Dealing with Change Ch. 07

This is the seventh 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.

Hi. My name is Sharon. My husband of more than twenty years, Rich, and I are in our early forties living in a small town in California's Central Valley.

We recently become empty nesters with our children now working at their own careers on the East Coast. Rich who previously traveled five days a week for work has now retired following a very lucrative buyout of his company. These changes brought us a great deal of free time and more money than we ever expected. Oh sure we go to the gym more and Rich is improving his golf game, just like anyone else in our circumstances, but the big changes have been in our sex life. Like many couples our age, our robust sex life of our early twenties declined over the years until it was approaching nonexistent. Raising three children and pursuing a career will do that.

Even before Rich quit traveling we started simply: voyeuristically watching the neighbor through a hole in the fence as he masturbated in his back yard (just me); bit of mutual telephone masturbation and sexting (I started it but Rich joined in enthusiastically); then a bit of extramarital sex, me with an old girlfriend and Rich with a woman he met on a business trip to Idaho; finally a weekend of sex training we took from a preacher in Idaho recommended to us by a neighbor. Wow was that an education. Who knew being the center piece of a gang bang could be such fun.

Most recently we had been party to an extended foursome with my sister Christine and her French husband Herve. It started as a menage et trois with Christine. She had been having marital difficulties with Herve but when they had made up he joined our little group. They have since gone back to Paris.

The day after Christine and Herve left for Paris Rich and I were sitting on the back porch of our home enjoying an afternoon glass of white wine. Raising his glass in a toast Rich said, "Well that was interesting. Here's to your kinky sister Christine..."

"And to her pervy husband Herve," I added.

"And to Herve also. They were fun, even if it was a bit incestuous."

"Don't get technical Rich," I said. "You said yourself Christine was a great lay, and Herve... my god that man was creative. Not as well-endowed as you Rich, but still very creative with what he has to work with."

"As I said, they were fun," Rich responded.

"So are you off soon to see your slut friend in Oregon?" I asked, referring to a woman from Idaho who was periodically meeting Rich in some little town on the Oregon coast for a tryst. I knew her name but I had taken to referring to her as Rich's 'slut friend' and he didn't seem to object. I wasn't jealous; just a bit of needling.

"Not for a while," he said. "Lisa has some family issues in Idaho that will be keeping her busy for a while."

I laughed. "Given the incestuous nature of her family they could keep any woman busy."

He laughed. "Don't forget, they all got the same training from the Rev that we did, but more of it."

"That could turn anyone into a perv," I said. "No wonder you find her so entertaining."

"Not to worry dear. There is no chance I will fall in love with Lisa... but she is a great fuck."

I laughed. "That's what she says about you also." Lisa and I talked by phone regularly; about Rich and about other people in her life and mine.

We sat sipping our wine in silence enjoying the warm California sun. "But really Rich, what's next for us?"

"Don't worry," he responded. "There's a world of horny, perverse people out there and untold surprises in Pandora's Box that we haven't seen yet. Something new will turn up." Pandora's Box was a term Rich and I used to refer to the wide world of sexual practices that we had been learning of since we began trying to rekindle our sex lives. There was always some nasty sexual practice to learn about. Who knew that people did such things?

I laughed. And as it turned out he was right.

**

The next chapter in our late sexual education began, as with the prior chapter, with a phone call from my sister Christine. However this one did not open with Christine in tears telling me of a ruined marriage. Instead she wanted to ask if a couple she and Herve knew could drop by for a visit. "I think you will like them," she said in her phony French accent. "They are very kinky."

Sure why not, I thought. Our expanded sex life was due for another revelation from Pandora's Box. She went on to explain that the couple who would be visiting would be Tim and Linda Frost. She and Herve had known them a few years ago when he was some sort of military attaché in the US Embassy in Paris. Now it seemed that he was retiring after serving twenty years in the military and they were thinking of moving away from their long-time home in the Washington DC area to California, where the Colonel had grown up and she had gone to college.

"He's a Colonel?" I asked.

"No, no," Christine laughed. That's just a nickname we had for him. I don't know what rank he has. We only saw him at our parties and he never seemed to be in uniform."

