Community Property

I wondered if I should stay, she didn't insist I remain, perhaps we could both use a good night's sleep she hinted. And sleep well, in my own bed, I did, with dreams of my lover commingling with that of my wife.

Doris wouldn't let me see her the next few nights, alluding to lectures she was required to attend, work that needed to be finished, but she accepted my invitation to a Belgian restaurant on Friday night, the last there would be before Debbie returned from Iceland. My wife had texted me often, it was less expensive than phone calls, I'd had tales and pictures of the Northern Lights seen from an airplane, soaking in thermal waters during a snowstorm, gourmet meals. Strangely, I didn't feel much guilt about my adultery, taking comfort in the permission for this excursion she'd once given me.

After I picked her up, Doris vamped at the restaurant while we ate our mussels and frites. Her antics were for my benefit, yes, but she was well aware that other men were enjoying the sexy blond with the middle aged man. And when we returned to her apartment, our love making was lethargic and delicious. In the interludes between bouts she wouldn't allow me to talk of what might go on after Debbie's return, saying only that we have this moment, there's no need to worry about what will be. I slept there that night, in the morning we lounged, naked, and played through our lunch.

I returned to our home, cleaned the house, washed or took to the dry cleaners any clothes I'd worn around Doris, tried to eradicate any evidence of my infidelity. I think I was successful. Late that night, I picked Debbie up at the airport, she was tired but anxious to reconnect with me. On the drive home she told me more about her trip, and asked, "What did you do while I was gone?"

"Just hung out mostly," I lied.

"Did you see Doris?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, we went out to dinner last night."

"I'm glad. You two have become such good friends!"

I made love to Debbie that night, I was surprised at my ardor for her, actually amplified by my perfidy. Her body was ready for me, when she came I knew it, her gasps and shuddering was a treat compared to her sister's calmness. And when we cuddled for sleep, I appreciated my wife as much, even more, than my lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nine days later Debbie scheduled a hair appointment that would last until at least eight o'clock, when I discovered the opportunity I begged Doris for a few hours with her, she agreed rapidly. Our lovemaking that night was arduous and complete, I was beginning to understand her body, she had no troubles making mine do whatever she desired.

Over the weeks other opportunities developed, business meetings I invented, nights that Debbie had things planned with her girlfriends, weekend afternoons when I'd leave for 'the store' and be missing a few hours. Doris never complained that I had limited time to spend with her, never asked me to sneak away with her when it wasn't convenient.

I imagine an outsider who knew the score would have laughed at my demeanor the first time Doris came to our house for a dinner. She gave no indication to Debbie that anything was abnormal, didn't flirt with me, at least not anymore than she did before we became lovers. While it took me awhile to calm down, the sisters joked and kidded normally.

One evening, when I was with Doris at her apartment, we were lying naked after the act, and I asked, "Are you okay with this?"

"You mean our affair?"

"Is that what it is?"

"That's what I've always called it. I've had affairs with other married men you know. This seems pretty normal to me."

"You don't mind that I can't see you as often as you'd like?"

"It's fine," she insisted. "I know I have to take what I can get, for as long as you want to give it to me. After that, I'll still be fine."

"You think this is going to end?"

"I don't want it to. You're a wonderful lover, I enjoy your company. But one of these days I suspect you'll start feeling guilty, you'll get tired of the deceits we have to go through, you'll have had enough of me." She looked at me, sensed I was interested in her observations. "When that happens, I'll feel a little sad. But I won't go to pieces. After my first affair with a married man I was a bitch. I'd expected him to leave his wife, his children, and when he threw me away I was devastated. It took me almost a year to get over it.

"The second time was almost as bad as the first, but then I figured it out. Married men, the nice ones, like to have another woman, but eventually they get tired of me, or they can't handle it, and now it hardly bothers me, I expect it. And, I suspect, you'll wind up feeling the same. The only worry I have is that we can't hurt Debbie's feelings when it happens. So, when you're ready to let me go, let's be very nice to each other, for her sake, okay?"

I didn't like her words, I hadn't wanted to think about anything other than exactly what I had, a loving wife, a willing and seductive mistress. But the more I thought about it, I realized Doris was experienced in the cycles of adultery, I needed to follow her lead.

