The Road Ahead

By the time they were slowing down, with this incredibly sensual woman slowly riding up and down that softening shaft to drain to dry, I had worked my way around to the other side of the vehicle and stood in the open doorway. I couldn't resist stroking her sweaty body as I looked at her, and she gazed at me with a completely satisfied look in her eyes, and I was sure she was more than willing to help me get my rocks of if I wanted, but for her part, she was tired, and just enjoying the afterglow of lust. In a way, I had been invited to be the audience, and I filled the role as a trusted lookout or back-up to lust. I felt like I was a protector of sorts, I was guarding her clothes, I was watching out to warn against other interruption, and for a moment I imagined myself standing there as her husband.

This woman was not my wife, she was a stranger, but the indelible impression of her lust so close at hand had left its mark on me as though there was a deep history between us. Although I was proud that I had stood firm and divorced Sandy, I still had this troubling new regret that I had missed out on a more intimate view of the exciting and erotic things she had done after we were apart. I found it difficult to condemn those husbands who stayed with a cheating wife, and found a way to actually take some weird distorted pleasure in her promiscuity. I found it difficult to judge the lusty wife who discovered the intoxicating flavor of forbidden fruit and then found it intense and irresistible. I don't argue with the facts, the things that happen, really do usually happen and I am hopelessly drawn to the enjoyable task of trying to understand the why's and the wherefores behind them.

It wasn't long after I started to read the lusty stories on the internet that I started to talk more with Sandy. She had moved to a suburb of Portland, Oregon and was living a much more sedate life as a professional. She was a department manager for a company that provided financial and collection services, and was well on her way to a respectable career; she was climbing the ladder of convention very nicely. It was great talking to her again, and I was enjoying the process of discovering the reasons behind her betrayal of our marriage vows. Emotion was not a problem anymore, I no longer felt jealous or threatened, and was truly curious and excited to hear all of the dirty little details I had only imagined for so many years.

When Sandy confessed the specifics on something she and Darren had done, I was anxious for every single detail, and I would invariably become more and more aroused in her telling. When she had thoroughly covered all of the details for her adulterous activities, I pressed for more information on her life as a stripper and sex slut after the divorce. She openly acknowledged how wanton and depraved she was at times and told me about numerous private parties where she was fucked silly. In at least one party, the sexual excess had gone on endlessly for several days. She was hardly ever dressed during the event even when she was taken somewhere and brought back in a van. Apparently someone loved the idea of having a slut fucked silly in the van with large un-tinted windows while it drove along the expressway. The only precaution they had taken was to obscure the license plates so it would be hard for authorities to track them down if someone complained.

I was becoming more and more fascinated every day with sexual fantasy and preoccupation that I had suppressed in my youth. As an adult in my "late prime," I thought what the hell, I'm entitled; I've played the game straight all my life, and probably missed a lot of fun in the process. I knew I was cutting myself a huge amount of slack and felt confident I could maintain the balance and limited amount of control I still needed.

I was fascinated with everything I saw and read that related to my hot spots, and wanted to reach out and make contact with real live people that might share my interests. My phone bill was adding up as I talked frequently with Sandy, and hinted that I would love it if she could introduce me to an old stripper friend or two. I had already learned that there was a real difference between hardened sex professionals and enthusiastic amateurs who were drawn to sex by lust, not by money.

I thought the best strippers were probably the ones who really loved showing off, and that's the kind I hoped to meet. Having sex with a slut, or former slut was not important, not even an alternate objective, I just wanted to get to know and appreciate them; let them know there was a least one man that placed a high value on them as a person because of what they had enjoyed and done in their life, not in spite of it.

You won't be surprised to learn that there weren't many women with a shady past who were willing to even talk to a guy who professed a sincere interest in admiring them without some kinky motive. Most who were out of the business and leading quiet lives, found it almost necessary to hide their past, they were highly suspicious about my questions and interest and at least a little concerned about being manipulated, coerced, blackmailed or being forced back into something they had put behind them. The last thing I really wanted was to pressure someone into something they didn't really want to do, even subconsciously.

