him, I heard her say, "You're going to have a good time. Try not to come too fast, I want to use you for awhile." Then she straddled him, I snapped pictures as she rose above him, pointed the clad pony toward her innards, smiled for the camera as she slowly sunk down. Then she went to work, pleasuring herself, slow movements up and down, her hips in a circle. I flipped the switch to video, the camera captured the action as she bent to meet his mouth, rose into the most erect of postures, moved a leg onto his arm, let the staff massage her interior, you could tell she was close, and then the camera caught her gasps as she burst, then quickly came down from the height. She opened her eyes, stared at her comrade, "That was wonderful, Peter, just what I wanted. Thank you for taking your time with me." She got off him, sat beside him, wanked the still erect penis, ensuring that the condom was still situated as she excited him, and asked, "Your turn, what would you like?" 

Unsurprisingly - there was nothing astonishing about this man - he wanted to be above her, and she let him position her as he craved, and soon he was between her upraised knees, she used a hand to point the tool at his desired spot, and he immersed himself. He began to thrust with force almost at once, Molly rose to meet him, and smiled broadly, it's a wonderful portrait. In less than a minute, his breaths came hard, then he actually stopped breathing, he shuddered once, twice, slowly forced his way inside one more time, he was finished. 

He was a sport about letting me photograph him taking the condom off, a long thread of spunk dripping onto the bedclothes, Molly spread her legs for the camera, her vulva puffy and rosy with the amorous exercise. Peter put his clothes on as Molly covered up in the bed, "Thank you so much."

"Sure, no problem," he responded.

"Can I ask you a question," Molly requested. "Peter's not your real name is it?"

"No."

"That's okay, mine's not Anne, either. Have a wonderful night," and the door closed with him in the hall. Molly looked to me, "Would you do me a great favor, dear? Go into the trunk of the car and get the suitcase."

By the time I got back, Molly was in the bed, I saw only uncovered shoulders, I was more than sure the rest of her body was wearing the same. As we kissed I smelled the sweetness of soap, the flower of her perfume, in the few minutes I'd been gone she'd showered for me.

She encouraged me to undress, join her, soon I was embedded in my wife, we were utilizing our favorite gentle position, and with kisses on her nipples and a massage of her clitoris I had her in an orgasm more powerful than Peter would ever have managed to bring out of her. 

A few minutes later, when she was competent of speech, I began the discussion. "You had this all planned, didn't you?"

"I've been working on it a couple of weeks, did it please you?"

"Immensely. It was quite a surprise."

"Do you know what this day is?" She asked. I didn't have a clue. "It's our second anniversary. Two years ago, right in this room, I had another man, Keith, for the first time."

"Remember how you were so reluctant back then?"

"It sort of seems silly now, doesn't it? I was a afraid of what it would do to us. But it hasn't harmed us at all, has it? In fact, we're even happier now than then, aren't we?." I had to agree, our marriage seemed better, stronger. And then I was making her come again, happily, and I joined her in heaven.

The next morning, as soon as she rose, she took the SD card from the camera, put it in her purse. Sometimes, we watch the home made pornography together.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 14-15



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.


Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

*

Chapter 14

After our second anniversary event, we didn't meet with new men for over half a year, only occasionally did Molly go over to Mark's for an evening, even less frequently was a three way tryst. Both Molly and I got very busy with our jobs, not going in to work on the weekend was a treat for awhile. There seemed a dearth of interesting men contacting us on SLS, perhaps we were getting a little picky. And, finally, it wasn't that Molly lost her interest - she continued to affirm that if the right guy came along she'd be happy to jump his bones - it was just that after two years of threesomes, she was getting a bit bored; the exercises, after all, were pretty much the same, and if she wasn't convinced that the next guy was going to either come up with something new or else be superior at the sport, why bother? She was content with me most of the time, and Mark knew how to hit her buttons for a change.

After the kids were back in school and we saw them strolling the downtown district in their uniforms on Saturdays, we seemed to get the bug again. We considered two or three guys from SLS, even met one at a bar, but they didn't do a lot to turn Molly on, she begged off when push turned to thrust. Then one night, as we were playing around in our bed, she asked me if we might like to play with Mark and Dee again. "I'm not against it, dear, it was a lot of fun watching and being watched, but really, I'm not excited about her as a partner."

"Just her," Molly asked, "or all other women?"

"Well, I'd have to see the woman, I guess."

"So, if you found the right woman, you'd like to go to bed with her?" I hesitated, wondering if it might be a trick question - you never know what's going through a woman's mind - and she persisted, "If you wanted to, I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, I think I'd like a foursome."

"Me, you, and another couple? You'd take the guy, I'd take the girl?"

"Exactly. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" My erection was giving me away.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, should I ask Mark if he knows a couple that might be interested in meeting us?"

"I'm not sure about that," I obstructed, "if we met them and didn't like them, it might get awkward since they know Mark, don't you think?"

She thought for a moment, "It doesn't seem much of a problem to me, but if you think it is, well, okay. Do you have any other ideas?"

Actually, I did. Even though Molly's SLS profile stated quite clearly that we wanted only single males, every once in awhile we got an email from a couple, they split into two categories. The first was a couple looking for a single woman to join them, to please both the man and the woman. When I first let Molly know about those offers, she turned them down flat. "I'm not sure about how I'd like a woman kissing me, or doing that kind of stuff. And letting her watch me screw her husband sounds a little weird to me. I don't think so."

The second kind was from couples who wanted to meet both of us. None of those couples were particularly interesting, they seemed a bit desperate, but there were others out there, close to our age, who'd I'd looked at more for grins than anything else. Perhaps, just perhaps . . .

The next night we had some time, together we searched for couples that might be interesting. We defined a criteria, the couple had to be between forty-five and sixty years old and live within 40 miles of us. We were actually shocked to find there were more than 240 couples like that. When we read the profiles, many of them were immediately rejected, they didn't match our interests (for example, we weren't into Harley Davidsons,) or we didn't care for their pictures, or they just seemed plain weird - ('She does NOT play with men so don't ask' read one profile.) But still, we assumed if we winnowed them down, we could find a few couples we might find interesting.

Based on that finding, we created another profile, this one for both of us, and it was clear that our interest was couples. We indicated in the text that we were just starting out as a twosome, although we'd had some experience with threesomes. A couple of pictures were up for effect, one of us at a party (the faces were blurred,) another of Molly in a babydoll.

We waited a few days, and got a few emails. Most of them were from single males, many of them guys we'd rejected in our other alter ego. For them I created a stock answer, "No thank you, we said we weren't interested in single males." Finally, I just cut them off from accessing that profile altogether. 

We also picked out ten profiles that seemed extremely interesting to us, and we sent inquiry's directly to them - five never responded, three said no-thank-you, but there were the two.

Ten days after we put our new profile up, we had some couples that we were at least mildly interested in, that we had sent two or three emails back and forth. From those, we selected three to concentrate on. The first was a couple that were, according to them, complete beginners to the sport; they seemed very interested, and the idea of being the first ones to have them was appealing. The second was a couple that, according to their pictures, was almost too good looking; after awhile we got the feeling, however, that they were in somebody's bed almost every week, and we decided that we wanted someone who'd be a bit more selective. The third was a couple that said they'd had a few experiences, they preferred to go slow. We set up meetings with the first and third couples.

The neophytes Coleen and Bill were anxious to get together, we set up a date. It was a Wednesday night that we met, 8:30 in the evening, they made it clear that there would only be drinks and conversation, nothing else would happen. Molly stressed about what she would wear, finally decided on a skirt and blouse, not too risqué, yet I thought it exuded her desirability, of course I was in business casual. When we got there, a few moments before the appointed time, the bar had only a few people in it, only one other couple, and none of the men were wearing the brown blazer Bill said he'd wear. We sat at a table, ordered a drink, and waited. After fifteen minutes we thought we'd been stood up, but at ten minutes to nine, the door opened, the couple entered, a bit flustered. We greeted them, handshakes all around although Molly offered her cheek to Bill for a kiss.

The waitress brought them drinks, and we began a very pleasant conversation, finding out about each other, sizing each other up. Bill was almost as tall as I, salted hair, clean chin, firm voice. I wasn't worried about him, Molly had accepted lesser men into her bed. Coleen, on the other hand, was a bit timid, didn't seem to want to make eye contact with me. Physically, she was a brunette, greek nose with high cheeks, brown eyes, bangs that drooped over her eyebrows. She wasn't tall, only about five feet five or so, and the skirt she wore showed fleshy limbs. She was no more overweight than most women our age are, if she wasn't slim neither was she chunky. I gave her a seven, above average. 

The parley went well, like us they enjoyed food and wine, Bill certainly knew a cabernet from a chardonnay, they'd traveled around the country, to a few resorts in the Caribbean, they were planning on going to Paris one of these years. Molly told a story about a mime we met there that she got to talk, we encouraged them to visit the Cinque Terre in Italy. The music was at a semi loud level, there was no one at the tables near us, after the second round was delivered we got to the more salient topic.

"We've been married thirty-two years," Bill explained, "never any problem but sex got boring, of course. Our youngest daughter left for school three years ago, and we got to talking about, well, you know. Colleen said we could start looking around about four months ago, and you guys are the third couple we've met up with. We haven't done anything yet, I guess we're just exploring right now."

"Are you interested in doing something like this, Colleen?" I asked.

She stared at a painting on the wall behind me, admitted, "I think so. I'd like to try, I guess. Bill thinks we should."

"I think you're quite lovely," I complimented, getting a thank you in return and a compliment from Bill to Molly. My wife was into minor flirt, she would catch Bill's eye and smile at him, a couple of times she touched his arm with her hand, but more obvious gambits were reserved, I assumed Molly was more circumspect because of Colleen's apparent reluctance to engage in coquetry with me.

They got our history out of us, Molly admitted she'd been with me and another man on a 'few' occasions, we were now looking for a couple to sport with, hadn't found anyone yet. She did relate how we'd been in the same room as another couple while we made love. That seemed to enliven Coleen a bit, she licked her lips as if they were dry. 

The talk slowed, it was obvious both couples had discovered enough, the eventual outcome was still in doubt. As they rose to leave, Bill offered, "You two are a great couple, we need to talk about it. Can we get back to you?"

"Of course you can," Molly agreed, I got a tiny hug from Coleen, Molly put her breast fully into Bill's arm and chest, I'm sure he was hyped that night as he took Colleen to their bed. 

"Well, that was something," Molly said after they were gone, "I'm giving 3 to 1 odds against." 

I agreed with her, I didn't think we'd see them again, but when Molly asked me what I thought of Coleen I answered, "I liked her well enough, I don't think I'd kick her out of bed, don't know how hard I'd work to get her there."

Molly laughed at my frank opinion, "I think Bill might be interesting. If they want to get together again, should we accept?"

"Sure, why not? And speaking of that, is there anybody here you want to pick up?" She laughed, quaffed her drink, and drove home, where we shagged on the kitchen table.

Like us, the next couple, Staci and Hoyt, had things going on in their life, although we all seemed interested it wasn't for two more weeks that we could get together with them. When we met them, there was an immediate attraction. They'd been waiting for us, and we were five minutes early, Molly offered a cheek, Staci, a blond just a couple of inches shorter than Molly, seemed to take me in from toe to head, then met me with a slight embrace, I could smell her perfume. "My, aren't you interesting," she flattered. They were a little older than us, Hoyt had passed his sixtieth birthday, we sat and chatted in a bar they'd selected. Hoyt's hairline had receded past the north pole, but Molly seemed to like what was offered, almost immediately she dove into half flirt mode. I had no problem making eye contact with Staci, and she put her hand on mine from across the table. 

We went through the rigamarole you do when you first meet someone, we found out Hoyt was a middle manager in a government consulting company, Staci had always been a stay at home mom, three kids, the youngest was now approaching thirty. After half an hour the conversation dragged, not because of lack of interest, I thought, but because we all wanted to explore a more intimate subject and the bar was too crowded, a little loud on a Friday night.

"Listen," Staci invited, "I baked two pies this afternoon, and we only live a half mile from here."

"Sure, we'd be pleased," Molly agreed for both of us.

On the short drive, following their Ford, we discussed our new situation. "Do you think anything's going to happen?"

"I don't know, I kept getting mixed signals."

"Me too. But if they want to I'm game."

"So am I. Let's just go with the flow."

Hoyt opened the front door, we found ourselves in the foyer of a suburban ranch house. Staci already had the coffee brewing, it was obvious she was the mistress of her kitchen, although she indulgently allowed Molly to assist her with the coffee cups and spoons.

Hoyt showed me to an L-shaped sectional couch, we made small talk about sports while the women worked, soon we were joined by them, a tasteful tray being borne by Staci. She took charge, poured the coffee, got us our pie, a choice of pumpkin or apple, I was sure neither came out of a can. It took little time to get to the theme.

"So," Hoyt said, "you two are new to foursomes?"

"We are," Molly explained. "We've had just one experience, we were in the same room with some friends when they were making love, we did too, but there was no sharing. We've had some threesomes."

"Is that delectable?" Staci asked, "It's something that's been on our minds, but I haven't tried it yet." Molly told them how she felt, I added the excitement of watching her, during the explanation I thought Hoyt became a bit more inspired. 

"How did you guys get into it?" Molly asked.

"It's all my fault," Staci began. "Quite a few years ago now, I was completely bored with Hoyt, with my life, so I had an affair. I only made love to him three times, I didn't even like him that much, my therapist told me it was a cry for help. Hoyt caught us in our bed, and we went through hell for a couple of years."

"I loved Staci," Hoyt continued, "I didn't want to lose her, but I was mad as hell. It took some time to get over it, but we finally did, and that's when we could finally go forward. Then I began questioning about what it was like for her to have a lover, she offered me the chance to get even - I didn't, but thought about it, a prostitute or something. Then somehow we found out about the Lifestyle, and we started investigating. It took us a year and a half to dip our toes in the water, because of her affair I was gun shy. Then we started meeting couples, we must have frustrated them because we couldn't quite pull the trigger. One night I said the hell with it, we went over to one couples' apartment and just did it. The next morning we felt guilty as hell. But then we started talking, really talking, sharing our emotions, and we found out both of us wanted to go ahead. Since then, four years now, we've been with five or six couples. Very nice people, but we're the kind who take our time. Let me ask you a question, since you're new to this part of it. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I'm positive about it," I confirmed. "For the longest time, my fantasy was to see Molly with somebody, and after a lot of talking about it we made it happen. It's been fantastic, we've even made a real good friend with one of her boyfriends. Even from the start, before she agreed this was something she wanted to get into, Molly wondered if I wanted women, but I kept telling her she should be the center of attention. It's been over two years since the first time, and I never got jealous, just happy. And now, I've discovered that I've become very interested." With the last sentence, I gave Staci a long look that expressed, I hoped, that I'd love it if she would be the woman to take my swinging virginity.

She confirmed the attraction, "Hoyt and I like you two, it's the fastest we've ever agreed on another couple. But, well, we've got a little rule. The first time we're with someone, we keep it to soft swap." I gave a look of curiosity, Hoyt clarified. "That's when you'd be with Staci, Molly you'd be with me, and we'd be able to do anything we want, even oral sex, but no intercourse. Normally, we swap back to finish off. Would that be something you'd be interested in?"

Molly gave me a questioning look, saw my green light, responded, "That'd be fine with us." I was sure that if we were on the same couch, Molly would have sealed the deal with a kiss, Staci solved that problem by moving over beside me while Molly crawled to the other section.

I couldn't help myself, during the shift I asked, "And after the first time, do you go all the way?"

"Full swap, dear," Staci answered, "sometimes we do, sometimes we don't. It depends." Then she pulled me to her lips. For the very first time in decades I tasted the sweetness of another woman's lipstick, felt her tongue against my teeth. I tried to take in every nuance of the moment, how her hair was more brittle than Molly's, her breasts against my chest pulpy in a way Molly's weren't. And, since Molly was the only thing I had to compare with, except for a few ancient memories, I found I was contrasting everything Staci did in relation to my wife. We semi-reclined, her upon me, her fingers brushed my neck with tentative pressure, I had my hand against her ass, more rounded, again more pliable. In fact, all of Staci's attributes were softer than my wife's. In a lull, I looked over my shoulder to the progress Molly was making, she was sitting on Hoyt's lap, he had his hand inside her blouse.

Staci wondered to the group, "Would we be more comfortable in the bedroom?" Murmurs of agreement filled the air, Staci led me down a hall, we were followed by Hoyt and Molly. Staci and I took the left side of the queen sized mattress, there was plenty of room as long as no one worried about a little bumping, and no one did.

Staci and I laid on our sides facing each other, we kissed a bit more, she took my hand, placed it on her breast. It was clear she wanted me to progress more quickly, I had no problem following her lead. I squeezed the appendage, and while I did, Staci pulled her sweater over her head, I traced the edges of the bra, Staci waited for me to poke a finger inside, touch her nipple for the first time. Around the back I went, fumbled as a schoolboy with the clasp, I mentally excused myself, the fabric was tighter than Molly's usually was, but Staci was patient, unbuttoned my shirt, helped me take it off, and finally I was able to get that damed brassiere off. We went back to kissing, I felt the strangeness of another set of boobs touching my chest, and I enjoyed how they squished. Then I tasted the nipple, the texture a little rougher, the nib a bit larger. Staci enjoyed the sensation, I felt her relax, breathe heavily in glee. While I paid attention to both the globes, Staci pulled her slacks down, kicked them off, then helped me to do the same. In the process she touched my hardness, and I was so very hard. My hand snuck across her belly, down her hip, along the outside of her leg to the knee, inside, up the softness of her thigh, when I approached the promised land Staci spread her legs slightly, she was open to me.

I touched the elastic of her panties, felt the cotton, my palm was over her vulva. There was a bit of moisture wetting the protecting fabric, Staci spread even further when I shifted the hem to the side, she was exposed to my touch. I felt the pubic hairs, strangely thick and furry, found the labia meaty, a little exploration found a clitoris hard and extended, and then I dipped inside. Staci wasn't as tight as I was used to, she seemed a bit less lubricated, but she was no less appreciative of my finger being immersed in and out.

I took the status of the other couple, found we were slightly behind, Hoyt and Molly were naked, she was kneeling to his side, his dick was being swallowed, he had his hand where the sun doesn't shine. I went back to my work.

