Doing Heather TogetherbyHotwifeKassie©
I really couldn't fully believe it when she actually said she'd do it. I mean, we'd talked about it a lot of times since I first told her about this fantasy I'd been having, and she'd even gotten to the point where she'd told me yes, she'd probably do it under the right circumstances, although I was never really sure if she was serious or just going along with the game to make the fantasy more enjoyable for me. This time though, when she said it, it was with a whole new attitude, like she was really ready to do it. Imagine -- my wife having sex with another man -- and I get to watch, take pictures, film it, and even join in if I want. She actually said yes. Now all we had to do was find the right man.
The ad in the magazine was a start, although she didn't seem to take any of the respondents seriously; maybe just the thought of what kind of guy answers that kind of ad. So I tried another tactic. I asked her to let me know if she ever saw anyone with whom she might consider having sex, you know, just on a purely physical level; anyone she found attractive enough that she'd think about it. She said she would.
Many weeks went by and she never said a word, despite the fact that during our weekend trips around town running errands, window shopping and going out to lunch I figured she must have seen thousands of guys. I know I'd begun to look at guys in a whole new light now, not just noticing the obviously good-looking guys on the street, but trying to picture them having sex with her. I'd see a guy I thought might be a worthy candidate and I'd look at her to see if she was looking at him. Most of the time it didn't seem like she really even noticed them. Anyway, after a while, I decided she'd just been humoring me.
And then when we were at the computer show a few weeks ago, I introduced her to "Bob, from work." That was the first concrete positive response. That evening, she casually mentioned, "You know how you asked me to tell you if I saw some guy I might consider having sex with?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, I kind of thought maybe the guy you introduced me to today."
"You mean Bob from work?"
"Yeah, maybe Bob from work. He seemed nice -- and cute."
So there it was -- Bob from work. I could see that. He is a nice guy, not bad looking, friendly. But how do you approach someone with such an idea. That would be a delicate operation, to say the least. Slowly, ideas for how to make this happen began to evolve, and sometimes they consumed my thoughts. I began to plot ways in which I might "accidentally" run into Bob at work and strike up a conversation that might naturally lead to such a revelation as, "...and by the way, you are a candidate for the role of my wife's sex partner in this little film I'm planning and..." Wow! That would be quite a bombshell to throw at someone. No, obviously this must be done more delicately, more subtly than that.
So here's the plan that I came up with ... One of these days, when I was feeling particularly brave about this whole thing, I'd "run into" Bob and I'd start the conversation with something like, "Hey, how's it going? So, did you find anything good at that computer show?" And from there, I'd work the conversation from computers, to photography, to being able to develop pictures at home and..., well, we'd see how it went from there.
More weeks went by, and any time I had an opportunity to be in the area where Bob worked, I just couldn't find the courage to seek him out and get the conversation started. Then, I finally got up the nerve to do it. Heather had been gone for a few weeks, visiting our older kids in Phoenix, I had been without sex for longer than I cared to and I was getting more aware of this each day that went by. So when I found myself once again in the vicinity, I made a deliberate effort to find Bob and test the waters. I caught up with him just heading off to lunch. I strode up and began walking beside him.
"Hey, how's it going? So, did you find anything good at that computer show?"
So far, just as I'd rehearsed it. He talked for a while, telling me of the electronic treasures encountered in the foray into computer land. Then I began to lead the conversation in a different direction, as planned. By now we were outside; we'd ordered some fairly non-threatening items off the lunch truck and sat at one of the outdoor tables under a tree. I was glad he chose one of the small tables; less chance of having to inhibit the conversation if someone joined us.
"I was actually looking for some photo processing stuff. I finally got a good digital camera and I've been playing with some new programs that allow me to do all kinds of fun things with photography. Here, look what I did with a picture of my son (at this point, I'd pull out the distorted image I'd created from a photograph)...