Somewhat disappointed, I resigned myself back to the computer. I searched for hours to find sites that catered to genuine amateurs rather than what I viewed as hardened pros. There were a few sites or news groups that encouraged amateurs to send in contributions and those contributions were typically in pictures or home movies. In most cases the picture contributions were of women, but the photos were submitted by their male partner, usually husbands or live in boyfriends. These husbands and wives often wanted other men and couples to see the wife naked or having sex, and usually not with the husband.

I remember one woman and site particularly that still makes me hot. It featured a cute pixie of a woman named Elaine at FreakMomma.com who was married with three children by her husband. She said when she was pregnant with their third, her husband was surfing the net and came across some amateur sex sites that they both looked into. When the started looking at pictures of married white women having sex with black men while the husband watched and took pictures, the idea turned both of them on so much, it was only a matter of time before she and he were searching out eligible black men for adulterous sex.

Only months before, I would have shut the computer down immediately with self righteous rage, in spite of my life long commitment to being non-judgmental. Instead I found myself incredibly turned on to know people who seemed so main-stream, and almost average (except that she's as cute as hell) could get caught up in such outrageous behavior. Looking at Elaine's pictures and movies leaves no doubt that she thoroughly loves big black cock, no acting required.

Stories in these amateur news groups were in much shorter supply. The wife is almost always promiscuous, either in adulterous relationships or else in swinging. The idea of married couples swinging sexually has been around forever it seems, but I never understood how they could handle jealousy and insecurity in an "open" marriage before. It still wasn't easy to imagine me being able to reconcile to it, but the more I saw what couples were doing in pictures, or through their stories, the more I could relate without condemnation, particularly after my relatively short and rocky marriage to Sandy. The years had acted like a soothing balm, and I found it difficult to remember the jealousy, hurt and sense of betrayal that had come easily in the first months and years after the divorce, the memories had finally become blended seamlessly with the pornographic images and lives of people on the web, and I found it all very exciting.

I had never regretted living the noble and principled life that I had, and I could never regret the wonderful children Sandy and Maria had blessed me with, but at this later point in life, I couldn't help but wonder what selfish, hedonistic pleasures had slipped past me, and as I considered the years that still lie ahead, I wasn't anxious to accept the sacrifices associated with starting another relationship based on "goodness" that might now actually seem boring.

More than just wanting to get to know a woman who had a past, I wanted more and more each day to find one who still had real sexual needs who still loved to fuck and might still want to be a little wild, and I didn't really care that it had to be with only me. I wanted to be an important part of her sexual fulfillment, but I didn't care if I was the only one filling her up anymore. Marriage was somewhat irrelevant at that point in my life; and it didn't matter to me if I got married again or was just someone's "significant other".

It's seems funny now that even though I had numerous conversations with Sandy on the phone and we had shared E-mail on the subject, that I hadn't really considered starting up a life with her again before I went to Portland to look into a business investment across the river in Vancouver. I visited Sandy in her beautiful West Hills home, and it surprised me how relaxed and at home I felt as we talked. Sandy was almost shocked to find me so at ease when Darren's name came up. He was the contractor who had seduced her into the reckless promiscuity that destroyed our marriage.

Sandy had always felt deep pain and guilt at what she had done to me. When I gave her the "awe shucks" routine and told her it was no big deal she couldn't believe it. "Sandy," I said. "My life with you for the most part was good, and it was absolutely necessary and right to be together, it prepared me perfectly for Maria and blessed us with two incredible children. You can't imagine how many times I drew from the good experiences as well as the bad to find the answer to a pressing question with one of the kids. You have always played an important role in all our lives."

