4 comments/ 26176 views/ 0 favorites A Christmas Love Story By: Tonyjoe You know that's not wise, honey." She cuddled closer. "I know I love you, but damn it, you've been divorced for only a six months, and we've been dating and being lovers and everything for only ten weeks. You're still on the rebound. Sure, I might want to marry you, but you can't be that sure about me yet." I knew she was right. She hammered home the point. "I know I stop every time we pass a jeweler's window and look at engagement rings with you, but it's too soon." She sat up. "Maybe your new assignment is a good thing for us. The six months you're going to be mostly away, at least until that new division is working all right, will give you the time to be sure I'm really the one for you. We'll be together nearly every weekend, and sometimes, when Ted takes the kids, I'll be with you during the week." Ted is her ex husband, and he likes to take the kids for weeks at a time sometimes. It works out well: they both live in Lexington MA, their two kids go to the same schools they always have, and Ted would be happy to see Barbara remarry. "Hell, I'll even pay for the honeymoon - it'll turn off the alimony. But listen, Joe," he also said, "if you and Barbara get married, be sure it's for fucking ever, both for her sake and for my kids. I'd rather pay alimony than see them go through another divorce." Yes, boys and girls, some marriages end with the couples still being friends. Ted and Barbara's was like that. Mine, however, ended with a cheating wife, no kids, and we were for sure not friendly! Barbara continued. "So, your orders, when you're away, are to date some other women. I'm going to date some other guys, too. You can even sleep with the women if you like them. I may do that with some guys, for that matter. I'll be faithful and true to you when we get engaged and married, but right now it wouldn't be right for you and me to get engaged. You need more experience learning to trust women. I'll tell you this, though. I may make love to someone else, or have sex with them, but there's only one man who's going to spend the night with me, and wake up with me, and that man is you. You can trust me on that, kiddo, because although I don't like the idea of spending a lot of nights alone, just being with my kids, I don't want to see someone else next to me in the morning if that someone isn't you. And sure, when you come back from Long Island in half a year, and if you still feel the same way you do now, I'll for real choose an engagement ring, and we'll for real choose a date, and we'll be happy and all that ever after. I'm even willing to choose a date for choosing a date. Like, Christmas Eve, 1999. You can propose to me then, and I'd feel secure in accepting then." "I know you're right. I just wish there was another way. . ." I muttered. "Shhhh" she countered. "I want to do this now." Her cuddling stopped, and kissing started, her leaning over me, her tongue touching lips, teeth, ear. She shifted, and I watched her head move down, exciting my nipples, my navel. My cock. I watched the back of her head as it rested on my stomach, and felt the wonderful sensations of fingers and mouth and tongue. "Barbara, I want to see. I have to see!" She moved, her head now resting on my legs, my erect penis being touched by her hair, and her tongue. "You do like to watch, don't you?" she asked, and moved her shoulder length hair over her shoulder, so I had an unobstructed view of her, as she raised her head, and lowered it again, on me, mouth on shaft, then lifting that, on scrotum, "That's good, because I like to perform for you." So erotic. I felt the exaggerated pulse in my cock, the urgency. "Barbara, I have to get in you: I'm losing control." Her hand closed on my shaft, and began stroking it: "Lose control, Joe. Lose it now, right now, with me here!" I couldn't help myself. Her eyes met mine as she felt the pulsing, the surging, and her mouth captured me, she sucked, and I came. Again, and again, and again. I saw her eyes close, watched her swallow, and pump me more and more. Afterwards she said. "I loved doing that to you." "Barbara, I'm really inhibited about doing that in your mouth. It seems almost obscene. . ." "No, no, it's fun sometimes. Besides, dear, even if I won't have a committed relationship with you, I know sex with you and love making with you is special for me, and I want it to be special for you, too, and better with me than with anyone else. "And, Joe dear, you have some unfinished business with me right now. You can use that vibrator, or whatever part of you is still working, but right now I'm climbing walls. . ." I leaned over her. "I want to watch, too," she muttered, slipping a pillow under her head and leaning forward, legs spread, pelvis tilted up, watching. I opened her, licked her, telling her that when she was going down on me I wanted another penis to be in her, until she, too, couldn't help herself. Barbara's orgasms are not quiet and subdued. She convulses, giving me as much pleasure in driving her over the edge as she gets being driven over. Then we slept, and awoke in each other's arms, loving one another, moving with each other only lovers can move and the sunlight flooded in the window that looked out onto the porch and the fenced in yard. I marveled again at Barbara's sexuality. I never met a woman like her who without being touched would be lubricated and ready in so short a time. Men who read this whose wives or lovers take extensive foreplay before they can accept a penis have no idea what a woman like Barbara does for their ego. Then we had breakfast and a clarification. "Are you serious, Barbara? You're really going to date and all that, until Christmas Eve?" "Yes, I am because I want to and I want you to, too. I want you on Christmas Eve to know, even though you've dated and maybe even screwed a half dozen women that when you decide to settle down it's me you want to do settle down with. Deal?" "OK. I admit I'm a little shaky in learning to love and learning to trust. It's a deal." "So: you're my main man, and I hope pretty soon my only man. You're for sure my number one priority. "Now, go pack." It's a four hour drive to Hempstead on Long Island from my Wayland apartment. Barbara helped me pack and even came