Dealing with Change Ch. 06

This is the sixth in a series of stories about a middle-aged couple trying to adjust to changes in their life brought on by events beyond their control. I struggled a bit with what category too choose, but finally settled on Group Sex because that is where the characters wind up. Before they get to that outcome there is plenty of exhibitionism and voyeurism, masturbation, a good deal of incest, some lesbian sex, a few sex toys, adultery, and a hopefully adequate quantity of enthusiastic fucking and oral sex among the various characters. Enjoy!

Hi. My name is Sharon. My husband of more than twenty years is named Rich. These stories describe the changes in our sex life that have arisen as we work to cope with the changes of reaching middle age. As you may have learned in the past five chapters I am in my early forties, living with my husband of more than twenty years in a small town in California's Central Valley.

We have recently become empty nesters with our children now working at their own careers on the East Coast and my husband who previously traveled five days a week for work has retired following a very lucrative buyout of his company. As a result of these changes we find ourselves with more money and a great deal more time to ourselves. Among the ways we have been trying to utilize this time has been to expand the scope of our sex life, which during our marriage had declined too almost nothing.

Even before Rich quit traveling for work we had started with phone sex—exchanging lewd photos of each of us masturbating. That was escalated with a threesome with the next-door neighbor lady, my first experience with girl-on-girl sex. We took another major step forward with a very explicit training session with a preacher/sex counselor in Boise who we refer to as the Rev. Since then we have each had clandestine affairs with others.

We were also having a great deal more sex at home, expanding our activities from hushed up missionary sex late at night in our bedroom, with my mouth stuffed with a pillow or a sock to stifle the sound of my orgasms, to no holds barred exhibitionism, fucking, sucking, and licking anywhere in the house with no limitation on the joyful announcement of our pleasures. We have declared the whole house to be clothing optional.

*

The next, and totally unexpected, change in our lives began with a phone call from my sister. We hadn't been close for years. Before finishing college she had married a Frenchman and moved to Paris. Our lives had grown apart and with the press of my own marriage and growing family I had not kept up with her life.

Christine was in tears when she called telling me that her husband was divorcing her and that she needed to come back to California where she had grown up. At that point I had no idea what her financial position would be, but she was my sister so I offered her a place to stay.

When I told Rich about it he said, "Sure. Fine. We have a big house with lots of room. She can help us eat all the zucchini." I laughed. The zucchini was a joke between us. Every year I planted zucchini and the vines generated mountains of the squash, some of them big enough to use as a ball bat.

"But I suppose we won't be able to run around the house and yard naked while she is here and screw whenever and wherever the mood strikes us. I'm going to miss that." he said. "I don't want to go back to the way our sex life was when our children lived with us."

"Hmmm. Yes, I see your point but we will just have to find a way to work around it. I enjoy sex too much to go back. Still, she is my sister Rich. We have to do something, but we will make this work." Then I kissed him and dragged him off to bed.

Forty-eight hours later Rich and I were meeting Christine at the San Francisco Airport. Christine, now in her mid-forties, looked a bit like me but with a French overlay. She was shorter and thinner than me. She always had been. She and I were only half-sisters. Her mother had died in childbirth and Dad had soon remarried. His second wife gave birth to me and was Mom to both Christine and me throughout our childhood.

Christine had the same body I remembered from college but she was trimmer than I expected because . . . well we all know French women don't get fat. Her clothing, a tight, short, dress and sweater combination and tall spikey heels, was stylish as was her makeup. Neither showed any sign of having just survived a 12-hour plane ride. Her blonde hair was neatly trimmed and styled stopping a few inches below her jaw line, although I seemed to remember that as a child her hair had been brown like mine. Her hips were narrow but still rounded enough to make it very clear she was female and her breasts, while smaller than mine, stood high on her chest well presented by her choice of clothing.

She had acquired a French accent and greeted each of us with a hug (something unheard of in my family while we were growing up) and a kiss on each cheek. As we walked from the airport to our car, dragging two huge pieces of luggage she had brought, Christine chattered on about the flight, telling us nothing about her domestic troubles except that she had been up arguing with her husband and his dreadful relatives for two days straight before departing for California.