"Parties?" I asked.

Christine laughed. "Of course our parties. Herve and I used to host a party every few months for a group of friends who liked to meet and you know, have a good time. You should come to Paris and join us for one."

I knew exactly what she meant. She and Herve were part of a group of swingers when they lived in Paris. Their marriage was not terribly good, but their sex life was great once you included their parties.

"So they were part of your swingers group?" I asked.

"Swingers?" she asked. "We weren't swingers. We were just friends who liked to get together for a good time."

"Okay, okay," I said, not wanting to haggle over semantics with my sister. "But the Frosts, they were a part of your group."

"Oh mon ouis. They were a lot of fun. Very kinky."

"And you told them they would like us so they should visit while they are in California?"

"Absolutment."

Sure what the hell, I thought. "When will they be here?"

"I think perhaps tomorrow. Yes tomorrow. They are in San Francisco right now."

Then Christine, being Christine, said something obscene in French to someone offline followed by, "Oh I have to go Sharon this Gendarme insists I move my car." Then she clicked the phone off.

About half an hour later Rich returned from the market with a bag or two of groceries. "Guess what," I said. "There are a pair of perverts coming to visit us. Christine sent them."

"What? When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow."

"How interesting. Any particular perversion they specialize in?"

"Christine didn't say. She got in an argument with a cop about double parking."

"I see." Nothing ever seemed to rattle Rich.

*

It was late in the afternoon several days later when a late model Range Rover pulled up in front of our home (Time was a fluid construct for Christine with no real difference between tomorrow and several days). Rich, who was upstairs yelled down to me, "Sharon, the perverts are here."

I shushed him, "Rich we don't know that. You know how unreliable Christine is. She probably made half her story up." Or left half of it out, I thought.

He laughed at me.

I had received a phone call from Mrs. Frost shortly after Christine's call which more or less repeated what Christine had told me, less the part about them being kinky and the sex parties in Paris. Oh and there was no mention of a Colonel. She sounded like a gracious and interesting person and I invited them to visit us suggesting that they stay in one of our excess bedrooms and join us for dinner when they arrived.

Tom and Linda proved to be a delightful couple. Both were tall and good looking, appearing to be about the same age as Rich and me (early forties). They were dressed conservatively, each wearing slacks and an open collared shirt. Tom's loafers had a spit shine that could light a room in the dark. Linda wore low heels. Tom was about as tall as Rich, but leaner. Linda was similar to my height but also leaner. She did not appear to have as large breasts as I did, but even in her conservative clothing it was obvious she was far from flat chested. His dark hair was thick, but neatly trimmed with just a touch of grey showing at the temples. Hers was a thick honey blonde cut and curled to just a bit below her collar bone. Her makeup was not obvious but still effectively designed to call attention to her eyes which were a sexy grey. Tom's eyes were dark brown; the kind a woman could lose herself in I thought as he walked in. Each of them had the ability to turn on a magnetic smile that lit up the room as they introduced themselves. Their greetings were a conservative handshake, warm and firm but not overly long. In total they were a very handsome couple that would attract attention anywhere and did so without anything about them that made it look like they were trying.

Over dinner we learned that Tom had grown up in North Dakota and attended West Point followed by a twenty-year career as Army officer. Linda had grown up in the East, studied English at Stanford, and was now a regularly published author. Tom was a bit vague about what he had done in the Army, although it sounded like most of his career was spent in the Pentagon or in embassies in various parts of the world. Later we would learn that he had been a military intelligence officer, but no detail on just what that entailed. Linda was even vaguer about what kind of books she wrote referring to them as Romance novels. Tom snickered and said he thought "50 shades of Grey," was more of a Romance than some of Linda's books. "Pretty kinky stuff, Linda," he said grinning at her.

Linda smiled and said, "Well it pays better than being a spook."

Tom laughed and said, "More interesting too. I mostly read long reports and attended embassy parties."

"Yeah mostly," she responded.

Okay maybe Christine hadn't made everything up, I thought.

At some point in the evening, I mentioned that Christine had referred to Tom as the 'Colonel.'