Not that I was ready to end what we had, when I could make time for her Doris was exuberant, willing to give me whatever I wanted. She let me satisfy her as she enthralled me, our time together, even when we weren't in bed, was breathtaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the most intense heat of the summer, Debbie and I were watching a romantic comedy, a man caught between two women, and when the credits started rolling Debbie turned to me and we kissed. Then, the question every man in my position dreads. "Dear, are you having an affair?"

I wanted to hide. I wanted to say, "Of course not!" but I couldn't bring myself to lie directly. Rather than verbally admit my sin, I simply hung my head, a implicit admission of my guilt. I expected wrath from my wife, she simply continued, very calmly. "Is it with Doris?"

"Yes," I muttered. Then I followed it with, "I'm sorry," an apology I knew was insincere even as I mouthed it.

"Why, whatever for?" I stopped. I had to. Although her mien was serious, I couldn't detect anger. "Really," she continued, "it's all right. As long as it's with Doris. I don't mind."

"You don't?" I said incredulously.

"No, not at all. I've suspected for the longest time. And I see it's made you happy."

"Then it's all right?"

"Perfectly, as long as it's only Doris."

She pulled me to her, her lips soothed the blush on my face, the confusion in my spirit. Suddenly I wanted her, Debbie grasped my abrupt need, with her hands on my back she encouraged my vital desire. She raised her shirt over her head, unsnapped the bra, put one of her tiny breasts to my lips to be sucked on. Her hand was on my lap, I'm sure she sensed the hardness encased in the cotton. I wanted her badly, this woman, this wife. I was rough, throwing her back, stripping her of her garments, discarding mine at the same time. When my face met the rough strands of her thick pubic hair my tongue pushed past it, the soddenness of her vaginal lips gave her readiness away.

As I tongued her clit, used a finger deep inside her, she began to moan, faintly to begin and then, as I increased my pressure and tempo, the groans increased in volume until a roar escaped from her diaphragm, her skin colored as blood reached every inch of her surface, she bucked under me. I kept her up there as long as I could, taking enjoyment in the zenith I was providing for her and it was only when I heard her say, "That's enough," that I moved.

My penis was ready for her, she wanted it and spread her thighs broadly, there on the couch I skewered her. I watched her face as she stretched to accept me, the cheeks glowed, the mouth opened while the eyes shut tightly, the nostrils spread. I pushed, hard, into her, her body propelled the length of the cushion, her legs tightened around me. Again and again I thrusted, again and again she reacted. Another orgasm encompassed her, I doubt she was aware of her surroundings, of the fact that she was getting screwed by a man who'd been unfaithful to her. And I didn't think of my lover, I thought only of pleasing this woman who was my wife, my companion, who deserved every shard of my attention. I knew what to do, how to do it. In a brief lull I turned her, she was on her stomach now, cushions under her belly, I was fucking her harder. When I reached around and put a thumb into her mouth she sucked on it hard, and when I used that same wet thumb to penetrate her rectum she yelped, but I could tell it was nothing but pleasure for her, I screwed her in both places to noises of supreme indulgence. Her enthusiasm seemed to be flagging, she slipped to the floor, on her back she reached for me, I filled her again. "Your turn," she whispered into my ear, and I concentrated on the friction of my penis inside her sheath, willed my semen to leave it's nest, heavily I spent into her, the mother of my children. It was wonderful, that release, and when I recovered I saw her bright eyes welcoming me to her ardor. "I love you," she said, and I repeated it to her, in the best of faith.

I had her pinned against the rug, she wasn't attempting to escape and we talked.

"That was wonderful," I said.

"I know. You were great."

"So were you." We kissed, she didn't seem to care that the weight of my body was pressing on her. And then, I ruined it. "You really don't mind that I . . ."

"Oh, shut up," she cried, but with a bit of whimsey in the tone. "We'll talk about it some other time." She pushed me off her, grabbed a blanket to cover herself, walked down the hall. I lazed for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of the afterglow. By the time I reached the bedroom my pajamas were laid out for me, Debbie was in the bathroom behind the closed door. The next time I saw her, she was in her nightdress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, I got a call from Doris. "Hi, hey listen, I got a print at Maisel Galleries. It's lovely, Marc Allante. I think you'll like it. Maybe you want to come over and help me hang it?" It was code we'd developed, when I dropped over for my chore I'd be rewarded with sex.