I shifted down, knelt to the side of the bed, Staci moved to point towards me, I removed her panties. To my eyes her bush, although the sides were trimmed, was fully grown. In a strange way it was erotic, I'd gotten used to my wife being bald. I licked first the outside lips, then the long slit from bottom to top, I tasted the inside, slightly more acidic but far from unpleasant, moved the folds of skin and looked at her clit, smaller than Molly's, yet pinker, shinier. I placed the tip of my incisor at the tiny rod, scraped it, was rewarded by a short shriek from my new woman. I sucked on the button, this gained more cries, then massaged it with my tongue, very lightly nibbled on it. Staci went nuts, her legs spasming, I had a difficult time staying with her, when she moved away from my mouth, I placed a finger inside her tunnel, searched for the pulpous roof. Staci calmed, I went back to my task, again the woman twitched, and yet I felt a hand on my scalp encouraging me to keep at it. I admit I was having a ball, tasting and feeling and firing a woman who was strange to me three hours earlier. I suddenly had one of those moments when I realized, 'so this is what the other guys have been feeling with Molly!' 




Passion & Perspective Ch. 14-15



Staci pulled me up by an arm, we were lying together, she got me to pull my briefs off, my erection was engulfed in her pubic hair, I really wanted to position her on her back, get between her legs, but the contract of the night prohibited that. The woman I was with moved down and then, for the first time, my penis entered a stranger's lips. It was heavenly, feeling the unfamiliar brush of her tongue, how she would go down, not quite so far, then release completely before pursing her lips and withdrawing my rod with delicious tension. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the palpitation, after fifteen or twenty strokes, I felt I could let go, tried successfully to stop myself, but my condition was obvious to Staci. She let my sword go, got me to lay on top of her, spread her legs, the tip of my penis was almost touching her vulva, she wriggled pleasantly, my dick touched her gap. For a quick moment I thought she wanted me to push in, to enter her, and I admit I considered the intrusion, I wanted it so badly. But, remembering the restriction Staci and Hoyt had placed on us, I hesitated and Staci uttered, "Gang, we're ready to shift, how about you?" 

With some confusion, the two women switched places, now I was touching the newly interesting body of my wife. "Me on top?" she muttered, I agreed, and in a moment I was straddled. The other couple got into a similar position, I could watch Staci as she rose and fell upon Hoyt, he had the same view of my wife. Molly was ready, she'd already had a couple of orgasms if my ears were any judge, and as she rotated her hips I heard her groans, softly at first, then growing to a crescendo. Staci distorted her face in a grimace, if she came she did so quietly, and then as my bile rose, Staci reached and put a hand on my chest, I loudly let loose. Through the fog of my detonation I think I heard Hoyt's exclamations. 

The group seemed satisfied, Molly bent to give Hoyt a kiss while I was still inside her, Staci waited then gave me the same boon, I got one more feel of her hefty breast. 

Staci passed tissues all around, we cleaned ourselves up, then she and her husband gathered clothes, poured themselves into underwear and outer garments, Molly and I emulated their actions. Staci headed for the living room first, Molly and I followed, Hoyt was in the rear.

"Another cup of coffee?" Staci asked, I got the feeling she was less than sincere, Molly answered, "It's late, we should be leaving. We had a great time, thanks." As we were saying our goodbyes, Staci turned her back to the others, whispered in my ear, ""Is this is really the first time you've swapped?"

"Definitely."

"Well, then, I've got to tell you what great head you give. You're the best I've had! You're going to make all the women very, very happy. And I can't wait to see what you can do with this!" For the last time that night, through the wool of my slacks my dick was being felt.

On the way home, Molly and I discussed our first foursome. "Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked.

"Really, I did. Staci's so much different from you, the way she feels, the way she does things. It was so interesting."

"And hot?"

"Yes, very hot. Is that what you feel with the other guys?"

"Absolutely. Even when they're done with me, I'm still raring to go most of the time. That's why I'm so ready for you."

"I figured," I concurred. "And I'm ready for you again!" It was a long twenty minutes before we entered our garage, the den was the site of our after party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 15

The next morning, a lazy Saturday, I was on top of Molly, supporting my weight on my elbows, we were gently rocking, serious enough but in no hurry.

"Last night, when I was with Staci," I began, "there was a moment when I think I could have put it in her. I'm not sure she would have minded."

"Hmmm," Molly percolated, "I got the idea that Hoyt wanted to go all the way, too."

"Why didn't you let him?"

"Well, first they made a point in the living room that they didn't do that on the first date, and I was a little worried if I let him Staci might get uptight. And he didn't have a condom on, so there was no way he was getting inside. I just rolled over, that ended that. And you weren't wearing a slicker either," she reminded me.

"I wonder, maybe they really did want us to go all the way, but then it would have been our fault, not theirs."

"Sort of like 'let's go for it, then we'll say it was date rape?'"

"Yeah, something like that. I don't know."

Apparently I'd touched a sensitive spot, Molly wriggled, "Oh, do that again," I tried, and then we tried something a little different, then Molly closed her eyes, I'm pretty sure she wasn't thinking about Hoyt and Staci, or anything else either, just letting the orgasm wash over her body, forty seconds later she relaxed. "If we get another invitation from them, do we go?" she asked.

"I guess so, sure. I'd like to get Staci. How about you?"

"Oh, Hoyt was quite good. But next time, even if they pull the soft-swap crap, if Hoyt tries it again, I'm going to tell him to put a rubber on and I'm going for it."

"What if Staci doesn't want me to go all the way?"

"It'd suck to be you then, wouldn't it? But I'll bet if you ask her nice, she'd be very accommodating."

And then Molly was accommodating, very accommodating.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, Staci and Hoyt responded to our thank you email with a declaration that they had a great time, and they'd like to see us again, when could it happen?

Molly took over the keyboard, typed, 'We're not doing anything tonight, would you like to see our house?' raised her eyebrows in the silent question, when I didn't protest, she hit the send button.

We waited, it seemed like an hour, but a couple of minutes later we got the answer we wanted. '8:00 good for you guys?'

~~~~~~~~~~

It was just a few minutes after eight that we noticed a car pull into our driveway, before they could ring the bell we had the front door open for them. Staci had a monstrous cylinder with a handle on it, was wearing what looked like a trench coat. "I hope you like lemon cake, I was in a mood this afternoon." A hug and air kiss for Molly as she accepted the cake carrier, then a lingering kiss for me that promised an interesting evening. "I know it's a little warm for this coat, but . . ." and she opened it. I was charmingly appreciative when I spied her garb, a silky blue baby doll, her generous breasts being held by a firm bodice, her panties showed a bit of a cameltoe. "Am I being too forward?" she asked, I assured her I welcomed the unconventional dress. After she shared germs with Hoyt, Molly exclaimed to Staci, "Oh, you're gorgeous," and led us into the kitchen for drinks. 

"Would you like the tour?" Molly asked, and they did, so we started in the living room, rambled our way through the guest bedroom and office, wound up in the master bedroom. The jaunt was complete, Molly suggested to me, "Why don't you freshen our drinks, Staci and I will meet you boys in the den." Hoyt and I filled the glasses, I asked him what music they liked and put on some easy jazz, turned on the fireplace and we sat, again talking of manly subjects, but we didn't get far into the prospect of our team changing quarterbacks when we were joined by the girls. Molly had changed into a red teddy that displayed all her curves, I'd seen her in it before, she'd worn it for Mark and one other guest, it was a complicated garment, lace over the small breasts, sheer mesh over the belly and pubis, nothing but straps everywhere else, including the back and rear end. "You like?" she asked as she twirled, the question was more for Hoyt than I, and after taking a long swig of her cocktail she sat in Hoyt's lap on the easy chair. I was joined by Staci on the couch, there was no chatting, no how-have-you-been's, just an easy migration to foreplay. Staci let me heft a breast as she stripped my top and pants off, within just a few moments I was in her mouth again, she was sucking lusciously. As she worked, I watched Hoyt stand and completely disrobe, Molly helped him with buttons and zippers and such, and soon Hoyt had that ridiculous garment off my wife, she was back in his lap, he had a finger inserted past the second knuckle, Molly was breathing hard.

I began to concentrate on Staci again, she'd been in fellatio for quite a while now, and although I appreciated the effort, her technique was effective but unvarying, we moved around, now Staci sat on the couch, me in front of her, my mouth on her pubis, exciting her. While I worked with finger and tongue, I felt her leg muscles tense, Staci's breathing became erratic, I sucked harder on her clit, nicked it with a tooth. Once again, she was in a full blown explosion, I was a little amazed at the power I had over her, wondered if, should I find myself in a similar situation with yet another lady, I'd be able to excite her as well. After I'd got Staci to powerfully exclaim her pleasure, she pulled me up, we kissed, her nipples joyfully pressing into my chest, once again my mace was parked at her entrance. A little shifting, a prod, and I'd be the one to have a new lover. I decided that was what I most wanted at the moment, I was the only person in the room, apparently, who'd not had that experience with a stranger, I wanted rid of the reproach. In that vein, I asked Staci, "Is it all right if I put a condom on?"

I could see her looking at me, was that a shift of her leg designed to knock me away from the target? What if she said, 'No, I'm not ready for that?' What would I do?

My worries were for naught. In fact, Staci's legs became even more outstretched, a clear invitation for my onslaught. "You don't have to use one if you don't want to." Oh, the antagonism that revelation brought. One shove, I'd be inside, the silky lining of Staci's vagina accepting the exposed skin of my penis, I'd feel everything. And yet, the angel on my shoulder reminded me of the score of times Molly had been intimate with playmates, and they'd always been forced to don a rubber. Simple fairness carried the day, "I'd better put one on."

"All right," Staci answered. I reached for the little box on the table, opened it and got a packet. At the same time I felt Molly's hand, when she'd realized what Staci and I were about to do she knew it was okay for her to go further with Hoyt. As I clumsily tried to tear open the foil, Molly expertly had hers severed, the tube was unrolled onto Hoyt's tool, she climbed upon the seat of the chair, her belly over the back, her backside was revealed to Hoyt, and he was already inserting himself into her.

Finally, after a few false starts - you must remember, I'd never used such a contraption before - I at last had the plastic tightly over my phallus and I knelt in front of Staci. As I heard the slaps of Hoyt's thighs against my wife's backside, the lovely female moanings that indicate her gluttony, Staci helped me position myself on top of her, and with one long, serene movement I was deep inside her, the first unfamiliar woman of my experience in decades. She drew me in, a heel upon the small of my back, encouraging me to delve deeper, a hand on my hip, a kiss for my lips. I commenced the ancient meter, in and out, in and out, and Staci mimicked my movements, we flowed in unison. My senses seemed heightened, the feel and taste of Staci's nipple in my mouth was astounding, the scent of her perspiration alluring, the sight of this unfamiliar, unclothed woman below me exciting. To the sounds of Boney James' saxophone on the stereo, accompanied by the roars of my wife and the grunts of her husband, this woman and I made love.

I tried my best to pace myself, I wanted to give time for Staci's response to my performance, I desired to stretch my own pleasure. The distraction of Molly's howls ran it's course, quieted, I was still in my own little world, the pleasure of my groin meeting Staci's, the friction of her tunnel on my drill bit. I wondered if Staci was experiencing the elation of the act as I was, her torso had a ruddy glow, yet there was no change in breathing from her, no dense bracing, just a relaxed bearing that seemed to communicate, 'I'm yours, do with me as you will.'

I considered shifting positions, perhaps she would sit on me, perhaps we'd go into doggy style when suddenly, quite unexpectedly, I felt the beginnings of eruption well from my testicles, I was abruptly spewing my fluid into this waiting woman, trapped, of course, by the plastic so it wouldn't contaminate her. It was prodigious, this catharsis, I felt the hairs on my neck congeal, my toes were almost painful in their clench, the spurts were strong, I counted, three, four, five, and then a sixth and seventh, sluggish, there was no more left.

Staci drew me to her, we cuddled, kissed, she whispered to me how wonderful I was, I thanked her for the earth shattering experiment. I looked to my side, my wife was observing in the chair, still naked with one leg crossed over the other. She blew me a kiss, sealing her approval of my performance and, more importantly, our progress. Minutes later I felt my penis shift of it's own volition, it was softening rapidly, I withdrew. 

"I'm going to start the coffee," Molly said, and Staci responded, "I'll help." Before she left, Staci quickly put her lingerie on, my wife was still in her birthday suit. Hoyt, who'd apparently headed for the toilet when he and Molly were finished came back, put his boxers on. I was in a quandary - should I put some clothes on to be more like our guests, or should I honor my wife and stay without covering. A few moments later I was relieved of my qualms when Molly carried cups into the living room, her frame hidden by a silky robe, so I put on my briefs.

Over the coffee and cake - Staci was an excellent baker - we chatted. Although we were in a state of semidress and the smell of sex overrode the lemon scent, there was little intimacy. At one point I attempted to massage Staci's leg, she pulled away from me. Forty minutes later, although I would have very much appreciated another bout with Staci, the other couple had their clothes on, farewell kisses and compliments were exchanged, they were gone.

I helped Molly with the dishes, there was more contact between us than absolutely necessary, we discussed the evening's entertainment.

"How good was it?" Molly asked.

"Wonderful. At one point I understood what you mean when you tell me all men are different. Having sex with Staci was so distinctive."

"Did you like her more than me?" The question was teasing, as flippant as possible.

"Of course not. In fact, if I had to make a choice, it would be you hands down. And I was really disappointed I couldn't get her to come when I was inside."

"I'm not surprised, she's a little bit puffed up. I saw you could make her come with your mouth, you don't know how good you are that way, but when she didn't come when you were inside I noticed her face was sort of, I don't know, possessed, like she was just letting you do what you were supposed to do. I doubt she's ever taken the time to teach herself how to orgasm."

"Excuse me?"

"Did you think that my being multi-orgasmic is an accident, dear? Hardly. The first three guys I was with when I was young all thought I was frigid, although I was able to bring myself off without them pretty easily. So I spent almost a year learning how to come. I used all kinds of props, carrots and feathers and even a cucumber, in the end I was able, as you know, to accept almost any stimulation, use it to my advantage."

This was a revelation I'd never heard before, I decided to put it to the test. I opened the refrigerator, grabbed a carrot, challenged her, "Show me."

"Okay," she led me into the living room, told me to sit and watch as she took her robe off, laid on the couch and then began her performance. Touches of the ear, and hair, and neck, her eyes closed, then her navel, her thighs, her nipples. It took only a few moments, and before she touched the carrot she was panting, and when she finally inserted it, butt end first, she screamed in self indulgence. Of course, after the theatre I joined her, she accepted my caresses lovingly, let herself jump the cliff again, I was able to become hard and enter her, but after half an hour of playfulness it was obvious that while I was good for her amusement, I wouldn't be able to release again that evening.

We headed for the bed, and while we cuddled in the darkness we discussed the other couple. "I'm glad you finally were able to go all the way with someone," Molly confided. "Do you want to do it again with her?"

"I think I'd like to, yes. See what she'd be like the second time. How about you and Hoyt?"

"Oh, it would be okay," she responded with a lack of enthusiasm. "But I think I've seen all his moves, he's not that great." 

We relaxed, in that netherworld between consciousness and sleep the two women I'd screwed that night merged.

~~~~~~~~~~

We kept in touch with Hoyt and Staci, they definitely wanted to meet again, based mainly on Molly's apathy we claimed busyness. After three weeks, Molly finally decided that one more time would be tolerable, we invited them on a weekend night to our king-sized playground. Staci brought a nut roll and wore another baby doll, half an hour after they arrived we were in the bedroom, thrashing around on the mattress, I observed my wife, discovered that while she capered capably with Hoyt, she had an aloofness that wasn't there with Mark or her other lovers, and I discovered that while Staci would allow me any boon I desired, her actions fit a rather narrow band - while I fitted tab A into slot B, it seemed a little bit of rote was involved, rather than the unrestrained gusto that my wife often exhibits.

I had Staci in three different positions, while she seemed to enjoy herself none of them excited her, and I wondered if she'd be just as happy preparing a thanksgiving feast. I finally came, it was good, and then, as before, the evening was over, they left quickly thereafter.

Molly and I decided the couple was not our cup of tea, and agreed they wouldn't be invited again. But that didn't mean we were done with our erotic experiments. 



Passion & Perspective Ch. 16-17



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.



Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

Chapter 16

I fully admit that I was gung ho to meet another couple, I couldn't wait to have sex with another woman, and while Molly was amused at my enthusiasm, for she remembered her excitement the first few times she met other men, she tried to get me to be a bit cautious as well, explaining that we needed to take our time. 

In the forums on SLS, I read that there were a few clubs in our area where you could meet people who were interested in recreational sex , some even had rooms where you could go in and screw. Molly and I talked about visiting one, just to see if it was something we'd be interested in, the couple of times we almost went we changed our minds at the last minute, nervousness set in.

We'd been communicating with other couples on SLS, and the weekend before Thanksgiving we made a date to meet another couple in a pub, at 8:30 on that Friday night we were in our seats. We waited. And waited. And as ten o'clock rolled around, we decided we'd been stood up. The next morning we got an email from the couple, they said she'd been suddenly taken ill, could they get a rain check? We gave them the boon, made a date for the first Friday in December, again they were no shows. This time the excuse was their car had broke down. Molly made the decision that the next time their house would be burglarized or something, we dropped them from our dance card.

The next week we were meeting another couple we'd bumped into on SLS. It was a typical bar situation, we were expecting a pleasant conversation, but on a weekday night we didn't expect it to lead anywhere except, perhaps, another more serious date.

We showed up on time, they walked in just moments later, and I felt an attraction that just can't be defined. Amy had short, straight honey-colored hair, high cheekbones, a wonderful smile that displayed large, perfect teeth. Like most women her age, our age, mid-fifties, she'd lost the hour glass figure of a teenager, but her tight blouse indicated full breasts, her legs were slim, strong. I wanted her immediately, heartily. 

