Talking while having sex is risky for us guys. I
sometimes think we don’t have enough blood to support
both brain and boner at the same time.
“How come you’re so turned-on about guys I used to have
sex with when I was dating and yet you were so upset
that your ex-wife cheated on you?”
“They’re two different things,” I explained, while
continuing to move slowly in her.
“How are they different?” She had stopped moving with
me, damn it.
“In Mary’s case, she was cheating, in the other, it’s a
turn-on for everybody.”
“What do you mean?” She was being very still underneath
me.
I decided to tell her. “Look, before I met you, you know
I was dating Barbara.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you know that she told me although I wanted to have
an exclusive relationship, she wanted to date other
guys.”
“Yeah, I know, you told me.” She was listening, just
barely moving with me now.
“Well, one time I came back from a trip and went to her
house about midnight. I knew she had a date that
evening, but she told me to come when I got in, so I
did.”
“Well?”
“Well, her date had been over for a while. We went to
bed together and when we were making love she told me
she had made love with her date that night too. It was
the single biggest erotic moment of my life, I totally
lost control, knowing I was fucking her used pussy!”
My story may have excited me, and at that moment I was
moving long and fast thrusts in her, but it did nothing
for Jayne. She pushed me away. “Bob, I’m really tired.
Can we just go to sleep?”
I never force sex on a woman and wasn’t going to start
now with my wife so I said, “OK.” I lifted up, and she
rolled away and curled up with her back to me.
There was a coolness in our relationship for the next
week or so. I’d go to bed while Jayne was watching TV or
surfing the ‘net.
So much for open and honest relationships, I thought.
Then came “The Night”.
I was in bed, in my ‘sleep position’, on my side, facing
away from Jayne’s side. Then I was aware, although
mostly asleep, of her coming into the bed.
I felt her move next to me, felt her arm move around me.
The feeling of her body along my back was very nice, I
loved it and had missed it during the last week. Maybe,
my sleep dulled mind thought, she’s gotten over being
pissed at me for being such a perv. It was a comforting
thought. I like having her feel warm towards me again.
Her hand, over me, was in its usual position, on my
chest. I felt it move, though, lower, to my belly, and
lower still, until she was cupping my flaccid prick.
Still sleepy, I found myself rolling onto my back,
making myself more available to her – as available as
she might want.
My eyes were closed but I knew she had moved and her
hands were working on the buttons of my pj tops, and
then, undoing the bottoms, too. I wasn’t THAT asleep so
that I couldn’t cooperate and I lifted a little and felt
the pajama pants slide down my legs.
This was better than a dream! “That’s nice,” I said,
when I felt her lips on my neck.
I put a hand on her cheek and she turned her head
towards it, sucking on my fingers.
By now enough blood had been diverted so that I was
getting a massive erection.
She was, soon enough, kissing my ear. Jayne didn’t often
offer oral sex – it looked like that was what she had in
mind tonight though, on her still mostly asleep husband.
She had drawn my hand down along my body with her, as
her mouth visited this sensitive zone and then that
one…
When her lips were near my bone stiff dick, I felt my
fingers being sucked on, again, while she lifted my
hand, keeping my fingers in her mouth, she pulled my
hand down to my dick, her tongue moving from fingers to
swollen head to fingers again. I was getting pretty
awake, now! My cock was wet, my fingers were, too, with
her saliva.
“That feels so good…” I moaned in pleasure.
“You taste good, too,” she said, lifting a little to
speak, then lowering herself again on me. She’d never
done oral sex like this before!
I could feel her hand holding my erection, then that
hand moved to my wrist and pulled my fingers from her
mouth, allowing her total access on my cock. The
sensations of fingers and cock being sucked were
replaced by that of only my cock – absolutely wonderful!
“Jayne, that feels so nice…” my sleep immersed voice
muttered.
Her hand, holding mine, moved again, drawing my hand up
a little and then her fingers, over mine, wrapped my
hand around my cock, now so wet with her saliva, holding
it upright, for her mouth.
