tagNovels and NovellasGeorgia on Her Mind

Georgia on Her Mind


It's funny the little stories we can keep from our spouses for years. After fifteen years, I thought I knew everything there was to know about my wife and vice versa. We've never been secretive people, at least not towards each other. I think it's a hallmark of our marriage, we're honest with each other, all the time. We don't have to agree, we just need to be honest.

Lynn knew I thought Angelina Jolie was the world's sexiest woman even though Lynn and Angelina had little in common. Lynn strawberry-blonde hair with a few gray hairs beginning to show. She's smaller breasted and has normal lips instead of Angelina's fat, pouting lips. I don't know why Angelina gets to me, she just does. Lynn knows and accepts that odd, impossible attraction. Hell, she even teases me about it.

It's sort of the same thing for Lynn. She gets wet seeing Jeff Goldblum, which is funny to both of us because he's really tall, skinny, and (there's no nice way to say this) Jewish. None of those traits attract Lynn in other men and none of them apply to me. I'm 5' 10", and barrel chested with light brown hair.

We have lots of other little differences, too. For example, she loves Cracker Barrel and I can't stand their menu. Just the same, during long car trips, I'd often pull into Cracker Barrel for dinner just for her. She didn't have to ask and I wouldn't listen to her protests. It was okay. For her, I'd find something to eat there. In the same vein, she's not a sports fan, but she sits next to me for every championship game I find important and cheers for my team.

Our accommodations for each other extend into the bedroom, too. We each have little quirks we accept. She knows my favorite position would be cowgirl and she eagerly pushes me on my back and climbs on board regularly. I know her favorite position is an odd spooning position we've never found a name for and is difficult to describe. She lays on her back while I lay on my side, nearly at a right angle. Our legs get entangled, almost like a scissor position. She'll grab my knee, pulling it up towards her chest and sort of ride my thigh while we fuck. I know, difficult to describe and difficult to imagine.

I enjoy it when she goes down on me, but I won't kiss her afterwards. Meanwhile, Lynn is the opposite. She LOVES it when I go down on her and immediately kiss her afterwards. I don't know, maybe that should have been a sign? Maybe I should have read into that little quirk of hers? In hindsight, it seems so obvious.

Georgia is a friend from college for Lynn. They were roommates their freshman and sophomore years and had remained friends ever since. Marriages and distance never changed their friendship. For Lynn, there had only been one marriage, to me. Married life hadn't been as easy for Georgia. She had fallen into and out of three marriages since college with her longest one lasting six years. After her last marriage failed, Georgia moved into a small cabin in woods Tennessee, determined to become an artist.

"Georgia always had a thing for you," Lynn told me as we drove for a weekend visit. I laughed. That wasn't a newsflash.

"I think she has more of a thing for our relationship," I pointed out.

"If you had the chance, would you ever do her?"

"With you or without you?" I asked, grinning. It wasn't a dangerous question between Lynn and I. We often talked and teased about others without it meaning anything. Except, Lynn went a little stiff.

"What do you mean by 'with you?'" she qualified.

"Just that," I shrugged. "Are you going to be in the room watching me do her or not?"

"Oh," she giggled and there was something about her giggle that sounded nervous or relieved.

"What did you think I mean?"

"Nothing," she dismissed. "Which would you rather? Do you want to me to watch you having sex with another woman?"

"Do you want to see me with another woman?" I replied with a rakish grin. It wasn't going to happen, we both knew that and that's why a goofy conversation like this felt safe.

"Maybe," Lynn said with a tiny smile. "Would that be funny?"

"Probably," I admitted. "Though two women at once is every guy's favorite fantasy, right?"

"Is it?"

"Oh sure, I think every guy wants that. Besides, if I'm having sex, I'd want you there for it."

"Even if I'm just watching?" she asked, putting her hand on knee while I drove.

"I think you'd do more than just watch," I said, flashing her another rakish grin. I liked when we talked about sex stuff. Except she went sort of stiff again.

"Like what kind of things?"

"I don't know, maybe kiss me or still want to have sex with me, too?"

"Yeah, I could do that," she said, once more sounding oddly relieved.

"What did you think I'd say?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, if you want to, you could kiss her, too."

"Kiss who?"

"Georgia, I guess? I mean, are we talking in general or are we still talking about Georgia?"

"So, you want to have sex with Georgia?"

"Whoa, baby," I said, slipping my hand over hers and squeezing it. For whatever reason, the conversation felt as if it was taking a turn into the land of the weird. "I'm not going to have sex with your friend."

"I know," she said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze back. She stared out the window at scenery that didn't deserve a stare, just rolling hills of farmland waiting for a spring planting. We rode in silence for several miles. To me, it felt like a comfortable little silence that happens between two partners who have spent years together. We didn't need to fill every moment together with words.

"How far out in the woods is her cabin?" I asked after a couple more miles.

"Pretty far I guess. She said we'd have to take a dirt road about a mile off a secondary road."

"Excited to see her?"

"Sure," she said without enthusiasm. She tried to slip her hand away from mine, but I caught it, and gently gave her a firm squeeze.

"Talk to me," I insisted, using three simple words that had grown into code words between us. When one of us wouldn't talk, and needed to, we could force the conversation with those three words.

"When we were in college together, Georgia made a pass at me," Lynn blurted out.

