Conrad and Pamela Winston

"Sweet Jesus, Pamela!" I said.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she said.

"What are you doing here?" I said, not unreasonably.

"Basically to see if you've gotten over your snit and might be willing to have a rational sit down," she said.

"My snit? My snit!" I said. "I notice you're

dressed. Good 'ole Ronald foot the bill to reinvent your wardrobe?" I didn't quite snicker.

"Yes and yes," she said. I stared at her like she was from outer space.

"Hmm, I guess he makes more scratch than I thought. And as for my snit . . . "

"Look, Conrad, you can't stay mad forever, and you had agreed to let me keep my little thing on the side," she said.

"Yes, but it has proved too much for me. I just can't see how . . ."

"Sit down with us, Conrad. And, yes, I mean us, not just me. I love you. I like and need him for some extra relief now and again, but that's all. He plays with other ladies too. That doesn't bother me.

"Conrad, I'm hoping that, if we can talk, that you'll come home and be my husband again. I'm hoping that you and Ron can be friends. I'm hoping that you can be a little bit more understanding than you so far have been. And, selfishly, I'm hoping that, from now on, you'll leave my clothes the hell alone. Whaddya say?" she said.

"You saying that you want me to sit down with the both of you, not just you? Did I hear you right?" I said.

"Yes." She had stopped me with that one. I could see no upside to sitting down with a man I viscerally hated. But—did I actually hate him. The answer, as I had come to know in recent days, was no. Still—sit down with him?

"What would be in it for me?" I said. "I mean if I talked with him and you?"

"A much improved sex life for the three of us. And, the realization by you that Ronald is no threat to you whatsoever," she said.

"I don't know," I said.

"Come on, stud, I won't bite and neither will he," she said.

"You know, I'm gonna say yes. When and where?" I said.

"Oh my God! Thank you thank you thank you!" she didn't quite scream. She came to me and gave me a hug that actually hurt.

"Okay okay," I said. "Again, when and where?"

"Tomorrow night at the house," she said. I nodded.

"I gotta go," she said. "I gotta get him onboard with this too. He's not going to believe it.

"Conrad, we are going to make it," she said.

"Hmm, maybe," I said. I was far less sanguine about our chances than she was.

******

I was two minutes late. So was Ronald. We walked up the steps together. We shared a glance at each the other but nothing else.

The front door was wide open. I went in first. He hesitated. I motioned him to come in; he relaxed and did. At least he didn't have the brass balls to come in without an invite.

"Wow! You two ride together?" she said. She was smirking, but in truth it did kinda look like we'd come together.

"No, no, we didn't ride in together," I said. He nodded at my correctitude.

"So, we're all together at the same time and the same place," she said.

The two of us, Ron and me, again nodded.

"I'd like to say that I appreciate what you're trying to do here, Pam. What it will lead to is a mystery to me, but I do appreciate your efforts," he said.

"So what's on the agenda?" I said.

"There's a pitcher of martinis on the dinette table. Let's adjourn to there, okay," she said. We did.

"Honey will you do the honors," she said, indicating that I should pour the drinks. I shrugged and did as she requested.

Seated and sipping, the silence was palpable.

"I guess I should start," she said, finally. "I mean since I called this little meeting."

The two of us males nodded. It occurred to me that we were acting like twins.

"Conrad, I've done very badly by you. I treated you badly and was totally selfish in the way I acted and dealt with you. I apologize," she said.

"Ronald, You are better in bed than is Conrad, but he is my husband and a better one is not findable," she said. He didn't respond, but I thought I saw a hint of irritation in his nod.

"May I ask," I said. "How is he better in bed than me? I mean why couldn't I learn to be enough for you. I mean since it seems that we are laying our cards on the table tonight."

"Some men have staying power, Conrad, and some don't. Ronald does. You don't. Sorry, but that's just a fact. And . . ."

"And?" I said.

"Well, and his dick is twice yours, and make no mistake that's a biggee. I'm not saying these things to hurt you. You do it for me in a dozen ways, just not that way," she said.

"So, I guess this meeting is over then since I'm clearly not man enough to satisfy you. We'll divorce and you can marry Ronald here," I said. He still hadn't said anything substantial, but once again his look did. It was clear that he was more than hoping that she'd accept my offer and go for the divorce.

