What Should I Do?

The story that follows is built essentially on a real life event. This fact allowed me to write the story in one evening without having to use a lot of imagination. Of course the names are changed and a little poetic license has been used.

Most of you readers are too young to remember an old radio show hosted by Mr. Anthony. People would call in to Mr. Anthony with requests for help on all sorts of personal problems. He was a sort of early day radio version of Dr. Phil except that what Mr. Anthony dispensed was mostly common sense for those who apparently had none.

Well, I wish he were around today because I have a problem due to a complete lapse of common sense. What's worse is that I have created the problem and I don't know what to do about it.

For some of you this is going to be a hard story to follow because it breaks from much of the standard boilerplate and scenarios that you read in Literotica. So let me set the scene. My name is Bernice, Bernie for short. At the time this story began, my wonderful husband and I were fourteen months short of our fiftieth wedding anniversary. My husband, Bill, is nine months older than I and I'm not going to tell our ages but you can approximate them knowing we were married shortly after we graduated from college. We have three children, five grandchildren, and two great grand children.

At our age, sex is not the hot commodity it once was, but it definitely is not a forgotten art. Considering our ages, we are both in better than average shape, but time has taken its toll and there are sags, and folds, and bulges where there weren't before. I am definitely beyond the bikini set and I wouldn't want to see Bill in a thong bathing suit. But, everything considered, we are both still nice looking specimens. When I'm all dressed up, I can still turn a few heads.

We have had a wonderful life and enjoy our time together since retirement. Probably retirement isn't a good term since Bill has been a consultant since he gave up his full-time career with the railroad. He is away from home for most of a week every six weeks or so. His specialty is freight handling and movement. He maintains an office downtown since he doesn't like mixing home life and work. So, he maintains a 10 a.m. to something after six p.m. office schedule.

Don't try to get ahead of the story. I mentioned that he is gone from time-to-time only to indicate that we are together most of the time. In fact, I often accompany him on his trips. His traveling has nothing to do with initially creating the problem.

Before I can get to the problem, I need to tell you about our very dear, life-long friends Ron and Natalie. Bill and Ron served together in Korea and after their discharges they both went to work for the railroad. Ron is a little older than Bill and he and Natalie were married before I met Bill.

I don't have to go into the details. We raised families together vacationed together at times, and spent countless weekends and holidays together. Very sadly, Natalie died almost two years ago and Bill and I have done all we can to help Ron over this time of life. His family has done everything possible to ease things for him but they all live considerable distances from here and he has turned down offer to go live with one of them. "All my friends are here" is his response to suggestions that he move away and live with family.

We include him in everything we can, including having him over for dinner several times a month. We realized quickly that we couldn't pull him too much. He needed time to grieve and get used to living alone.

About three or four months ago we both observed that he seemed to have come to grips with things and for the last two months or so he has almost returned to being the happy guy we have always known. He is back to joking and kidding around with us even to the point of joining in with some of the racy or sexually oriented off-the-cuff remarks that the four of us used to get into frequently in the past.

Several weeks ago, after dinner, I don't know how the subject came up, but Bill made a crack about my not allowing him to see porn flicks anymore. The conversation became quite amusing as we threw jabs about our individual abilities to match up with a porn star. The evening was fun and my sides hurt by the time the evening was over from laughing at our antics. And no, Bill and I were not all fired up. And no, we didn't make mad passionate love after Ron left. And no, we went to bed like most nights, cuddled, and went to sleep.

A couple of week later, we invited Ron for supper again. As usual, he came over about four or five and lent a hand with getting the dinner together. He is excellent in the kitchen, far better than Bill.

We were just about ready to put steaks on the grill when Bill called. He was going to be delayed until after seven and wanted us to go ahead and eat without him. I was irked because I had told him what we were having and not to be late. I know he could have called earlier because his work is not emergency level and he could have rescheduled the work if he thought about it. Now it was too late, he was committed.

Ron said he wasn't starving and that he would be happy to wait and eat when Bill came home. I agreed and suggested that we have some cheese and crackers as a snack. As I bent over to get the cheese from the refrigerator, Ron was on his way to the pantry for the crackers. The timing was just right so that my butt and his crotch met with a little force.

He stopped and said, "Hey, be careful where you point that thing."

Without giving it a thought and being a smart aleck, I impishly pushed back into him again, saying, "I had the right of way."

He played along and grabbed both of my hips and gave me a slight side-to-side motion saying, "I was there first, and besides, you were backing up."

Of course, we were just messing around like we had done many times in the past and we pushed back and forth several times. However, because of our exact positions, I became aware that I could feel his hardness beginning to build.

I stood up and turned to face him, and said, "Oh Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you fired up." I really felt sorry. The poor guy hadn't had sex in a long while and I was ignorantly making him uncomfortable.

