It's a Start: Josie's Version

I was still on her, in her. I held myself up with one hand, gripped my cock with the other, and began stroking myself as I, well, as I fucked her.

"Do you mind if I think about you and Frank, and masturbate in you while I think about that?"

I could see her pupils dilate until the blue of her eyes was almost all black.

"Do it. Masturbate in me. Think about that, and so will I."

Her hand covered mine, we both stroked my cock as I moved in her until after two or three minutes I pulled my hand, and hers, away, and pushed in as deeply as I could. I could feel that surging in me, and so could she. She raised her knees, tilted her pelvis, and accepted all I had to give her.

It took a few minutes to recover, we were both short on breath.

"What a ride," she said. "Whoever said that thing about old dogs sure did not know what he was talking about. And you're the most erotic and sexy man in the world. For sure one with the dirtiest mind, and you're so persuasive too, you take me right along with you."

"Do you know what would happen if you ever did that with someone now, like what we just did?"

"Yes, you'd go crazy."

I shook my head no. "I want to show you what I'd do. Remember that country song you used to laugh at, it was this guy singing about how he liked his women on the trashy side?"

She said she remembered, and I said "I want to be a little trashy now."

"You already are, sweetheart, and I love you for it," my woman said, hugging me.

I wasn't done.

"Want me to be trashy?"

"I don't know what else you can do, you already came," she said.

I took that as an invitation, and rolled on top of her, kissing her. "That's nice," she said, "there's nothing trashy about that, but it is nice."

"Not trashy yet," I agreed, then moved down, kissing her throat. It was the move I often made when I was going to go down on her.

". . .ah. . ."

"Stretch out tall."

"Tony?" she said, but I insisted: "stretch out tall."

She put her arms up over her head again, and I moved down, nibbling at one nipple, then the other, and enjoying every sensation.

Then I moved lower, nuzzled into her belly.

"Uh, Honey, you just, ah, we just. . ."

"Shhh," I said, "I know, but I want to be trashy. I told you it would turn me on to see you seduced, and I just did, and this is how I want to thank you. . ." And I moved a little lower, to the start of her bikini cut.

Her legs were tight together. That would never do. I moved a little to the side and a little lower, and kissed at her hip and sensed a quivering in her leg.

I pushed at one leg, pulled at the other, spreading them a little, and was able to kiss at the inside of her upper thigh, and could feel all sorts of tension, all sorts of little motions. I could just turn my head and be over her center, but I had a different idea. "Do you think this is trashy?"

She made a soft affirmative noise.

"Want me to be trashier?"

"I'm not sure. . ."

Another kiss, closer to center.

"Want me to be trashier?"

"I'm, uh, I'm. . . "

I reached up, put my hands on her shoulders, then pulled, sliding my hands over her arms as she lowered them until they were at her sides, at her hips.

I nuzzled into her upper thigh, and she whimpered.

Then I drew her hands together over her vagina, positioned her finger tips at her lips there, and paused for just a moment, wondering if I wanted to really do this.

I did.

I spoke, not softly, not making a request, but issuing an order. "Hold yourself open for me."

"Tony, I . . ."

"I want you to think about Frank and roll your hips up and spread yourself for me. Do it now. Say 'Do, me, Frank,' and do it now."

An hour long moment passed, then she raised her knees just a little, and tilted her hips. Her fingers moved, opening her lips, and she whispered "Do me now, Frank, do me now."

I had never gone down on my wife after being in her. She was warmer, wetter, saltier -- that salt could have been me!

I may have ejaculated a little while ago, but I was hard too as my tongue touched her everywhere, probing, licking, exciting both of us. I became even more inspired, took the wrist of one of her hands and pushed her fingers into that little void, too. "Finger yourself, think of him, and finger yourself!"

My tongue could feel her fingers moving there, and sooner than I could have thought, her body spasmed in another orgasm.

"Enough, lover, I can't take any more. Enough," she said a moment later.

I moved up beside her, my face wet with both of our juices. I felt her hand on my back, then tentatively on my hip, then on my erection.

She was staring at me. "You have an erection!"