Thick heavy tears welled up in Sandy's eyes and spilled freely down her beautiful cheeks. Her shoulders shook softly as she tried to quiet her sobbing and I pulled her into my arms, and held her against me for a while as she clutched me tightly around my waist. When calmness and reason reclaimed the high ground again, we separated and both sat facing each other. We talked all afternoon and into the evening and at last she was able to tell me all of the things she had hidden from me so long before. When she told me of her experience at the beauty salon, where she was undressed and fucked in front of everyone, I was shocked and at the same time strangely excited. I was embarrassed at thinking how exciting it would have been for me to see such an outrageous thing in public, in a place of business that day; if it were someone else's wife I thought to myself, I would have masturbated to the memory over and over.

She told me that she had learned she was a true exhibitionist and that being on exhibition in the shop was like the most powerful drug or narcotic ever made. That's what had kept her dancing and stripping for seven years, always trying to rediscover that high. It was not the money like those around her thought; she was a great stripper because she loved to take all of her clothes off in front of people.

"What did make you stop?" I asked.

"That's something you can't do for ever." She said. "It's a young person's business, besides there are a lot of outrageous things that go on as well as I'm sure you've heard. I don't know Ted maybe I was so impressed with the way you moved on in your life; you found Maria, and real success and happiness in your family, maybe I just wanted or needed more of that and less of the plain simple steady diet of sex."

"Sandy," I said "I don't think you ever had" plain simple sex" in your whole life." I know I was never able to unlock your passion; I guess I never really tried, but I saw it." I said. I told her how I had witnessed her masturbating on the couch at night with the lights on and the curtains pulled back as she fantasized about sex with someone else, or someone secretly watching, and I reminded her that I had also watched her in the truck with Darren in our driveway. "I would love to have had that kind of passion as a part of our own intimacy." I told her.

It was then that she explained what she had never been able to when we were married, how she had had been unable to integrate sex and romance; how she had only viewed exciting sex as nasty and naughty and outside the context of true love and romance. She said she had only come to realize how powerful expressing passion in fidelity might be, and how important true love was in sexual fulfillment, after she had screwed up our marriage. She said that without love, sex had become hollow and painful, and that she had never dared fall in love again because she couldn't trust herself to expose someone else to the pain she knew she had caused me. Then she said very quietly "I don't think I could ever love another man the same way I…I love you Ted."

When she spoke those quiet words, time stood still and became filled with a tense silence that Sandy finally broke when she asked. "Ted, do you remember asking me some time ago, maybe you were just joking, that you wanted me to introduce you to one of my old stripper friends that you could date, "because you wanted to go out and have a little fun in Portland"?

"Yea," I said, a little embarrassed at the recollection.

Well I do have a friend in the area, over in West Hills, she is a total exhibitionist; even more than me. Do you want to meet her…and her husband?"

I was a little speechless at the possibility of it, but enough interested that the idea was making my prick swell. "Are you sure? Won't it be a little sudden?" I asked.

"I'll see," she said as she picked up her phone. Hi Cynthia she said into the receiver is Cyn available this evening? ...Sure it's OK if Craig is there, all the better in fact."

I could hear only one side of the conversation as I listened to Sandy talk; she seemed more excited and animated than I ever remembered seeing her being.

When she hung up she said we're going to their house, then obviously anxious, she scrambled for her purse threw on a wrap against the cool humid night air and drug me out of the house. She raced to the passenger door of my rental car and waited impatiently for me to unlock it. I helped her in and smiled at the expanse of leg she showed sliding into the seat. I quickly got in, started the car and raced into the traffic of the arterial highways and freeways.

Sandy hadn't said a lot about her friends before, and she spent more time making sure I was going in the right direction than talking about them as we negotiated the roads for the thirty or so minute drive to Forest Grove. I was alive with questions and curiosity as we rode on together, but had no idea of how to lay them out in words. When I asked her why she thought Cyn was an exhibitionist she told me how Cyn had also danced in an exotic dance club, how she had stripped naked and had let a muscled black bouncer fuck her silly in front of everyone. She also told me of the outrageous things she had done in the office in front of everyone, stripping on the mirrored surface of the conference table as everyone sat around it and how one day she had agreed to take off her panties whenever her short spandex skirt crept up to her waist, and had to fuck someone, anyone in the office before she could put her panties back on.