He held my hips at arms length and told me he was alright. He had to make adjustments to his life but he had not made that adjustment yet and that he definitely was not dead either.

I felt so bad and I wanted to cry. Instead, I put my hands on his waist and pulled him to me. I stood on my tip toes and gave him a kiss. In doing so I could feel that his manhood must be reaching its zenith as my stomach slid up him.

He put his hands on either side of my face and returned my kiss very tenderly and gentlemanly. As we broke the very sweet kiss he dropped his hands to my waist and pushed me back. He looked me in the eye and said, "Bernie, I think it is time to have our cheese and crackers. We're playing with a fully loaded gun that has a hair trigger. I can't promise to be good, even with one of my best friends."

I felt terrible to have pushed him this far with no relief available. It was then that my common sense and sense of right and wrong flew away. I felt myself pulling him back to me and saying, "Maybe we could 'work it out' and I could 'handle the situation' for you," as I met his lips again.

Naturally, he knew what I was suggesting. But as he pushed us apart gain he said, "Bernie, believe me when I say I would love to have you help me 'handle things' but you and Bill have been friends far too long for me to take the chance that my sex urges could screw it up."

By now, my feeling sorry for Ron was giving way to the acknowledgement that I had fantasized many times in the past about going to bed with him. Like Bill, Mother Nature had made some alterations in Ron's appearance, but he was still a good looking man.

"Come on Ron. Let's go to the bedroom and let me handle the situation and make you comfortable. But I'll understand if you would rather go to the bathroom and handle it yourself. But I'm truthfully saying that I would really like to help. After all, I started this and I think I could make it a little more fun for you. Bill will never have to know."

As I was saying this I was continuing to rub my belly up and down on his now swollen member. What I was doing was naughty and common sense told me that things could rapidly get out of hand, but I was ignoring all of the warning signals.

What I was doing was overriding his attempts to cool things down and after a few more moments and another kiss he gave in, pulled me to him and initiated a hot tongue swapping kiss.

What followed was kind of a blur. I led him into the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed. I crawled up beside him as we kissed again and I fumbled with his zipper. Reaching in I quickly found my quarry and pulled it out.

He gave a little groan and without breaking the kiss I felt one hand cup my breast. Another alarm went off and again I ignored it and I began to stroke his cock. It was huge. I would guess that it was three inches longer than Bill's seven inches and is was probably twice as thick. It also had a massive curve. When hard, the tip of his cock pointed almost straight up at his face. Bill's is a straight ramrod.

We continued like this for several minutes. The only change was that I felt the buttons of my blouse being opened and then he pulled the blouse loose from my waistband and helped me take it off. He was wearing a golf shirt and shortly we had that off too.

As I continued to stroke him, two things were happening to me. I was having great sympathy for this friend who had lost his mate and sex partner and I was beginning to feel sexual desires wanting to have that cock. As long as we had known him, I never would have guessed that he was packing such a gorgeous instrument. Along with this revelation, I hadn't had Bill's cock for quite a while.

The next thing I knew was that Ron had fumbled around long enough to find that I was wearing a front-closure bra and I felt the bra give way as he undid the clasp. Now my 36 C's (formerly 38 D's) were flattened against his bare chest.

The naughtiness of doing this with another man was beginning to take hold also, and after bathing in the warmth of his skin against mine for a little, I found myself sliding down and positioning his cock in front of my face.

Ron caught me under the arm pits and pulled me back saying, "Remember, we're just going to handle this situation."

I smiled at him and we kissed some more. But now my hormones were raging and I wanted him in my mouth. I could tell that Ron wasn't going to last too much longer so I continued to stroke him while moving down so he could fuck my breast.

It didn't take long before he explodes on my breast, my chin, and my lower lip. We lay there a few minutes and he looked at me and said, "That was wonderful. Thanks. I guess we had better clean up."

Before he could make a move, I slipped down and as I slipped his cock into my mouth I said, "Well let's begin the clean-up right here."

I heard, "Oh my gawd. We shouldn't...Oh my gawd." And he had both hands on my head.

I hadn't planned it this way, but he was mine, or maybe I was his. It didn't matter because we were both on fire. In less than two minutes he was rock hard again and I was dripping wet.

He pulled me around, pulled my panties off and put his head between my legs and his tongue into my pussy. Any alarms that may go off now would be of no avail. I can tell you from past experience that in very short order after a tongue invades me, I will have the tongue owner's cock in me. Of course, during my married life, that has always been Bill.

Shortly he pulled me up and while kissing my breast, his hand and fingers were working between my thighs.

I couldn't take it any more and I told him that I needed him right now. He didn't need coaxing. He removed his pants and his shorts and positioned himself between my legs. I grabbed his cock and guided it into me.