That was very exciting!
“Jayne, we have to stop soon – I want to be in you!” I
muttered, lost in all of the sensations, only to have
her lift away, whispering “Shush,” and move again, over
me.
Oh, that felt so good…
Then her hand, over mine, holding my hand on my own
erect penis, tightened a little, forcing me to hold
myself a little more tightly.
Oh, even better…
But then her hand began moving mine up and down, in a
classic masturbation motion, making my hand stroke while
my prick head was still feeling the sensations of her
mouth, her tongue. I could feel the shroud of foreskin
pull away, exposing the tender head, then covering it
again, could feel her tongue caress me, push at its eye,
searching, exciting me…
I tried to roll away, but her hand held me in position.
She knew exactly what she was doing, and what the
outcome would be.
Her fingers separated mine, and extended my thumb, so
that was in her mouth, too, and I no longer needed her
guidance, my hand was moving up and down on my shaft,
masturbating myself, and I could feel the pulse in my
cock throb and surge, and then that sensation from deep
in my scrotum started, there was flow, and I began
pulsing, thrusting, into her mouth, ejaculating – a
week’s worth – feeling her tongue on the end of my cock,
feeling a bolus of sperm, and another, and another,
leave me, hit my thumb in her mouth, and be captured by
her mouth, her tongue!
Her mouth never withdrew. She stayed over me, until the
last pulse ended, and stayed while my cock softened in
my own hand, and in her mouth.
Her head moved down, until it was on my belly, my
fingers now in her mouth, as our breathing leveled, and,
we slept…
**
I awoke while it was still dark – had I dream that? No,
I was nude, Jayne was, too, beside, me. That really
happened.
Jayne stirred, too. I turned toward her, felt her arms
around me, we kissed – maybe good night, maybe good
morning. It was a kiss for a new day, anyhow.
“What happened?” I asked.
She whispered her discovery. “I was pretty upset, Bob,
about what you told me about you and Barbara. I couldn’t
figure out how a guy could love his wife and want her to
have sex with someone else. One of the women I met on
the ‘net emailed me a story that explained how guys felt
about it. It was about a voyeur’s wife. It really got me
excited, and now I do understand how you would feel
watching me. I could even be turned on watching you with
another woman, one that I knew that is.”
“So you’re not pissed off at me anymore?”
“No, not anymore.”
I was happy about that, I’d been feeling guilty that I’d
even told her about my feelings.
“Bob?”
By now we were holding each other, our bodies pressing
together along their length.
She pulled her head back enough so that I could feel her
looking at me in the dark.
“Yeah, honey?”
“Last night, what I did to you…”
“Yeah, honey? I really enjoyed it.”
“Honey, is that what you want to see me to do to someone
else?”
I was speechless! Images, confused images of my wife,
what we had done last night, of her doing that to some
other guy, flooded my mind!
“Um, I don’t know…” I stuttered.
“Bob, I understand now… if that’s what you think you’d
like, tell me. Tell me now. Maybe we’ll be able to do
something like that sometime, or fool around with that
idea anyway. It all depends on you.”
“Jayne…” I didn’t know how to respond, it was all so
sudden.
“No. No more talking. Just get in me, right now!”
We fucked! Quietly, but we fucked, while the new day’s
light crept into our bedroom. I was on top of her,
looking at her body under mine, moving under mine, her
breasts making small movements as I pushed and my mind
saw her, under someone else and my hips jerked
spasmodically, pushing into her. She matched my
movements and I looked up, away from our merged pelvises
to her face, to see it too glistening with a little
perspiration, her eyes, fixed on mine, almost
analytically.
“Did you ever go down on one of your boyfriends like you
did to me last night?” I wanted to know.
“No, not really, I never went that far, no…” and then
her body began to jerk too and her mouth formed that oh,
the sigh that meant she was in the middle of an orgasm
of her own.
***
From that day forward a whole new sexual arena had
opened for us. We played with each other, asked things
we never would have before. Anal? I did, she had not.