It was tempting, very tempting, but the recent revelation to Debbie had unsettled me. "I'm a little backed up this week," I lied.

"Well, okay, but listen, come over soon, will you?" Then, in almost a whisper, "I miss you."

"Me, too!" I tried to sound enthusiastic. "I've got to go."

Since the night Debbie had confronted me, and then had screwed my brains out, I'd been confounded. I wasn't sure just what I was allowed, what was expected from me, I had no understanding of just where I - and my wife - was. So that night I got her a drink after dinner, since this was unusual I thought it was a good signal, and brought up my discontent. "Honey, we need to talk."

Debbie got the gist immediately. "It's about Doris, isn't it? Sure, if you need to talk, I'll go along. You need to know everything's all right, and it is. Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Well, to start with, how long have you suspected that we've been seeing each other?"

"A few months, I can't pin the date exactly. A little bit after I got back from Iceland. Things changed with you, somehow. Sometimes, you were a little happier than usual, other times a little withdrawn. That bunch of roses you bought me, 'just because.' And you've become a much better lover. That's really nice!"

"And you figured it was Doris?"

"If I was right - I wasn't really sure, not till you told me - I hoped it was Doris. If it was anybody else I would have been upset."

"But you don't mind that I've been seeing Doris?" This sort of blew my mind.

"Not at all," my wife confirmed.

"Why not?"

"Well, I guess I always expected it. Ever since you met her, you've had the hots for her. All of my boyfriends did, back when I was a teenager, she's always been sexy. I watched your face when you met her, that first Thanksgiving, it was the same story. So I figured I'd better find out quick, that's when I set you up with her that night. And when you came back to me the very next night, and we made love so beautifully, I knew that it was going to be okay. And even though you had her that one time . . ."

"I didn't make love to her that night," I defended.

"Well, okay, if you say so. But really it didn't matter to me, you came back to me. That's all I really wanted. So I knew it would be okay."

"She stole other boyfriends of yours?"

"She never stole a boyfriend. Oh, if I wasn't serious about them she could tell and then something might go on. But I expected to share. We shared everything when we were in school. And she was always very nice about it. She'd never use one of my sweaters, she knew she'd stretch them out of shape for me with her big breasts. But she'd borrow a blouse if I said it was okay. It was like that for everything. I love my sister, she can have anything of mine she needs. Look how she treated our children, she was a second mother to them, the fun one! So all these years, I knew you were harboring a flame for her. And she liked you a lot, too, she's told me so a few times. So, if it's finally happened, why should I be concerned?"

"But if it was anyone else?"

"Then, I'd be worried. A lot."

"Why?"

My wife gave her feelings away. "I couldn't be sure, if it was your secretary or a girl at the coffee store, that you'd come back to me. You might fall in love with them, want a divorce. I couldn't stand that, I love you too much. But Doris will never try to take you away."

In a way, it made sense. Although in another way it was completely screwed up, and I knew it. "So you're okay with what Doris and I have done?"

"Of course I am, dear." She leaned over to kiss me. "So when you're in bed with Doris, just enjoy yourself. Don't let it worry you, I'll be fine."

"You mean, you expect me to continue seeing her?"

"Why not? You like it, I'll bet she does, I don't care! Just make sure you save enough for me," she smiled. "It should be easier on you now, you won't have to sneak around. If you want to spend time with her, just let me know. You can even sleep at her house, if you want to. I won't bother you unless it's important."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive. I love you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, I gave Doris a call. "Hey, does that print still need hanging?"

She laughed. "No, I got it up! But I've got an itch that needs scratched, can you stop over tonight?"

"I'll be there, maybe six-thirty?"

"I won't start without you."

I was a little nervous when I texted Debbie, 'won't be home till later tonight.' When I didn't get her immediate reply I was concerned, but a couple of hours later I received, 'okay. have fun. love you.' and I texted back, 'luv u 2.'

