Passion & Perspective Ch. 03

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

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

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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 . . ."