More than just two in bed, ever? Not for either of us.
One night stands? A reluctant “Yeah, I did that” from
each of us. What was she willing to do to another man,
if conditions were right?
“Whatever doesn’t hurt!” she would say.
Would either of us cheat? Never! But we experimented
with each other, role-playing about cheating and all
sorts of situations.
I brought a camcorder and its tripod into the bedroom.
She didn’t want to go that far, not yet, but said that
maybe when the conditions were right.
***
I tried to work out a scenario that would make it easy
for her to be seduced into a threesome but wanted it to
be a romantic event – one night, but romantic. She was
thinking more in terms of a quickie – get a room, get
naked, fuck, and part. We agreed events would dictate
the scenario. We were alert for opportunities: business
trips, the guy who flirted with her at work, a
repairman, but each time something wasn’t right.
The anticipation was exciting, it make our sex rocket-
good, almost every time we pretended that we were doing
it with someone else.
So things went on like that for several weeks until we
went to give blood.
We have this little tradition. Every nine or ten weeks,
when we’re going out, we stop at the Red Cross Donor
Center, and we each give a unit of blood.
Last week we did that again. Jayne finished before me,
an unusual occurrence. She sat waiting while I was
finishing up.
When I went to meet her, I found her in deep
conversation with a guy about 50. “Harry here got
confused,” Jayne explained. “He thought he last donated
9 weeks ago, but it’s been only 7 (The Red Cross says no
more often than every 8 weeks, boys and girls). It turns
out he’s given about as much as you have (50 units, a
bit over 6 gallons).”
Harry noted, “I guess I don’t do it as regularly as you
guys – you’re a hundred years younger than me, and
you’ve given as much as I have. Tell you what: come over
to my restaurant. The least I can do is replace the
pound or so you each just lost.”
It sounded like a great idea. Harry’s restaurant was
just off Charles Street, quiet, elegant, and pricy.
“This’ll be my treat,” he said.
So, we ate and drank and when dessert arrived Harry came
over to join us.
Among other things we talked of our blood donating
experiences. I reminded him of last year’s joke, when
one of the questions we had to answer to see if we were
safe donors was “Had you traveled outside the US in the
last year?” which was followed by “Have you been to the
White House since 1992?”
Harry, who by now let us know he was a bachelor, told us
giving blood usually meant he couldn’t, as he put it,
“be with a woman” that evening. “That’s the only
negative side effect.”
“I had never noticed if that was a problem or not for
me. Has it been, Jayne?” I wanted to know.
Her eyes were shining, as she said, “We usually don’t
do, uh, that, on days you give.”
Click! There was a message that flashed between us. Who
could be safer than a regular blood donor? Harry was
handsome, even if he was a dozen years older than we
were.
His house manager came over, and Harry, excusing
himself, went off to attend to something in the
restaurant which was now emptying. It was well after 9PM
on a week day.
“Are you thinking of it being him?” I asked my wife as
soon as he was away from the table.
“It could be him. He’s nice – a confirmed bachelor – and
kind of sexy.
And Bob, he’s not the guy who gave blood today – you
are!”
Harry came back. “I’m really enjoying the evening with
you guys, but this place will be closing in another 15
minutes. Why don’t we go out for a drink to finish off
the night? It’s easier on the staff if I’m not here when
they’re cleaning up, and you can buy, since you won’t
get a check for this meal.”
You bet we went. There was a lounge a half block away.
We had a cocktail, and another. Those went right to my
head. Jayne and Harry were deeply involved in a
conversation I could hardly follow.
“How come,” he asked, making me open my eyes (when did I
close them?), “how come you don’t dance with this
wonderful woman as often as she would like you to?”
That’s been a sore spot between us! She loves to, I
don’t.
“When I hold her, I’m not thinking about dancing,” I, or
the drink in me, offered as an excuse.
He looked at her. “I can understand that. Come on, we’re
going around the corner to Larry’s Lounge. He has a
group playing, and there’s dancing there.”