About the time we got on the freeway headed back to our home in California's Central Valley my sister fell asleep and remained in that condition until we had arrived at our home. Rich carried her bags up to our guest room where she flopped down on the bed and dropped into sleep again.

Around eight o'clock that evening as Rich and I were just finishing up the dishes Christine reappeared, now dressed in a pair of figure-hugging jeans, a crop top T-shirt, and a different pair of tall heels. I would quickly learn that the two huge suitcases she had brought contained the materials for a never-ending number of clothing combinations, must of them stylish and sexy and some of them just plain lewd.

We had saved some of the casserole that Rich had prepared for dinner and once he served it up, along with a freshly opened bottle of wine, he departed into the back yard to work on the garden and leave Christine and I alone for some girl talk.

"Are you awake now Christine?" I asked.

"Yes. yes. The wine will help." She poured each of us a second glass.

That seemed a little counter intuitive to me, but I let it pass. "So," I said. "what happened with you and your husband."

"Oh it's so awful," she said bursting into tears.

I let her blubber for a minute, before I said, "Come on Christine, talk to me like we did when we were young. What happened?"

She sniffed a few times and said, "All right. The problem is not with me and it's not with Herve (her husband). It's his family." She began crying again. "They hate me because I am not French."

"But Christine, you've been married to Herve for many years. How could they just discover you are American?"

"Oh they knew but they didn't care. Not until Herve's brother Paul was killed in a car wreck."

"But surely you didn't have anything to do with that?"

"No, no. Of course not. He was in Nice driving his little sports car in the mountains. He always drove like a mad man. I was in Paris. And my affair with Paul ended years ago. I don't think they ever knew about it."

"You had an affair with Paul?"

"Yes. Yes. But that's not the problem. Herve knew all about it and didn't care. Even Paul's wife knew and didn't care. They are French. They have affairs."

"So why is there now a problem."

"It's about money. The family is very rich and now that Paul is gone Herve is the oldest son. That means he would inherit everything when the parents pass. They are very old so it could happen soon. What they are afraid of is that Herve would inherit and then I would go back to California, divorce Herve, and take the money. They are very afraid of American courts."

"So they want Herve to divorce you?" I asked.

"Oui."

"And what does Herve say?"

"As long as his parents are alive he must do what they say. We have no money of our own. Herve has never held a job in his life."

I sat thinking about the problem in silence. Obviously French divorce laws and succession laws are very different from California.

"Christine," I asked. "Are you and Herve still in love?"

"Mehh," she responded with a Gallic shrug followed by a laugh. "We were in lust when I ran off to Paris and married him but even that has faded. It is a marriage of convenience now. We both have lovers of our own and rarely see each other even though we live in the same houses in Paris and Nice; houses that belong to the family."

"So what will you do?" I asked as Christine once again refilled her wine glass.

"What any other good French woman would do in the same situation. I have hired a good lawyer and told him to make their lives as miserable as he can. He has warned me that Herve will ultimately prevail, but he can string it out for years. And," she said with a chuckle, "Herve must pay my lawyer's fees. My lawyer is trying to get interim support payments, but meanwhile I need a place to live. He told me it would be better if I was in California so they could not require me to make court appearances and depositions, whatever those are."

"So Little Sister Sharon, here I am. Do you think you can put me up for a while. I promise not to seduce your husband."

"Do you regularly seduce husbands?" I asked.

"I live in Paris; in the 6th Arrondissement." She responded. "Of course I seduce husbands or they seduce me; and wives also for that matter along with a son or daughter or two. But I stay away from the maids. We are French and we are rich. That's what we do. Do you think we were living in a hovel out in some Banlieue?"

"Banlieue?"

"Suburb. Like where you are living. People in the Banlieues don't have time for affairs they are working. You know that. You live in a Banlieue. You don't have affairs do you?"

I laughed long and hard at that, finally saying, "Well Big Sister, a year ago I would have agreed with you, but things have changed in our marriage."

"Oh don't bullshit me Sharon. I don't believe you are having an affair."