"My wife thinks It's really creepy; she just shakes her head and looks at me like I'm nuts. You met her; I introduced her to you at the show. Here, look what I did with a picture of her." (I took out a picture of her that I especially like -- the one where she's wearing my hat -- and an embossing effect made from the original). "It's pretty amazing, what you can do with these things now. Actually, she's the main reason I wanted to get a digital and some good processing equipment; I love to take pictures of her and for so long there were always some of them I couldn't just take to the drug store for printing. I have this whole roll that I took of her half naked out in the woods and I know I got some really good ones, but I just never found a place to get them printed and it's really frustrating because I can't see them. So as soon as digital cameras were available I started researching them and I finally bought one and now I can do it myself; I can make my own prints and... ummm, this is some pretty personal stuff I got into; I'm sorry; I hope you're not offended."
Bob just looked sort of amused and said, "Not a problem; in fact, I've known a couple of guys who liked to take pictures of their wives and I always wondered how they ever got them developed. It's got to be a whole new world for guys like that, what with digital cameras and computers and all. Actually, I think it's nice when guys are married and still turned on by their wives. I hope I'm as lucky if I ever get married."
"Yeah", I said, "I'm lucky in that respect; I've been fantasizing about her for most of my life."
I told him briefly about how we'd met so many years ago, literally when we were just kids, how we ended up married, and that we'd been married for almost twenty-one years. He seemed rather intrigued by our relationship, especially about how strong my sexual feelings for her still are.
"I've had the most erotic fantasies about her recently, but I'm sure you don't want the details."
"Actually, I'd love to hear the details."
"Well, if you're sure, okay. Anyway, for the past few years I've been developing this fantasy about her having sex with another man while I watch and film the whole thing; does that seem weird?"
"Well, since you ask, yeah, sort of. Why would you want your wife to have sex with another man?"
"I'm not really sure why, but I find the thought of it amazingly erotic."
"Well, okay, if you say so."
"So, the thing is, at first she just sort of shrugged it off when I told her about it, and then she seemed kind of amused by the whole thing. After a while I got her to talk about the idea, but she wasn't really comfortable with the thought of actually doing it. She did say, though, that I could put an ad in one of those swingers' magazines, just to see what would happen. So I did and we got a bunch of responses. She actually thought most of them were kind of silly and she just sort of laughed them off. She didn't really find any of the offers attractive. Then she agreed to let me know if she ever saw anyone she might be willing to have sex with, but she never said anything until the day I introduced her to you."
"Me?" He looked at me with a wary sort of expression, like he thought I might hit him or something.
"Yeah, when we were at that computer show, after I introduced you she told me that she'd consider having sex with you."
"Why?" Now he seemed a little more relaxed, more curious.
"I asked her that and she told me she thought you were really cute and that you seemed very nice. I think she just goes on instinct a lot of the time, not just on stuff like this, but a lot of the time. Wow, this has turned into a pretty weird conversation. Is this making you uncomfortable?"
"Funny thing is, not really; I guess if you were mad about it or something it would, but it's just sort of interesting that you're not." '
"So, what would you say to it?"
"To sleeping with your wife? Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, I guess I'd say I'd sure think about it. I mean I'd want to be sure something like that wouldn't make things weird here at work and all, but yeah, maybe, if it was something you're sure you really wanted."
"I'm sure; I've been thinking about it for a long time now. Here's my home phone number; call me if you decide either way. And, by the way, this is just between us, okay?"
"Okay, yeah, absolutely; I'll give you a call."
So a couple of days went by and that Wednesday night I was sitting at home working on my computer when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hi, may I speak with Steve, please?"
"This is Steve."
"I thought so, but I wanted to be sure. This is Bob."
"Oh, Hi. How's it going?"
"Pretty good, how about you?"
"Oh, not too bad; I'm expecting Heather back in a few days, so I'm feeling pretty good."
"Actually, that's why I called."
"Yeah, I figured that; so have you thought over what we talked about?"
"Yes, and if you're sure you still want me to, I'd love to sleep with your wife."
"Excellent! But I can practically guarantee you won't get much sleep. Wow! This is great; I'm glad you decided to play."
"So, how do we go about doing this?"