We did, and I watched my wife and Harry dance. After a
half hour he came back with her. “Slow dancing with your
wife makes me think about something other than dancing,
too.”
“Me, too,” Jayne said.
I may have drunk too much, but I wasn’t stupid. “Me,
too, but I’m the guy who gave blood. Sorry, Jayne. The
drinking has gone to my head.”
That was a great big slow ball, just hanging there,
waiting to be hit out of the park.
“Hey, why don’t you guys come to my apartment? It’s just
over the restaurant. We can dance some more there,
Jayne.”
“I like that idea, can we go, Bob?” she asked, and I
agreed: “Yeah, let’s do that.”
We walked back, Jayne between the two of us, all of us
hand in hand. Her grip on my hand was pretty tight!
His apartment was bigger than our house! It must have
been 2500 square feet. We were in the living /great
room, me, on one of a pile of pillows in front of the
fireplace, enjoying the warmth and a drink, Harry and
Jayne dancing on the hardwood floor where he pulled back
an oriental rug. Most of the light came from the
fireplace, making their figures, moving there, very
erotic.
It was slow dancing. Very slow. Uh, he was just holding
her, hands moving up and down her back.
“If I give you another drink, Bob, can I kiss your
wife?”
“Her kisses aren’t for sale, Harry, they’re way too
valuable. But she might want to give a couple away. It’s
up to her.”
‘Her’ made her decision. She stood on tiptoe, and they
kissed. It looked a bit more than just a friendly peck,
too. When did she take her shoes off, I wondered? And
since when did a kiss mean he could drop his hands to
her ass and press her pelvis to his?
They parted: Jayne’s face looked red, more red than the
from just the light from the fire place.
“This is a very seductive apartment, Harry,” I said.
“I’ll bet you’re lucky with women here.”
Looking at Jayne, not me, he said “Usually I am, yes.”
“I don’t think Jayne’s been seduced in a long time” I
said, “have you, Jayne?”
“No.” She wasn’t looking at me when she said it.
“Maybe Harry will remind you and me how it’s done.” That
was another slow pitch.
“I brought other couples here, before,” he said,
understanding us too well. “Not too often though, maybe
a half dozen times. Some, uh, guys are interested in
learning how to seduce their wives again. I guess men
feel comfortable when they see me with them.”
He lead Jayne back to the pillows where I was, sat down,
and pulled her so that she was sitting facing me, in
front of him, between his outstretched legs.
It was really going to happen!
Jayne has hair a little longer than to her shoulders,
and she was wearing it up, in a twist.
“I’d love to see your hair down” Harry said, and her
hands went up to her head, and did that magic thing
women can do, and in a moment her hair cascaded down to
her shoulders.
He tilted his head, so that he could move closer to her
ear. Jayne, feeling his movement, did an instinctive
thing and tilted her head to the right, making her ear
more accessible, and with her right hand reached up, and
pulled her hair away to the back, exposing her ear and
neck.
“It’s so nice when you make it so easy for me,” he said,
and I watched with eyes becoming less alcohol glazed by
the second as his mouth met her ear, at her eyes
closing, her flushing, as her hands dropped to about his
knees. I found out I had more than enough blood left to
sustain an erection!
“You can’t imagine how exciting it is for me to do this
to a woman when her husband is watching” he muttered,
while she was sitting more upright now, making it easier
for him, as his mouth traced down from her ear, along
her neck.
His arms reached around her, his left going to her
belly, holding her to him.
He reached across her lap with his right hand, took her
left hand, and his hand slid along hers, to her fingers.
His fingers searched for, and found, her ring finger,
closed on it, on her wedding ring, and lifted it, and
her hand, up, until it was at her breast. I watched as
both of their hands moved over that mound – he knew,
using that ring, that way, made it all the more erotic!
“It’s exciting to have my husband watch this. . .”