She led the conversation with us in a deep-pitched voice, we found they went to Jimmy Buffet everytime he came to town, that they'd been in the lifestyle about the same amount of time we'd been, they'd started in foursomes, had only been in one threesome. Unfortunately, I knew almost immediately that Molly and Luke didn't have the same chemistry. He wore a goatee, facial hair was not Molly's strong suit, he was shorter than she, perhaps he wanted a woman with more substantial breasts. Within half an hour I was sure that Molly would reject him. I was disappointed but realized my wife and I are in this together, if she's not happy, I won't be. And vice versa, of course. When we parted, politely but aware that nothing more would occur, Molly and Luke shook hands, Amy gave me a hug, pressing her body to mine, a kiss on the cheek for good luck. If over the next weeks I used Amy as a template when Molly and I made love, my wife didn't seem to mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

A mid-week night in December, we met a couple at a bar. In their profile Bobbie and Nick proclaimed that they didn't play on the first date, so we all knew nothing would happen that night. As we sat in the booth, I gazed at the beauty of Bobbie, her elongated face, her smiling hazel eyes enflamed in cat-eye glasses, the sharp little chin, full cheeks, carnation colored lips. The bodice of her Christmas red dress was filled amply, as we talked she played with the faux zipper of the cleavage. She was shorter than Molly by at least five inches, and if her legs were a bit sturdier I had no objection.

I could tell that Nick was to Molly's liking as well, brown hair with just a touch of silver at the temples, and if he was shorter than she I knew she'd gotten over that hang up. "All men are the same size when they're horizontal," she'd once told me.

After a half hour of preliminaries, we got down to the business at hand. "We've been in the Lifestyle five years now, we've only had seven partners," Bobbie confided, "we've been told we're too picky, we don't care."

"We got out of a relationship four months ago," Nick added, "it lasted more than a year. At first they were great, but then they wanted to be exclusive, when they found out we went on a date with another couple they went nuts, told us it was them alone or we'd have to break up. So since then, we've been looking around. After all, this is about variety, isn't it?" Molly and I agreed.

"Have you tried the clubs?" Molly asked. 

"A couple of times, a couple of years back," Nick told us. "We found out that if you don't go with another couple or group, there's a good chance nothing will happen. Both times we went into a room and played alone. Not that it was bad!" he laughed.

Bobby added, "It was fun, I got to dress up, but it wasn't our scene. Maybe we should give it another try, I don't know."

A bathroom break, the table shifted, Molly sitting beside Nick in full-flirt, Bobbie on my side, when I put a hand on hers she gently captured my fingers, a most intimate gesture. "Do you guys play tennis?" she queried.

"We have, don't do a lot of it."

"We should play mixed doubles sometime," she suggested. An invitation to nets, racquets and yellow balls? Or an entendre? 

We stayed for an hour and a half, when we broke the tone was noncommittal, and yet I felt interest was considerable. Molly and I chatted about it on the way home. "Are you going to put your tongue back in your mouth?" she joked, "you've been drooling all night!"

"Was I more obvious than you were? I saw your hand go under the table. Does he have a big one?"

"Didn't get up quite that far, but I'd like to."

The next evening we got an email from Nick and Bobbie, they were very interested in getting together as well, and not at a tennis club. The game was on, but because of the coming Holidays our schedules didn't mesh until January.

~~~~~~~~~

We had Mark over the week between Christmas and New Years. Molly had kept up her relationship with him, a couple times a month they would go to dinner, most of the time it would end up with sex, but not always. And I would join them occasionally for a meal or a dinner, a threesome every other month or so, once we even went out with Dee and Mark, that time nothing, other than a good time, was had. That night, after the dinner was consumed, Molly left us to clear the dishes and set them in the dishwasher, then she joined us in a Santa Claus getup, red satin chemise with black belt trimmed in white felt, red and white stockings, a hat that Santa would wear. She had a peppermint pole for each of us. We played around in the den, she made sure that each of us made her come using the candy canes, then for the first time Mark encouraged me to take Molly first, it was he that had sloppy seconds.

~~~~~~~~~

Right after the New Year, Molly came to me. "I got a call from Bobbie."

"They're still on, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes! She can't wait to get her paws on you, don't worry. But they picked up on our questions about going to a club, want to know if we'd like to meet them at Taboo." From my searches on the Internet I knew about it, a private swingers club forty minutes from our house. 

"I thought you weren't interested."

"A little chicken, that's all. What if somebody we know is there? But Bobbie told me that didn't happen to them, even if it did wouldn't they there for the same reason we are? And if we're with Nick and Bobbie, well, it just seems easier I guess." I agreed we should give it a try, since I'd see Bobbie there it was a very easy decision for me.                                 

The evening of our assignation, we met Nick and Bobbie at the club around 9:30. My wife had found a champagne dress, spaghetti straps and silky, very short hemline, since it was backless it was obvious there was no bra holding the globes, more than a third of which were exposed for Nick's glare. Bobbie had chosen a mid-length black skirt with a completely transparent white blouse, underneath of which was a white and black push-up bra. "I can't wait," she told me as she briefly kissed me, "you are so sexy!" We signed in, paid our membership and party fee, then took a tour. It had two levels, the top one quite lively, a loud DJ playing music no one within twenty years of us would enjoy, a full bar, although you had to bring your own booze, Molly and I had a bottle of vodka. The level was about one third full, some of the women were scantily clad and beautiful, others not. We traveled down to the lower level which was much quieter. We found the hot tub, two couples were in it, I was startled to find that one of the women had a partner's penis in her mouth. Nick was amused, "If you think that's something, wait until later on the upper level." The private rooms had subdued lighting, all had a queen sized mattress, some had a couch, each one was equipped with a private bathroom and shower. We sat quietly in a lounge for a half hour, Molly beside me, Bobbie next to her husband, sipped drinks, caught up. Bobbie kept giving me the look, and I returned it. I found she was as sexy as the first evening we'd met, even more so as her attributes were better displayed. How long would it be, I wondered, until someone suggested we head for a room?

Instead, Bobbie said to Molly, "You want to go dancing?"

"Sure." Nick seemed not unhappy with the turn of events, I was a little frustrated, and yet had little choice but to head upstairs with the group. 

Bobbie walked beside me on the wide stairs, muttered in my ear, "Don't look so downcast. You won't be sad, I promise."

In the time we'd spent downstairs, the aura of the floor had metamorphosed. Another fifty people had joined the party, the DJ was playing music a little less funky, and spinning a couple of fast oldies into the mix. The four of us began weaving on the floor, first Molly would face me, then I'd turn to Bobbie. The object of my passion, at least for that night, came closer, closer, we were touching, she put a hand around my waist, I bumped her hip with mine, her belly touched my hand. And then we broke, Bobbie began dancing with another couple, the woman was a bit younger and was topless, she grabbed Bobbie, they swayed face to face, the stranger put her lips to Bobbie's, touched one of the breasts I was longing for. I wasn't shocked, they were hardly the only women on the floor engaged in such bustle, but I was interested in the phenomenon. After a few moments of closeness they broke, the woman turned back to her man, Bobbie returned to our small group. Again she approached me, we became bolder, for the first time we kissed, I tasted vanilla aside another strange spice, she flowed into my arms, we pressed into each other. We detached once more, I noticed Molly and Nick were kissing. And suddenly, Bobbie careened towards my wife, Molly encouraged Bobbie by stroking her hair, and when Bobbie raised her face, my wife bent hers, their lips met, mouths opened. At this, I was truly confounded, for I had never believed Molly had such tendencies. The kiss lasted, Nick and I danced around them, Bobbie let a hand approach my wife's teat, no complaint was given when a nipple was pinched. 

And then the song changed to a very slow rhythm, Bobbie flowed into my arms, we glided, our lips met, I placed my hand on the small of her back, and then it slid further down, feeling the protuberance of her rear. Bobbie's hand found her way between our bodies, her palm investigated the density of my manhood, apparently found it to her liking. "We should head for a room, don't you think?"

"I'd love it."

"Should we invite those two?"

"I guess we have to, don't we?" Bobbie giggled.

The plan was set, Nick and I would refresh the drinks, the two girls would find a place on the lower level. Five minutes later we searched the hallway until we found a room occupied by our wives, and not just holding them, but they were horizontal on the bed together. Although still dressed, their legs were as entangled as their lips were, and along with Nick, I watched as Bobbie tugged Molly's garment, exposed the left breast, kissed the nipple. My wife was making love with another woman! Molly didn't return the favor, didn't touch any erogenous zone of the woman who was playing with her, but neither did she protest. In fact, I could tell from the way she kept her eyelids closed she was enjoying the sensation. Nick travelled to the side of the bed nearest Molly, sat beside her, placed a hand on her hip. Following his lead, I descended towards Bobbie, and when we were all on the bed, Bobbie turned away from Molly, with a hand led me beside her, we kissed softly. I could taste the spice of Bobbie, but also the familiar scent of my own woman, the combination enflamed me. 

There was little subtlety to our foreplay, the immediate object was to rid ourselves of the clothes that constricted us, and we helped each other until I was holding a naked and very willing woman next to me. Her breasts were larger than I'd imagined, when I worshiped the nipples she responded with an appreciative moan. Her hand grasped my manhood, fondled it with affection, my palm traversed her flesh, neck and shoulders and collar and back and waist and belly and then, yes, breasts and with encouragement from my accomplice, between her legs. The area was dank, and when I placed a finger inside, pushed up, Bobbie ground on my digit happily.

The other couple, within easy touching distance on the bed, were making similar progress, Molly was twisted on top of her new lover, her mouth surrounding his tool, his tongue probing inside her labia.

I descended, my mouth was placed at Bobbies chasm, I tasted her for the first time, like her mouth there was a kick of spice, perhaps endive, I licked, she responded by pushing my head further towards her sensorial layer. And, in due time, I pushed the folds of her skin to the side and revealed the small mandible, pink and smooth, and I first grazed it with my tongue and tooth, then placed my lips around it and sucked while using my tongue to massage it. She went nuts! It was a struggle to keep the little clit at my mouth, her legs twitched, her hips rose and fell, her avid screams indicated her gusto. I kept going at it, perhaps ten or twelve minutes without stopping, my neck was getting sore, my mouth muscles ached, and still Bobbie encouraged me to continue. During a short break while I stretched my tendons, I noticed we were behind, Molly was helping Nick put a rubber on.

Finally, at long last, Bobbie seemed to either tire of the irritation, or perhaps felt I deserved some aggravation of my own. She pulled me up, tugged me until my knees were on either side of her ribs, she pressed on my ass until the point of my penis split her lips. She sucked well, her mouth was moist, my rod glided in and out of her mouth, and I waited until I felt that old familiar response begin and then I withdrew. I laid beside her, we discussed our immediate future.

"You're ready?" I asked.

"Oh, very. Can't wait. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"This is my favorite part of taking a new lover. And I'd like it very much if you'd get on top of me, and be very slow."

"I like that idea!"

I reached to the pocket of my pants for a Trojan, Bobbie stopped me. "Use one of these, please. I like them better." It was a blue packet, the brand was 'Crown,' and when I touched the latex I was surprised to find it much thinner than the variety Molly and I had been using. When I rolled it on, I knew it was going to be a better time, and in the interim Bobbie had placed a couple of pillows under her ass, laid back and spread her legs. For a moment I kissed her nipples again, stroked the inside of her thighs, admired the thin strip of hair leading to the sacred place, then I targeted the opening with my rifle, and pulsed inside.

The sensation, after the thick latex I'd been using, was smooth, warm, pinching was minimal. I began to thrust to the cadence of a very slow metronome, one . . . two . . . three . . . and then I pulled out. Bobbie's eyes went wide, but when I pushed into her cave again, she understood my intention, helped me keep the beat. We went on and on, not only pushing our gonads together, but also using our hands and tongues to inflame ourselves. The coupling of the other pair stimulated us, I sensed by Molly's noises that Nick was taking very good care of her, I watched them as she rode her partner.

Bobbie and I could have gone on for a very long time with this position and timing, and then I understood she was close again, I speeded and thrust more deeply, her mouth opened wide, her eyes closed tightly, she shrieked with fury. We shifted, now I was behind her, my feet on the floor, her rear in the air, and again I implanted my wand. Molly was on her back, her side just inches from Bobbie's head. Bobbie took the opportunity to fondle Molly's teats, even let her hand travel to Molly's clit, circling it with a finger while Nick pounded into my wife as hard as I was giving it to his wife.

The erotic tableau was amazing, and suddenly Molly roared into orgasm, and this spurred Nick into one of his own, filling the condom that filled my wife. I got close, very close, but something, some little irritation in my brain, insisted my delight be suspended. Bobbie and I kept going, she was satisfied now, but willing to be a receptacle for my seed, and she seemed to understand my difficulty. She pulled away from me, turned quickly and sat on the side of the bed, tore the condom off my penis and swallowed it. She played with my testicles, my nipple, it was clear she was offering her mouth as a place for my release.

Molly and Nick were done, and my wife rose, stood to my back, and with breasts and belly and hands heated me. With both women working diligently for my gluttony, it wasn't long before I felt the tenseness in my loins begin, and then I was spilling into Bobbie's waiting and tractable mouth. Oh, it was lovely, this discharge, and Bobbie and Molly stayed with me until they'd extracted every drop. 

The four of us crumpled onto the bed, who knows what body part was fondled by whom, except that Nick and I never made contact. I'd kiss Molly, then we'd shift, and I'd cuddle with Bobbie. We talked, we complimented, Bobbie explained to Nick, "Dear, he's the best pussy-eater I've ever been with!" to which Molly replied, "And Nick, how did you know exactly where my g-spot is?" We were all satiated, and if we were thinking that, perhaps, in an hour or two we might have more fun, we also realized from the sounds in the hall that others wished to use our play pen.

"How about a soak in the hot tub?" Nick suggested.

After a pause for the toilet, a shower to cleanse the remnant of our discharges, without clothing ourselves we promenaded to the pool room. There were five other couples soaking, cuddling, exciting each other, we slipped into the warm water, soaked. The women, according to some timepiece I wasn't aware of, would move from one of us to another, sometimes Molly would be sitting on my lap, at other times I'd be stroking Bobbie's wonderful breasts or placing a finger between her legs. Eventually, of course, the heat of the water grew ovenlike, we moved to the adjacent shower room and whisked the chlorine off - Bobbie washed my back, I swiped her front. And then we clothed ourselves.

We got another drink, sat in the quiet of the lounge, Bobbie began to yawn. "It's past her bedtime," Nick explained, Bobbie laughed, then agreed that perhaps they'd be running along. Kisses between the women and men, and a deep one between the two girls, agreements that a fun time had been had by all, when could we do it again?




Passion & Perspective Ch. 16-17



Molly hung back, we watched the other couple leave, sat and sipped our drinks. "Enjoy yourself?" I asked.

"Boy, did I. Let me tell you, I'm buying a gross of those condoms. Did you like them?"

"Best I've had since the last time I had you without a raincoat! How about Nick and Bobbie?"

"Nick's a sweetheart," Molly said.

"And . . ."

"And what? Oh, you mean Bobbie and me." My expression demanded a critique, Molly complied. "When she first kissed me on the dance floor, it was a surprise, but nice. It was just like kissing a man, only softer. Then when we got downstairs, Bobbie came on to me, and I got curious. It was nice, but I'm glad you and Nick came along."

"Would you like to go further?" I probed.

"I don't know. I never thought of myself as someone who might like girls, but now Bobbie's got me thinking. Maybe, sometime, if she pushes a little harder I'll cooperate. Or, then again, maybe not. I'll have to see."

We got up, headed to the dance floor. The music had become much louder with that huge bass boom, many of the women had only g-strings on, we watched the revery, but didn't join it. Then we explored, found a room we hadn't discovered before. In the middle were a group of mattresses, a gallery for voyeurs was provided, and on the mattress capered a dozen or more people, most young, five women and more men, and without any plan they frolicked. One woman was being played with by four men, two of their penises were being held by her hands, one was being sucked, and another was inserted into her vagina. Another woman was being screwed, and we watched as he released into her. Immediately after he withdrew, another young man asked her if he might enjoy himself, and she encouraged him to climb on board. Half the men who were engaged in copulation wore a condom, the other half didn't seem to feel the need.

"Would you like to join them?" I asked.

"It's fun to watch," Molly declared, "but I don't think it's my cup of tea. Go ahead if you want, it looks like that girl is looking for somebody." I wouldn't have in any case, but the woman in question was at least fifty pounds overweight. 