"She doesn't love me, Conrad. She does love my dick, and I do satisfy her sexually, while you at best are okay, not great, but okay; and, she has told me that you were. No, you need to keep her for your wife, and she needs to keep me for the occasional liaison only," he said.

"She clearly doesn't want me. My income maybe; I could buy that real easy, but me? No way does she want me for a husband in any real sense of the word.

"You are exactly wrong, Conrad," she said. "I do want you for a husband, for my husband. Your income? I won't lie to you. Your income t ain't exactly last on my list, but it isn't first either. And there are lots of girls out there for whom cock size is not the biggee that it is for me. I guess that's part of why I wanted you to go out too, like me and Ronald do. You know to play a little on the side. But, to always come home to me.

"I need you at night to cuddle with me, to hold me, to love me and protect me, and adore me. Yes adore me. I love it that you want me so badly. The sex you'll be getting from me is because I am so grateful to you for being there for me, for being my main man," she said.

"Your main man?" I said.

"Yes, Ron is my man too, but he is second in line to you except for the couple of hours each week that he and I do the dirty. And, I promise you to give you twice as much sex as you ever got before if you will kindly stop being such a wuss and take me up on my—our—offer," she said, looking over at her lover.

"A wuss, am I?' I said.

"You have been. But I am hopeful that after tonight you will no longer be one," she said.

"Fantastic," I said, about as sarcastically as I could.

"Conrad—I want to clarify something here because I think I might be giving you the wrong idea. A man, any man, can pleasure a woman. I mean if he takes his time, and is sensitive to her needs and likes. And you are both of those things, Conrad. You are sensitive to my needs. You are sensitive to my likes and dislikes. You do pleasure me. I love it when you do me. Are you as good as Ronald? Hell no. But, you are plenty good enough," she said. "To paraphrase what you guys are always saying about some of us girls, I'd wouldn't be kicking you outta bed."

"Fucking wonderful. I might be mediocre, but I'm not a complete loser. Gotta love it," I said. "I don't know why I'm still sitting here. I mean if you chop me any lower I'll need to be killing myself, since I wouldn't have a whole lot of reason to go on living."

"Look, Conrad, I get to fuck her. You get to fuck her. She gets pleasured all around. And, if you have the sense God gave sheep, you'll do a little playing on the side, and find out just how good you are. Hell, maybe you aren't worth a shit as a lover. But, like Pam is saying, you probably are. But, you're gonna die never knowing if you don't get your act together and check it out, the scene I mean.

"We planned on going out tonight. You need to come with us. I think You'll score if you play your cards right. But, if you don't, this lovely lady here will take you home and fuck you into insensitivity and leave you for dead. And, if that turns out to be the case, if you don't score, we'll try again tomorrow.

"But, if you do score, then you'll be making it with whoever it is, and I'll be taking Pam to my place to fuck her. But, and it's a big but, she'll be coming back to you; and I mean tonight, unless you call and tell her to come back tomorrow morning after you say goodbye to your little piece of strange. So how about it," he said.

I couldn't help it. All of the talk about fucking and strange and all of it had gotten me horny. I nodded.

"Okay, I'm really not into your swinging scene, yours and Pamela's; but I am willing to give it a look see. But, Pam," I said, looking over at her, "if I don't' score, don't you be hard to find. Because in that case, good 'ole Ronald will have to be employing the five sisters tonight. You good with that?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "So, if you two gentlemen will give me a little time, I have to go upstairs and prepare myself for this little adventure." The two us nodded, and she headed upstairs.

"What makes you so sure that I'll score?" I said, looking straight at my rival.

"You're a good looking guy, Conrad, and Pam's told me about you. She says you're a good dancer, and a good kisser. Not very good at fucking, she says. But I'm pretty sure that's because nobody ever told you what to do. Sexually, Conrad, I'm betting that you're a sexual ignoramus," he said. I sneered.

"Yeah, maybe, but I don't try to break up other people's marriages," I said.

"Is that what you think? That I'm trying to break up your marriage? Nothing could be farther from the truth. I like Pam, and I love fucking her, but I am not in love with her, nor is she in love with me. Get a grip man, and do what I tell you tonight when we go out. Okay?" he said.

"Directions from the master, that it?" I said.

"You could do worse," he said. Just then Pamela came down.

"We'll see," I said.