I smiled and poured each of us some more wine. "No, not just now. But as I said, things have changed in our marriage of late. How do I put this. Hmmm. We've been a good deal more open in our marriage recently."

"You mean sex with others?"

"Yes."

"Men?"

"Yes."

"And women?"

"Yes." I paused. "I can't speak for Rich on the topic of other men, but I know he is happy to screw other women. And to watch me having sex with men or women."

"And you don't get jealous and scream and yell and fight? Neither of you?"

"No, not at all. In fact Rich and I both like to watch. But sometimes we keep our affairs secret. That is part of the fun of having an affair; sneaking around for clandestine assignations with the express intent of not letting your spouse or your partner's spouse know about your cheating." I chuckled. "Eventually we always fess up; usually in bed."

"Sacre Bleu. You've become French."

I smiled and shook my head. "No not really. But with our children gone and Rich retired we have time on our hands and one of the ways we are taking advantage of it is by broadening our sex lives. Before the children left and Rich retired we had let sex almost disappear from our lives. We are taking steps to remedy that problem. You know Christine, people in this country also have sex. It's not a purely French invention."

"Yes, yes of course. I remember college before I ran off to France with Herve. But people in this country are so . . . oh how do I say this." She paused and finished her wine. "They are so two-faced about it. They have sex they aren't supposed to have and enjoy it; and then they feel guilty and make a big scandal when someone finds out. It's terrible. In France we all know there are rules about who, when, and where you have sex and we all break them from time to time. The fact it is forbidden is part of what makes it so good. Americans need to enjoy their illicit sex more."

"I'm not one to argue with you about that," I said. "I might have been a year ago but not anymore. Although Big Sister, a little guilt helps make the sex more exciting; so long as you don't overdo it."

"Do we have more wine?" she asked.

"Of course, but we will have hangovers in the morning." I winked at her and asked Rich who had just appeared from the garden to open another bottle of wine.

While Rich was getting the wine, Christine asked in a disbelieving tone, "Really Little Sister tell me about some of the new improvements in your sex life. Are you screwing the neighbors?"

"When they are around. They spend a lot of time in Palo Alto. He sold his tech company and retired, but he really can't give up on the tech development lifestyle."

Rich returned with a bottle of wine and another glass. As he poured for all three of us I told him Christine wanted to know about our broadened sex life.

"Oh that's interesting," he said. "So we are going to sit on our back porch and talk about sex?"

Christine smirked, obviously assuming she had shocked Rich.

"Don't we usually take our clothes off for this topic?" he continued.

Christine did a double take. "Your clothes off?"

"Yes," I said. "We spend a lot of our time around the house naked now. We thought you might object, so we kept our clothes on tonight."

Rich laughed. "I'll be happy to tell you more. But I think we should get undressed and have this conversation in the nude." Rich was calling Christine's bluff.

Christine paused for a moment and then said, "Okay we will take our clothes off and talk about your sex life as we sit naked in the dark."

"Oh, that's not quite what I think Rich had in mind," I said.

"Oh so you don't get naked to talk about sex?"

"No no, Christine. All I meant is that we should have the porch lights on."

"Yes," Rich chimed in. "Usually when we get naked and talk about sex we watch each other masturbate."

"Masturbation is so much better when we are watching each other. Don't you think so Older Sister?" I asked.

"Yes," Rich echoed. "Don't you and Herve do that?"

Christina snorted at the idea of any kind of sex with Herve. Then she sat shaking her head. "I can see things have changed with you Little Sister. You used to be such a prude."

I laughed and said, "That was before I met Rich. Let's get undressed and I'll tell you about it."

We sat late into the night, all three naked, drinking, and talking about how Rich's and my sex life had evolved over our marriage: from horny college kids that fucked every time they could find an opportunity but knew next to nothing about the wide variety of sexual activities available; to sedate middle-class parents at risk of losing our sex life completely who still knew little about the variety of sexual practices available; to the extreme of our recent night of debauchery with the Rev and his friends in Boise and our recent clandestine affairs.

We never did get around to masturbating. Between the jet lag and the wine Christine was about to crash as we finished telling her about our evening with the Rev and his perverted friends. Rich helped her up the stairs to her room.