We left, shaking our heads in a combination of gladness that we'd found this place, and our new friends, and a modicum of disbelief that this had gone on beneath our very noses for so long.

~~~~~~~~~

I woke late the next morning, found my bed empty, searched the house for Molly. Over an hour later she entered door, she'd been walking, a somber expression on her face. "Everything okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," she lethargically replied.

All that day she kept to herself, I mentioned a movie, she agreed. Dinner afterwards was full of small talk, how we might change the garden in the spring, a niece would graduate in May. But I could tell Molly was harboring deep thoughts, and knowing her as well as I do, I left it alone, giving her time to sort her brain.

It was in the darkest hour of the morning when I woke, realized she wasn't beside me. I crept into the living room, found her with a glass of sherry staring through the window into the wintry gloom. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Would you sit with me, please?" she implored. I sat beside her on the couch, she cuddled, her head on my shoulder. After ten minutes of paired solitude, she began to confess her fears. "This is too easy."

"What is?"

"What we did last night. What we've been doing all these months."

"That's a problem?"

"It might be. I mean, all these years, ever since we were married, I was faithful to you. You were faithful to me. I never worried, not once. And then I let it change. Oh, you encouraged me, it was your idea, but even though I resisted for awhile, I wanted it, I wanted it bad. And then it happened, those first few times, and you were just so sweet. And it just kept going, and now we're into something else."

"Something you don't want to be in?"

"No, no, I enjoyed myself so much last night. I loved what Nick did to me, I was so happy that Bobbie was good to you. It was so easy, easy for us to kiss those other people, take off our clothes and have sex with them. Should it be that easy?"

"I don't see why not. It's not hurting our marriage, not that I can see. If anything, it's helping. And I'm so in love with you," I confessed, "I know that even if a guy like Nick rocks you for an hour or two, the next hours, the next days will be mine, until we're old. We'll always be together." A specter invaded my thoughts. "Are you afraid that I think Bobbie was better than you are?"

"No. Well, yes. Maybe. When you were making love to her, you had a big smile on your face. I could tell how much she was pleasing you."

"She did please me, but you please me too. I wouldn't trade you for her, never. And if we decided to stop playing this game, I'd never look back."

"We can't take back what we've already done, though."

"Would you want to? You had a lot of fun last night, I thought you did, would you rather have watched television? Would you rather have never met Mark? Is there anything we've done you regret?"

"No." 

"Nothing?"

She could tell I was alluding to something, wasn't getting it. "Like what?"

How to bring this up. How to talk about it. "Well, last night you, I mean, with Bobbie . . ."

That made her laugh. "Oh, no, that was fine. More than fine, actually, it was so different. I always wondered what a girl felt like, and Bobbie was all girl, that's for sure. Very soft, very sweet. I liked it."

"Would you do it again?"

"Maybe. Probably. It'll never be my first thing, there's nothing like a hard boner. But she's one hell of an alternative."

We quieted, cuddled some more, I felt the first deep breaths from her, I got her down the hall and into bed, we slept soundly.

The next day her spirit of happiness mysteriously resurrected itself, we didn't worry about such things again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17

It was just two weeks later, a Friday night, we were driving to Nick and Bobby's, we were as anxious to see them again as they professed they were for us. A winter storm was threatening, Accuweather said it would start around one in the morning, we decided we'd be all right if we left by midnight. 

Bobbie told us she was making broiled lamb chops, I was fetching two bottles of a French wine the man at the liquor store said would go well, and we pulled into their suburban ranch driveway. Nick was waiting at the door, pulling us into the house, Molly greeted him with a kiss that at other dinner parties would be considered a bit too risqué, Nick pointed me to the kitchen where Bobbie was checking the broiler, her rump in the air, I put my hand on it, fondled it, she shook it for me then rose and we kissed as intimate friends. She was dressed as any grandmother might be for a party, a little betty crocker blouse and skirt, apron, but this was a grandmother I desired.

There were olives and bread and white port as an appetizer, we sat and chatted, we discovered that their political philosophy was close to ours, we bitched about the despicable tactics of the other party and what they were doing to the country. Bobbie started dinner with Molly's help, the wine complimented the lamb, I complimented Bobbie on her culinary skills. Nick told us of their custom of the man doing the dishes, I helped him scrape the plates and put them in the dishwasher while the girls sipped the final glasses of the wine. 

"Shall we head for the living room?" Bobbie asked, and when we were there she asked if we wanted to play a game. We decided upon Texas Hold 'Em poker, with the winner of a hand getting to choose another player to take off a piece of clothing, and if the winner's hand was a straight or better, she or he got to demand that someone perform some kind of an act. Molly was a little rusty on the rules of poker, but we all told her we'd help her, and the game began. It seemed the girls knew we'd be playing this kind of a game, they had extra clothing on, and as the game progressed and attire was strewn happily the guys were down to underwear much faster than the girls were. 

The first time Nick won with a good hand he demanded, "Molly, kiss Bobbie." Molly hesitated a little, but when she approached her target, the kiss was long, and deep, and Molly's nipples, visible through her sheer bra, became as extended as I'd ever seen them with a man. And when he won again, the demand was for Bobbie to make out for ninety seconds with Molly. Since both had only panties on, the action flowed as Bobbie began with a kiss, then suckled a nipple. Molly responded, I watched as she touched Bobbie's breast, and when Bobbie's hand approached the panties, Molly seemed to open her legs a little, for the first time a woman was touching her down there. The women seemed enthusiastic about their play, when the clock hit ninety seconds no signal was given to stop, Molly didn't protest as Bobbie slid the panties over her knees, Bobbie's finger twirled her girlfriend's clit, Molly gave all the indications of approaching orgasm.

Bobbie whispered in Molly's ear, I couldn't hear the question, but Molly nodded, and slowly Bobbie traveled the length of Molly's body, the neck, the breasts, the stomach and then my heart exploded as Bobbie's tongue approached Molly's labia. I half expected Molly to clamp her legs shut, but the opposite occurred, Molly allowed Bobbie's incursion, and I watched Bobbie's tongue flirt with Molly's clit, a red fingernail was inserted within, Molly's groans filled the air, Bobbie speeded her actions, Molly had a long, strong orgasm. 

Nick took this as a signal to join the women and when he took over the stimulation of Molly's body, Bobbie relinquished her conquest to her husband, joined me. "Did you like it?" she asked me.

"It's pretty hot watching you two together," I responded between kisses, "I didn't think Molly would be like that."

"She seems to, at least with me." And then I forgot about Molly - she was being well taken care of by Nick - and I concentrated on Bobbie. After a few moments, I had her in a position that I love, my head between her legs, sucking on that astonishing button, Bobbie's squeals came quickly, I didn't let her rest, it took me the better part of fifteen minutes to ensure there was no oral orgasm left in her, then she grabbed one of those superb rubbers, rolled it on me, sat facing away from me on my lap. My legs stretched under her, I could feel her ample breasts brush my knees as we moved, I leaned against the couch, I gently spanked her ass while we bustled together. It was a wonderful sensation, my prick nestled in her warmth, little screeches from her throat alerting me to her pleasure. For my optical amusement I was not only presented with the rump, back and hair of my lover, but also the gambits of Molly and Nick, they seemed to be trying to find a way to do it while she sat in his lap and put her thighs over the back of the couch, I wondered just how much of his penis Nick could get in there. 

When the sensations of our position seemed to become expected, Bobbie shifted, now I was half sitting, half lying, and she had her back against my chest, I could titillate a nipple, brush the clit, Bobbie's groans increased, she was seeing colors again, and I flattened, Bobbie turned and faced me, she placed a teat in my mouth, then rose above me and the combination of the visualization of her body and the warmth surrounding my rod caused me to give it up, with grunts and screams I spilled my seed.

I was done, as always, much quicker than any woman ever is, and when I came to my senses I realized the other couple was finished as well, they were sitting on the couch comfortably, half observing us, half relaxing. Bobbie got a tissue, removed my condom and cleaned me, wiped her slit, then offered, "Dessert? I've got a black forest cake, and there's some Breyer's in the freezer." Nick and Molly agreed the cake would be wonderful, I helped Bobbie in the kitchen as the other couple cuddled. 

"You're a wonderful lover," Bobbie complimented, "I'm so glad we found you guys."

"Me, too. This is fantastic," I agreed, touching a sensitive area.

We put the cake on plates, got dessert saucers and poured the coffee into an urn, carried it back into the living room where we ate reclining on the floor, talking about sexual experiences we'd had, they told us about a time they were at the club and a husband wanted Bobbie but objected to Nick taking the wife. Molly explained how she'd gone up to Keith's room that first time. There was no jealousy, we were adults happily playing adult games, it was understood we'd all had lovers other than the present company, would have other lovers, and wished only that everyone was happy. 

Bobbie kissed me again, Nick enticed Molly, it wasn't yet 10:30, there was plenty of time left, and if I was no longer capable of hardness with my manhood, my tongue worked quite well and there were pleasures Bobbie could still perform for me. Eventually the second act came to a close, and we were prepared to get our clothes back on when Nick looked out the window and said, "Ooops! Looks like the weatherman got it wrong again."

We gazed at the driveway, it was glossy as a drizzle fell in the street lamps. We turned the news on, the headline was of an ice storm that preceded five inches of white stuff that was to fall before dawn. "Do you guys really need to do anything at your house? We've got a guest room." Given the circumstances, we agreed to accept their hospitality, we were loaned comfy robes, Molly and Bobbie ensured the bed room we'd use had clean sheets. 

After an hour of conversation I decided to hit the rack, Molly joined me in the darkness. "Don't start," she challenged.

"What?!?!"

"About Bobbie and I. I liked it, yes I did, and maybe I'll do it again, and I don't know if I'll ever do it to her, and just leave it alone." Wisely, I kept my mouth shut, but as we drifted off to sleep I couldn't help but revisit the erotic sight of two women making love to each other. 

There were new toothbrushes laid out for us in the bathroom in the morning, I borrowed Molly's brush and looked somewhat presentable before I entered the kitchen to find Bobbie sitting at the table in a fluffy robe, coffee ready. "They say the roads should be cleared by noon, are you in a hurry?" We weren't and the four of us sat to a breakfast of egg casserole and toast, and once again I helped Nick with the dishes. 

We sat in front of the fire, and I looked at Bobbie in lust, she got the message, took my hand and led me into the master bedroom where we spent a gentle hour stimulating each other. I found out later that Nick and Molly had appropriated the guest bedroom for the same purpose, when we left the comfort of our friends' house, it seemed that all were quenched and hoped there was more where that came from.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 18-19



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

*

By the time Easter came around, early that year, we'd been with Bobbie and Nick thrice more, all of them riotous. There were times when Nick and I would pop back and forth between the two girls, or they'd do the same to us. Once, Bobbie and I cuddled and critiqued the other couple as they went through their paces, then we let them do the same for us. We were becoming good friends, and the benefits were fascinating. Mark also kept up with us, more a thing for Molly to enjoy, our threesomes dwindled.

That doesn't mean we stopped looking for additional playmates. In that period we had drinks with two couples and one single male, none worked out. The single male was too sloppy, one of the couples rejected us, we didn't like the male in the other. We didn't mind, we knew that not everyone was a match for us, that if we were patient we were sure to find others we liked and that liked us.

And in the week before Easter, we got an email from Colleen and Bill. It had been a long time, half a year, we'd almost forgotten them. Again they wanted to get together for drinks, Molly and I discussed it.

"Do you think anything's going to happen?"

"I don't know. Probably not. Remember they were just getting into it, they were really unsure about it."

"But you thought he was pretty cute."

"And if I remember correctly, it turned you on to think you might get a lifestyle virgin." In the end, we decided that drinks wouldn't hurt, just to find out what was on their mind.

The next Wednesday night we found ourselves in a restaurant we'd never been to before, waiting for a couple that had almost disappeared, full of curiosity but very little hope.

Colleen was dressed nicely, a blouse with enough cleavage to tempt, knee length skirt. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek holding her chest away from me, no chance of a casual touch. We caught up with them, found out they still had to break the barrier. When Bill asked if we'd had playmates we admitted we had, but declined other details - what we did when they weren't around certainly wasn't their business. Again, Colleen chose no motions of romance, no touching on the hand, no looks into my face, nothing to show that she was all that interested in me. On the other hand, Molly was having fun flirting with Bill and I wondered at the discrepancy.

It took another drink before we got the story. Finally, Colleen looked me in the eyes and confessed. "We've been very interested in you, even if we've been very slow about it. I don't know if you feel the same way, but let me tell you something. I've never had anybody but Bill, so I'm really nervous about doing something like this. He really wants me to, so I'm willing to try. Maybe we could have a date sometime, you know, to go ahead?"

I felt a strangeness about the situation, Molly sensed the tension, and a few minutes later she got Bill to go with her to get another round of drinks, they stopped by the jukebox. I changed seats, sat beside Colleen. "I'm a little curious," I remarked, "is this something you want to do? Or are you just doing this to please Bill?"

"That's part of it, but I want to know what another man could do for me, too. I might not look it, I'm having a terrible time with this, but I'd really like you to make love to me."

"Tell me how you'd like it to happen."

"Oh, I'd want it to be romantic, of course. And I've been thinking. I'm not real sure about how these things work, but I've heard that sometimes the four people get in one bed. I don't think I'd want that, at least not the first time. If we could be all alone, I think that's the way I'd like it."

"We could make that happen, I think."

"Oh, it would be lovely." And then she raised her face, we kissed briefly, but I could sense her anxiousness hidden by a good dose of nervousness. We were rejoined by Bill and Molly, the subject was dropped without a firm conclusion, we agreed that after thinking it over we'd get back to them. At the cars I got one more taste of Colleen's lipstick, Bill felt Molly's rear end.

We deliberated on the way home. I explained to Molly the intelligence I'd gathered, she shared what she'd learned. "Well, apparently he had a few affairs and she stuck with him, he wants other women pretty badly, so they're trying this. He said you arouse her, more than any other guy they've met, and that they really want to get together with us."

"Did he discuss separate rooms?"

"No, did Colleen?"

"Yeah, she wants the first time to be just her and me. How would you feel about that?"

"I don't care, there's been plenty of times I've been with guys and you haven't been around. I wonder how Bill would feel about it though . . . No, I know. If he get's to screw me, he's not going to worry about what his wife is doing. I could keep him occupied. But . . ."

"But what?"

"It occurs to me this might be a game, that maybe they're playing this so Bill gets laid but when push comes to shove, she won't let you."

"Do you think that would happen?"

"I have no idea. Would it bother you?"

I thought about it, decided it wouldn't. "You've had plenty of guys, one more won't be a problem, and if I don't get any we just won't see them again."

"Okay," she agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~

We sent them an invitation, after comparing calendars it was decided that two weeks Saturday would work. In the interim, Molly told me Colleen called her a couple of times, she wanted advice and thought Molly could calm her down. 

On the night we'd settled upon, I waited impatiently in my home office. I was bathed, shaved and cologned, my shirt was tucked in, I was as ready as I'd get. I still had my qualms, maybe Molly would get laid but I wouldn't, even if I did I didn't expect it would be great sex; after all, Coleen hadn't been with anyone but her husband, she couldn't be expected to have great technique, could she? But I was determined to show her a good time, at least as good a time as I was capable of. Molly entered, reminded me of our compact for the night - I was to take Colleen into our bedroom, take my time, forget about Molly and Bill, she'd concern herself with that situation.

They arrived, a brief kiss for me, a more exhaustive one for Molly, we took their wraps, I found out they'd never had white port before so I poured them each a glass. We took them on the tour, ended as always in the bedroom, clean, well lighted, in a way almost sterile. Along the way Bill was making his pitches and Molly was catching them, Colleen seemed to avoid my touch, adding to my fears that this might be a bust. We headed back to the living room, I got Bill another glass of port, and I was a little surprised when the girls excused themselves, told us they might be a little while, but we'd be pleased when they returned.

We made man-talk for ten minutes or so, then it turned to the lifestyle. Bill had read all the forums, but he wanted stories. I told him of the first night Molly had picked up Keith, he asked a bunch of questions, he seemed excited by the idea that perhaps he could get Coleen to do something like that, I remembered my emotions oh so long ago.

Then we were joined by the girls. Molly had her strappy lingerie on and by the look on Bill's face it certainly did the trick for him. And then, behind Molly, I caught a glimpse of Colleen, garbed in a white baby doll, the breasts contained in thick frills, translucent skirt dripping to her ankles, white thong, and even a white garter, an outfit symbolic of the virgin being led to the sacrificial altar. 

We stood, Molly went to Bill, kissed him deeply, and led him to her lair, the guest bedroom. Colleen and I heard the door slam.

"You're quite beautiful," I complimented.

"Really? I'm glad you think so. I'm awfully nervous, you know."

"Don't be. We'll go as slow as you like, and if you want me to do anything, or you want me to stop, just say so."

"Oh, I want you to do anything you want. I've been waiting for this for a very long time." And she was in my arms, her face raised, we kissed. Her mouth was sweet, the skin of her arms was soft, her hair, long and flowing, was downy in my hand. "Let's go into the bedroom," she suggested a long moment later.

And again I was surprised for the boudoir had been transformed into a romantic garden, a dozen candles softly lit the room, soft piano played in the background, the bed was turned down. Colleen sat on the side of the bed, I sat beside her, we began to spoon. She was soft, yielding, I felt no hesitation in her mannerisms. Her kiss was firm, her tongue searched my mouth, she unbuttoned my shirt. I stood, stripped to my briefs, we laid on the bed. She let me set the pace, followed my lead. When I pulled her brassiere and frock off, she didn't protest, in fact she assisted, anxiously awaiting the first kiss of her naked breast. Her aureole was larger than normal, the nipple still contracted, but my kisses and sucks soon brought them to an upraised position. Her torso showed the rosy bloom that so often indicates a woman is sexually enthralled, I was no longer concerned the night would end without passion.

"May I look at your penis?" she asked. "It's only the second one I've ever seen." On my back, I pulled off my underwear, my erection was exposed to her. She bent above me, brushed the phallus, of course it jumped at the caress. "Oh, you're circumcised, that's nice, Bill isn't." She traced the flange around the head, seemed interested in how it circled the tube, that there was no skin to pull down. "Bill likes it when I put his in my mouth, would you like that?"

"If you'd like to, yes."

And once again, my cock was being sucked by a woman not my wife. This was where Colleen's inexperience showed itself, other than a rather unsatisfactory up and down movement, there was little friction, no variation in the motion. I let her play long enough that she wouldn't be slighted, then pulled her to me. "It's your night, let's see what else we can do."

I bent to her nipples again and my hand crept to her knee, up her thigh, I reached her panties. Her legs were tightly clenched, I suggested, "Relax, let me take care of you." I thought I heard a release of breath from her lungs, and with a bit of a jerk, the limbs separated. I put my hand on top of the fabric, a finger found the outline of the slit, I massaged it. "Do you like that?"

"Yes. It's just strange, that's all."

"If you want me to stop . . ."

"Oh, no. No! Keep going, I want you, very much."

I took the opportunity to trace the elastic waistband, dip my fingers inside the fabric. I felt hair, it was obvious she'd decided not to shave the area, then further in, my middle finger was now on the clit. I circled it, feeling it grow, strengthen, I sensed a modest 'ummmm' escape her lips. "Take your panties off, please," I beseeched, and a moment later she ceremonially disrobed herself for me. Her knees were slightly raised, I prodded them until she opened again, and then my hand was at her groin, a finger dipped inside, the tunnel was moist, ready. To myself I thought, 'I'm only the second man to feel this.' I reached for the g-spot, that spongy area on the roof of the cave and found it, I heard a gasp, then a moan. Was it an orgasm? I had no idea, no further indication of pleasure was received, and she didn't stop me when I bent, placed my mouth at her opening, licked. Her clit was exposed to my tongue, I tasted and sucked it, a finger flicked inside, a moment passed, I felt a tension stiffen her legs, her belly, and it was followed by a shudder. When I felt her calm, I laid beside her, we kissed deeply.

"I'm ready," she told me.

"Let me get a condom."

"No, please. I had an STD test just last week, I'm clean, I'd like to feel you inside me." I considered the request. Disease was a priority with Molly and I, but the need of this semi-virginal woman seemed important to me, the risk seemed slight. 

"All right, do you have a position you'd like."

"Just get on top of me please, I'd really like that." So I covered her, our lips clenched, her breasts were soft against my chest, her knees were to either side of my thighs, I was positioned. 

"Okay?" I asked.

"Yes. Now!" she demanded, and with a hand I positioned the tip at her fissure, with one thrust I was inside the womb. She helped me move, her hips rotating to my beat, I sensed a wonderful warmth, no pinching of plastic, I slid in and out of her easily. She pulled me to her, caressed my neck and back, I heard her encouragement, a leg slipped over my rear end, entrapping me inside. I attempted to prolong the pleasure, last a bit longer, but the tightness of her clench, the agitation I felt brought me to the cusp, and I stopped movement.

"If we don't shift positions, I'm going to come pretty soon," I warned.

"Go ahead, let it go. I've been waiting for this." And with this plea, I started again, one push, two pushes, another thrust, heavenly release, my seed gushed into her unprotected nest. She held me as I came, soothed me, coaxed me with both voice and body to a full discharge. 

When I was done, we kissed deeply, we held each other, she didn't want me to shift, she wanted me inside as long as possible, but within a few minutes I softened appreciably and with a loud plop! I was forced from the opening. I crawled off, laid on my back and she was above me, we were kissing, and I felt a warm sensation on my leg, it was my sperm dripping from her slot. We laughed at the comedy, she let me kiss her breasts, she fondled my useless tool, but it was just for fun, she knew as well as I the serious sport was concluded. I glanced to the bedside clock, we'd spent a little under an hour by ourselves.

She headed for the bathroom, grabbing a carry on bag as she went, "I'm going to get dressed now," she declared. I put my clothes on, brushed my hair, waited for her, perhaps five minutes, and she approached me, hugged me, said, "Thank you so much. You were very good to me."

"I'd like to see you again."

"We'll see. I like you a lot, but Bill and I have to see where we are now."

We opened the bedroom door, we could tell Bill and Molly were in the living room from the sound of their voices, when we came out Molly offered, "Coffee? It's already brewed. Or I could make some tea?"

There was a brief hug between Bill and Colleen, but no more, no discussion of how-are-you-did-you-have-fun, Bill responded to Molly by stating, "Thanks, but no. I think we're going to go home now."

It had always been Molly's and my policy to spend a little time with a couple after sex, this quick departure was disquieting, but we helped them with their wraps, bid them a hasty good-bye, closed the door after their car was heading down the lane. 

I got a cup of the coffee, poured Molly and I an after dinner drink, we sat on the couch, Molly's back to my front. "So what happened?" Molly asked.

"I had a nice time, I think she did. I'm not sure if she came or not, and she had no problem letting me in, all the way. Everything was absolutely fine, up to the moment we came out. How about you?"

"He was ready for me as soon as I got him in the bedroom, I had to slow him down, even then we were done in less than forty-five minutes. He kept thinking about what you and Coleen were doing, he made a noise about going in and joining you, I kept him from doing that by sucking him, that will always get a man's interest."

"Was it good for you?"

"So-so. I managed a little come, you've got your work cut out tonight though, I'm pretty randy." I smiled, knew I was up to the task.

"So what happened?" I asked.

"I don't quite know. There's some controlling factor in Bill, I really hope Colleen's going to be okay tonight, she's a sweet girl. I wonder if they're going to want a second round."

"Would you let that happen?" If the first time didn't go great with a guy, Molly was reluctant to take him to bed a second time.

"If Colleen wanted you again, I'd suck it up with Bill, he was okay. It would probably be better the second time, he wouldn't be so up-tight. We'll see."

I took Molly into our bedroom, the one with the candles still burning, the strewn bedsheets, I made sure I laid on the side with the wet-spot, I didn't want any questions about protection. She wanted it quick that night, and although my penis was defective, my fingers and tongue were still in perfect working order, in the lull after her first lusty come I gave her the details of Colleen's first night, we went around again, we slept.

Of course we sent out the obligatory thank-you email the next morning, a couple of days later we got a terse reply, and then silence. We never heard from them again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 19

"I'm bored," Molly told me over dinner on a Friday night.

"What, Netflix isn't good enough for you?"

"I'm horny, too."

"I can help you with that . . ."

"Yeah, but I was thinking . . ."

