Passion & Perspective

[sextiescouple]

Thanks for all the great comments on my previous stories.

This thread will be a complete novel of twenty-five chapters. I'll post a chapter or three every few days. Please let me know what you think of it.
Adam

[sextiescouple]

Passion & Perspective
by Adam Gunn


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 . . .

[sextiescouple]

Passion & Perspective Ch. 02
by Adam Gunn

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?”

"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."

[e101fred]

i like it so far keep going
thanks for the effort.

[OOAA]

Excellent story!!!!! Great work

[sextiescouple]

Passion & Perspective Ch. 03
by adamgunn

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 . . ."

[OOAA]

Great chapter!!!! Congratulations

[sextiescouple]

Passion & Perspective Ch. 04
byadamgunn


"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.

[vb23456]

Very interesting story. Look forward to the next chapters

[mathuranjali]

Really well written, hope you keep writing

[tampajym]

What can I say but, Great!!!! Love the story and your ability to tell it to an audience of "dancers" and prospective "dancers" is genuinely a talent. Thanks from all of us.

[sxycouplenj]

Very hot! Much I can relate to. Looking forward to reading how they continue to expand their boundaries.

[sextiescouple]

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.

[OOAA]

Great chapter!!!!

You left us hungry for more

[Rsm7075]

Waiting for more

[Rsm7075]

Waiting for more