Bombshell in the Berkshires

I was already in bed, anxious for her to arrive. I inhaled at the sight of her wobbly, swaying breasts, her dark, well furred pubic triangle as her robe came off.

It was strange at first that night, to be honest. To settle in next to her in bed, I hadn't felt her bare skin next to me in months. We were almost like a couple of scorpions, each of us wary, unsure of the other, emotional thresholds on hair-trigger settings.

It felt like we were on a first date. We were extra careful touching each other. I trembled when she ran a hand along my flanks.

But her hands on my penis felt marvelous. She even sucked me a bit before inviting me to tongue her. She got all wet and close, and when I first put my penis up her entry, she gave off a lovely little exhale of pleasure that was almost nostalgic. I pushed for a bit, but it was clear I was going to come first if I continued. So I pulled out and licked.

We took longer than usual, a treat to just feel each other's skin and not do any talking. A lot of energy got dissipated that night, and I know she felt good after I had licked her close to a climax, penetrated her again for my own pleasure, then finished her off with my mouth. I liked how her legs got stiff, the way her dense bush pushed into my face, little squeaky noises of pleasure issuing from her mouth.

For the first time in quite awhile, I found some tangible hope.

The next morning she wanted to talk over breakfast.

"Thanks for last night, Clay. That was nice. I have a couple questions for you."

I felt my body stiffen, never sure these days where conversation was going to go.

"Sure."

She reached over and put her left hand on my penis through my clothes.

"I know you have had a history of some penis playing." That phrase again.

She went on. "Can you tell me what goes through your mind?"

She waited.

"It's funny, Barb. I've always been drawn to girls. To women. To someone like you."

This was all true.

"But early on a teenage friend and I would do some touching. I've told you about my fascination with sleeping cocks."

She nodded.

"There is just something so nice about an erection. Limp I don't usually find a penis to be particularly handsome, but when one gets stiff, it's that way for a reason. And some of this I really can't explain. It just looks gorgeous to me, and I cannot get it out of my mind. I want to do something nice with it."

`

We talked about licking and sucking cocks. She listened carefully. I told her about how Roger had never had anyone pull his semen out of his cock by mouth before, how that was such an amazing experience for him.

"Carrie never did that?" I was suddenly worried that I was divulging stuff that Roger had mentioned to me in confidence, probably never thinking it would get repeated. But we were in too far with this discussion to stop.

"Nope. She'd lick him but never to completion. You used to do me, once upon a time."

She grew thoughtful.

"That was only for you. Wasn't actually all that much fun for me."

I told her about how nice it was, for both me and Roger. How much I enjoyed a pulsing, squirting cock going off in my mouth. And how sweet it was when he reciprocated.

"The 'zipless suck.' Ha!" She shook her head. "No strings attached."

After our breakfast conversation ended it felt funny to go back to house stuff and life, but it felt like a start.

The following week was calmer by a large margin, but still hardly normal. With Christmas coming, it was shaping up to be a long, cold winter. I kept thinking about Roger, missing all the lovely bits of our connection, now blown to smithereens.

On a mid-December Friday Barb made a sweet dinner for us, her Quattro formaggio ziti dish. She'd bought a six of my favorite local craft beer at the market. I hadn't even asked, so that was a nice surprise.

Towards the end of the meal she said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to have Roger over for dinner tomorrow. Carrie's out of town and you can make your winter stew.

I tried to keep my face from showing surprise.

"Sure. Always happy to have Roger around, but...?" How did she know Carrie would be away?

A slow smile. "I want to talk to you both."

"Oh." My heart sank. I hadn't said "Oh shit" but "Oh." I kept my voice even.

"About?"

"What do you think, Clay? About the two of you."

"Mightn't Carrie worry?"

"Nope. I've talked to her."

Another surprise. The two of them talking. This of course had huge implications.

"Fair enough."

The next night Roger came over with a bottle of wine, looking a bit undone at the door when Barb let him in.

Her eyebrows went up. "Not sure I've ever seen you drink wine, Roger."

"No, I don't. But I know you do."

She looked at the bottle, one of her favorites, a moderately expensive California chardonnay.