An hour and fifteen minutes later she was ready to go, tube dress that displayed her less than immense cleavage, but also showed her long legs. As we drove to Taboo, we both realized that this could be a bust, we might meet no one, have nothing to add to our memoirs. Yet even if that should happen we'd be able to dance, probably at least look at some sexy people, have a dip in the hot tub, use a private room by ourselves. By the time we got there we were both feeling libidinous.

The club was perhaps one-third full when we got there at 9:00, the hostess told us there probably wouldn't be a whole lot more coming; in fact, this was a fairly large crowd for a Friday night. We sat in the party room, had a drink or two, danced a bit, watched the few ladies writhing on the floor erotically, thought about the hot tub. Every once in awhile we'd be approached by a single guy hoping for a little action, they'd sit for a few minutes, we'd exchange names and then they'd move on. Molly got us into a conversation with one couple, they seemed preoccupied. Perhaps an hour after we arrived, Molly headed for the little girl's room and I sat at a table by myself. 

Fifteen minutes later I thought Molly was taking an excessively long time in the powder room, I turned to see Molly at another table, and sitting with her was a young man, certainly in his twenties, short haircut, his trousers and button down shirt heavily starched. After a few minutes Molly realized I was watching, beckoned to me to join them.

"Honey, this is Archer, he's a marine."

"Good to meet you, sir."

"Hell, you don't have to call me 'sir,' name's Don." The well developed muscles of his arm pulsated with each movement.

"Yessir."

Molly interjected, "He used to come here with his girlfriend."

"That was just after my first tour, sir, while I was over there she had a few, um, experiences, and so we decided to see what this place was like."

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Well, sir, she and I broke up a few months back. When I figured out she was still cheating on me."

"Archer's on his way overseas, leaving next week."

We chatted for fifteen minutes, it was obvious he was looking to get laid, but with all the nubile young things around I couldn't figure out why he was interested in Molly. He was extremely polite and I wondered what, if any, attraction there was for Molly; he was young enough to be our child, if we had any children. Eventually the conversation petered out, he thanked us for our time and headed off for another theatre of action. "Hmmm," I said, "robbing the cradle?"

"Oh, stop it. I was just talking with him."




Passion & Perspective Ch. 18-19



The DJ had moved into oldies, we got up and danced. Nearby was the couple we'd chatted with, Mike & Jennifer, like us they were older than average, probably in their forties. She was cute in a schoolmarmish way, in his plaid shirt he was straight out of the heartland. She caught my eye, I began dancing with her, Molly moved to Mike. A few songs went by, arms and waists were held, although this wasn't my dream woman, the heat rose because, honestly, I knew it wasn't going to get better that night. At one point Jennifer moved to dance with Molly, there was a bit of stroking of hair, chests collided, but I knew for Molly it was pro-forma, she had no real interest in Jennifer.

The music moved on to faster techno, we headed for the bar to get another drink, then they accompanied us down to the lounge area. We sat facing each other, chatted, found out they were temporarily here from Kansas City, were just starting to explore, had only one previous experience. They got our history, or at least as much as we were ready to divulge. 

I went upstairs to get freshened drinks and was met at the stairs by Molly. "Jennifer wants to know if we want to get a room."

"Do you want to?"

"He's okay. How about you?"

"She's passable. Why not?"

We strode back to the couple waiting to hear our response and Molly said, "Is there any time like the present?"

We gathered purses and glasses and headed off for the hallway of private rooms, a few were open, we chose one that had two double beds and closed the door. Jennifer faced me, we stood together and kissed, she was a bit rough, and then she simply reached to her side, unzipped her dress, then took her bra and panties off, laid on the bed. I disrobed along with her, we started kissing and fondling. Her technique at sucking my cock was less than fantastic and reminded me of how good Bobbie was. Mike was becoming educated at just how phenomenal Molly's blow jobs were, and his groans proved it.

Jennifer and I moved on to cunnilingus, and while I ate her, she closed her eyes and let me work. I couldn't tell from her reaction if she was enjoying the attention or not, but she didn't tell me to stop either. Her clit was hard to find, embedded in large rolls of skin. A few minutes later I quit the exercise, she reached for a condom, gave it to me, and I sat with my back to the head board, she turned around a presented her butt to me, simply sat on top of me, started to grind. 

I watched the couple on the other bed, Molly was on her knees, Mike's sheathed penis was attacking her from behind, I heard Molly give a little scream, it lasted only a few seconds, then Mike groaned heavily, erupted. Jennifer suddenly screamed loudly, perhaps she was having an orgasm, perhaps it was a concoction, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the friction surrounding my manhood, let it happen. The orgasm was an orgasm, neither tremendously mammoth or exciting, but I was more satisfied than if I had masturbated. 

When we were done, Jennifer joined her husband, Molly came to me. I put my finger to her clit, massaged it as I've learned she likes it, got Molly into a pretty good cum. While I had her going, Mike and Jennifer put their clothes on, before Molly had stopped panting they said, "Hey, thanks for everything, we had a good time." We agreed a little insincerely, suggested we'd see them later, and they walked out the door.

"How are you?" Molly asked.

"Okay. How about you?"

"Yeah, it was okay." We agreed you have to sift through a lot of hay before you find that one particular strand of straw you'd really like to chew on, Jennifer and Mike were just part of the chaff. We decided that had we met them at a restaurant, had a drink with them, we probably would have said 'no, but thanks anyways.' We weren't upset with ourselves, no one was injured, they just weren't a meal we'd order again. We cleaned up, clothed, and headed back to the dance floor.

Once again the single guys were out, a few of them desperate, I wondered if Molly would like to sport with them - she hadn't had a really good orgasm yet - but she was letting them down easily. 'No thanks' was used quite a lot but she uttered the occasional 'not tonight' and I caught the subtle difference. 

A guy asked her to dance, I headed for the toilet and then paused to watch the action in the orgy room, and when I came back to the dance floor I couldn't find Molly. I waited a few moments, thinking she might have gone to the girl's room, and then I went looking, found her downstairs chatting with Archer again. She was raising her chest to him, I got the feeling the game was on, she caught my eye and walked to me. "Honey, the corporal really needs to get laid and I'm willing to report for duty. Would you mind?"

"You don't care that he's young?"

"No, it's pretty hot actually. A Mrs. Robinson complex."

"Go for it. Do I get to watch?"

"I've already told him you'll be in the room, he's fine with that."

We went back to where Archer was sitting, Molly leaned over and gave him a deep kiss. "Come on," she said, "I want you."

Archer followed her to the hall of rooms, Molly chose one with a bed and a couch, closed the door behind us. I knew my place, headed for the sofa, Molly sat on the bed, she and Archer started making out. Kisses, of course, she quickly had her hand on his lap, he pulled the bandeau of her top down, suckled. I knew Molly was hot, she hadn't had a great time with the couple and I could see from her quick actions that she was ready to get down to business, within ten minutes they had each other naked. When Archer took his shirt off, the chest and ribs were amazing, the pectorals firm and strong, the stomach flat as the bed, and when the boxers were pulled down I heard Molly gasp, for he was at least two inches longer than I am on my best day, and quite thick. As if attracted to the flame, Molly headed for this leviathan, allowing it to enter her mouth, I could see she needed to stretch her lips wide to get the thing even a quarter of the way in. Since she had her behind towards me, I took the opportunity to sneak a finger past her panties, weaved a finger around her lips, dipped inside. Even though she was exceedingly moist, I wondered if additional lube would be needed for her pleasure. A shift in positions, now she was naked, he was kissing her nipples but seemed reluctant to travel further. That was all right, Molly had often told me that guys who aren't skilled at oral sex shouldn't be there. 

The were rolling around, kissing, the huge prick was pointing time and again at the bullseye, I watched in awe as the tip touched the outmost parts of her labia, wondering how the hugeness was going to fit in the tiny opening, and then suddenly he was above her, she gasped, and I grasped that a quarter of the length was swallowed. "Slowly," she begged, "it hurts a little." And as Archer gently inserted himself, a bit at a time, I saw Molly's eyes light with enjoyment. It was only when he apparently had hit a barrier, he was nearly fully in, when I realized his massiveness wasn't protected. I thought about objecting, but when Molly began her gasps I told myself one time wouldn't matter - would it?

She roared under the strength of her invader, her moans came in crests, I wondered how much was the technique of her newest lover, how much was the magnitude of the tool being used. When the gargantuan orgasm ended, she pushed him off, saying, "I've got an idea." She led him off the bed, had him stand, his back to the door. They were almost the same height, she kissed him, let his hands roam to her breasts, and on tiptoe she had his density between her legs, I could see the tip peeking from the bottom of her ass. "Lift me up," she suggested, and when he did the tip was pointed at the salient spot once more, he helped her sink down until she was filled again. In this position, he propped against the wall, his feet a foot and a half from the threshold, Molly's legs useless in the air, the only way for movement was for Archer to use his arms to pull her thighs up then let her sink onto him. He was up to the task, the thousands of push ups and chin ups he did every month came to good use, I watched in awe - and a bit of envy - as at the top only the tip was inserted, then at the bottom almost the entire bulk filled her. At each stroke, Molly uttered "uh . . . uh . . . uh," perhaps in glory, perhaps in discomfort. And then I noticed the scowl cover Archer's face, his mouth opened, I heard a bellow, I knew that my spouse was being filled with this young man's spunk. She held him tight, although in their position she had little control, it didn't seem to me that she made any attempt to pull away, her crevice swallowed his discharge. He was shaky, I was afraid that he'd drop her as he staggered to the bed, she crashed on top of it, bouncing as she landed, they were disconnected, I saw the milky fluid dripping from Molly's slit. 

Then they were lying side by side, she playing with his body, stroking the strong arms, incredible belly, firm legs and, yes, the hunk of brawn that had so pleasurably assaulted her. I was naked by now, I'd long ago realized that when I watched it was more comfortable for the lovers if I was dressed as they were, and I joined the couple on the bed, I stroked my Molly's neck or breasts, and then I dipped inside, felt the goop that still leaked from the tunnel.

We talked, Archer told of his gratitude to both of us for the experience, Molly of course said the pleasure was all hers, and we asked how Archer had become so strong, he told of obstacle courses and thirty mile hikes with a full pack. That drifted to a discussion of what it was like to be a Marine, the experiences of being in a village where you knew most of the people you saw were your enemies. And while we gossiped, although Molly would play with me from time to time, I realized that most of her attentions were on her soldier, and in less than half an hour his soldier was at almost full attention again. Molly sucked it as best she could and when it was again at full strength, she straddled Archer and sunk onto him.

In this position, one of the basics, she had the supremacy, she was able to decide just how much of the rod was encroaching, rarely did she sink more than halfway on the yardstick, Archer assisted her in the erotic ritual by stroking teats and legs and waist and ass, Molly closed her eyes, grunted, swooned forward, she was in eruption again, by my count her fourth of the evening. She kept on, minutes passed, then she reached behind her, cupped his balls, probably tightened her vaginal muscles, I sensed Archer was exploding again, her uterus accepting his superb sperm. 

Once again Molly groaned, another flare up to match the boy's, they continued for a few moments until both quieted, Molly bent, hugged and kissed her suitor, and then rolled off him. "Archer, you're fantastic. I know that when you find a girl of your own she's going to be very happy."

Archer decided to put his clothes on, he was through with his fun with my wife for this evening, before he left Molly kissed him deeply and writing on a piece of paper said, "This is my email. Keep in touch while you're over there, and when you get back maybe we can get together again."

"I'd like that," he agreed, and he opened the door and left us. Molly came to lie beside me, was it my turn with her now? We talked as we fondled.

"He was big, wasn't he?" I asked. "How did it feel?"

"The biggest I've ever had. Depending on the position, every now and then it made me hurt, when we were standing there were times I wanted to scream. But mostly, it was just this feeling that I was overfilled, it was a lot easier to get my g-spot stimulated, and when I came it was just beautiful."

Hesitatingly I added, although there was nothing I could do about it now, "You didn't make him put on a condom." Pregnancy, of course, wasn't an issue, Molly was well past the child bearing years, but disease was.

"I know," she admitted guiltily. "I should have, but he told me he hasn't been with anyone in over six months, and I wanted to feel that thing inside me so bad. Don't be mad with me, I won't do it again. And it was sort of a gift for him, he deserves it, don't you think?"

I saw her points, and I wasn't mad, just a little worried, and decided that when we got our physicals we'd get tested, and then we'd either have a problem or wouldn't. As it turned out, the complication never reared it's head.

We started making out, she was soft and willing, and when I put my finger inside, the lubrication Archer left was gooey, I thought about eating her, tasting the other man but decided against it.

The rules about doors to private rooms at the club were quite clear: You never open a closed door, when a door is open you're allowed to watch, but you never touch without asking first. Since Molly hadn't closed the door after Archer's departure, the interruption was our fault. The man was standing a few feet inside the doorway, he was one of those I'd thought Molly had a bit of a spark for.

"Can I join you?" he asked.

I questioned Molly with my eyebrows, saw a smile cross her face, an eagerness come to her eyes. "Sure," I invited.

He came to the side of the bed opposite from me, Molly grabbed his hand, led it to her breast. He leaned for a kiss, she pulled his polo shirt up. 

I knew Molly had never had more than three men in a night, including me, so this was going to be uncovered territory. But our decision to join the Lifestyle was all about exploration, discovery, and I wondered just how far this evening might go. The man was down to his briefs by this time, he laid next to her, the new prick was in her hand, I backed away giving him license to play. Molly was entertained with his attentions, when he sucked a nipple she moaned, and when he went down on her she opened her legs. I wondered if he could sense that his tongue was being coated with Archer's cum, if he cared. Molly went into a little orgasm, and while she was gone another man was in the doorway. This was one she'd rejected earlier, and so I waited until she was cognizant until I pointed him out. It was Molly that waved him in, then requested to me, "Close the door."

The new man unzipped his pants, let his peter hang out and pointed it at Molly's mouth. She was a trooper, she swallowed it, I witnessed the pleasure on the man's face. She was unable to unbuckle his belt, he got the idea and was down to raw skin in a very short time.

The first man rose, his underpants were thrown to the wind, he was ready to attack. "Condoms, gentlemen," I demanded, and threw the guy between Molly's legs a packet. When it was on he quickly grabbed her legs, spread them and inserted himself. Molly grunted around the tool inside her mouth, let the first guy work. He was pushing quickly, but didn't seem in any hurry to finish himself off. After three minutes of this, Molly pushed him off, turned on her hands and knees towards the second guy, got the first to lay down, now he was inside her mouth. The second guy took his cue and, after putting a rubber on, was pounding my wife's womb.

I decided to enjoy myself another way, asked loudly, "Anybody mind if I take pictures?" Molly replied, "Go ahead," the guys were too busy in their own pursuits to care. I captured the threesome in a variety of poses, positions. Molly changed postures often, controlling the action, trying to keep the guys from releasing before she was ready. But, twenty or thirty minutes into the drama, she was mounted upon one in cowgirl and we heard him start to lose it. The other was being worked on by Molly's hand, within moments he let loose, spraying her teats with his semen. I have a lovely photograph of that moment.

It didn't take long after that for both of the guys to thank us for the playtime, put their clothes back on and leave. For them, it was only anonymous sex, and for us, that's all it was too. We never got their names, didn't care about them, other than that they'd shown Molly a good time.

"Did you like it?" I asked, for it was the first time she'd ever had two guys working on her at once, excepting only myself and one of our regular playmates.

"It was fun," she admitted, "but a little strange. I never got a feeling of closeness with them, and since I was trying to concentrate on both of them at the same time, I had a hard time thinking about myself, I didn't come." Now it was my turn, we moved into our favorite position, and I put myself in where four others had been that evening, I was slow, stimulated all of Molly's erogenous zones, had her in a pretty good come before I let myself go again. Finally, a good two hours after we'd first taken over the room, we left it vacant for the next lovers, immersed ourselves in the hot tub where another couple was making love, soaked erotically, leaving only when the club hostess said the three-o'clock hour was approaching, it was time for the club to close. 

The next day, the following days, weeks and months we looked at the pictures, discussed the evening. I was willing for Molly to take on more guys simultaneously, three, four, more, and from time to time Molly would seem interested, but that was the only time we let men we didn't know into the same room with us, perhaps the opportunity never arose, perhaps we weren't really interested. But we never forgot Molly's Mammoth Moment!



Passion & Perspective Ch. 20-21



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

*

I was on my way home, fighting the scramble of traffic in the heat of summer when my dashboard lit with a telephone call. I didn't recognize the phone number, assumed it was work. "This is Don," I answered.

"Hi, Don," a contralto voice soothed, I recognized it from somewhere, couldn't place it. "I don't know if you'll remember me, I'm Amy, you and your wife met my husband Luke and I in December." Seven months had glided by, but I still remembered that evening, Amy had impressed me, Luke was a turn-off for Molly. It was obvious we wouldn't be going further, but I'd used Amy as mental encouragement a few times when I and Molly made love. 

"Oh, yes, how could I forget! How are you?"

"Just fine, do you have a moment?"

"I'm in a traffic jam doing fourteen miles an hour, I've got nothing but time. How can I help?"

"Well, when we met, I was very impressed with you, and I got the feeling you were a little attracted to me."

"I was!" I admitted, "I thought you were the cat's meow." A chuckle through the speakers. "I was sorry your husband and Molly didn't hit it off."

"Oh, so was I," she admitted. "But, listen, I was wondering if we could grab a drink some night, just you and I. Just to talk." Just to talk? I wanted so much more! Just speaking to her on the phone aroused me. Molly wouldn't mind me having cocktails with her, would she?

"I don't see why not, I'd love to see you again." We compared schedules, Amy and I made a date at a wine bar we both knew, Thursday, sevenish, I knew Molly had her book club that night. For some unknown reason I didn't tell Molly what I was doing, I really wasn't sure - although I had hopes - where this was going to go. But Molly appreciated my increased vigor when I attacked her that night.

I was waiting in the bar fifteen minutes early, and I watched the door as Amy entered garbed in a zesty summer frock, tight across the bodice and waist, flowing pleated skirt just above the knee, high heels, just enough of the breach between her ample orbs showing to entice the imagination. She came to me at the bar, I stood to shake her hand, she had other ideas, I felt her breast on my left chest, her lips were on my cheek. "It's good to see you," she ardently breathed, I agreed just as heartily. She gazed around the restaurant, saw the last booth was open, steered me towards it, we sat across from each other. The waitress took her order for a glass of white zinfandel, we schmoozed. I remembered what I enjoyed about her those months earlier, the perky smile quick to her face, the charming hairstyle, blond and short. I complimented her on the earrings, silver and swaying with every laugh. She seemed free of butterflies, some of which were winging their way through my intestines, for forty-five minutes I found out about a birthday party for an old boss, she discovered that my favorite country was Portugal and why. I ordered a tumbler of white port to explain the Douro valley, we shared it, I tasted her lipstick on the rim of the glass. She stared into my eyes, when she placed an airy palm on my forearm I didn't move, a few minutes later I traced one of her fingers. She asked about Molly, I enquired of Luke, everyone was fine. 

Her mobile rang, she looked at it, said, "Work. Would you mind if I took it?" and stepped to the vestibule, I watched her converse, she seemed serious, but at the end laughed and clicked the phone off. Returning to the table, she waved for me to shift, sat beside me, our knees touched.

"Remember back in December," she said, "when we met up? I was so attracted to you, I can't tell you how distressed I was when I figured out Luke and your wife didn't have any chemistry. You've met enough couples like us that you can feel that too, right? We have, a few times, and I've always chalked it up to fate, sometimes things work, sometimes they don't, que sera and all that. A few days later the only thing you remember is that you met with the couple. But a funny thing happened after we met you, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I felt that way, too. Molly teased me about how I'd fallen for you, even offered to get together with you guys again, see if she could change her mind, but I couldn't ask her to do that."

"You're a wise man. I've taken a bullet for the team, it wasn't pretty, I'll never do it again, Molly shouldn't be sorry. Well, as I was saying, Luke and I were talking last week, you know, sort of trying to get each other excited, and he asked of the men we've met which one would I like to see again, and I mentioned you. He remembered it as well, apparently he realized what I was feeling that night, and he suggested that even though he didn't want to see Molly, maybe you and I . . ."

I realized immediately what 'you and I' meant, quickly considered the ramifications. "Have you done this before?" I asked, "Just you by yourself?"

She giggled, "No, that's why this is so strange. Everytime I've been intimate, Luke has been right there, or at least very close. In a way, it sort of seems like cheating but Luke says I'm being silly. Have you and Molly ever, you know, been apart from each other?"

"She has. She's got a steady boyfriend, I know him well, sometimes she goes over to his house."

"Oh, Luke's got a bit of a cuckold thing, I've always been a bit leery of trying something like that, maybe Molly can give me some tips. Or even . . ." she turned to me, her lips were an inch from my ear, she put her hand on my thigh, ". . . you could help me with Luke's fantasy. Mine, too!"

With one hand I brushed a lock back from her cheek, the other was on her leg. "I'd love to, really I would." Our lips met, since our backs were to the bar there was no chance anyone could see us, I let her feel my sincerity for the proposition, she felt even higher than that. We necked for a few moments, then she broke it and said, "Do you have to talk to Molly about it?"

"I should, we've never been in this situation before."

"Of course. If she's not cool with this we probably shouldn't go any further. How do you think she'll react?"

"Pretty positively, I think. She's had her opportunities, she's not the jealous type, I'm sure she'll say it's okay."

"Let me know as soon as you can, please. I don't remember the last time I was so excited."

I escorted her to her car, the sun had set and in the last glows of twilight we stood and kissed, pressed bodies to each other, I wished we were in a more comfortable spot and wearing a lot less clothing, she finally pulled out of the lot going left, I turned right.

When Molly got home she had a couple drinks under her belt and started telling me the latest story about her friend Kat. "Apparently, she was with her husband at Sandals and she picked up a guy from right under his wife's nose, took him to the room and screwed him, just like that. She said the wife didn't suspect a thing. Then she told me I should start doing things like that, it's not too late even if I am fifty-six! Oh, if she only knew!" 

I put tea on, she asked me what I'd been up to. "I went over to the Bleu Turtle for a sandwich, watched the ball game, came home," I lied. I didn't want to admit I'd taken even the first step without her knowledge, I didn't think it would matter since I would have her permission when, I meant 'if', I took things further. We took the tea into the bedroom, Molly put on her nightie, I took off my clothes revealing my god-given pajamas, we talked as we pulled down the covers and got ready for bed.

"I talked with Bobbie today, they were wondering if they could talk you into that sailboat ride you've been promising," Molly said.

"Sure, absolutely."

"And you know how Mark likes it. He's getting pretty good helping you with the sails, isn't he? I was wondering, what would you think about all five of us out on the bay?" It was a thought, should we intermingle Lifestyle friends?

"Why not? Do you think something would happen?"

"Maybe," Molly pondered, "would it be the worst thing? Bobbie's been complaining that you can't get it up more than three times in a night anymore. She'd probably like another guy to play with." It was a complete razz, I always satisfied Bobbie before I had my single orgasm. 

"Set it up," I allowed, "either way, vanilla or sexy, we'll have a pretty good time. How about next weekend?"

We were in bed, Molly began to reach for the remote, I stopped her. "I've got something I want to talk to you about. Do you remember Luke and Amy? We had drinks back in December."

"A little bit. She's blond, he's short?"

"That's them."

"And, if I remember, you were hot for her but I didn't like him, right?"

"You got it. Well, she called me, and asked me if I wanted to have dinner . . ."

"Donny's got a girl friend, Donny's got a girl friend," Molly sang in a lilting, teasing voice. "Wow! Do you want to meet her?"

"I'd like to. If you wouldn't mind."

Molly kissed me, affectionately. "Of course I wouldn't. I assume you'd like it if it turned into more than just a meal. Oh, I can't wait! After all these years, finally you're gonna get it all by yourself. My goodness, what are you going to be when you turn sixty?!?! Where are you going to go?"

"I was thinking that Italian restaurant out in Edgewater . . ."

"The one with the views over the river, all candle lit and everything? Good choice. Then where? If you want I can go over to Mark's, you can play here."

"Maybe another time," I declined, "I was thinking the first time, assuming we get there, I'd take her to the Marriott."

"Oh, you romantic! She's going to be a very lucky girl." By this time, Molly was cuddling my contraption, I knew that not only was I going to get very lucky with Amy soon, that night I was going to get lucky with my wife.