"Well, I guess I'll talk to her when she gets home and we'll see if she's still willing to do it and how she wants to arrange it. I think we'll have to let her take the lead in this because it's not going to happen if she doesn't feel comfortable with it."
"I understand totally. Actually, I think I feel more comfortable with that, too."
"Okay, I'll call you in a few days after I have a chance to talk with her. She still doesn't know I even mentioned it to you."
"Don't worry, even if she's not up for it, it won't freak her out or anything; she may not always agree to do everything, but nothing really shocks her, at least nothing I've found yet."
"Is that what you're trying to do, shock her?"
"I'm not sure it would be possible, but no; I just think it's kind of interesting that she's pretty easy-going with ideas even if it's not something she'd be interested in trying."
A few more days went by, and suddenly there she was, walking through the front door, bags in hand like she was planning to stay awhile.
"Hey, where is everyone?"
"Hi, Hon. The kids are spending the night at friends' houses; they'll be home tomorrow. I'm glad you're home; how was the drive?"
"Long. I'm so tired and my butt is numb from sitting in that truck for so many hours."
"Want me to rub it for you?"
"Yes, actually I do. I'm going to take a shower and go lay down. You can join me if you want."
I could feel myself getting hard already. She headed for the bathroom, I heard the shower turn on. I let the dog out in the back yard, waited impatiently for him to pee, then I headed to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and slipped into the shower behind her. I caught the scent of strawberry shampoo, so familiar, and I felt like I was home. I reached for her and pulled her close, breathing in the smell of ripe summer. My cock was really hard; I pressed against her and she smiled, "So, you missed me?"
"I missed you." I didn't want to tell her yet. I just wanted her to myself for now. She ran her hands up over my chest, lingering there and laying her cheek against me.
"I missed you, too."
We spent several minutes getting warm and steamy in the shower and then Heather said, "Let's go to bed."
I dried off quickly, then while she ran a hair dryer through her hair I locked up the house and turned off the lights, pretty sure we would not be coming out of the bedroom till next morning. I climbed between cool sheets, She finished doing whatever women do in there and then joined me. We were both eager not just for sex but for physical contact, the merging of two bodies. We really had missed each other. When I finally slid inside her it was so intimate, physically and emotionally. Moving together, pushing deeper inside with long, slow strokes, our breathing joined in rhythm, I watched her face as she reached behind me and grabbed my hips, pulling me into her as she was swept into a long, slow intense orgasm. My mind was leaping between being so incredibly in the moment and flashing on images of what it would look like if Bob were in my place and I were standing in the corner watching. I slipped almost without realizing into my own orgasm and it was incredible.
Later, lying with her in my arms, sleepy and smiling, I decided she was in a mellow enough mood for me to approach the subject of Bob.
"So, you remember Bob, from work, the one you said you'd fuck for me?"
"Yes, I remember; Why?" she eyed me suspiciously.
"Well, I saw him the other day."
"Oh, yeah? And how is good ol' Bob?"
"He's just fine, he says to say hello and he'd love to sleep with you."
"Did you tell him about that!?"
"Oh, my god! What did you say to him?"
So I told her about my conversation with Bob, and by the time I was done, she was looking quite awake and rather amused by the whole prospect. We talked awhile longer, about her trip, about how the kids and grandkids were doing, the drive there and back, more about the Bob thing, and she said yes, she was serious, she really would have sex with Bob, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to sleep. I lay there watching her, feeling amazed that what began as a vague thought some years back had built to this point and would, barring a change of heart on anyone's part, before long become reality. And I'd have it on film.