with me that first weekend to help me get my new apartment organized. "I'm a little jealous knowing there'll be some other women in this apartment and in this bed. But you know, I still think it's for the best for both of us. But get your manager ass in this bed right now, buster!" Barbara loves for me to take her from behind. I did that as she posed, presenting her cunt, on hands and knees. "When your back is turned to me, do you sometimes think of other guys you're dating?" I whispered as I bent over her, starting to move in her, I felt the contracting muscles as she nodded yes. "Maybe," I said, "maybe you should be sucking that guy's cock while I take you this way" at first being angry about her confession, then somehow excited, too. She climbed an emotional wall with excitement and released it all with an orgasm. It matched my own. It was on Monday evening when I was talked to her. "How was the trip home, honey?" "Joe, it went quickly: I was thinking about making love with you, having sex with you, and getting all horny." "Huh?" "You know, you were saying maybe I needed another penis while yours was being used, and I think I know how much you like to watch me, and I was thinking about all of that." It really did turn her on! Well, it worked for me, too. "Oh, you're a bad woman. I wonder if I'm a liberated enough man to be able to deal with all of that." "I don't know if you are or not. But, lover, you had better be. You know you have no claim on me yet - jealousy isn't part of the deal. What I want to know is, will you be here next weekend? Ted will have the kids and you and I can have a wonderful time here. Please say you're coming!" "I'll be there Friday about 9. I can't get away from here until about 4, so traffic will be a bitch. I'll be horny, too - I haven't have had enough time to meet anyone here to take care of that little problem, speaking of sex and jealousy." "Well, being horny isn't a problem for me, honey." What did she mean by that? "Uh, Barbara, have you met anyone new?" "Nothing serious, but yeah, there's a guy I dated last week and we're going to a movie tonight. Don't worry, it's nothing heavy." "Uh, you said you're horny. . ." "I'm not planning on having sex with this guy, honey. My being horny is for you to fix. Look, I got a couple of kids to take care of now: talk to you tomorrow." The next day when I talked with her she said the movie was fine, and Walter was a perfect gentleman. "Maybe not quite perfect, he gave me a pretty passionate goodnight kiss, and a full body press. He made sure I knew there was a manly man holding me!" "You mean he had a boner?" "Yeah - it was fun. I better be careful though. I was horny from last weekend, and here was a de-horny machine ready and primed and everything. I WILL have to be careful, honey. You know, most times, by the third date, people start having sex. . ." "I don't want to think about that!" I responded. "Joe, I want you to get over that jealousy. You have a lot of sexual hang-ups. Don't confuse sex with love if there's not a committed relationship! I'm NOT going to sit at home when you're not here, and you shouldn't, either. I may like a guy enough to have sex with him. You should do that if you meet a woman who turns you on, too. I'm willing to chance that you'll fall for someone else - I don't think you will, but it's a chance - and you have to give me that chance, too. Until Christmas, anyhow. If we still think . . ." "Yeah, yeah, I know. Time enough for exclusive relationships in January. I'll play your game." We talked of other things: our plans for the weekend, for her next trip, her kids, my divorce. Then the conversation ended. That night in Hempstead were hell! "Joe, listen to this!" Barbara said soon after I called her the next night. A new voice came over the phone. "Hi, Barbara, it's Walter. I'm sorry I didn't catch you at home. Look, I'd love to spend some time with you Thursday or Friday, whenever you're not busy. I can't get the memory of how you felt when I kissed you out of my mind, and I'd love a replay of that. Maybe we can go to the Pillar House for dinner, or whatever you'd like. Think about it, I'll call tomorrow night. Please say yes!" "I just got that message. Doesn't he sound nice?" "He sounds like he has more than dinner in mind, Barbara!" "Yeah, he does. What do you think?" "Are you asking me if I want you to go out with him???" "Sort of." "Why would I want to do that???" "Well, remember, I don't have to ask you, or even tell you what I'm doing. But let me tell you my idea. You kind of hinted you like to watch. . ." "Watch? Watch you with another guy? That's nuts!" "Wait a minute, Joe. I'm getting a little angry here. I can date whoever I want, and until we change things, have sex with anyone I want, too. But you're my main guy. I thought if you saw me with him we'd have a really erotic weekend, and besides I don't want to keep secrets from you. And I'm a bit of a show-off, I guess, and knowing you were watching would sort of be like I was putting on a show for you. I thought it would be sexy." "Sure, I'll just bet that guy would love to fuck you while I'm right there. It would really be comfortable for him. Not a chance would he agree to do that." Barbara had thought about this more than I did. "He wouldn't have to know. You could be on the porch, watching, he'd never know you were there. I'd date him Friday, when you'd be coming up here, and if he's nice I'd seduce him for you. I thought he and I might go to dinner, and when we'd come back, well, you might watch, and when Walter goes home, come in, and offer a critique of what you saw. I get turned on by the idea of putting on a sexy show for you. ." "That's nuts." "Think about it. Remember our deal, honey. I don't have to ask, or even tell you what I'm doing. I thought this could be fun, for him - if he's nice, that is, and for us, too. I could go out with him Thursday and have all of Friday night with you, but – well, I thought – you know, well, anyhow, I better go take care of the kids. Sorry, I didn't want to upset you." We ignored the topic the next day, and email and phone calls were a poor substitute for being with Barbara. I began looking at personal ads in Newsday, and responded to a few. Well, more than a few: ten, to be exact. On Wednesday I was