Linda snickered and gave Tom a look. Before she could say anything he said, "Oh that's just a nickname some of our friends in Paris had for me. I guess I was Colonel then, although I'm not sure how they knew since I wasn't wearing a uniform."

That drew another snicker from Linda who agreed, "That's true. He rarely wore a uniform around our friends in Paris."

Later that night we would find out a good deal more about the Colonel. Tom and Linda had claimed fatigue and retired a bit ahead of Rich and I. We finished cleaning up the kitchen and retired shortly after them. Once we were in bed we realized that we could hear them talking through the wall between the two bedrooms.

At first it seemed to be just idle chit-chat largely muffled by the walls. But once I convinced Rich to remain quiet we could easily hear them:

"Do you think they can hear us?" he asked.

"Maybe," she responded.

"That would be a turn on, wouldn't it."

"You are such a perv Tom."

"Me? You're the one who writes porn."

"True, but you love it don't you."

"Hmm. Yes."

There was a bit of silence followed by a groan from Linda.

"Oh god that feels good; what you're doing to my tits."

"As good as what Herve used to do to your tits?" he asked.

I felt a flash of lust as I remembered the things Herve had done to my tits when he and Christine were living with us. As we lay there Rich snuggled up behind me so we were spooning. He reached over me and begin fondling one of my big soft breasts. I could feel his cock growing in the crack between my buttocks.

"Almost." Linda responded. "Can you suck on my nipples like Herve used to do."

We heard the bed complain as they adjusted their position followed by a gasp from Linda.

"Oh fuck. Yes. Just like that. I love the way you use your tongue on my nipple."

We listened as Linda continue to moan and groan in response to whatever Tom was doing to her tits. Rich began pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "Am I as good as Herve was?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered. I wanted to groan and cry out, but I didn't want to interfere with what was going on next door so I stuffed a bit of the bedsheet in my mouth. I could feel Rich's hard cock pressing between my ass cheeks and I wanted it someplace else, someplace warmer, wetter, and more sensitive. Pulling my gag out I said as quietly as I could, "Fuck me Rich. Fuck me right now. Just put it in from behind and hold it there while we listen to the perverts Christine sent us."

"You're such a voyeur," he whispered as he adjusted and slid his cock into my cunt.

"Just hold still and listen," I said. His cock felt so good filling my needy cunt. He just held it there: still; big; hot; and hard.

Linda was groaning as Tom continued to work on her nipples. Then there was a silence as they moved about on the bed.

"That's it you slut," we heard Tom say. "Spread your legs and let me eat your pussy."

His request was followed by a giggle from Linda and then a series of groans followed in turn by a screech when his tongue reached her clit. "Oh fuck Tom that feels so good. Just suck on my clit like you were my nipples. More groaning and screeching from Linda followed in short order by a louder continuous scream as she orgasmed.

We could hear Linda gasping followed by "Oh fuck that was good. Now I want to fuck you. Lay on your back and let me do you." More noise of thrashing about on the bed as they changed their positions, followed by, "Oh shit look how big and stiff the Colonel is tonight. He's standing straight up at attention just like you did at West Point. The Colonel has to be the hardest most beautiful prick in the world tonight." Then the sounds of Linda delivering a sloppy blow job to the Colonel.

So it's not Tom who is the Colonel, I realized. It's his prick. "Rich," I whispered, "she calls his prick the 'Colonel.' I wonder if it's as big as yours?" Rich flexed his prick in response and it was all I could due to hold off the orgasm I could feel creeping up on me.

"Don't do that. You'll make me cum. I want to listen."

"You're a nasty little pervert aren't you," Rich responded. "You just love to watch people and listen to them as they fuck."

We were interrupted by more sounds of passion from next door. Rich was right. It was so nasty lying here with his prick buried in my cunt while we listened to people we barely knew fucking in the next room:

"Oh fuck, that feels so good. So fucking good. The Colonel is just filling me up. Filling me up and stretching my pour little cunny out. Oh god the Colonel is so fucking good. He feels just like a bar of steel trying to split me in half."