When he returned I said, "Oh you're back. I thought she might try to seduce you."

He laughed as he poured the last of the wine into his glass and mine. "Not tonight. She is out cold. But what makes you think she will want to seduce me?"

"She had a long affair with her brother-in-law in France and the way she was bragging about her sex life, I thought she might also want to do you."

"Hmmm. That's a new item from Pandora's Box," he responded. "Incest." Pandora's Box was our personal way of referencing the wide variety of sexual practices we had yet to explore.

"Yes it would be," I said.

"Well she's only a sister-in-law. Is that really incest?"

"Yup," I said with a lewd smile.

"I don't think so," he responded. "Incest is between blood relatives. My having sex with Christine would no more be incest than it would be incest for me to have sex with you."

"Perhaps. Just adultery," I said, thinking to myself, "Hmm, it sounds like my hubby is lusting after my sister."

"Is that still a crime in California?"

"Who knows. And for that matter who cares. Even in states which still have those laws they only enforce them when it will embarrass a politician."

But . . . did I really want my sister to seduce my husband, I wondered?

"Let's go to bed and make love," I said, leaving the question unanswered in my mind.

We never quite made it to the bedroom. We carried the empty wine glasses and wine bottles into the kitchen where Rich grabbed me and pulled me against his chest for a long aggressive kiss, his hands caressing my naked ass, his bare chest rubbing back and forth against my breasts, and his erect cock pressing into my belly.

Our sex conversation with Christine hadn't made me particularly horny, but the kiss lit an instantaneous fire in me. When we pulled back from the kiss, I reached down and wrapped my hand around his dick. It was fully erect and rock hard. "What got you going?" I asked.

"You mean you're surprised that I would become aroused when we sit naked on the back porch talking about sex?"

"No I just wondered if it was Christine that got you in this condition?"

"No. It's you that I want. Lean over the kitchen table and spread your legs." I wasn't sure he was being totally honest, but I did as he asked because I wanted him to fuck me right away. How I got that horny that quickly was one of those little mysteries of sex that keep it interesting.

He stepped in between my legs grabbing my ass with both hands. I felt his dick slide between my legs so it was lying between my labia. "You're wet," he said. "Did talking about sex with Christine get you going?"

"Oh god, I'm so horny. Fuck me. I need you," I said, ignoring his question. He took a hand off my ass and adjusted his prick so that it was poised at my entrance. Then he slid it slowly into me, his hard pole stretching my cunt to accommodate his girth and length. We both groaned in joy.

"Oh fuck yes. That feels so good," I said. Once he reached the end of my cunt he began fucking me with a steady rhythm. How had I gotten so horny so quick? I hadn't been that way while we talked to Christine. It had started when Rich and I began talking about her seducing him. The idea of my husband fucking my sister had lit a fire in me.

You didn't answer me," he said slapping my ass hard.

"What?" He was pounding me hard now and it felt fantastic. I could feel an orgasm building in my core. I was so engrossed in the fucking he was giving me I couldn't remember what he had asked or if he had asked anything.

"I asked you if talking about Christine fucking me turned you on?" He continued pounding away at my cunt. His legs made a slapping time as they hit my ass each time he reached the end of his stroke. It was great fucking.

"I don't . . .Gasp oh shit that feels good. Ugh, ugh, ugh," I groaned as he fucked me hard and deep.

"Did it?" he demanded as he slapped me again.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," I could feel my climax building. "Ugh, ugh, . . . well yeah, maybe it did . . . ugh, ugh, ugh, . . . Oh fuck I'm so close Rich. Don't stop, don't stop, oh don't stop . . ." I pushed my ass back at him with all the force my core and legs could muster as I felt my pussy cramping on his iron bar of a prick and the fireworks of an orgasm spread through my body. "Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh." It was a massive climax followed by successive additional smaller orgasms, each marked by a groan or a grunt on my part as my body continued to spasm in ecstasy.

When my climax ended I collapsed onto the table, my big soft tits smashed flat and my cheek laying against its hard cool surface. "Oh wow. What have you done to me?