with customers until late in the evening. I checked email, and found a message from Barbara. "What'll I do about Walter, honey? He'd like a date with me. I could go out tomorrow but what you don't know might hurt us. Do you want me to see him Friday, like we talked about? If I was choosing I'd go for Friday, that way we wouldn't be keeping secrets and you'd know everything I did." I didn't respond. After a sleepless night, half horny, half upset, well, more horny than upset, I made up my mind. I called, only to get her machine. "Barbara," I said, going on record, "I'll come up tomorrow night, and be waiting for you to come home. Uh, I mean I'll be watching. If he's nice, let yourself have fun, but save some of you for me. I'll, uh, come in as soon as that guy Walter goes, OK? As soon as you don't have company." There, I said it. I wasn't an effective manager Friday, and was out the door at 4, plowing through the weekend's traffic. I got to Lexington at 8:40 and parked my car across the street from Barbara's house. It was a nice September evening: a sweater was enough to keep me warm. I was hot and bothered anyway. I went through the gate to the fenced in yard, where I found two plastic lawn chairs set up, one in front of the living room window, the other in front of her bed room. There was even a thermos of martinis. The living room drapes were open an inch or so, and the bedroom blinds were lifted about an inch above the bottom of the window. Sitting in the chair had me lower than the wooden fence the enclosed the yard, there's be no silhouette, and the night was overcast. The yard was dark and getting darker, matching my mood. At 9:30, it was fully dark now and I heard a car drive up. There's no way Barbara could not have seen my Beamer parked across the street. I sat quietly and then heard a car door close. Good, he was just dropping her off. Then a second one closed, too. Maybe he was being a gentleman and walking her to the door. In a moment the lights in the living room went on, and I watched Barbara lead her friend, or her sex project, I didn't know which, to the sofa. He pulled off his jacket and began fussing with the fireplace. By the time Barbara came in from the kitchen carrying a couple of cocktail glasses, the fire must have started, because he moved back to the sofa. I couldn't be sure since the fireplace was on the wall the window I was looking in was located. The red flickering glow from the fire confirmed I was right. He sat on the sofa while she adjusted the lighting: a low wattage table lamp went on, the bright recessed living room lights were turned off. Plenty of light, though, my dilated pupils demonstrated: I could see him clearly sitting there, and Barbara sat down beside him, raising her glass in a toast. In a moment the glasses were put on the coffee table, and Walter extended his arm along the sofa's back, behind her, inviting her. She moved closer, placing her head on his shoulder, her eyes not on him, or on the fire, but on the window. I saw her slowly wink - at me! – as she put her hand on his thigh. The game was on, she WAS going to seduce him! I placed my hand on my crotch. This was a ritual, a play, where he and she and I all knew the outcome, and each of us was fascinated with the process of getting there. He turned to face her, and his hand, now on her shoulder, touched her opposite side cheek so that she was facing him, too. And there was a kiss. A first kiss. A very long first kiss. When it broke, he had arranged it so that Barbara was laying on the sofa, across his lap, her arms around him, and one of his supporting her. He lifted her a little, bent forward a little, and she rose to meet his lips again. I could see this was very much a mouth open activity. She kicked off her shoes, and lay there, knees raised, skirt falling back to mid thigh, in his arms. That pose was broken as Barbara sat up to sip from her wine glass. She seemed to glance toward the window often, but Walter was too distracted by this lovely woman to notice. Barbara said something, rose from the sofa. Oh, both glasses were empty: she was refilling them. Once again she came back, sitting next to him. Again his hand turned her head so that they could kiss. I watched Walter as he kissed the woman I considered mine, how his other hand caressed her cheek, then moved to her throat. It was erotic, exotic, and it made me horny and angry at the same time. She didn't object when that hand glided lower, to her breasts, touching them while his lips were sealed to hers. My anger began fading: she was going to put on a show for me! A sex show. She didn't object when that same hand went to her neck, fumbled. She looked down at his hand watching as he found a button and released it, and another and another, until her tan blouse was undone to her skirt's waistband. Nor did she resist, but instead complied, as the arm behind her pushed, and she leaned forward, so he could pull her blouse free of the skirt. And her arms went from around his neck to her sides, as he slid the blouse back, and down her arms and off. She sat up wearing only a slip over her bra, the shadows and flickers of the fire creating patterns as sexy as any I'd even seen on her. She reached for his tie, got it loose, and off, and began on his shirt buttons, too. He kicked off shoes, pulled off socks. She didn't get too far before he stood in front of her, and drew her to a standing position, too, and enfolded her in his arms. But his arms went lower, until they were on her hips. The kiss stopped, she stood still, in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes, as both his hands worked at the clasp on her waist band, and worked at lowering the zipper, and then, as I watched, by now with my own slacks open, my own erection in hand, her skirt fell away, sliding over her slip, to the floor. She stepped out of the puddle of that material, and again faced him, now clad in undergarments only. I, and he, I was sure, could see the dark shadow of bikini panties and pantyhose the slip - it added to the erotic image. She stopped being passive: his shirt was unbuttoned now too, and she was pushing it down his arms, He broke away from that, released the cuffs, and removed it, now before her in a tee shirt. Barbara - I knew she'd do this, she did it with me - pulled some of the pillows from the sofa to in front of the fireplace, and knelt, then lay there, her head resting on them, drawing Walter down with her. He, on his side, looked at her, on her back, and began working on the puzzle of her bra. After a minute she laughed - she has a lovely laugh - and pushed him away. She, kneeling up, reached between her breasts, and released the clasp on her bra that defeated him. She extracted that garment in that mysterious way some women have, from under her slip. The nylon of that tan and shear slip concealed her breasts, but it outlined them, and showed curves, and the protrusions that were her erect nipples, and was sheer enough so that their darker color was obvious. I loved the way the shoulder straps hung in an arc, supporting the material of her slip away from the upper portion of her breasts, and showing that wonderful swelling, that swoop, of them. The shadows under her breast added to the visual pleasure, the mystery. As she knelt there, facing the prone Walter, and the fireplace, and me, with the flames from the fireplace radiating her with changing colors, and shadows, my own cock swelled almost to bursting. A Christmas Love Story Walter, on his side, his head supported by his hand, was obviously admiring this vision, this smiling woman, kneeling before him, above him. She knelt even more upright, so that the slips material pressed tightly against her breasts, and shifted, side to side, pulling at it, to free the slip from under her legs. It flowed down now, gracefully, to her knees - so erotic! Still smiling, her hands moved down along her sides, over her hips, and down the outside of her legs, to her knees. God, she did this the first time we made love, I knew what she was going to do. I thought it was special, unique for me. It wasn't. My woman, my temptress, looked at the man in front of her, and then straight ahead, to the window, to me, as those hands began sliding up her legs, lifting her slip on her wrists, higher, until her hands were waist high, the slip draping to her knees in front, showing the side of her panty hose clad leg. She knelt very tall now, and I knew her thumbs had hooked the waistband of her hose and panties. She smiled at Walter, then looked straight ahead, right at me: she knew I was watching. Knowing that, she pushed down, and I and Walter, could see, under the slip, the dark upper boundary of panty and hose shadow arc downwards at her hips, and then, also, move downward over her belly, too. Her push continued, and the dark band continued to descend, finally leaving behind a shadow that had to be a pubic mound. Soon enough the tangle of hose and panties, now a dark mass, was at her knees. She sat back now, with her legs to the side. She brought her legs, still bound together at the knees with hose and panties, in a graceful movement, to the front, and sitting, raised them. Walter sat up, and his hands went to her knees, and he slid those garments down, over her calves, and ankles, and feet until she was free of them. She brought her feet back beside her, and again was kneeling beside him, now covered only by the slip - wearing the slip, but not really covered - a vision! She reached for him, got him to sit up, and pulled at his tee shirt, until with his help it was off. She pushed him until he was on his back in front of her, his head toward the fire and toward the window. She reached for and released his belt. He undid the pants waistband button, and she, the zipper. I saw her pull, and he bridged, supporting himself on shoulders and heels, lifting his hips, so that this woman, who I wanted to be my woman, could slip his pants down his legs. He lifted his feet, and they were off, leaving him in boxer shorts - lumpy boxer shorts. Her hands again went to his waist, and he bridged again, and she pulled again, much more slowly, teasingly, and I watched the elastic slide down over his groin and along his shaft until his penis sprung free and erect. When he lifted his feet so she could pull his shorts over them, he was exposed, his erection lit by the fire, caused by her fire. I watched as Barbara lay beside him, still in her slip, and kissed him, and then rolled so that she was on him. She sat straddling his stomach, her crotch bending his penis foreword, and visible. She was facing me and him, her knees up, almost to her chin, looking down at this man who was content to lay there, his hands behind her head. I watched as she moved. She was no longer sitting, but had her feet at his hips, and was squatting on him, over him. She pulled her slip to her hips, and I watched as she leaned forward, putting her hands on his shoulders, bending down to kiss him, then moved upright again, lifting her pelvis, so that his cock was upright, under her, and how his hands now were between them, aiming himself at her vulva, and how she moved, back and forth, ever so slowly, until I guess his cockhead parted those lips. Then she moved lower, settling onto him. Penetrated! He was IN her! She moved upright again, pausing, reaching behind her, over her head, pulling that slip up until it was over her head, and off. Now, as she began to ride him, as she moved, her breasts swayed, too, but there between them was that shaft, exposed, then hidden as pelvises merged, then exposed again as they parted. Walter by now had her by the hips and was meeting her movements with his own urgent ones. The man had no control! Maybe no man could, when exposed to what he had experienced. He could not have been in her for five minutes before she rode him to climax. Of course, my own penis was out, my hand busy, too - the sight was too erotic for me. I watched as the coupled pair uncoupled -- her, pulling on her slip and him, pulling on clothing, perhaps embarrassed by his poor performance. It was interesting, seeing this post sex ritual, the parting, almost cold, after sharing bodies in the most intimate way. Oh, I realized, this wasn't love making, it was a kind of a mutual masturbation, a satisfying of an itch: nothing more. I watched as he, partly clothed, finished his wine. I watched, as she left only to return wearing a robe, and finished hers. The mood in the room had changed, there was little hint of erotica, now. Walter was dressed and gone within 15 minutes of having