~~~~~

I called Amy the next evening, her phone rang out to the message, I tried to be circumspect. "Hi, Amy, it's Don. I talked to the other interested party and got the agreement. Give me a call and let's go over the details." 

Twenty minutes later, I got the return call, my wife was out of earshot. "She said yes?" Amy was excited.

"She doesn't mind. I'm beside myself. When can we get together?"

"We're busy all this weekend, but I could make it next week."

"How about Monday," I suggested.

"Could we wait till Tuesday?" she retorted.

"Of course. I was thinking we could go to dinner at this place I know . . ."

"Don, I'd love to have a meal with you sometime, but I'm so ready. What do you say we order room service?"

That, also, was music to my ears, we made a date for seven at the Marriott, she asked me if I'd get the room, meet her in the bar. All weekend, Molly was in a good mood while I anticipated my upcoming rendezvous. 

~~~~~

Tuesday night I got home about six, plenty of time to take a shower, chat with Molly, she wasn't around. But when I entered the bedroom I found laid out on the bed some clothes, short sleeved linen shirt, beige pleated pants, my nice cordovan loafers, and a surprise, a pair of new, kelly green silky briefs, and a note, 'I hope Amy has as much fun taking these off as I did buying them. Have a wonderful time, love, M.'

I showered, put on my wife's suggestions, was at the desk at 6:50, picked up the key. I was just in time to glimplse Amy walking into the bar, a small carry bag in her hand, she sat in the last booth, I got a couple glasses of wine and joined her. "Hello, you look marvelous," I complimented, just a little saddened that she was wearing a sterile blouse and pants, her make up was a bit tired.

"Not as good as I hope you're going to make me feel," she vouched, taking the white, a kiss on my cheek. "You look wonderful. You ready?"

"Absolutely."

"Listen, let me go up to the room before you, give me fifteen minutes, okay?" I allowed her the boon, watched her ample ass as she walked from the bar.

When I got up there, I knocked, seconds later I heard the latch, by the time I opened the door, the one to the bathroom was just closing, I heard Amy holler, "I'll be a little while yet, relax, won't you?"

I sat on the short couch, tried to settle myself, wondered what was taking her so long. Then I found out. I don't know why women think we like lingerie, but they're very wise creatures. Amy was now garbed in a black bedroom frock, two strips of filigree descended from her neck, disguising yet advertising her abundant bosom, a small strap at her breastbone providing structure. At her waist a fleeting transparent skirt scarcely covered her hips, a black g-string displayed the territory I longed to conquer. Her eyes were sharply lined, her hair was freshly brushed in an updo, her lips glowed red. She danced to me, twirling and exhibiting her bare back, she sat in my lap. "You like?" And she kissed me. 

She was one of the best kissers I've ever met, better than Molly, better than Bobbie, soft lips, a technique that slowed to a pace of a tax refund, closed mouth to begin, then a crack, then her mouth fully opened to me. I forgot about the rest of her, concentrated on just those two red lips. Perhaps we kissed for two minutes, maybe twenty, when we finally broke she kept her eyes closed for seconds, appreciating the lingering innervation. "Oh, this is going to be good, isn't it?" she observed, and we returned to our kiss, extended it to include our hands. All that had been caressed to this point had been neck and back, we now allowed further scrutiny. I found the side of her torso, the fabric allowed a foray to the side of the bulb, my mouth slid from her neck to the valley, she bent back, the softness of the overabundance was adored, she performed a trick of magic with the clasp, the straps separated, I had only to nudge the fretwork, an orb was displayed for my view, my touch, my taste. Even before I approached the firm center, broad and elongated, I heard her sigh, and when I sucked for the first time she tautened, I heard a soft cry, the more and the harder I nibbled the louder she breathed, moaned. Her chest was rising and falling fast, and slowly the beat subsided. She opened her eyes, focused on mine and exclaimed, "I've never come just from sucking on my nipples, oh, you're marvelous." We kissed, pledging even further pleasures, and then she had me rise, standing behind me I felt her unbutton my shirt, drawing it from my shoulders, a hand unbuckled my belt, unzipped the fly, my pants fell to the floor, I stepped out of them. I tried to turn around, she forbid me the action, still behind me I felt her nakedness bore into my back, her kisses thrilled my neck and shoulders, yes, her hand traveled to cover the invader, still swathed in emerald satin. I remained in place, my eyes closed, sensing her every temptation, and then I divined movement, seconds later she begged me to turn around, she was ten feet away, facing a mirror, her back to me, in the reflection I was astounded by the beauty of this woman who was allowing me everything, she was unclothed save only for a humble patch of silk, two strings. As much as I admired her loveliness she lusted for my body, clad only in those jade briefs, the bulge barely concealed.

"Do you want me as much as I want you?" she asked. Only one syllable answered her, "Yes!"

"Take me now," she beseeched, "I'm ready." She advanced to the bed, threw the covers down, laid on the mattress, disposed of the scrap of clothing. I desired her, her mons, bare of any hair, her cleft fuchsia with hints of moisture. I joined her, my briefs were thrown to the breeze, we were as Cupid and Psyche, prepared for our venture. When I came to the bed, she gathered me into her nest, pleaded, "There's no need to use a condom, I want to feel every bit of you." 

Her first touch of my naked penis, mine of her burrow was when I penetrated her. Her innards were blistering, warmer than any woman I'd ever been with, her natural lubrication eased our movements, the friction of our agitation inflamed us further. Within a few strokes the woman below me arched her back, a scream occupied the room, she squirmed under me uncontrollably, her legs and arms crept through the air without pattern. I could have released but I withstood the snare, we shifted to our sides, her knees curled to her breasts, I behind her, buried. I was now able to tickle her earlobes, cup a breast, if she shifted her top leg it was possible to rub the clit, she roared again, in the hall I thought I heard someone halt to hear the festivity. Again we shifted, she on top, her heels above my shoulders, her palms next to my knees, she was in control now, I wallowed in the vision of her sweaty, perfect body, again she exploded. And then she became more erect, vertical above me, her knees supporting her ballet, she told me to release, fill her, and as she pinched my nipple, held my balls behind her, moved her hips viciously, I blasted every iota of my extract to quench her completely. I wrenched, she kept me inside, anticipated my quakes, crushed her pelvis onto mine, capturing my last globule.

Perhaps I lost consciousness, the experience was so overwhelming, but I found Amy leaning toward me, asking if I was all right, to which I responded, "Oh, my goodness, that was fantastic."

"You're really, really great yourself, the best!" We kissed, then she announced, "I'm hungry, how about you?" "Fungry," I agreed, we decided upon a cheese, fruit and meat tray, a bottle of champagne. While we waited for the repast to arrive we played, not seriously, but lovingly. I had a finger inside her, my mouth on her nipple, when we heard the knock and call, "Room service!" Amy bounced up, got a ten-dollar bill from her purse, and disappeared around the corner to the door. I expected to hear the closet creak, the clang of hangers as she got a robe, but all I caught was the heaviness of the portal opening, a shocked male voice repeating, "room service," and Amy asked, "Would you put it on the table, please?" I quickly threw a blanket over my loins, a youth in black and white entered, and as professionally as possible, although I knew he was doing his utmost to memorize Amy's parabolas, set up the plates, put the wine in an icy bucket.

"Should I open it?" he asked, doing his best not to stare. 

"No, that's okay," Amy responded, and she approached him, putting the bill in his shirt pocket, and then pressing into him, giving him a peck on the side of his face. He turned red, and headed for the door. To me, Amy mused, "I wonder if I tipped him too much?" I laughed, then got out of bed and opened the wine with a 'pop!' We drank and ate on the couch, feeding each other, and it got playful again. Amy wrapped a pliable slice of muenster around my just as pliable penis, proceeded to devour it. Then she grabbed a plump strawberry, sucked on it, then placed it within her womb, rubbed it around to ensure all the juices coated it, ate half of it, and I swallowed the remainder. And, the last act of the meal, she put a piece of orange inside herself and displayed it, just peeping out of the burrow and dared me to eat it. I did, and then started on her.

It took just a few moments until I discovered the specifics of her netherworld, the clit that chose to hide itself, the abundance of the folds of skin, the the heat of the inner sanctum, a good four or five degrees warmer than the other women I'd been with. She responded well to long strokes of the tongue on the labia, speedy hard sucks on the clitoris. I quickly had her excited again, the room and the hallway were filled with the music of her orgasm. I kept her there for ten minutes until, finally exhausted, she cried 'uncle.' 




Passion & Perspective Ch. 20-21



Once again it was my turn, she asked me to lie on my stomach, climbing above me, and with hands and breasts and belly and kisses began to massage my neck, my shoulders, back, legs, and then my buttocks. Nervously I sensed her approach the crack from the top and stroked it top to bottom, finishing her contact at the base of my testicles. She reversed direction, the pressure of her fingers increased, the skin was spread a bit further. A few strokes later I sensed actual contact with the anus, and a couple of strokes later her movements stopped at the fissure, circular motions stimulated it, I felt warm wetness, decided it was her spittle, and then a finger was dipping inside. "Relax," she commanded, "you'll love this." And soon her finger was inserted, I was sure, to the wrist, although it probably never actually passed the second knuckle. As I would jiggle a digit inside a woman's vagina she manipulated my rectum. To my surprise, I responded, I could feel my erection, only half hard at the beginning of our play, stiffen until it was more than capable of penetration, and we planned our return engagement. She choose a complex arrangement of limbs, one leg beneath my waist, I on my side, behind her, the ingress was made from the rear. I was surprised, it was very comfortable, we both had pillows, I could massage her back, cup a buttock, fondle a breast and tickle a nipple. For her part she was able to reach behind and encourage my arms, stretch between her legs to finger my testicles or rub my cutlass as it slid and out of her torridity. Three times I was able to entice loud bellows from her, and then I was prepared for my own ultimate pleasure, once more I spasmed, and if the intenseness of the orgasm was limited or the amplitude of spunk was reduced, I appreciated the emission no less.

We turned to each other, clenched tightly, more kisses were shared, and relaxed. Perhaps twenty minutes passed without a word, nothing but a shared appreciation of the energy between us. And then I felt her head raise, she announced, "Luke's expecting me home soon."

"What time is it?"

"Half past eleven. You need to go home to Molly, don't you?"

"Probably."

We went back to our embrace, more kisses, explorations of erogenous zones, perhaps I would have performed oral sex for her a last time, but she pushed me away. "No, any more and I'll want to stay, and then we won't want to go to work in the morning and then . . ." I understood her desire, and her demand, and so we helped each other dress, I clinched her bra, she buttoned my shirt, we seemed to feel more attraction to each other than usually followed even the most ardent of Lifestyle love makings. 

"I'd like to see you again."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she agreed, "next week?"

"All right. I'll call you?"

"Oh, please." We made sure everything was tucked back into her overnight bag, I turned to examine the room, trying to picture Amy in every corner of it, naked and willing, and then we walked to the elevator and in the lobby, I still didn't want it to end. 

"Another drink?" I suggested.

"All right."

We sat at the bar, almost deserted, the same one Molly had picked up three men in, and I felt, somehow, I was ahead. The bartender was the youngster that had brought us our tray, Molly would touch me just to tease him, I was sure he was picturing her nude and wishing it had been him, not I, who'd ravaged her. I noticed that every now and again Amy would catch his gaze, lick her lips, teasing him brutishly.

"Would you like to take him to bed?" I teased.

"Him? No. Oh, no! I'm too exhausted, you've done me in. And he's too young, he wouldn't know how to do the things you do."