"I told you this excited me, of course I have an erection."

She was coming down from her high: "do you want me to take care of that thing for you?"

"No," I assured her, "I am a very satisfied man. I don't need any more gratification, except to hear you say one thing."

She thought for a moment, then held me close. "Honey, I do believe you now, I do believe you do get off on the idea of me being seduced or seductive."

"And that was the one thing I wanted to hear you say," I assured her.

We slept.

Somehow over the next few days we avoided talking about our erotic encounter, but the next weekend we were driving to one of our favorite restaurants -- it was thirty miles away. It was a happy time, we were celebrating my promotion: I now led a group of a couple of dozen engineers. I guess it's important that you know our company designs and manufactures very little devices, pumps and things like that, that other companies use in their products. They are mainly used in instruments that are used in the chemical industry.

Anyhow, it was a happy time, and Josie decided the dark of the car was a good place to bring up what we usually confined to the bedroom.

"Did you really mean it, that me being seduced turns you on?"

"Do you expect a different answer here?"

"Well,' she said, "we're not in the middle of sex and won't be for hours so there's none of that pressure. Maybe your answer would be different."

"It's the same answer."

We drove on for another mile or two. I was sure I knew what was coming next. I knew she had to ask. She did. "Just suppose for a minute I was going to do something like that. I think you'd go crazy in a jealous rage."

"I'd be ragingly horny, not angry. I thought I proved that."

"That," she said, "was just pretending."

"Only because we haven't done it for real yet," I told her. "I think I'd really get off on that."

She thought about that for a few moments, then asked "I'm not sure that's true. What would I have to do to satisfy that urge you have? Have you thought about that?"

"Of course I have. I'll tell you what I think, it's my wish, and then you can tell me if we could make it a plan."

"I'm listening."

"If I have to travel, I'd like you to come along on a business trip to a meeting with me, somewhere away from home so the chances of meeting anyone we know, or of someone you meet ever meeting you again is very small.

"You mean go somewhere far away? Be anonymous?"

"Sure. I'd have us registered in two rooms at a hotel. If it's a place where businessmen stay, the hotel lounge is usually really busy. I'd like you to go there, be friendly, if a guy you like happens to hit on you, let things go where ever you want them to. If the guy excited you I'd want you to have sex with him, but in my ideal world it would be somewhere where I could watch you being seduced. I wouldn't want to interfere, or even have the guy know I was there, so he wouldn't be inhibited."

"I guess if that couldn't happen, next best thing would be for me to know you were with someone, and that you'd come to me as soon as you could after whatever happened happened. What I mean is, I wouldn't want you to spend the night with someone. I'd want you in my arms all that night."

"How come you want it to be at a meeting instead of on vacation?"

"Because the guys who travel on business are usually straight arrows, they're not out to pick someone up. They have families at home. I know that because I talk to a lot of them when I travel. Sex away from home for them is a fantasy, something they may think about but never chase after."

"And I'd be a single woman?"

Well, no." I had considered that too. "I like the idea of you being there married. You'd have on your wedding ring and engagement ring and all that stuff. If something happened you could claim it was just spontaneous, something the two of you just fell into. And for you, seeing your wedding ring on your hand, a hand you're stroking him with, that would be really hot."

"Wow." She thought about that for a while. "The nice thing about a fantasy is that there are never any practical problems, like sexually transmitted diseases and things like that."

I had an answer for that, too. "Suppose you were talking to a guy in the hotel lounge," I said, "and he told you about his wife and kids. That's the kind of guy who goes to these conferences, they really are straight. They would be safe. And you would tell him about your marriage too, but how you were there alone."

She thought about that for a while. "Interesting theory. You actually spent time thinking about this, huh?"

"Yeah."

She was thinking aloud. "Oh, here's a problem. A guy like that wouldn't be on the prowl, out looking to pick someone up."

I agreed: "That's right."

"So," she continued with a 'see, this wouldn't work smirk on her face, "he wouldn't be carrying a condom -- if he did, it would mean he was a player, and we wouldn't want him to be someone who screws around, because of STDs."