My wife was beautiful. Evidence of that was the fact that the two us males had our collective tongues hanging out.

******

The Elegance night club was my wife's favorite hangout. Had been for years. She and I used to frequent it, and I'd learned in recent times that she and good old Ronald went there a lot. Well, we were back there now.

It kind of irked me when the bargirl who came to serve us referred to her boyfriend as her husband. I got a worried look from my wife for that one. And, she didn't correct the girl which irked me even more. I was going to let it pass, but she wasn't.

"Conrad, we come here sometimes, Ron and me; the girl was making assumptions that's all," she said.

"Yeah, I guess," is all I said. I surveyed the place. Not much had changed in the couple of years since I'd last been in it. Some new help I thought. It had to be new since all of the bargirls, there were five or six of them serving the clientele, appeared to be recent high school graduates.

"You need to roam a little," said Ron. When you see a girl you might like, or, that might like you, say something—but no jokes."

"Like what?" I said.

"Nice music, like to dance?" he said. "I know you know how, Pam says so. So use what you got."

I actually thought he had a good idea. I was a good dancer. If I couldn't do anything else, I could do that. I decided to improve on his idea.

I waited for a good number I liked. And there it was, "Black Magic Woman." I loved to chacha.

Ron pulled Pam out onto the floor. I watched him—them—for a minute. He was sluggish and kinda clumsy looking. I cut in.

"Don't worry big guy. I just need her for a little advertising," I said. I could see a light go on in Pam's brain.

"Yes, that's a good idea," she said to Ron. And Pam and I tore up the floor. I mean we really tore it up; I was on a mission. Three minutes later I escorted her back to her table and handed her off to Ron.

I seemed to have a different partner for every dance after that. Two of the women appeared to be competing for my favor. I had to say: it sure as hell did wonders for my ego.

Three hours later I had two phone numbers that were literally foisted upon me. I'd never use them of course, but I did appreciate the fact they appreciated me even if it was only for my dancing skills.

The night was a qualified success. I was indeed not the loser that my wife evidently—her words to the contrary notwithstanding—thought me.

On the way home I sat in the back seat. Ron wasn't going to get any poontang tonight, I was, but his legs were too damn long for the back seat. Pamela drove.

******

Arriving at our place, Ronald baby picked up his car, and me and Pamela headed inside for what I figured to be a continued bit of high pressure sales on her part. I was righter than I suspected.

"You did well tonight. You gettin' it now?" she said.

"How do you mean?" I said.

"Clearly you have things to offer that women, and especially this woman, want and need. And, yet, all or most all of them, have husbands or boyfriends that they will go back to tonight—well—like me," she said. I had to nod.

"Maybe," I said.

"Maybe? There's no maybe about it. You do realize that I only got one more dance with you after the first one all night, don't' you?" she said. I had to think. She was right; I had to smile.

"Yeah, but the way I figure it, that was because I could dance better than the rest of those guys," I said. "If I had to depend on my fabulous good looks, well . . ."

She smirked. We all have our talents," she said. "Ron's tall, dark, and handsome. I'm prettier for my age than most other women. You're a top of the line dancer—a big thing for most women. What I'm saying, Conrad, is that you are no fucking loser: you've got assets quite apart from you paycheck."

"Yeah, but what about once I'm standing naked in front of some woman? What then?" I said.

"You do the best you can. You're not that bad. Your dick's a little on the small size, so you do with what you've got. You use your tongue after you fuck her to finish her off. You treat her like you treat me, I mean with sensitivity. Do all of these things, and you'll do fine.

"Jesus! Listen to me. I'm giving you tips on how to make it with other women," she said, "talk about odd."

"Yes, so that you can do it with good 'ole tall, dark, and handsome without me getting overly jealous or dumping your ass," I said.

"Yes, in part, but also because I was a shit before and a selfish shit at that. I've got it together now. We'll swing, Conrad, you and I; but, we'll always come home to each the other," she said.

"Hmm," I said, still not sure of it all.

"You gonna call those girls?" she said.

"What girls?" I said, hoping she didn't see them give me their numbers.

"The ones who gave you their numbers. You should, and you should do it tomorrow. Do not let grass grow under your feet in these kinds of situations, Conrad. Just remember, you always come home to me."

I looked down. I actually felt guilty about not having thrown the numbers away. They were burning a hole in my pocket, but did I really want to call them.