So, a couple of weeks later, there we were, sitting in a semi-dark cafe, me with a mocha and her sipping an iced tea with an ungodly amount of sugar in it. It's one of her funny little quirks; she puts so much sugar in things and finds it appalling that I drink anything, coffee especially, with just a sprinkle of sugar in it. That's what I was sitting there thinking about, all the mundane pieces of trivia you get to know about each other after you've been together for so long. I was contemplating how it could be that you can know someone so intimately, every detail of how they are that you think you can almost unerringly predict what they will do or say next or how they will react to something and yet find that person still intriguing, still arousing, still surprising, after all these years... She was actually going to do it...and I began to wonder if I hadn't made a gigantic mistake. If she could still surprise me after all these years, maybe I misjudged how she would end up feeling about this whole thing after all. Maybe she'd back out, or even worse, not back out and regret it later. Maybe we'd both end up being sorry we'd ever started this and maybe it would end up ruining what we had, and that I could never forgive myself for. I was just on the verge of telling her I'd changed my mind and we should just go home and never mention any of this again, and then I saw Bob coming through the restaurant door.
My heart stopped for a second and I felt the shock of inevitability wash over me. He had stopped for a minute to let his eyes adjust to the darkened room. I waved at him and he spotted us and headed our way.
"Bob, you remember my wife, Heather?"
"Yeah, from the computer show and I saw some pictures of you; how are you?"
"Fine, thank you. Pictures?"
"Yeah, I was showing Bob that picture of you in my hat, and the one with the embossing effect that I made from it."
"Ah, yes; he spends many hours playing with his new toys."
"I get the impression that's not all he likes to play with."
I was kind of surprised by the remark. Bob seems almost a bit shy usually, but it was obviously a provocative comment and Heather picked right up on it.
She smiled, obviously pleased at the ease with which it had been said. She's usually more comfortable with someone who uses humor to smooth out the rough edges.
"I know, and I took his favorite toy away for weeks and left him there to just play with himself, poor baby."
They both seemed pleased way the conversation was headed and I was kind of relieved that this didn't turn into some heavy, awkward scene. It was all pretty relaxed, we all seemed at ease with each other and I began to have high hopes for the evening. We ordered a light meal and one drink each, one of the rules she'd set down; it's okay to have one drink to relax but nobody will be intoxicated so nobody will blame that for any regrets later. If we're going to do this, we are going to do it with all eyes wide open and knowing exactly what we're getting into. We continued the conversation while we ate, Bob told us about his childhood and some of his theories on life and relationships, sex and kids, work and the world; we told him stories from our life together, about our kids and grandkids, parents and Phoenix, but throughout the evening there was a great deal of suggestive commentary, lots of double entendres and much verbal foreplay among us all.
Finally it became obvious that we'd all finished our food and drinks and the time had come to adjourn to the hotel. We'd chosen a place close enough to home that if the kids needed us they could call on the cell phone and we could be home fairly quickly, but far enough away that nobody we knew would be likely to see us. To avoid any uneasy stares at the hotel, Heather and I checked in at the front desk by ourselves and Bob would join us upstairs in a little while. We went up to the room, quite nice, big bed. I jumped into the shower while Heather put a few things away, adjusted the lamp on the table by the bed and turned on some soft music. By the time I was finished in the shower, she was curled into a big chair looking through a magazine.
Just as I came out of the bathroom in my robe, Bob knocked softly at the door. I let him in. It was a little bit awkward for a few seconds, but then he said, "Do you mind if I take a shower, too?" He was talking to me, but he was looking at her. She felt it and looked up with a definite smile. Then she went back to her magazine.
"Oh, yeah, sure, I had them put some extra towels in there."
"Thanks. I'll be out in a bit."
I turned to Heather and asked her, "So, are you really sure about this?"
"Yes. Are you?"
"Yeah, I think so." I bent down and put my arms around her and snuggled my face in her hair. It was a comforting, familiar feeling. Bob came out of the bathroom shortly, wrapped from waist to knees in a big white towel. Heather looked at him with an expression of frank appreciation. He looked like he was in pretty good shape and all of a sudden I was glad that I'd been working out for a while. I had to catch myself and remind myself that this was, after all, my idea, she was doing it to please me, and if it was not going to turn into something ugly there would be no room for jealousy.
Heather got up, grabbed a small bag off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Bob sat in the chair she'd been in, and we both watched intently as she disappeared through the bathroom door. I told him, "This could take a while; you know how it is with women."