As usual, Doris buzzed me in the building, as usual her apartment door was slightly ajar, when I entered the living room she was nowhere to be seen but I heard a raucous buzzing coming from the bedroom. I entered, Doris was on the bed, completely unclothed, her tapered breasts pointing to the ceiling, a flesh colored vibrator probing a similar toned labia. "I started without you," she quipped.

"So I see. Can I help?"

"I guess so. Take your clothes off before you get here, though."

I slowly disrobed, carefully arranging my suitcoat, trousers and shirt on a straight chair, my shoes and socks were carefully arranged, my briefs folded on the seat. And while I took my time undressing, I watched Doris masturbate. Her eyes stayed closed, her mouth pursed in a loop, her hand guided the plastic between the top of her pussy and the depths of the burrow. Looking at her, you wouldn't know she was even aware of my presence, but as I approached the bed she moved a foot to make room for me. Then she opened her eyelids, handed the dildo to me. "Your turn, my hand's tired."

For the next twenty minutes I manipulated the tool, and also used hands and mouth to stimulate her. I watched her body carefully, noticed something. When she was in that tense/relaxed state, she was hardly breathing, and the lips of her vagina turned a fairly dark rose. Certainly in those moments she was orgasming! A moment later the folds of skin would lighten, I knew she was down. I played a game, trying to bring the blush back between her thighs, was successful a number of times.

Eventually she tired of this pastime, I rolled up on her, inserted myself inside that beautiful, slick passageway, but remained on my knees. I could control myself this way, my thrusts could be timed, the depth could be limited, I could bend over to kiss or suckle, and when I raised I could tickle the clit with either finger or toy.

This period of sport was wonderful. I enjoyed my lover's body as she gave it willingly to me, I had not a care in the world. At times it was curious to consider that my wife knew about my mistress, that she endorsed my licentious behavior, but strangely I didn't compare the two women, I was simply happy to be with the one.

I lasted for an extremely prolonged time that night, Doris had to reach into a bedside drawer for lubricant, she coated my tool moistly two or three times, and when I finally deigned to release it was with a roar, I pounded her slit with great vigor.

Ten minutes later all was calm in my ladylove's chamber, we held each other, when I attempted to place a hand at her opening she pushed it away with a joyful complaint, "You've worn me out . . . Can you stay for a little while," she implored, "or do you have to get back home?"

"There's been a development," I revealed.

"Did Debbie find out about us?" Doris winced. "Is she pissed?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." I explained to her the two evenings of exposition, how Debbie had guessed, known about it for months, wasn't particularly concerned, even wanted us to continue for our own happiness.

"That's my sister," Doris observed. "Are you okay?"

"A little confused. I mean, it isn't supposed to be this way, is it? We're not supposed to do this."

"Yeah, I can see how you'd feel that way."

"And how do you feel about it?" I asked.

Doris took a beat, then said, "I guess I'm fine with it. With my other married men, I waited for the other shoe to drop, and it always did. I've never felt guilty about the wives, if they couldn't keep their husbands that was their problem. When I've thought of Debbie, I was never worried about her, somehow . . . Are you hungry? Would you like an omelet?"

I decided I could use a bite, we roused ourselves from the nest, in the kitchen I asked what I could do. "Open a bottle of wine, chop the chives." We worked together, I admired her raw skin, the way her breasts swung as she moved around, when I petted her butt she quickly pressed it into my hand. Every once in awhile she'd flick my dangling penis, just to let me know she was happy with it. When the meal was ready we took it into the couch, she put some early rock on the stereo. It was a comfortable scene, almost domestic, and we talked.

"You're very comfortable in just skin," I remarked, as we lazed, she facing me, her legs splayed, fully displayed.

"Since I realized it was an option. Sometime in college, I guess. The girls would run around the dormitory in panties and bras, then in my Junior year four of us took over a house and I hardly ever put on anything. I remember the first time a guy that was staying over with one of my roommates saw me. You know, the big leer, 'I can't believe what I'm seeing!' For a couple of seconds I wondered if I was doing something wrong. Then my mind said 'Nah!' and I haven't been concerned about it since. I assume Debbie's still wearing flannel pajamas?"

"Just in the winter, she switches to cotton in the summertime. Oh, she's not shy when we're in the bedroom. But I'd never get her near a nudist colony or anything like that, for sure. For you, is it an exhibitionist thing?"