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Yes. It was my suggestion. But at his ask."

The bean and barley stew was still simmering away when we entered the kitchen, and Roger sniffed the air and put his big manly hands together.

"Sure smells good, Barb. You make a mean meal."

"Thanks, but this is Clay's work." He gave me an odd look.

"Guess I haven't cooked much with you around, bud."

"Just done everything else though." Barb snickered at her own joke, and Roger shot her an anxious look.

"Hey, let's just get you a beer and eat," she said. "We'll talk after dinner."

So I got Roger a good pale ale to match mine, and we had a fine meal, the conversation a little stiff at first but got easier as we went along, Barb asking suitable interesting questions about Roger and the machine shop, actually got him to talk about his routine a bit. I even learned a few things about his job and what he did that I hadn't known.

Afterwards we retired to the living room and Barb requested a fire for some warmth.

Luckily this time of year I usually have a couple logs and kindling set up for whenever we want a fire, so it just took opening the flue and a little work before we had a good blaze going.

Barb settled back into her favorite chair, me on the other side of the hearth, and Roger maybe ten feet way from the fireplace, between us. An equilateral triangle.

Barb began by addressing Roger. "I've been talking to Clay, but I want to hear a little more from you about this little connection you guys have made."

I couldn't read Roger's face very well, but it did not exude comfort.

"Tell me how it all began. How you got your crush going," Barb prodded.

Roger shot me a look and I urged him on with my hands, basically indicating "go ahead, tell the truth."

So he talked, at first hesitantly, then with more detail about our first hike, the pond, the "wet dream" he'd experienced napping after our skinny dip, unsuspectingly at my surreptitious instigation, and how things had gone from there. How we had graduated from masturbating together, then each other, to oral pleasures. Nothing Barb didn't know already.

Was she just trying to confirm stories? When it comes to conversation she's usually mostly a straight shooter, not the cunning lawyer type. It didn't feel like a cross-examination situation, more just "tell me your side of the deal" thing.

She listened carefully to everything that had been said. There was not a moment where she looked irritated, or hurt, or even uneasy. That alone was both not what I expected and encouraging as well.

"So Clay insists it's only about the cock, right?" She addressed this to Roger.

"Clarification." I raised my hand. "His balls too. They're heavenly."

Luckily both of them laughed, and I described them to Barb in perhaps overly poetic terms, their size and shape, furry scrotum nest, their smell and taste. She listened with interest while Roger looked a bit embarrassed.

"You guys ever kiss?"

Roger's face got indignant. "Never!"

Of course Barb had asked me this too, but I thought she looked amused at the vehemence of Roger's reaction.

She took a sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, her favorite, with the worn armrests and the little table next to it where she kept her reading glasses, often a book, and a coaster for her wineglass.

"I would like to see both of you in action." She paused. "See what you do when you get together."

She looked at each of us in turn. "And are getting aroused."

Roger gave a start and shifted awkwardly in his chair.

"What do you mean, Barb? I think I've told you about what we do, and Roger has too," I interjected, unsure of what she wanted.

"Yes, you have described things. I want to watch in person." She looked at me.

"Do you take his clothes off?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Usually we take off our own clothes. Sometimes not always all the way."

She laughed. "Just enough, I get it. But sometimes?" She turned to me.

I nodded. Then held my breath.

"Why don't you get our friend comfortable, Clay? It's gotten warm enough in here that bare skin won't be a problem."

She was right about the room's air temperature. She also said "our friend."

Was she looking at me the way a voyeur might? Or just curious to see how'd I'd react? This was not my first clue that this was going to be Barb's night, that things were going to go as she directed, but it was the most overt indication.

I stood up and moved over to Roger, who looked distinctly uneasy. I reached out a hand and pulled him gently up from his chair, and we looked at each other.

I removed each item of his clothing deliberately, wordlessly: his plaid shirt, boots and jeans, each stage generating a bit more tension, until he was standing in front of the fire without a stitch on.

That hairy, round chest with the dark nipples. Strong short legs, similarly furry.