"That's right," I agreed.

"And I shouldn't have one either, because if I did that would change everything, he'd know it was planned. So, hubby, it looks like your idea has a lethal flaw."

I looked at my wife, not sure she'd accept what I was going to say. "No, you shouldn't have one, either. I wouldn't want you to have one. We used to call it bareback: I would want you to have skin on skin contact, I would want you to, when he is starting to push into you, to feel cock, not latex."

That stopped the conversation for a moment, then she said "I guess the way you're describing it, it would be safe to do that in theory, but that's pretty intense. And besides, you had a vasectomy so I wouldn't have to be on the pill. I could get pregnant."

"I wouldn't want that either and I know birth control pills had an awful effect on you."

"So, practical considerations rule this game out. That's good," she said.

"Well, not really. Suppose I got you some of those RU 486 morning after pills?"

"You can't get them in the US."

"Suppose I did get some. What then?"

"Well, I guess in theory, if it was something we wanted to do, and the circumstances were right, you have answers for most of the practical questions. Not that we talked about ethics, or marriage vows or things like that yet. It's kind of kinky fun talking about it, but it won't happen in real life, will it? And anyway, here's the restaurant. Let's go satisfy a real hunger, not a pretend one."

"Wait a minute," I told her. "You said it's fun talking about it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let's play the game some more. Here's the new rule. When we're away from home, like now, you keep an eye out for men who are alone. Get used to looking at them, checking them out, seeing if you like what you see -- if they are 'possibles'. When you find one you think you might look, just tell me about him, OK? It'll add to our fun in the bedroom later."

Well, readers, you can be sure that added fun for months. We had a rich sex life, and Josie had become much more aware of men who might be looking at her, what we called "possibles."

I'm going to end this story with something that happened last summer. It was at the end of another Sunday morning sex feast, and we were relaxing in each other's arms in the afterglow.

"Honey, something's come up at work and it's given me an idea."

"There are better times to talk about work than just after sex, sweetheart. Usually you're a lot more sensitive and romantic than that."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Josie," I told her. "Remember, I told you I was bugging the marketing guys at work to get me more exposure to the companies that use our pumps?"

"Yes."

"It turns out there's a conference in Somerset New Jersey each November, where those companies have exhibits, It's called the Eastern Analytical Conference. I'm going to attend it for three days."

"That's nice," Josie said, still puzzled about why I brought this up.

"I'd like you to come. You could go to New York City during the day if you wanted to."

"It sounds nice, and I have comp time I can take off from work, but . . ."

I interrupted her. "Honey, I have a little present for you."

I gave her a gift wrapped box. She is not graceful about opening presents, she tore the package apart and found a blister pack with 4 pills in it.

"What. . .?"

"Those are RU486 tablets, honey. I asked Bill Schultz to get them for me when he was in Paris last month. A lot of tech types like me are going to be attending the Eastern Analytical Symposium, and there are going to be a lot of 'possibles' there. I've booked two rooms with a connecting door at the hotel in Somerset right next to the convention center. Come with me, and bring those, and get to use them."

She was holding them in her hand with a look on her face I couldn't describe.

"Lay back," I said, "and stretch out."

She didn't, she just looked at me. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. She went willingly, and stretched out tall, arms over her head, the blister pack still in one hand.

A moment later she kicked off the sheet that was covering her from the waist down, and let her legs part just a little bit.

I bent down and nuzzled into her belly, and felt movement. Her legs opened a little wider, inviting me.

I traced down over her hip, then the front of her leg to the inside of her thigh. I was so close to that warm damp spot in her center. I moved a little so I was right over it, right over that slit that connected to her center. She moved too, her own arms came down, and this time without my help her fingers found her lips and opened them, exposing that sensitive interior for me.

I began teasing her there, and heard her say something.

"What did you say, honey?"

"Tell me the dates of that conference, Tony, so I can put in for getting those days off. And honey? I like my man on the trashy side," she said, as she tilted her pelvis up for me.

Josie has read this story, of course. I think this is a good stopping point for me. You can let your imagination extend the story. Or better yet, wait a while. Josie said she might like to write the next chapter.