"I don't know. Dancing at a public bistro is one thing. But—fucking someone other than my wife, even with her permission, I just don't know," I said.

"Do as I say. Call them tomorrow. Set up separate dates for next Friday and Saturday nights. Ron and I will do the same but at different places. We'll use a motel. You should do the same for the short run; until you find out if their worth second dates in the future. But, in the meantime, this week, you will fuck me raw and be my one and only. Whaddya say?"

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Anyway, enough about all of that. I need you to fuck your wife. Now! And, I do want a serious fucking, no sensitivity tonight. Just do me up good and proper. Okay?" she said. "Jesus, I'm horny."

I was too. We stripped. I spun her around and bent her over the couch. I kicked her legs apart and unceremoniously rammed myself inside of her. She was wet as hell; I had no trouble bottoming out inside of her. I screwed her slowly at first until she started to grow impatient.

"Fuck me damn it!" she said. "Hard!" I began pounding her. She grunted with each thrust.

"Goo—good!" she squealed. "Keep—keep—on doing it that way . . ."

She did and I came in a gusher. She didn't make it.

"Fuck!" she said. "I almost made it. Try to last a little longer this time." She dragged me around to the front of the couch and made me sit. She knelt in front of me and sucked me hard once more.

She stretched herself out on the floor, spread her legs, and crooked a finger at me to mount her. I didn't have to be told twice. She pulled her knees back and straightened her legs up and over my shoulders; they were pointed straight up in the air. "Do me good asshole," she said. "I need to come." Her tone and her words actually frightened me. I dared not fail her. I drilled her. I pumped in and out of her pussy and I knew she was close: her eyes glazed over. Her jerky movements told me a small cataclysm was taking place inside of her vagina. I finally unloaded mu spunk and collapsed on top of her.

"Roll off of me butthead; I can't breathe," she said. I smiled then laughed. I rolled off of her and to her side.

"Asshole? Butthead? What's with all of the name calling?" I said.

"It heightens the moment, the dirtiness of it all. It turns me on," she said. "Oh, and you're not done." I glanced at her. I knew I was pretty close to being empty, done.

She sat up and swung a knee over me and settled down on my face. "Eat me, chicken shit. See if you can make me cum again. This is your duty from now on. Got it!" she said.

I couldn't really answer her, but I did do my duty and she did come again. Testifying to that was the way she pressed her pussy and her anus down onto me face when she stiffened in a really body wrenching orgasm.

She fell forward and I had a perfect view of her wonders.

Some minutes later we were doing our best to regain our breath and heading off to separate showers.

A half hour after that we were sitting at the dinette with Tuna sandwiches and soft drinks in front of us. It was almost 3:00AM.

"Helluva night," I said. She smirked.

"And many more just like it to come," she said. I nodded.

******

I did call the two women the next day. I had to. Pamela was sitting across from me when I did it. I guess she didn't trust me to get it done without her encouragement, even her active participation. I had dates for both Friday and Saturday nights, and those with two totally different women.

Pam and Ronald were going out too, and they'd be going to the Elegance. In my case I'd chosen the Calaboose.

******

I picked her up at a local Denny's where we had a cup of coffee before heading out. She preferred a neutral location until she got to know me better was the way she phrased it. Well, I could dig it. Single woman, me a man she'd seen but one time at a local bistro, knew nothing about him: like I say; she made sense.

"Well Tanya Mesa, and how are you this evening?" I said, smiling broadly.

"Well, Conrad Winston, quite well, thank you very much," she said.

The ride to the Calaboose was kinda long, so we talked. I learned that she was recently broken up with her fiancé, she was fortyish, she was blond and pretty, and she loved to dance. I knew this last already; she'd been good partner the previous week.

The drinks were good, the dancing was good, the company top drawer: it was a nice date. And, she agreed to a date for the following Friday. I actually wanted to ask her out the following night, but I did have a date with her rival; I would not stand a girl up.

I took her back to the Denny's where she'd parked her car; but I did get her home address this time. The flowing Friday I would pick her up there.

I got home late. Pamela wasn't there, but she was fifteen minutes later. She'd been fucked; there was no doubt about that. I'd been in a good mood. I hadn't thought about her and Pollard hardly at all the whole night; my date was that good. But, now I had misgivings.