been as intimate as he could be with this woman. No sooner did the front door close than the side door opened, and I was in the arms of my woman, smelling her lusty smells, feeling under the robe the heat he left with her. In a moment I too was in front of the fire - no words were spoken - but clothing was scattered, and I, partly erect now, was where Walter had been only moments earlier. Barbara's mutterings were revealing. . ."two wonderful men, both loving me. . ." as we rode with and played with each other, finally falling asleep still in front of the fire. We woke in an hour and went to her bedroom, and fucked again before falling asleep again, in each other's arms. "Walter's just a nice guy" Barbara explained the next morning, as we lay in bed, "and I thought we could use him like I did. He had a good time, and honey, it was so exciting knowing you were watching. Was I good?" I just wasn't sure, anymore, about this woman. But, I agreed, "You were better than good: you get four stars and three x's for that show!" "I never" she claimed, "did anything like that before. It was great, but Walter isn't a good lover. He doesn't hold a candle to you." "I'm glad to hear that. And, being on the porch wasn't the best thing. I wish I could have been closer. . . "I said only to have her say "well, I'll bet we could do that, too, if it's really what you want." Opps! What I thought and wanted to be loving relationship was changing. "What do you mean?" "Face it. You were all hung up about sex since your ex wife screwed around. I'm trying to change that. Sex can be loving, or it can be just for fun. I'm willing to try nearly anything with you, OK? What'll turn you on the most?" "Hell, Barbara, I masturbated myself silly last night watching you. Everything turns me on!" "Don't masturbate yourself! That's my job!" Her touch was electric. "Has anyone else touched you like this lately?" she wanted to know. "No." "Joe, we don't have an exclusive relationship. You can date until Christmas." By now I was erect, again. Barbara stopped for a moment, and reached into her side table drawer, extracting a bottle of baby oil. Now she touched me again, her hands oily. She NEVER needs lubrication! "Do me, honey, please," she said, rolling away, getting on her knees and elbows, "be gentle." I moved behind her, my cock between her legs, searching for its home, its sheath. She reached behind her with one hand, taking my cock, moving it - UP. "There, honey, but be gentle!" she muttered, moving back against my cock, its head between her buttocks, against her anus. "I've never done this" I had to mutter, gripping her hips, feeling the blunt pressure as her hands and her body positioned me. "I want you to - gently, gently, push. . ." I pushed, slippery with oil, felt her sphincter part, and the tight band of it around my cock, as it entered where it had never been before, to Barbara's "Ohhh". She pushed back against me, pushing me deeper into her, letting me feel that tight donut of sphincter move along my shaft, until we were rocking, moving, in this new intimacy. It's erotic, but not satisfying for me. "I want you the other way" I pleaded after a while. She pulled ahead, extracting me. "OK, me too, but I think it's dangerous to go from anus to vagina. Could you wash that, first?" I did, and we as we coupled again, my fingers found themselves stoking her ass, then entering her ass, where I could feel my cock moving in her! THAT did it! How many times can a man my age ejaculate in a weekend? We spent most of Saturday and Sunday morning, in bed. If we weren't engaged in fucking, we were cuddling with each other, in foreplay, getting ready for the next encounter. We interrupted our activities for food, and once, for a phone call from Walter, asking for a date. "Walter," Barbara said, naked in bed with me, "you're a nice guy, but I'm getting pretty serious about somebody else. I better not see you anymore." He gracefully accepted, and I realized he probably thought of her as a sexy woman, but not one for a long term relationship. Hmmm. Sunday afternoon found me driving to Long Island again. Barbara, talking with me on the phone about the weekend, complained just a little. "You're so big, honey, that I've had a bit of a hemorrhoid problem. I don't think we'll be doing that very often." I arranged tickets for her, and a flight schedule. She'd be visiting me in two weeks for an entire weekend. That evening, I had a response from one of my letters to a personal ad. Diane sounded interesting: a practicing psychologist, divorced for a few years . . . we arranged a date. Diane was a couple of years older than me, a beautiful woman, cautious, sensitive, conservative. We dated about six times in the next two weeks, and she was awaking some conflicting feelings in me. We were becoming friends, not lovers. "I'm invited to a wedding, Joe, in a couple of weeks. Will you join me?" I accepted. I declined a weekend date she suggested. Barbara was coming. I found myself resenting that a little! Maybe Barbara was right - she might be a rebound relationship. Barbara arrived Friday evening: we had dinner on the way to my apartment. "Honey, I'm so excited about being here with you - we have a whole weekend!" I responded with faked enthusiasm. "Honey, have you been seeing anyone else?" "I've had some dates with a woman named Diane" I confessed. "How many?" "Maybe a half dozen." "Oh: so you've been fucking her." "As a matter of fact, no. It'll probably happen, but not yet. What about you?" "No one new for me, either. One guy, Harry, got pissed off because I was going to be 'with a boyfriend' this week. He had some idea that wasn't a good idea. I guess I won't be seeing him again. Anyhow, what's the plan for the weekend?" "Some shows, some quiet times, some fooling around - what ever you'd like." "Maybe we can do some shopping?" "For what?" I wondered. "Well, at least looking at engagement rings, in case Christmas Eve comes earlier than the end of December." Barbara was sensing something that could interfere with the plans we had made. Maybe I was, too. "Yeah, we can do that" I allowed, thinking we'd only be looking. Saturday we went to the city, meandering through The Village, poking in this shop and that one. By 7 PM we were having dinner, and considering plans