The images painted in my mind as she rehearsed these things made my cock harder and more uncomfortable than I could remember it being for many years. I pictured a somewhat sluttish looking woman with bleached multi colored hair, mostly blond, in a wild helter-skelter style. I could see in my mind numerous body piercings and maybe even a few choice tattoos located for provocative effect. It was more difficult to picture her husband; in fact I was mildly surprised there was a husband at all after Sandy's revelations.

As sandy directed me from the busier traffic into and through a quiet up-scale residential area dotted with attractive homes on almost half acre lots that were well kept and clean. The area was impressive though not overly affluent, and it had a quiet hushed sense about it that made it seem almost reverent towards life. As the road took a bend, we pulled into a driveway almost as if the drive were a small continuation of the road itself. A porch light was on, and it cast an inviting glow over the rich green dewy lawn.

Before we got to the door, it opened in warm invitation and I could see the figures of a handsome couple standing close together. Because the light was behind them, it was hard to see their faces, but even in silhouette I could tell they were striking and modestly dressed; they much more conservative in appearance than I had expected. The sheer curtains that covered the front windows allowed me to see and interior that was elegant and immaculate as we passed in front. The couple spoke warmly and with excitement as we approached, welcoming us to their home as though we were loved relatives who had been away much too long.

Sandy embraced the woman and then the man and I extended a hand in a more formal greeting. Cyn ignored my extended hand and drew me into a warm and tender embrace saying, "You must be Ted. Sandy has told us all about you." She hugged me warmly as if to say she was particularly happy that I was there with Sandy. "Come in, come in. We want to hear all about both of you and what's going on." She said it in a way that made me a little nervous. I felt almost like the boyfriend or fiancé who had been talked about in detail to build up the anticipation of a first meeting with anxious relatives.

We were ushered into the living room and directed to a love seat set opposite the couch. The seat assured that Sandy and I sit close together, and it felt comfortable to have her close since Craig and Cyn were still somewhat strangers to me in spite of the warm and familiar they treated us. As we relaxed into the warm comfortable cushions we were both hit with a barrage of excited questions that reflected sincere interest. Almost immediately I felt as comfortable and at home as I have felt anywhere.

I marveled at the two people who were far different than what I had pictured. Craig was lean and obviously fit; he was comfortable and in fashion with new kaki slacks and loose cotton golf shirt that looked fresh from its new wrapping. Cyn was wearing the female equivalent with a kaki skirt that came just below the knees which closed at the front with buttons half fastened and half open. She had on a dark cotton top that fit her more snugly and showed off her toned body and the fullness of her breasts. Her strappy sandals were white with tan hemp accents that increased in width toward her heel to give her a three inch lift while standing.

In a comfortable way, Cyn pulled her feet up beneath her a little in a manner that suggested she was prepared for a long visit; she turned somewhat toward Craig and continued her conversation in a way that showed her excitement to have us there. There were more questions about my life, and what I was doing. They expressed sincere condolence at the passing of Maria even though it had already become obvious that she would have died before they even met Sandy.

I was taken at how normal, elegant and natural everything was, and was amazed that the few things Sandy told me about Cyn could have ever happened; I was even more amazed that this man, her husband, who seemed so secure and competent, so in control and confident could have adjusted to his wife's blatant promiscuity. It's easy to imagine the worst in some people when they look and present themselves in a sleazy way, but it was virtually impossible to imagine the raw and exuberant sex Sandy had described coming from the people seated in front of me. Hell, Cyn sitting there right then could have been captured in a photo that would have been at place on the cover of Time, Newsweek or People magazine. She looked so "mainstream" and conservatively elegant. You would have thought she was a senator's wife.