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Josie's Version

I helped Tony get some of what he wrote right, but women reading his story will know it's from a husband's point of view. And women know their husband's ideas about what we are thinking and feeling are often wrong.

Tony wrote about us each being married before. You have to know more about my first marriage understand what happened.

I married my first husband John just after graduating from college. I got certified as a public accountant right away and started a career. John had another year of grad school to go. When he graduated he passed the Virginia bar exam on the first try. He was a lot of bad things but being dumb wasn't one of them.

I was the stupid one. John had affair after affair starting the year we were married and I didn't have a clue! I thought lawyers just had to work late and stay out on weekends.

Five years into the marriage, when I was twenty seven, he left me for a leggy twenty two year old. I saw her, she was beautiful, but damn him, I used to turn heads, too. "She reminds me of what it was like being younger," John told me, "and you remind me of grinding out a living. I don't like that."

I had been a confident outgoing woman but being thrown away like a used tissue changed that. I became quiet and insecure and even gained twelve pounds. I know 144 pounds on a 5 foot 9 inch frame isn't bad, but it didn't help my self image. Working hard and late substituted for a nonexistent social life. I should have talked to a psychologist, but didn't. Instead I started going to a gym on weekends and took out my frustrations on my body. That got me down to 121 pounds, more physically fit than ever in my life but still insecure about being an attractive woman. Promotions at work did nothing to change that.

The important lesson for me about getting divorced was now I always wanted to know what the guys I started dating were thinking about. I was not going to be blindsided again.

So, when my present husband wrote about me getting excited about his idea of me being with another man, he never understood the single most persuasive thing he said.

He told me he masturbates sometimes and then he asked "When I do, would you rather I think about me fucking another woman or about you fucking another man?"

I wanted my man to think about me and I'd do whatever it took to make that happen!

Tony was very good at getting me to think about sex on the wild side. He did something instinctively that a lot of people who teach meditation do. It's called 'guided imagery.' Having my thoughts directed by Tony while we were in bed was great, and having him help me think about wild sex while he was making love to me helped both of us have great climaxes.

Then he took our games out of the bedroom. He wanted me to feel sexy when we were out and to look at other men as potential sexual partners. That increased my awareness, and I wasn't doing it just to humor him, I was starting enjoying it too. There were the bedroom rewards too when I played along. It was like foreplay started when we went out for an evening, instead of just for fifteen or thirty minutes in bed. Tony was either creating new erotic desires for me, or awakening ones I never knew I had. Tony became authoritative and strong, and that brought out my desire to please him, to submit to his wishes even more.

Those were wonderful sexy fantasies, but it all changed when he wanted us to make specific plans. He wanted me to be in a place with a lot of men who were temporarily alone. "Come with me to a conference, act available," he said. He even knew when. It would be at the Eastern Analytical Symposium that ran from November 14 to November 17 in Somerset New Jersey.

I don't know how many times that August he told me he could hardly wait until 11/17, when at last I'd have a real sexy story to tell him. "Unless," he said, "you do it sooner. Sooner would be better. Do something here, break the ice, then really be wild there."

It scared me but it didn't scare him. We started having sex four or five times a week, and most times it was raw erotic sex centered on what he wanted to happen in the middle of November.

What I didn't know about men until then is frequent sex isn't enough. More than once he told me "I masturbated in the shower today, thinking about you, thinking about being in New Jersey in November. Do you think about that, too?"

I told him the truth and it was what he wanted to hear. I did think about it, and was getting . . . well, less uncomfortable might be the way to say it, with the idea. And sometimes, when we were having sex, I would think about being with a man I just met, and would probably never see again, and having him touch me and about me touching him. I was buying into the whole idea. Sometimes in bed I'd ask "Is this what you would want me to do?" as I went down on him. Once, after a particularly nice meal out ("Would you like to dinner like this with a guy you just met, knowing he wanted you?" Tony asked during the meal.) when we returned home I sat him on the bed and did a clumsy strip tease. "I'm practicing for New Jersey," I told him, and was rewarded with a turned on husband.