for the evening. We picked up a free newspaper, took it apart, and were looking at activities. I was concentrating on Off Broadway shows when Barbara poked me. "Look at this." She passed me her section of the paper, pointing to an ad. "For Liberated Couples and Singles. Party at Our House. Single Men, $200. Single Women, Free. Couples, $150." "What do you think that is?" "Come on, Barbara, you know what it is. It's a party for swingers - unanimous sex. Are you interested in that?" "I don't know. Maybe. What about you?" "I'm not sure. . ." Barbara, thinking, said "You know, no one can force you to do anything you don't want to do. Let's see what it's like - it's a $150 experiment, and if we don't like it we can do something else." I pulled out my cell phone and called the number. "How many people will be there?" I asked, and learned they expected about 20. Usually, the woman explained, there'll be about eight couples, three single guys, and a single woman. That's what the reservations were for tonight, she explained. Barbara, listening in, asked "Is there room for another couple?" "Yes, one more." the woman's voice said. "We'd like to come," Barbara decided for us. "Not so fast," was the response. First we had do tell about ourselves -ages, weights, status as a couple, and so on. Finally, we heard "Yes, you can come." We were directed to an address on the Upper East Side. A cab dropped us off at a brownstone on 48th street. It was an elegant private house on a street of private houses in New York City - there was money here! I rang the buzzer, and was admitted by a woman who looked about 50 with all of the positive features a woman that age can have. Her robe was expensive, covering a body that was obviously cared for. "I'm Martha. My husband and I own this house. Welcome." I paid the money, and we walked into the living room. There was a tray of condoms, glasses, and wine. "Make yourselves at home. You may go anywhere in the house except our living quarters on the fourth floor. You're the last people to arrive. The only rule we have is that everything anyone does has to be consenting, OK? Oh, and that you don't wear shoes, and you can leave you coats here." We took off our coats and sensible walking shoes, and stood nervously in the room. "Let's look around" Barbara suggested. We walked into a den, lit by a fireplace, and saw three couples there. Well, there were six people. Two, a man and a woman, were nude, lying merged to one another. Another vignette had two men kneeling beside a woman, all were partially undressed. In the third case, a man was prone, and nude. Two women were beside him. One was kissing him, the other going down on him! Martha stepped beside us. "The woman kissing him is his wife. The other one is married to that guy over there" she pointed to the couple wrapped up with each other. "The wife wanted to give her husband something he'd remember for a long time - they had never been here before either - and I think she's succeeding." We watched for a moment while the man and his wife watched the woman going down on him stop. She slipped a condom on his penis, moved over his erection, and lower herself on it. "Betty's the woman doing that. She loves sex with married men when their wives are watching." My own cock was as hard as it could be. "Look around some more" Martha suggested. "There are bedrooms upstairs. One bedroom was empty. As we passed it, a tall man left what had to be a bathroom, wrapped in a towel. "I haven't seen you here before. I'm Martha's husband, my name's Frank. Welcome." I actually shook hands with him, introducing ourselves. "Have you ever been to a place like this?" he wanted to know. We both shook our heads no. "Are you married?" "Not yet," Barbara said. "Oh. Well, Barbara, you're a lovely looking woman. Joe, you don't mind me saying that, do you?" "No, I agree with you," I somehow said. "Come in here with me" he commanded/suggested, and we went into the empty bedroom with him. "Joe, most times a woman is concerned if she sees her lover with another woman, even here. Sometimes, men are turned on if they see their woman with another man - or with themselves and another man, like we are, now. Could that describe you? Did you ever see Barbara make love to someone else?" I nodded yes - my voice failed me. "Barbara, did you like being watched?" "I did!" Her voice didn't fail her. "Joe do you mind. . ." Frank asked, taking Barbara's hand. I was speechless, shook my head no. "Let me take your vest" he said, and Barbara's vest was off, leaving her in her dress. "Let's get Joe's sweater off, too" he said, and in a moment it was done. "Barbara, darling," he said, "You have a wonderful body under that dress. Will you show it to me and your husband?" She looked at me, almost helplessly. "Honey, you wanted to come here," I reminded her. "This is part of it." "OK." Her dress opened down the front. Her fingers found button after button after button, and the dress turned into a robe, hanging from her shoulders, open, showing us her slip. "Oh, that's lovely" Frank said. "Barbara, I find looking at you very exciting. I'll bet Joe does, too. I'd like to show her how excited I am and I hope you'll show her how hard you are too, Joe. If she knows you're turned on she'll feel a lot less inhibited." With that he released his towel. He WAS excited! "Show her, Joe, that it's all right to be aroused in this house, and if you show her, she'll feel a lot more comfortable." It didn't take me long to shed shirt and slacks and underwear, until I was sitting on the bed, nude, next to Frank, nude, looking at Barbara. Barbara stood there, unmoving. Frank stood. "I think she needs some help. Let's help her, Joe. Is it OK if we help you, Barbara?" She nodded, and in a moment we were beside her. I looked at the open door, and saw two men and Martha standing there, all wrapped in towels. Martha said "We love seeing someone the first time - we won't interfere. Please don't stop." I stood behind Barbara, and moved her dress to her shoulders, and she extended her arms behind her, so I could move it down her arms, and off. My hands, and Franks, went to her hips, and drew up her slip, higher, past her hips, and as we did she raised her arms, making it easy for us to continue lifting it, over her head, until it