As I mentioned before, his cock was much different than Bill's. Aside from size, the feeling that the pressure of his curved cock created was an entirely new and different feeling in me. It was fantastic.

Having dumped his initial pent up load on my breast, we were able to enjoy quite a long period with his cock buried in me. One nice thing about my age is that I don't have to worry about getting pregnant, or so I'm led to believe.

When he came, he filled me and I was rewarded with that feel of warm cum running down the crack of my ass. I didn't let him go until his cock went limp and slowly slipped out.

We caught our breath and Ron looked at me and said, 'That was fantastic. But Bernie, we have cheated on your husband and my best friend. I don't know what to say or do right now. Oh gawd, Bill must never find out."

It wasn't until now that I fully comprehended what I had just done. Yes, I. knew that Ron can't be blamed. He tried to shut this down before it blew up. But I had pushed it beyond any chance to recover. Being a female, I started to cry.

I looked at the clock and it was almost seven. Bill could walk in the door any minute now. Ron recognized our situation at the same time and leaped from the bed pulling his clothes on.

We were in luck though; we had not made a mess on the bed. My dress had taken the brunt of the onslaught. I went into the bathroom. There wasn't time to shower so I sponged off and changed my clothes. When I came out I straightened the bed and did another inspection to be sure we ad not left any tell tale signs.

Ron and I went into the kitchen to be sure everything was ok. As we did, Ron said in a joking voice, "No thanks, no more cheese and crackers for me."

I laughed. But it hurt. I had instigated a situation that could be devastating for three people. What made it hurt more was that I was secretly thinking about how we might do it again.

It wasn't more than fifteen minutes after we had cleaned up that Bill walked in the door with his usual hug and kiss for me and a hand shake and slap on the shoulder for Ron.

We broiled the steaks and ate our supper. Ron and I could hardly look at each other and the conversation was stilted and sub-par for the three of us. Very shortly after supper, Ron announced that it was getting late and that he should get on home, he didn't want desert.

Bill and I had our desert and after a while he asked if tonight would be a good night for a little tumble in the sack.

I about choked on the last piece of cookie I had just put in my mouth. I smiled and told him that with supper being so late, I would feel much better doing it sometime after we had a little more time to digest our food.

He was fine with that and after a bit we went to bed. I about freaked out when he announced in a happy go lucky way that even if we couldn't do too much, he wanted handle the merchandise a little so he would be ready when the time came.

I hadn't dared take the time to douche for fear he would come home while I was doing it. I still had Ron's juices in me and I sure didn't want to explain why I was so wet and sticky.

Well, I couldn't avoid it. He eventually reached down and slipped his hand between my legs and slipped a finger into me. After a moment he withdrew his finger and asked, "Why are you so juicy down there if you say you don't want to play a little?"

It's not often that a quick answer is available at time like this, but thankfully one came to me. I replied, "Honey, I have a slight rash and I'm using an ointment. That's not what you think it is." Thank the lord he didn't pull his finger up and smell it. Instead he just wiped his finger on the pant leg of his pajamas.

Well, that was three weeks ago. Ron and I are still a little distant with each other and I am carrying a tremendous load of guilt.

Bill has asked a couple of times if everything is ok with Ron. When I ask why he is asking that he tells me that he just senses that something has happened and that Ron is having some kind of problem.

Last night tore me up. I have the terrible feeling that it was the beginning of the end. Ron was over for dinner. The conversation and activities were about the same as they have been since that night.

But after he went home, Bill took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and said, "Honey, are you sure you don't know what is bothering Ron? I have noted that he doesn't mess around or kid you like he used to. It also seems to me that he has more of a problem when he is around you. It's only when he is here at the house that this problem seems to descend on him. He seems perfectly normal on the golf course and when he is with the gang. Can't you think of anything that could have had this effect on him?"

I wanted to run and hide but that would only add fuel to the fire. I couldn't keep my eyes on him but shook my head as I looked mostly down and told him that I didn't have any ideas.

He continued to hold me and study my face before finally saying, "Ok, but something definitely has transpired and I can't get a word out of him either."

That word 'either' was key. He knows something happened and he appears to know or believe that I know and am unwilling to tell him. I gave some lame excuse and went to bed.

I couldn't go to sleep and Bill was later than usual coming to bed. When he came in I was lying on my side facing the bureau and I pretended to be asleep. In the mirror I could see him come over to the bed and look down on me for a minute or so. I finally saw him shake his head and then go get ready for bed. It may have just been the light, but I could swear that I saw the glistening of tears in his eyes as he turned away.

Right now I am a total wreck. Bill obviously knows something is out of place. How long can I hold up under this load of guilt? How long before Bill figures it out or pries it out of one of us? What will happen when the truth comes out?

Mr. Anthony, WHAT SHOULD I DO?