And those glorious balls hanging low, underneath his penis, not the least bit excited, all just potential energy at the moment. Odd nerve endings were starting to fire in my own body. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Barb checking out my buddy's body carefully.

Both Roger and I are in our forties, with bellies to match, but taut rather than flabby. We're working men types, with a fair amount of body hair. I gazed with affection at Roger's crotch thicket.

Unprompted, Roger unwrapped me as well, until both of us were facing each other, warm and almost comfortable in front of the fireplace.

"What might happen next?" Barb's voice was low, urging, her eyebrows raised. "How do you start?"

There was no stopping at this point. I now felt I had a better idea of what she wanted.

I reached underneath Roger's package and began to rummage, hand shifting between balls and penis.

Progress was slow but linear, and in a few minutes, due mostly to the fact that we had done this dance together dozens of times before, although not for some time, he got a nice erection going, not fully hard, but enough to push forward at maybe a fifty-degree angle.

I stepped back and all eyes in the room landed in on that one irresistible focal point.

God, he looked good.

Penis sticking out of that groin forest. Potential energy cycle started, the clock would need just a little more winding before it would tell time.

Roger was careful not to look at Barb, but basically did the same thing to me, until my own erection was unmistakable out there in the open.

So now there were two hardened penises in the cozy, overheated living room.

I like to see an erection out in the open. I like even better to see two, especially if I'm the owner of one of them.

I was keenly aware of Barb's eyes on me. I had told her what we did, what we most liked, there were not going to be any surprises tonight, except that previously her awareness had only been second-hand.

I didn't know what she was hoping to gain. Was she going to be grossed out? Disgusted? Or just wanted to see us operate as a pair? It didn't matter really, all this was done at her request.

I knelt on the thick rug we had in front of the fireplace, glad it was fairly soft underneath for my knees, and took Roger's penis into my mouth.

His cock was warm and soft and in that rubbery not-fully-hard phase that is so sweet. I rolled his cock head around in my mouth, licked the shaft from balls to tip, tried to forget for a moment that I was being watched. By an eagle. I almost succeeded.

So what's it like to have your wife watch you suck another man's cock?

I can't really say. I tried to turn off the part of my mind that knew I was being witnessed, at least for the moment, and just gave into those lovely feelings of power and arousal that take place anytime you have an erection making a good home for itself in your mouth. Where you can let your tongue slide around a bunch of nerve endings that you know are guaranteed to please your penis-partner. Feel the hardness increase, experience skin surfaces getting wet and slobbery, and with one hand, sense some excited balls begin their ascent.

All was lovely.

And I realized just how much I had missed Roger in the last long, distressing weeks of abstinence.

So we got a little session going there in front of a crackling fire, safe to say I had never done anything remotely like this in our living room before. The setting was warm and inviting, and when I was able to tune out the fact that I was working with an audience, it was enjoyable.

I stroked and licked Roger, got him all worked up. We stood together and fondled each other in front of Barb, did some of the penis rubbing stuff we often indulged in before getting serious. If he was similar to me he likely had a severe sperm backlog crammed into those beautiful balls of his.

We alternated, as was our custom, each of us taking a turn with the other, until it felt like the arousal was getting a little too charged. We'd grown quite adept at the pleasure-prolongation game.

One time I was sitting in my chair while Roger was nestled between my legs, giving my cock a good oral workover.

I looked over at Barb, who was staring intensely at the proceedings. She had a good view of Roger's taut ass and balls from the backside, his stiff cock bobbing with his motions. Her mouth was slightly parted when she noticed I was looking at her.

Our eyes locked. I could not read her expression.

I'd never done sex when seen by someone else before, this whole scenario was totally disorienting. If Barb hadn't asked for it, it would have been surreal beyond belief. But I had gauged she wanted to watch, for her own internal reasons.

At that point some part of me gave in. I figured she might as well get a show.

I pulled Roger off me, gently, and maneuvered us onto the rug, into a sixty-nine with him on top on his hands and knees. I had the vague thought of not wanting him in a position to see Barb watching us, so I had him facing away. Although most of the time when we were doing stuff, particularly if I was pleasing him, he'd have his eyes closed anyway. Unlike me, he didn't like the added visuals.