~~~~~

Molly was in bed, a sheer peignoir covering her delicious frame, perfumed, desirable. "So, how was it?"

"Pretty damn good."

"It took you long enough," she joked.

"And yet, I only came seven times." My joke was certainly better than hers. I held her, explained Amy's change of clothing, shared the story about room service, stimulated her to detonation. I loved my wife, her sexiness, her willingness, but as I drifted to sleep a strange longing for Amy permeated my inner soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 21

I was on my way to work, I'd just left home, and the dashboard lit up, this time the display announced 'Amy' in the largest of letters.

"Hey, you!"

Her low voice filled the cabin. "I forgot to tell you something."

"What?"

"That was the best sex I've had in a decade."

"Really?"

"I'm telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth," she contended. "There's something about you that just does it for me. I can't wait to get together again. Want to blow off the morning? I've still got the room key."

I seriously considered the overture, would she say 'yes' if I did? And I really wanted to say yes, I was sure I could get it up again. Only the fact that we were on a deadline and my boss was watching pretty carefully kept me from agreeing. 

"You don't know what you're missing," she badgered.

"Yes, I do, and it's wonderful. We'll just have to wait till next Tuesday."

"I don't want to."

"Neither do I. I loved the way you teased the room service guy. I'll bet he's still jerking off."

"Either that, or his girlfriend is sore! Should I have told him to join in?"

I quickly knew that answer. "No, I wanted you all to myself. I'd like you all to myself in the future, too."

"Luke might have something to say about that, you know."

"I know. If he wants a threesome, I won't fuss. But you're way too good to share."

"I'm pulling into my garage now. Promise me you'll think about me today?"

"You, and fruit."

"That's my boy."

~~~~~

I couldn't get her out of my head. It wasn't like Bobbie, or the other girls. Yes, the specter of what I'd done with them, to them, often filled my mind at work during walks down the corridor, lulls in meetings. But the aura of Amy somehow sapped my concentration. In a meeting when I wasn't able to keep up, one of my guys asked if I was okay. When I got home, Molly was working late, I sat in the bathroom, thinking about Amy, masturbating.

It modulated as the week went on, I was able to return to a semblance of my usually focused self, although the strength of her memory pervaded most of my less active moments. Molly and I had a relaxing weekend planned, a get together with vanilla friends, we took in a movie, brunch at the Boat House. 

I was puttering by myself in the heat of the Sunday mid-afternoon, minor repairs I meant to get around to, when my cell phone rang, it was Amy. 

"Listen, Luke decided to head up to the city with some friends of his, go to the ball game, then get dinner. He won't be home until at least eight. Why don't you come over?"

I more than thought about it, I nearly jumped at the chance. So after I told her I'd try, I thought about my ploy. "Honey, I need some things from Lowes, I'm gonna head over. You want to come?" Molly was busy with some paper from work, she had a deadline to meet, I was almost sure she'd say no, and she did. "I'd love to, but I just can't. I've got to get this done. Why don't you stop at Appleby's and pick up some salads for dinner?"

I took just a few minutes to clean up, I was still in shorts and tee shirt, but the shirt was clean, I called Amy from my car." The garage is open, just come in, I'm in the back. Can't wait!" A few minutes later I was in her townhouse and found the patio door. Through the glass I admired her, she was sunning herself in a bikini, modest enough not to shock the neighbors, but any teenager who happened to live nearby might be fantasizing what this woman, older than their mothers, would be like in bed. But I knew, and was merry in my belief that I'd refresh my memory in minutes. Daubs of sweat shone on her forehead, belly, and I wanted to taste them, lick her skin. It was then she saw me, rose and walked into the house. 

We kissed, intensely, and I felt her desire, as strong as my own. "I'm so glad you could make it. Would you like some iced tea?" She filled a glass with ice, then opened the refrigerator, bent to retrieve the pitcher. I couldn't help myself, so I didn't, my hand was on her ass. "So it's like that, huh?" and she turned towards me, I had my hand on her breast, she was groping my readiness. I picked her up, sat her on the kitchen island, the knots on her top were pulled, I greedily suckled the nipple. Her cry jumped to the ceiling, slightly subdued, I knew she wanted to let go with her voice but the neighbors shouldn't hear this. She pulled my top off, her hand was suddenly full of ice, she rubbed it on my chest, and the variance of the chill combined with the warmth of her tongue on my nipple was painful. I loosened my shorts, her hand still cold from the crystals grabbed my rocky skin, I untied the last two strings, we were exposed to each other and without hesitation I plunged. 

She twisted back, forcing me further inside, on tiptoes I made my thrusts, quick moans escaped from her lungs, her eyes clenched tightly, and, not surprisingly, so did the muscles of her womb. Faced with the sensations of passion I lost control, and while she was still in fury I grunted and sent my dew on it's mission. It had only taken moments, less perhaps than that teenager of fantasy would have lasted, and yet we were both satisfied. When I withdrew, a glob of my sediment dripped from her womanhood onto the edge of the island, spread down the side. We laughed uncontrollably at the haste of our coupling, yet somehow we were both gratified by the quickie, it had been what we needed.

She was still on the counter, I was in front of her, we were touching, searching, considering where to continue this unexpected exploit. Her cell phone lit, she put a finger to my lip. "Hi, honey . . . oh, just sunning in the backyard . . . no, I've got all my clothes on, no shocked neighbors this time . . . what happened? . . . okay, sure, I'd love to go out . . . maybe Olive Garden? . . . I know how sexy you are, I'll wear something you'll like . . . See you then, love you!"

"Well, that was my husband, apparently he's not going to dinner after all. We've still got a half hour, though, what do you want to do?" We played a few minutes, but Luke's homecoming put a strain on the high jinks, I put my clothes back on, just twenty five minutes after I'd arrived I was heading out, fully quenched. As I drove to Loews, I wondered what would have happened if Luke hadn't called, if he'd caught Amy and I in the kitchen. I wasn't worried about it too much, Amy had his permission to play, didn't she? And even if he wasn't expecting it, he wouldn't make a fuss, would he? Just the same, I was glad we weren't discovered. Then my mind took another twist . . .

Late that evening Molly decided to pounce on me, although she was being satisfied by mouth and finger I was unable to raise the flag. "Is anything wrong?" she worried.

"No, I'm just tired, I think." It wasn't the first time I'd lost the ability, although it was a fairly rare condition, she bit on my excuse. But I had a fantasy I wanted to try out on her. "You know what I'd like? I'd love to come home sometime unexpectedly and find you here with a guy."

"Who? Mark?"

"Maybe. Or maybe somebody I didn't know, or a neighbor, or something. You think it might happen some time?"

"Let me work on it." I knew she was just playing the game, most of these figments would never be acted on. "I know, I've picked up a guy at the grocery market . . ."

~~~~~

The next night Molly made fish, we were drinking a glass of wine, and she asked, "You're getting together with Amy tomorrow night?"

"You said it was okay."

"Yes I did, and it is, and I want you to have a great time. Were you planning on going back to the hotel?"

"I suppose."

"Well, listen. Liz has been bugging me to have a girl's night out, and I told her I was free tomorrow night, I'm going to meet her right after work, I won't come back to the house. So, if you want to, you could bring Amy over here. I'll try not to get back until at least 10:30, and if you guys want to keep going after then, well, I'll just sneak in and go into the office, you'll never know I'm here."

"Thanks," I said, "I'll pass it by Amy, find out what she thinks."

~~~~~

Amy had no problems with the idea and she showed up on my threshold at seven, I had pasta ready, we ate a bit and then were overwhelmed by our craving, we headed for the bedroom. Amy saw the huge whirlpool tub and wanted a shared bubble bath, I scrubbed her back and she scrubbed my front and then she sat on top of me and we caused a tsunami. Molly and I have screwed in the tub many times, and once Bobbie and I played in there. But, like everything else I was finding about her, with Amy although the exercises were the same the sensations were so very different. I managed to hold off while she screamed, I was glad the windows were closed, we dried off and then continued on the bed, she wanted me to enter from behind and when I snuck a finger into the rear hole she hollered to get it deeper, I was screwing her to beat the band in both holes, I wondered if she'd mind if I took my main appliance out of the front hole and moved it, and just the thought of having anal sex brought me off.

When we were ready to pause, I headed to the kitchen for dishes of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of Chambord. Amy had never had that particular combination of desert before, and we figured out a way to eat it that didn't involve spoons. I got her to go round the bend again, I was too pooped to pop a second time.

By eleven, we were ready to call it a night, we dressed and when I escorted Amy to the front porch I saw the office door was closed, a light glowing under it. I gave her one final kiss, we both shared how nice it had been, we were looking forward to the next time. Back in the bedroom I was changing the sheets, Molly entered the boudoir and helped me. "What a mess!" she exclaimed, told me she'd been home forty-five minutes, got to hear Amy in the last phase of the opera, was nice enough to take the linens to the laundry room for pre-treatment, or maybe she didn't trust me to get the stains out.

~~~~~

We had a date with Mark that Friday night at his house, when I compared my wife's inventiveness in bed with that of my lover, I found myself underwhelmed. Molly had a great time however, as did Mark, and if I observed more than participated, the two didn't seem to be concerned. Later that night, in our own bed alone, Molly remarked, "A few months ago, I was over at Mark's place and he wanted to go bareback. I really wanted him to, it feels so much better, but I made him wear one, we've really got to be careful about disease, don't you agree?" I said I did, and we drifted off. But the next time I got together with Amy, I put one on.

~~~~~

Amy couldn't get together the next week, and when we met up again in the middle of August, I realized we were great in bed, but we hardly knew each other. To correct the deficiency, I planned a date. I picked her up in the hotel parking lot, then drove her to the historic district where we entered an American bistro with French overtones. I asked if I could order for her, we started with a sparkling cocktail, a tartare for an appetizer, rack of lamb and duck accompanied by a deep Bordeaux. I gave her a choice of desserts, she chose a creme brulee trio. Over the unhurried meal I discovered the outline of her life, childhood in a rural village near the state border, a popular teenager and then disaster could have struck. At her senior prom, she gave her purity to a boy she admired, and in July she found she was with child. She carried it to birth, gave it to an unknown family, she knew the biological father was too immature to be a suitable husband, but her first year of college was ruined. She went on to get an associates degree in accounting, then found herself at a loss. She bummed a ride to Arizona with a friend, picked up a low-paying bookkeeping position. She was in love with the desert, but after three years during which she had a bunch of friends, she realized that the sun couldn't make up for the seclusion from her parents and siblings, so she moved back. She got a better job, and then a still better one, took night classes until she had her bachelors degree and along the way she had a million boyfriends. In her early forties she met Luke, decided it was time to settle down, then after eight years of marriage, they both realized they were suffering from the seven year itch, they entered the Lifestyle.

We talked about my life, of course, but not in the detail of hers. I thought Amy was taken by my willingness to listen, understand. We headed back to the hotel, it was well after ten at that point, and if the sex we had was less inventive than the previous chapters, it hit the spot none the less. We cuddled, and then, given the liqueurs and heavy sauces, we drifted to a nap.

I sleepily realized my phone was beeping, Amy was softly snoring, the display read 'where r u ru alright' and discovered the message from my wife had been sent at 2:17! I woke Amy, after she regained alertness we discovered she had four texts and two phone calls from Luke, but she'd unfortunately had her phone on silent. I texted Molly I was fine, we'd just fallen asleep, I'd be home soon, and when I got there, her look informed me I probably shouldn't make a habit of not telling her where I was.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 22-23



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 

Chapter 22

A Tuesday night, Amy was off with her husband extending a long Labor Day weekend, I got home from work around my usual time. Molly's car was in the garage, there was a car I didn't recognize parked on the opposite side of the street; the neighbors must be having company. 

At the kitchen island I picked up the mail, started checking the envelopes when I became aware of a strange, creaking vibration. As I listened for it, I heard from a distance low moans, some of them my wife's, and unintelligible voices. I investigated, in the hall outside the master bedroom were fragments of clothing scattered: a blouse, a skirt, a shirt, a bra. The vibration was louder now, the creaking of the bed springs, the moans came from Molly's throat, they were interspersed with a man's voice, "You like that, don't you? You want it bad, don't you?"

The bedroom door was cracked six inches, by standing next to the wall I could make out the pair on the bed, Molly on her back, her knees pointed to the ceiling fan, a gentleman above her, it was more than obvious his penis was prodding her heartland. I didn't recognize him, he wasn't Mark, or Nick, or any of our other playmates, grey hair, large pink butt. What was my wife up to? Not that I minded, my own erection grew as I watched the lovers cavort, Molly seemed in the throes, the man was close, and then he let loose, a call that would have been appropriate in a zoo escaping from his gut.

I was in a quandary, should I leave them be, just slink into the office, close the door and wait for them to finish? And yet, the scene seemed to me an invitation, Molly certainly knew that I was coming home, we'd talked about it at breakfast, if she wanted privacy wouldn't she have made sure the door was shut?

I decided to enter, the man was gasping for air after his come, his face turned from me, Molly gazed at me merrily, a finger raised to her mouth, beckoning me to play along. "Don!" she screamed, "what are you doing home? You were supposed to be working late!"

The man's head twisted, caught my visage, he cried, "Oh, my god!" his face turned an intense shade of persimmon.He scrambled off my wife and the bed to the point furthest from me and defended, "We can explain!"

Molly covered herself with the sheet, in the process I saw a laugh cover her face only to be replaced with a mock scowl, some sort of game was going on here, I sensed I should collaborate. "Well, go ahead!" I answered the man's suggestion, "Let me hear what you've got to say."

"Its . . . I mean . . . we . . ." he stammered, trying to put his underpants and trousers on. Of course there was only one explanation, and although I and Molly were quite comfortable with it, he apparently wasn't. Then she broke in, "Don, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean . . . listen, could you just go into the office, let Jack get out of here."

I pasted an insincere frown on, allowed, "Well, there better be a good reason for this!" I turned, headed down the hall, and when the office door was closed, I let myself have a good, if silent, laugh. I heard the voices, his panicked, her's mercurial and suggesting he leave quickly before a scene erupted. In a few moments I heard the front door open and through the window I saw him scamper across the lawn to his car, fumble with the keys and drive unsafely down our block.

I found Molly in the den, a short, thin robe disguising her recently screwed frame. "Drink?" she asked.

"Sure. Vodka tonic?" She mixed our beverages, and waited for me to ask, "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"You've said you wanted to catch me in bed with someone. Now you have. Did you enjoy it?" 

"Yeah, it was fun. Who is he?"

"Jack. I met him at the grocery store, he flirted with me in frozen foods, then invited me out for a drink. It was the old line, his wife doesn't satisfy him anymore, I'm the sexiest thing he's ever seen, blah, blah, blah. I let him play his game for a few weeks, since he's vanilla I didn't tell him about us. I thought about telling you about him, asking if it was okay, then I remembered how you've always wanted to catch me."

"Was this the first time?"

"No, I didn't think it would be fair to him, I'm pretty sure he's never strayed before, so last week I let him get a hotel, we shagged for a couple of hours. Then I told him I could meet him here an hour before you got home, told him you were staying late at the office. He went for it, and you saw the rest. How long did you watch?"

"Five minutes, maybe. I didn't want to barge in just at the right time, so I waited until you guys were done. That was a pretty good act you went into."

"I had it planned out," she admitted. 

"Going to see him again?"

"No, I'll tell him you're really pissed and that if he ever catches you around in the neighborhood you're likely to knock his block off. He isn't that good, this'll give him something to think about, maybe he'll treat his wife better."

We laughed about it for a little while, before dinner I had my ass in exactly the same place Jack had his, it became a private joke with us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 23

It was late, very late, on a Friday night, Nick and Bobbie and Molly and I were yawning around the coffee table, recent participants in a pleasurable tryst. My alter ego observed the scene, wondering at the lack of zeal. Oh, the four of us had squirmed and prodded, Bobbie had been delighted in the manner of which I'd draped her over the arm of a couch, sticking it to her with confidence and aptitude, she'd orgasmed pleasantly and a few minutes later I'd let myself have the indulgence of oozing, but the whole act had been, for me, a simple movement, no more important than the insipid adaptation of a superb novel we'd seen on the big screen earlier.

I hid my emotions from my partners of course, it wouldn't do for them to realize my other lover was a level or three above them. Earlier in the week, for example, Amy had brought a tube of extravagant massage oil. We'd slathered it all over each other, and when Amy had realized I was enjoying the attention to my rear end, she'd lingered there, dipping an oiled finger inside to massage my prostrate while she took my manhood into my mouth. I wanted to orgasm into her mouth, but sensing my imminent release, she clamped my testicles, denying me the intensity, and then rolled on her stomach, playing with her own ass, knowing I'd get the idea. Her anus became my playground, I enticed it with finger, and tongue, and then, while she begged, I penetrated her. She screamed as I pelted the alternative wellspring, pushed back to me so I could enter as deeply as I dared, and when I steamed into her, the tightness of her rectum enhanced my orgasm, I was completely drained.

No, this group of four I was in could no more match that mountaintop than a hamster could discover nuclear science. They simply had not a clue.