His hand released hers, reached to her neck, and
expertly undid a button, and another, until her blouse
was undone to about her cleavage. Then, he reached up,
and pulled at the collar to expose more neck, and
shoulder. His mouth traced down that curve, helped by
her lifting, making it easier for him.
I, a few feet in front of her, was sitting upright now,
watching this, this, this seduction.
He kept one hand on her stomach, the other was pulling
the blouse’s collar to the side so he could enjoy her
shoulder, now exposed beyond the straps of her bra and
slip. He lifted his head to near her ear, and I heard
him whisper “You can help, you know,” before he bent
lower again, to taste her shoulder.
Her own hands left his legs, and met at the buttons of
her blouse. “I will help…”
She continued what he started, releasing button after
button, and pulling the blouse from her skirt’s
waistband in front so that she could reach, and release,
the last button.
He was pulling at the blouse now, getting it free of the
skirt’s waistband.
“Lean forward” he whispered, and she did, as he slid it
down her arms, over her hands, and off.
She leaned back again, slip and bra partly concealing
her upper body, but cleavage, the swell of her breasts
above the skimpy bra, and the bumps marking her erect
nipples were visible enough, erotic enough.
Harry released his hold on her, and did some pulling of
his own, until the turtle neck shirt he was wearing was
off.
He stood. “There’s no graceful way to do this” he said,
pulling Jayne to her feet, too.
“Help me.” She did, and pulled at his tee shirt, so
that, in a moment, that was off over his head, too.
Unlike most 50 year olds, Harry actually had ribs
showing, and a lean, tanned body. He wasn’t a middle
aged specimen at all.
He knelt beside Jayne, and with both hands worked on her
skirt’s fastening.
But not for long. I saw a motion, and heard a zipper,
then It fell, leaving her slip, bra, and pantyhose clad
women in front of him.
He stood, and gathered her into his arms, and they began
moving to the music again. This was more than preamble
to a more serious dance. His hands, behind her, were
lifting her slip, until it was hip high, exposing
pantyhose.
He moved back a little so there was space between their
bodies, and almost as though choreographed, he lifted
his arms, still holding her slip, while she raised hers
at the same speed, so that the slip he was holding moved
along, turning inside out, and up her body, and then
over her arms, over her head, and off.
Have you ever seen – have you ever even thought of
seeing, your wife in pantyhose and a bra willingly
standing in front of a man who intends to fuck her?
“Please?” he said.
She nodded, reached between her breasts, and released
her bra’s clasp.
She looked at me, and saw me nodding. Without ceremony
she separated herself from the cups, and shrugged that
garment off, its straps sliding down her arms, releasing
for his view, and mine, her breasts, her erect nipples.
She, under his gaze, sank back to the floor. He, staring
at her, opened his belt, unfastened his slacks, and slid
both them and his briefs down his legs, and bending, got
them and his socks off.
He may have been 50, but his erection looked like it
belonged to a teenager – its throbbing with his pulse
was visible. Why do erect penises look angry? His did,
anyhow.
Both of us were looking at him – at his erection – while
he kicked his slacks and socks and shorts away.
Then he was back among the pillows again, my wife in his
arms.
I watched as he moved her, until she had a pillow under
her hips, so that her body was bowed, pelvis high, now,
in front of him.
“Jayne, Bob’s a lucky man to have you for his wife” he
said, moving, so that I could see her from the side. He
moved to her feet, and reached along her legs, to her
hips, to the hem of her pantyhose.
His fingers caught it. “You do want me to do this, don’t
you?”
“Yes.” Was that my voice?
“You have to lift up a little, Jayne darling,” he said,
pulling a little. She looked to the side, to me, sitting
five feet from her. She continued to look at me while
she brought her feet up a little, got them flat on the
floor, and lifted her hips.
She watched me as I watched the pantyhose slide over her
hips, and down her legs, until her hips was back on the
pillow and she gracefully extended her legs almost
together, and pointing her toes, so he could pull them
from her.
She was nude! Except for earrings and wedding ring.