was off. Bra, panties, pantyhose - all that stood between her and nudity. I wanted her to say "No! Stop!" At least one part of me did. The other part won. Frank, seductively, muttered "Beautiful!" and moved back to the bed. "Barbara, you're beautiful, and you'll never have a better audience. Take the rest of your clothes off for us!" She looked at the three people in the doorway. "You won't come in, will you?" "No, not unless you ask us to." She looked at me, and God forgive me, I nodded 'do it'. She turned her back and we watched as her hands went in front of her, and in a moment saw her strapless bra unwrap, and she dropped it on the floor. Still facing away, her hands went to her hips, pushing down her panties, bending over, so that I had a glimpse of her breasts, past her knees, and she stepped out of them, too. And again her hands were on her hips, sliding down, under her hose, showing us ass, and legs, and a hint of pubic hair - I didn't know that would be visible between her legs from the back. She lifted one leg, then the other, and now, reached to the side, and her hose fell, too. "Joe, I'm scared and embarrassed" she said. I went to her, erect, horny. I moved so that I was in front of her, she still had her back to the room. She looked into my eyes - did I see excitement? I put my hands on her shoulders. She looked at me, standing nude in front of her, erect in front of her. "Ready?" She nodded. I looked over her shoulder to Frank, on the bed, to the three in the doorway. I pushed on one shoulder, pulled on the other, and Barbara, not unwillingly, turned. I loved watching Frank as he looked at her body, and Martha, at the two men, as their eyes took in breasts and pelvis. A Christmas Love Story "Stunning!" he said. "You look wonderful" Martha muttered from the doorway. Barbara stood erect. "Take her to the bed, Joe," Martha suggested. "Frank is wonderful with new women." Barbara looked over her shoulder at me. I took her hand, and led her to the bed. I had her move to its center, on hands and knees. "Lay down, honey." She did. "On your back, honey." She rolled over. I looked at the group in the door, and at Frank, sitting on the bed, waiting. "Barbara, I want to watch." She nodded her head. "They want to watch, too. Is that OK?" She nodded again. I motioned the others to come into the room, until they were beside the bed. "I'd like to see Frank fuck you, Barbara. Is that OK?' Her eyes were closed, but she nodded yes again, and opened her eyes as she felt Frank stand up beside the bed, reach into a bedside table drawer, and take out a package – a condom. There was something so calculating about the way he unwrapped it, and looking carefully at Barbara on the bed unrolled it onto his penis. "That's for you, Barbara," he said, and in a moment he was kneeling over her, at her knees. That ritual we all acted out before started, as he leaned to one side, and Barbara moved that leg from under him to outside his, and drew that knee up. He leaned again, the other way, and her other leg was extracted, too, and bent, matching the first one. We, the other four of us, moved toward the head of the bed, as Frank leaned foreword, until his hands were at her shoulders. He moved again, his cock coming closer to its target. Barbara's hands reached for me: "If you kiss me, I'll let him . . .fuck me." I bent over her from the side, her head tilting, my lips found hers, her mouth opened under mine, and her free hand drew the back of my head even closer, driving our mouths together. As I kissed her, I opened my eyes, saw that hers were closed, and since I was to the side, I could look down along her body, seeing her legs widen, seeing Frank's encased cock closer, seeing her hips rise, and his lower, until its head was brushing hair. He looked into my eyes. It was a defiant look. He paused. And moved, a last time. Barbara's mouth opened under mine, with a gasp! Her hips rose to meet him. His erection went into her, and an "Uhhhh" escaped from her mouth, and from his. The two guys watching had their own towels off, Martha was kneeling, rolling a condom on one penis then accepting it into in her mouth, and pumping the other, and Frank was intently pumping into Barbara, moving his hips, slamming hard enough so that her body and head was rocking with the impact. Barbara wouldn't release my head, she kept me locked to her lips - there was to be no release for me that instant. I had to pull away. Her eyes opened, focusing on Frank pounding into her. As I watched, one of the men, the one who was being masturbated by Martha, reached over, ant touched Barbara's breast. One of her hands went to that breast, and supported it, for his hand. That was all he needed to see. He moved away from Martha, knelt beside Barbara, and bent over, until his mouth was on that breast. Her hand, which had been on the breast, was now on the back of his head, holding him to her. Martha, watching, asked "Does she taste good, Barry?" "Mmmm" was his response. "Does Barry feel good, Barbara?" Her rapid breathing answered every question. "Barbara!" it was Frank. She met his stare. "How many men shared your body like this?" I NEVER asked her that! "You're the thirty first" He didn't change pace at all. "Did you ever have two men before?" Her face was flushed, her breathing heavy. "Not at the same time." "Have you ever taken it in the ass?" Another pause: "Yes. . ." He looked at Martha, his wife. "Get the KY, honey." To Barbara, he said: "Put your legs around me, I'm going to roll you on top." Her legs grasped him. He lay on top of her, so her arms could hold him, too, and he rolled to the side. Barbara was on him, now, but the motions each of them were making was not interrupted. Martha returned, and handed Barry the tube of jelly. He rolled a condom onto himself, put some jelly on his palm, and then on his penis. "We're going to make a sandwich, Barbara," Frank, under her, said. I knew instantly what was happening. So did she. She looked at Frank, at me. I nodded yes. She said, in a small voice, "OK". .Barry was on the bed, behind her, now. I saw him squirt jelly between her buttocks. Rub it over her ass. Barbara, who had been supporting herself on her knees, moved flat on Frank, her hips still moving. I was off the bed now, Martha was standing behind