~~~~~~~~~~

Amy and I had been seeing each other for a bit over two months, almost weekly, sometimes if the stars aligned properly we'd bump into each other for a hour, two, and those unplanned experiments were, in a fortuitous coincidence, the loveliest of all.

Our 'regular' tete-a-tetes normally consisted of a meal, none so heavy as the French feast we'd engorged, then a visit to a local hotel where we'd destroy the bedclothes and each other. After that first planned experience in my home we understood it wasn't the proper locale for complete abandon - Amy felt it necessary to restrict her bellows, I continually listened for any sign of my wife's interference, even if I knew she was supportive of my huddle. And Amy felt that any movement towards using her home would cause confusion in her husband, he might misunderstand it to include an invitation to join our play. As a result, we decided a hotel was the optimal berth for our affair, we became practiced at using Priceline.

That isn't to say that if the stars aligned, if a spouse went missing for an afternoon or evening and the other had a way of escaping his or her duties, that we wouldn't sneak into one home or another and spend a delicious hour in the art, a little voice whispering 'danger' in our hearts, making our erotic dance the more lustful. 

It was a wonderful affair!

One night it happened that we were lying together on a king-sized mattress in a beige colored room, an amorphous work of 'art' on the wall, the pillows decorating the rug, our torsos collapsed and heaving.

"I was thinking," I began.

"And here I thought it was simple inspiration," she joked. "Where did you come up with that position?"

"I'm a student of Kama Sutra. Got my black belt a couple years back."

"They have black belts in those?"

"Maybe it was a merit badge. Well, anyway, I read about this resort on the coast of Central America. There's only six bungalows, each one has it's own butler and cook, a beach a mile long, no one gives a damn if you wear clothes or not. We should go there for a week."

"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely," she agreed. "We could sun ourselves during the day, make love on the beach, in the ocean, and then at night we'd get our servant to make us our favorite dishes and then we'd listen to the night birds under our net, we'd never have to worry about a thing."

We discussed the locale, dreamed of it's possibilities, and in the dream we resurrected our desire.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next week I met her at the hotel, I had prepared a picnic, wine and cheeses and fruits, and after a spate of rapture, I opened my laptop and showed her the haven. "We could hit the airport for a 7:35 flight, connect in Atlanta, land at noon, we can take a helicopter to the resort, by two we'd be on the beach." I showed her photo galleries of the resort, complete with cost estimates, itineraries, the travel documents we'd need. "You've got a passport, don't you?" I asked. 

She hesitated, seemed to ponder where she kept it, then responded, "You thought this all out, didn't you? Like there was really a chance it might happen. Oh, I'd love to go away with you, but I can't leave Luke for a week. He'd never let me go, not for that long. Have you talked to Molly about this? Would she let me take you away?"

"I'm pretty sure she'd be okay with it."

"Really? If you were my husband, I wouldn't be. I wish we could make this happen, I really do, but you can see that it's just impossible, don't you? Not a week. No. Maybe I could talk him into a night, or even a weekend, maybe. I'd have to get him at just the right moment, even then I'm not absolutely sure of it."

We dropped the subject then, painfully, and pressed against each other, but the emotion simply didn't return that evening, we parted forty-five minutes later.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next week at the Marriott, I was ready with the alternative I'd researched, a luxury B&B, we'd leave on a Friday, I'd have her back by Sunday evening. She listened until I wrapped it up with a summary of the plans and a plea. "Please think about this, I think I need it, a weekend away with you, I'm in love with you!"

Her face dropped in amazement, even fury. "What? Did you say you love me?"

"I do," I reiterated, "From the first moment I saw you I was in love with you, I know you feel the same way."

She started to put her clothes on, gather her things. "Don, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't mislead you somehow. You know this was never about that. I mean, you're a wonderful guy, and you're the best lover I've ever had, but this started out as just sex. I love Luke, I always will. And you love Molly. Think of the years you've spent with her, of the commitment you've made to her. You need to think about this, very hard."

As she was walking to the door, I asked, "Does that mean we're not going away this weekend?"

~~~~~~~~~~

She called me Monday of the next week, asked to meet at a strip mall coffee shop, and when I arrived she revealed, "Don, I told Luke about what you said, and he wants me to stop seeing you, at least for awhile, and I agree with him. I'm going to miss what we had, it was great. But we're not going to see each other anymore."

"Never?" As she expected, I was devastated. 

"Not for a good while at least. I got Luke to agree that maybe, after a few months, we'd see where we are. He understands that you turn me on like nobody else ever has, and he's fine with that. He just wants to make sure you know it's just sex." She rose, gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Take care of yourself. If you want, call me after the holidays. I'll always remember you."

I watched her walk out of the cafe, I saw her enter the right side of her sedan. As it pulled away, I could see Luke driving.

I drove around for awhile, looking for vistas of rivers and the bay. After dark, I found myself drinking at the Marriott bar, thinking of what this edifice had meant to me, how it had changed my life, intensified it and then destroyed it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, the alarm clock sounded in my bedroom, Molly spun to hit the snooze button. I groaned from the chore of waking, then the shock of my new life without Amy hit, I felt the churning in my stomach, the sharp headache. This couldn't be a hangover, I'd been fairly good, a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, only three beers at the bar over a period of two and a half hours before I finally gave up, headed home to find Molly asleep. Then the churns migrated to something more, I flew to the bathroom and retched.

I couldn't stop, Molly got me a wet washrag, held my back as I fed the toilet. Twenty minutes later, when I'd apparently hit a resting place, Molly handed me a tumbler of water, asked if I was all right. I waved her away, she headed to the guest bathroom for her morning shower.

"You should stay home today, I hear the bug is going around."

"This one's evil," I sweated.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

I really didn't, I wanted to be alone in my misery, physical and mental. "No, I'll be fine, I've had the flu before."

I spent the day commuting between the bathroom and the bed, where I turned Netflix on and watched a season of a sitcom that didn't particularly amuse me. When I wasn't too sick to think, my rumination was of Amy. How could she be so stupid, to throw away this wonderful love we had, how could I possibly live without her? I thought about texting her an evil message, couldn't find the strength to hit send. A slice of toast I forced myself to swallow became hideous in my stomach, I disgorged it quickly. Molly called twice, ensuring I didn't need to head for the emergency room.

That evening she made me chicken soup out of a packet, a sick meal I remembered from my childhood, I drank half the broth, it stayed down, I slept as if drugged.

The next morning I felt somewhat better, but I hid my resurgence from my wife, told her I was still too sick to work, the day was spent worrying about how my life was going to continue now that I no longer had the love of my life. I sent her three text messages, apologizing, cajoling, she returned only one, 'stop it don't contact me again'. I was showered and somewhat better that evening, Molly made a salad and soup, I wasn't hungry but managed to keep a cup down.

For a week to ten days I moped, Molly assumed it was a hangover from the malady, I couldn't tell her that Amy had broken up with me. A couple of times I drove past Amy's house, looked for any sign of my lover, suggested by text we should meet at the Marriott, my plea was ignored.

A fortnight after Amy's devilish decision, I picked myself up, took a long walk, decided that if she was going to act that way, I didn't need her. 

I took up jogging, first a half mile a day, eventually making it through a two-mile loop. Molly wondered at the twelve pounds I lost, Bobbie teased that she didn't have an inner tube to hold on to anymore. By the time of the Superbowl, although every once in awhile an image of Amy's smile, blond hair or wonderful breasts would flash through my brain, I was over her. I began to appreciate the physical charms of my wife again, I participated with pleasure in a threesome with Mark, when we got together with Bobbie and Nick I gave every bit as good as I got.

I sent Amy an Easter card, funny, and in the enclosed note I apologized for my dereliction, told her how much fun I'd had, admitted that I would miss her charms but understood her points, she had no need to fear I'd bother her in the future.



Passion & Perspective Ch. 24-25



This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren't interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography. 


Chapter 24

I was tangled in the afternoon chill with Bobbie, I had my back against the head board, she was on my lap, we were trying to rock back and forth, but mainly it was Bobbie's work, her breasts fluttering as she bounced. It was a comfortable position for me, I was able to let Bobbie do pretty much as she liked as I stroked her body, agitated her clit with a hand, I heard her little shrieks start, she went on and on, as good a come as she'd had with me in months. 

She clamped it off when we heard the hotel room door click and Molly and Nick entered, huge coats and boots still displaying the white powder of the winter. "Oh, don't let us stop you," Nick said, "as if we could."

"We won't," Bobbie agreed, and rolled over, pulled me on top of her. The other couple travelled through the connecting door to our other room, I went to work on Bobbie, plunging in and out, shallow and deep, and soon I not only had her in explosion again, but I came too, a wonderful little gushing that curled the hairs on my arms. 

I rolled off, Bobbie said, "Thank you! That was fantastic," and we huddled together under the covers, whispering endearments, soothing each other after the sex. 

The four of us had come up to the ski lodge in the mountains, four hours from home, to celebrate my sixtieth birthday and escape the late February blahs that had overtaken the skies and the hearts of people, for a frenzy of frolicking on the slopes, in the pool, yes, and in the bed. On Friday, we'd arrived and after a pleasant dinner we'd retired to our two rooms, attached by an interior door, and there became enamored, first Molly and Bobbie had decided to have a little girl/girl play while Nick and I observed and made unhelpful suggestions. That morphed into a pile of people, girls bouncing between men, penises stroked by whichever female hand was available, clits sucked by mouths that might or might not belong to a spouse, I have no doubt that passersby in the hallway heard numerous calls of mating women, and then Nick and Bobbie had crawled off to sleep in the other room.

In the morning Molly wanted to slumber, she'd been doing a lot of that lately, I peeped in on the other couple, they were canoodling but when Bobbie saw me she waved me in on the side Nick wasn't using, we made a sandwich of the woman.

The morning had been spent in the swimming pool and hot tub, and after lunch Nick and Molly had decided to take a walk through the cold to a nearby art gallery, while Bobbie and I chose to drown ourselves again. But while we were theoretically changing into swimsuits the urge had taken over, and we'd not made it out of the room. Which is where we were when Nick and Molly walked in on us.

Ten minutes after we'd finished, Nick stuck his head in the room and asked, "Mind if I come in?"

"Of course not," Bobbie greeted her husband, "but I think I'm all used up right now. Where's Molly?"

"She's in the tub, I washed her back and she's relaxing." To my surprise Nick was still dressed in jeans and turtleneck, instead of joining us he sat in a chair. "Don, I wonder if everything's okay with Molly. She seems so tired, and on the way back here she had to stop a couple of times, short of breath."

"I noticed that too," Bobbie popped in, "last night she told me she was having heartburn."

"Yeah," I agreed, "it's been going on a couple of weeks now, just being tired and having indigestion. I asked her if anything's wrong, she told me she's fine, she's busy at work, she's hoping the rest this weekend will get her out of it."

"You should get her to see a doctor, I'm a little worried."

"I'll try," I agreed, "but you know Molly."

That night after dinner we decided to go to one of the bars, a guy with a guitar was having a sing-along of oldies, half an hour later Molly decided she was tired, I took her to bed, lied down with her while she drifted off, awhile later I heard Nick and Bobbie come in but I didn't want to leave Molly.

The next day, while Nick was driving home, my phone lit up with a text. Surprisingly, it was from Amy, it read, 'i'd love to c u sometime.' I tucked it away, not bothering the group with it. But it got me to thinking as the miles passed. I hadn't heard from Amy since that fateful cup of coffee months previously, she'd not responded to my Easter card, and to an extent I no longer pined for her. I decided that during the week I'd give her a call, maybe meet her for a drink, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to restart our affair, I was at peace with her memory.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday at work I got a phone call. "This is Don."

"Hi, Don, this is Peter." Molly's boss, I knew him from Christmas parties and company outings. "Listen, during a meeting Molly had a problem, some pain in her chest, and we took her to the emergency room."

Needless to say I told my own boss and scurried out. When I got to the hospital she was in a bed, wires dangling everyplace, a resident making nervous expressions attending to her. "Well, I guess this counts as seeing the doctor, doesn't it?" Molly tried to joke, although I could see from the tension in her face that her pain was serious. The resident couldn't, or wouldn't, give us any information, and then they trucked Molly off to XRay. A couple hours later, she was bedded in a private room, she was going to spend at least the night there for observation. And then our family doctor came in and gave us the news. "You're having a heart attack, it looks like at least two of the arteries are severely blocked, the indications are for bypass surgery."

Two mornings later she was on the table for six and a half hours, the surgeons told me it had gone well, she was expected to recover successfully.

For the next two months I played nursemaid while pain and depression was rampant. Nick and Bobbie and Mark and many of our dozens of vanilla friends were supportive, visiting and sending cards or gifts. Molly tried to be gracious, but she had a bit of a problem with losing her temper, the doctor said it was normal.

I never got around to calling Amy, somehow she didn't seem at all important to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 25

It was a Saturday afternoon, nine weeks after the attack. Molly had gone back to work part time that week and we decided to take a brisk walk through the neighborhood. It was a warm, humid spring day, we sweated profusely, and when we got home Molly headed to the shower. "Want me to wash your back?" I offered.

"I'd like that."

We were both under the spray, I knew that Molly's scar was still tender from the way she winced when I used the washrag gently on it, and when she took the cloth from me she soaped my back and I turned around, she washed my chest and then, for the first time since the surgery, she reached for my genitals. "Has it been hard for you, no sex?"

"Not at all," I responded, and it was the truth. Oh, I'd masturbated some, but it had been no problem waiting for her to get ready.

"Have you seen anybody? Bobbie, Amy?"

"No, I wouldn't do that without you. And I certainly wouldn't have done it behind your back."

"That's sweet. If you'd have asked, I'd have said yes." She came into my arms, I felt her breasts against my chest, we kissed. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? What do you say to a nice time?"

"That sounds pretty good to me. You're ready?"

"Yeah, I think so."

We got out of the shower, dried each other, walked to the bed. The first time after surgery I was cautious, even though Molly had been told by her doctor that sexual activity wouldn't be a problem, I'm sure she still had trepidations. I let her take the lead, we kissed and petted for awhile, I went down on her and she seemed to have a little orgasm, and then, when I entered her in our gentle position, we took it easy, with help from my fingers she had another nice come, and when I got all tingly and filled her up, it was wonderful.

We laid there for awhile, cuddling, and then she asked me what I wanted for dinner.

Over the next month, we had sex a couple of times a week, we became comfortable with each other's bodies again, we worked up to the more demanding, ambitious positions, never quite getting above 4 or 5 on the difficulty scale. But then, even before the attack, we rarely got more than a 7, so we felt pretty good about it.

One night we were lying in bed, sweaty and happy, and Molly said, "I heard from Bobbie today. They'd like us to come over for dinner next weekend."

"Do you want to go?" I inquired carefully.

"I want to see them. They're nice people, and were real friends when I was in the hospital. But dear, I'm not sure I want to get back into the Lifestyle." She paused for my response, I wanted more explanation, waited her out. "Since the heart attack, I've had this strange feeling I'm living on borrowed time, and I want to spend it on things that really mean something. It's not that I didn't like the sex, but there's a part of me that says, 'enough's enough.'"

"You feel that way now, but down the line do you think you might change your mind?"

"If I do, then we can always revisit the topic, can't we? And by the way, I'm saying that I'm going to opt out, I'm not asking you to."

"You mean you wouldn't mind if next weekend I took Bobbie up to the bedroom while you played Parcheesi with Nick?"

"I think I'd want you to be a little more discreet than that. But, yeah, if you want to get together with Bobbie, and she and Nick are willing, I wouldn't have any problems with it. Or anybody else. Just the way you were with me at the start, with Mark."

"Thank you, my love," I answered, "but we've always been in this together. And I'm going to stick with you, till the high water comes. If you're out of the game, so am I. It's no problem, I've still got you, I always will."

We went back to cuddling, warming each other, until we drifted serenely off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When the next weekend came around, we had a lovely dinner with Nick and Bobbie, and when we explained our decision about temptation, they were understanding and supportive. Molly said Mark was fine with it when she told him over a dinner. We still get together with them often, and if the others we met in the Lifestyle have no use for us any more, we made three wonderful friends through our erotic hobby.

I really am fine with our decision, I don't burn for another lover, and the remembrances of our playtimes often spark our now companionless love life.

It's all a matter of perspective.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so it concludes, this tale of Molly and Don. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I relished writing it. If you managed to make it through I'd appreciate an email telling me what you liked, what seemed less than interesting.  Your feedback is the only payment I get, but it's enough.

Incidentally, the location of this story is real, a town somewhere in the United States of America.  Have you been there?  Do you know where it is? I've left lots of clues, but disguised actual places.  For example a restaurant named Cafe Roberto might become in the story Bob's Bistro. If you think you know the name of the city, send me an email or leave a comment (non-anonymous); if you get it right I'll send you a small token of my appreciation.

    Adam