The few times I stole a glance at Barb she was completely engrossed. I saw her eyes fixed on Roger's balls, waving around while he sucked me laid out on the floor.

I couldn't blame her. They are a supremely handsome set of testicles, each egg drawn up and settled separately on each side of his shaft, all full and furry and impatient.

We swapped positions so I was on top. I knew Barb could see my ass cheeks heaving while I plowed into Roger's face.

"Clay?"

I was startled to hear Barb address me. I turned towards her, letting Roger's prick slop out of my mouth where it stood wetly proud, waving in the air.

"Please." She glanced at his cock then me.

"I'd rather you don't finish him with your mouth? There's a chance I might want to be kissing you later."

I tried to register this request, which had dozens of overtones. Might want to kiss me later? That at least meant she might want to be close to me. But not with the semen-in-the-mouth condition?

I am not sure that night I would have done anything she asked, but this request I could honor, however much it departed from the normal routine. Nine times out of ten, Roger and I would each take each other's spermload orally, that was usually our preferred outcome.

Roger and I decoupled, and I had him finish me off on his knees while I was standing with my back to the fireplace, nice heat on my bum. Barb got a good look of me pushing my prick into Roger's mouth, my quivering ass cheeks while I divested, my head thrown back, Roger's handiwork in action. My whole body shook with the climax.

I had Roger lay down on the rug, his cock impossibly hard, and while facing Barb, I stroked him to completion, one hand on his cock, the other cupping and caressing his balls, until I fetched a nice shower of sperm out onto his hairy belly, a pool filling his navel. We were both pretty sweated up.

The room was quiet while both of us stared at Roger's sperm mess. Barb got up from her seat.

"Stay there, I'll be right back."

She came back with two face-towels from the bathroom. She handed me one and helped with mop-up operations herself, a slight smile of amusement on her face as we cleaned up the semen. Roger's expression was a bit undone.

She stood up, looking at both of us, then laughed quietly.

"Sorry Roger, I know that's not how you usually finish yourselves. I appreciate you both for honoring my wishes."

She looked at each of us with a gleam in her eyes. "That was actually pretty hot."

She sat down again. "You guys looked good. And I've never seen gay sex before."

Roger's face scrunched up and he was just about to shout "not gay" when Barb held up her hand.

"Right. Gotcha. Not 'gay' it is. But still nice." This was accompanied by an earnest stare at my buddy.

"Nice as in arousing." She smiled. "Two nice looking guys. One of them I claim as my own."

We were quiet for a moment while the fire crackled.

"Okay, here's my proposition, and you can take it or leave it as you wish." The evenness and earnestness of her words took us by surprise, low and quiet and serious. She looked at Roger.

"I want to take my husband to bed. I wouldn't mind if you joined us, but I don't want to ask you to do something you don't want to do."

She read the alarm on Roger's face. "Carrie's okay with this, I've checked. She just doesn't want to know about it. Really about any sex not with her, she just doesn't want to know. And no, you won't be coupling with me, I will not do that with anyone but him." Her thumb jerked in my direction. If there was any judgment in her voice I couldn't detect it, more just a statement of her own principles. Her limits maybe.

She had seen me shoot my sperm into Roger's mouth. Seen me lick Roger's unit and then stroke him off. His pleasure had been as obvious as the pile of semen we needed to clean up on his furry belly.

Her eyes had a brightness I recognized. Her arousal was in full flower.

"Thank you both for what you've done this evening. I've learned a thing or two."

Roger and I both looked at each other. Then, almost in synchronized moments, we looked at each other's sloppy, limp cocks. Roger almost laughed.

Barb smiled. A sweet smile. Made me feel good.

"I liked how you guys both attended to each other. I know it's not love. You've said that and I believe you. But it was care."

She paused and took a deep breath. "You've each claimed you can do twice in a session. Here's your chance." The look she sent me basically was saying, "but not usually with me."

"Clay, I'm going to bed."

She turned her head to Roger. "You too, if you want."

Roger's face was a cement mixer of emotions. Surprise, sure. Then worry. Indecision. Paralysis.