“I think you’re already ready, aren’t you, Jayne
darling?” he asked.
I saw her nod.
I watched, as she, with both feet to his left, brought
her knees up, and somehow, with her knees almost
together, got her feet a little apart, on either side of
his knees, as he continued to kneel there.
I looked at her, nude, in front of him, his erection
pointing at its target.
“This is what you wanted, the both of you, right?” he
asked, as he put a hand on each of her knees, and spread
them.
They parted, her legs wide, pelvis tilted, presenting
herself, her cunt.
This was following her wishes for a quick experience.
She sat up a bit, reached to his wrists, grasped them,
and laying down again, pulled him forward, over her,
between her spread legs, over her hips.
He took her wrists, now, and reaching, held her hands to
the floor above her head, stretching her..
He moved up, over her body, and I could see that cock
brushing along her legs, her thighs, then at her pelvis.
I moved more towards Jayne’s head. I wanted to see!
He stopped looking at Jayne’s face, but instead looked
at her pelvis, as she spread her legs even more, and he
adjusted his position again, and again, and moved, and I
saw his cock brushing along her pubic hair, saw her
moving too, opening her legs, his erection searching,
then moving to those lips, and he was pushing in…
Jayne’s head went back – her mouth opened, as his hips
flexed.
His cock, which had been fully exposed, disappeared into
her.
He looked up at me, a savage grin on his face. As he
withdrew to plunge again, exposing that shaft,
glistening now, then ramming it home again, into her,
her body held in this accepting position by him, by the
pillow her hips were resting on, by him, holding her,
stretching her.
He muttered, still looking at me, “This is what you
wanted to see, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
He looked down at Jayne.
“And you wanted him to watch, didn’t you?”
He was being a pile driver, banging into her! Her body
language helped – she was meeting his thrusts.
“You know I’m going to come in you, don’t you? I’m going
to fuck you and fill you up.”
Jayne, looking at me, panting, said “I know that. Do it.
Use me!”
In a short time he released her hands. “I need you to
masturbate me into you!”
One of her hands moved between them, capturing his cock,
stroking it.
The other reached toward me, and found my hand.
His movements became slower,
larger,
longer.
Jayne sensed he was at the brink, and at least with me,
often helped her to her own orgasm.
I held her hand tightly, as she, mouth open, face
sweaty, met his moves, her legs bending now, lifting her
hips higher.
His rhythm changed. There was a thrust: a holding of
that position.
And another thrust.
And
another.
“I’m feeling you with me!” he grunted,
pushing in, as deeply as he could,
and out, then in, again, his own back arching.
The times the shaft of his cock was exposed I could see
her hand moving, as she stroked him, taking whatever his
cock was offering.
His erect stiff body, over her, was shining now with
sweat in the firelight.
His hip thrusts stopped – his chest sagged down, onto
her breasts.
It was over.
I looked at the grandfather clock as it chimed the half
hour. We had been here for only forty-five minutes.
That’s all the time it took for us to change, forever,
what had been a bond between us.
The two of them lay there, spent. So was I. Until, at
last, Jayne, sweaty, and wet with more than sweat,
struggled into her slip, her blouse and skirt.
“I hope you call when you’re giving blood again” Harry
said, still nude, sprawled on the floor, as we, hand in
hand, but without bra and pantyhose, crept from that
place.
Somehow we got home, and into bed.
“Was it what you thought it would be like?” Jayne asked.
“Yeah, it was,” I told her.
“Yeah, not as good as I hoped, but still…” she said.
“Bad?” I wanted to know.
“No, not bad, not a turn off anyhow, I’m glad you were
there to see us do that…”
“Yeah, it was more a turn on than a turn off. I liked
watching you do that. You were as erotic as hell. I
loved seeing him and you: it was beautiful!” Blood loss
or not, I had a huge erection.
As I rolled onto her, and my cock found its home – where
there was a guest cock not an hour earlier, Jayne
whispered, “Next time, what I’ll do, is…”