"Yes you horny slut. You just love the Colonel don't you? You love him don't you? Say it."

"Oh fuck yes. I love the Colonel. It just feels so incredible when you fuck me with the Colonel. I could ride you like this forever."

"That's it. Sit up nice and tall so I can watch those sexy tits of yours flop around while you fuck the Colonel."

After that there was several minutes of creaking bed springs and ongoing moans and cries from Linda as she rode the Colonel towards a building climax. When Linda screamed with her climax we heard a groan from Tom as the Colonel discharged his load into Linda.

That was all Rich could take. He began pounding me hard, "Wait," I said, "Let me get down on the floor and you can do me from behind. I know you love that and they won't hear the bed threatening to collapse." Within moments we were on the floor; me with my head on my crossed forearms, my weight on my elbows and knees and my ass in the air like a dog in heat. Tom was on his knees and quickly reinserted his prick in my cunt and began to pound me from behind driving his rigid cock deep into me on every thrust; my big tits were swinging wildly beneath me dragging my engorged nipples against the fibers of the carpet. After listening to our guests fucking it took us almost no time to reach our orgasms, Rich groaning in ecstasy and me screaming as spasm after spasm of ecstasy ripped through my body. I could feel jet after jet of his hot cum splashing against the end of my cunt. The notion of trying to remain silent had wandered off leaving us to make at least as much noise as our neighbors. Fuck it, I thought. this is too fucking fabulous not to enjoy.

Once we crawled back into bed we could hear our neighbors speaking softly. Much of what they were saying wasn't clear but at one point I thought I heard him say, "Sounds like they are as horny as Christine promised," followed by a response from her of "Yes. At least I hope so. tomorrow could be fun." I snuggled against Rich and slept soundly for the remainder of the night.

**

They were both up early the next morning, relaxing in the warm early morning California sunshine on our back porch. Each had a Starbucks cup in hand that Tom had run out and got them.

"We're not necessarily always this early to rise," she said. "But I guess we are still on East Coast time. We didn't want to wake you or mess about in your kitchen so I sent Tom out to the Starbucks I saw as we were driving in yesterday. You have Starbucks here instead of Dunkin. Much better."

I laughed. "Coffee houses are an art form in California. I can show you several local non-chain stores here in our little town that leave Starbucks in the dust. One of them even roasts their own beans, although I think that may be more an excuse to take a write off for the owners' annual winter trip to Central America. You can order a pour over from a menu of different beans, all fresh ground from single source beans roasted within the last few days. They talk about a bean's terroir, as though it was a French wine. I laughed. A little over the top, but the coffee is good. They don't have quite the frou frou menu that a Starbucks has but they do have an espresso machine if you want to go the cappuccino/late route. Pumpkin Spice, not so much."

I noticed Tom and Linda's dress was more casual today. Both wore shorts showing lots of well-tanned leg; his, well-muscled and hers, long and shapely. The lightweight blouse she wore confirmed my earlier suspicion that she was far from flat chested.

Rich came out of the house with coffees for the two of us. We sat chatting about life in California's Central Valley with its warm summer climate and it's cool, albeit sometimes foggy, winters. "No need to own a snow shovel here," Rich said.

I heard Rich's cell phone buzz. He looked down at it and then spoke up. "Oops my golf partner for today has had to bail on me. I still have a tee time. Anyone want to play 18 this morning?" he said looking towards Tom.

"Not really my sport," Tom responded.

Linda laughed. "That's an understatement. He's terrible, but I love the game. Can I join you?"

After a bit more talk mostly teasing Tom about his hatred of golf it was decided that Rich and Linda would spend the morning golfing and I would show Tom our garden as I puttered about with my morning chores.

After a quick bite of breakfast, Rich and Linda took off to play golf and Tom and I went for a stroll through the garden, fresh coffee in hand. In the back of the garden there was a bench where we sat to enjoy our coffee.

"You slept well I hope," I said. "That old bed can be a little creaky."

"Oh it was fine," he responded. He paused for a moment looking at me with his brown eyes. "I hope we didn't keep you awake."

"Hmm," I responded. "It wasn't a problem."