me, both of her hands on my own erection, watching, as I watched. We moved more to the foot of the bed, and could see Frank's shaft, in Barbara, moving there, and her anus, shiny with wetness and jelly, a few inches from Barry's cock. Barry moved up, between Frank's legs, and between Barbara's. The rest of us watched as he rubbed his cock up and down her buttocks. She flinched each time its head crossed her anus. "Are you ready, Barbara?" Frank wanted to know. Her head was on his shoulder. We all saw it nod. I watched with almost clinical interest as Barry moved the last inch, and the head of his somewhat slender penis stopped moving along her buttocks, but stopped, pressing against that rosebud. She stopped moving, back arched, but Frank didn't. "Barry and I have done this lots of times" he said, as Barry pushed. I watched with amazement as his cock first bent a little, then, in the shortest time, it straightened, its head no longer visible! "I feel you, Barry!" Frank grunted. Barry moved the final inches, and the three of them started that magical dance, Barbara descending on Frank, and Barry, even more, into her. From the very foot of the bed I could see two shafts penetrating my woman - and neither of them were mine! Barry had his hands on her shoulders, holding her still while he penetrated her with his slender penis: Frank, thicker, moved with Barry: "I can feel you fucking her!" It was a classic two on one sandwich, one I had only seen in porno films before. Erotic? I guess. But that was my Barbara between them. . . Finally, we heard Frank saying "I can't hold off", and he let himself go. His motions changed, to deeper, and longer, until he was still. Barbara collapsed on him, exhausted, spent. At last Barry stopped, too, pulling out, trailing ejaculatant, pulling away, leaving a white ribbon, evidence he was not pretending. I never got close to being satisfied. Somehow we got disengaged, dressed, and out of there. I was depressed: I'm not as liberated as I wanted to be. Barbara, however, was happy. "Wow! Maybe, some day, we can do that again! You never got to have sex with anyone." "That's all right," I said. "I got what I wanted." The next afternoon Barbara flew home. She called to tell me what a wonderful time she had, and that she got home safely. Monday I called Diane, suggesting a dinner might be nice. She agreed: "But let's eat here - I DO know how to cook!" Wine lead to dinner which lead to cocktails in front of the fireplace in her den. She arranged pillows so we could sit closer to the fire, and alarms went off in my mind. I looked around, all windows were tightly covered. No one was watching. That, I realized, was a sick thing for me to have done. I lay beside her, talking, looking at the fire. "Diane, do you date a lot?" "Uh-uh. Only one guy at a time. Uh, that doesn't mean anything Joe, just that's the way I like it. What about you?" "Oh, I've met a couple of women from Long Island, and I date in Massachusetts, too." "I could have guessed that." We talked a while longer, just holding hands, when she rolled to her side, facing me. "You're a nice man." "Thank you." She leaned forward, and kissed me. "Joe?" "Um?" She kissed me again. "I'm not trying to make problems for you, but I'd like to make love with you." "That's not a problem. I'd love it" I responded. Her hands were already at my belt, and in a few moments we were both nude, touching, and loving. We made love. It wasn't fireworks or gymnastics. It was just a man and a woman who liked one another loving one another. There came a moment when she whispered "Would it be OK if I got on top?", and another when she said "I'm glad you can maintain an erection a long time." But, it wasn't too long a time! We spent the next hours just holding each other. "Joe, I didn't mean for that to happen, but I'm glad it did." "I'm glad, too, Diane." "No, no, this is what I mean. I like you a lot. I don't just sleep around. I'd like to make love with you often, Joe, but I won't, I can't, if you're having sex with other woman. It's too important to me. It's OK if it doesn't happen again, if you don't like that idea: I'm sorry.. . ." There was sadness in her eyes. "Diane, you know, I've done some things I'm not proud of. I have to make some things right. I'd like to be your lover, on your terms, but I have a problem or two to solve, first. No, don't cry." The tear flowed down her cheek. "Will you be able to see me tomorrow night at my apartment? And spend the night? I should have my problems solved by then. . ." "I don't want to pressure you . . ." she said. "Shhh". I left her the next morning. There were five messages from Barbara on my machine, the last time stamped at 1AM. "Where the hell are you!" was the last message. I called her from work. "Were you out fucking?" she wanted to know. "Not exactly. I did make love last night, though." "With who - that Diane?" "Yes." "I don't think I like that." "Uh, Barbara. . ." "Maybe exclusive relationships are better," she continued. "Uh, Barbara. . ." "Joe, is it too late?" "I think so, Barbara." "Your rebounding is over?' "I think so, Barbara." "Good. I thought we had a small chance. Maybe we did, but we played it wrong, huh?" "Yeah, Barbara, we played it wrong." "So if I told you I had been dating Walter, and he wanted to spend next weekend with me that would be all right?" "Yeah, Barbara." I heard a sob. There were actually two of them, hers, and mine. "Good luck with her, Joe. She's a lucky woman." "Good luck with Walter, Barbara." "I'll remember you, Joe, until the day I die. And I'll bet you'll remember me, too. That's all we can hope for. Good-bye." When Diane came to my apartment that evening, we talked and talked. I told her about my life, my marriage, Barbara. At the end, she smiled. "So, that's how you became the man you are." She stood, and took my hand, and led me to the bedroom. "And now," she concluded, "that man will be my man." Diane and I became engaged Christmas Eve, we were that sure of each other. I decided to stay on Long Island. I learned Barbara got an engagement ring that same holiday. We chatted once or twice, and enjoyed a laugh. We did get married that summer, but not to each other. I'll remember her, too, until the day I die fondly, and without regret. And, that's the end of a love story.