"Okay," I said, stealing a quick glance at my wife before gluing my eyes to the road. I waited for more, giving her room to fill in the blank space. When she didn't, I carefully choose my words. "A big pass?"

"Pretty big."

"How big?"

"We didn't really do anything, if that's what you're asking."

"Should I be asking?" I asked, still feeling my way.

"She just . . . I don't know. She grabbed my boobs and tried to kiss me."

"And it scared you?"


"Because she violated your space?"


I bit back a sigh and waited. I didn't wait as long this time. "Baby? You're making me guess and you know I'm not good at that."

"I'm sorry," she softly said. She squeezed my hand and I saw her take in deep a breath. "The problem was, I liked it. A lot. Too much."

"Define 'too much,'" I requested.

"As in, it felt really right when she kissed me and I sort of lied. She didn't try to kiss me, she really kissed me. A real kiss, you know?" I guessed she meant with tongues. "And then she grabbed my boobs and told me she wanted me." I waited out another long pause, hoping she would keep going so I didn't have to play guessing games. "And I got scared because I wanted it, too."

"Hey, it's okay," I said, seeing the lost and confused look on her face. "That was a long time ago and you were in college. People try things in college, you know?"

"I didn't try anything," she said, her voice firm and emphatic. "That was all we did. We kissed, once. Well, maybe it was more than one kiss, but just one time. Then she grabbed my tits, told me she wanted me, and I pushed her away."

I nodded. I had gathered that much from what she had already said and I couldn't see the big deal about any of it. I understood their one kiss might have been several smaller kisses leading up to one, big kiss. That didn't matter. A kiss was a kiss, even if it included several smaller ones as a prelude to the big one. "Can I ask why you pushed her away?" I said, once more forced to fill the silence.

"Because I didn't want to be gay."

"Okay. I mean, I'm glad you're not gay. I like having sex with you too much."

What she said next came out as a big rush of words without a breath: "And I love having sex with you. I love you. I love everything about you. I love sucking on your dick and fucking you and doing everything with you."

"Except swallowing," I teased, pointing out another little quirk. As much as Lynn enjoyed sucking my cock, she never allowed to finish inside her mouth. Not even once. I didn't mind because let's face it, a blowjob is a blowjob, right? And, for me, it was just as well because I didn't want to kiss her right after she went down on me, so it was okay if she didn't want me to come inside her mouth because I think that would have made kissing her awkward for me.

"I would swallow if you wanted me to," she said, slipping her hand up my thigh and tracing the inside seam of my jeans. "But I like it better when you cum on me. That's sort of sexy."

"I like cumming in you better," I said. "In your pussy."

"Mm, and I like when you do that," she purred. That felt better, a lot better. It felt as if we were back on even ground, especially when she gave the lump inside my pants a playful squeeze.

"I love you," I said and that earned me a kiss on my bicep. "But I'm still confused about what you were saying."

"I know," she said, kissing my bicep again. "I'm not making a lot of sense, am I?" I was too wise to comment. "It's just that, I was afraid that if I had sex with Georgia, I would like it too much and I didn't want to like it. I don't want to be gay."

"I don't think having sex with a girl one time makes you gay."

"I does if you like it."

"Not if you still like having sex with guys, too."

"But what if I liked it more than sex with guys?" she asked and I laughed.

"Baby, I've had sex with you and you like it way too much to switch teams."

"How can you be sure?"

I shrugged. "I just am. You love me too much and I think you love dick too much to ever give it up completely." I guess that was the right combination of things to say because Lynn cuddled my arm, kissed my cheek, and smiled. I patted her knee, wishing I could do more, except I was still driving. "So, I guess this means that when I have sex with Georgia, you'll want to help?"

"Bastard," she giggled, playfully slapping my arm. "It would serve you right if I became addicted to girls."

"As long as I get to watch."

"Only the first time. After that, I'm going to do her behind a closed door and you can just jerk-off wishing you were watching."

"Or waiting for my turn with you."

"Stop it," she giggled and I caught her squirming.

"You like that idea, don't you?"

"Shut up," she said, blushing.

"Yeah, you do. Is that what you want? You want to make it with a girl and then have me remind you why you like guys so much?"

"Or why I prefer girls."

"I'd take my chances." After driving a few more miles lost in our thoughts, a question occurred to me about Lynn's best friend. "Do you think Georgia goes both ways?"

"She used to," Lynn said, sounding more comfortable with the conversation now that her confession had been made. "I mean, I asked her about it later, about why she came on to me and she said because it was fun doing it with another girl as if she knew what it was like."

"You didn't ask her?"

"I was still freaked out." She squeezed my hand. "She did tell me I had an open invitation with her if I ever wanted to explore."


Lynn's voice was very small and quiet as another confession slipped out. "I've thought about it."

"A lot?"

"A little."

"Still?" I asked, fishing. Lynn nodded. "I love you," I reminded her, letting her know she was in a safe place and that I wasn't going to change my mind about how I felt.

"It's why I won't visit her without you. I'm always afraid something might happen."

"Maybe you should let it happen," I suggested, earning a surprised and wide-eyed look from my wife. "I mean, you don't have to, but if you did, then you would know, right?"

"That doesn't scare you?"

"Not one bit," I said with a reassuring smile. Then, to keep the mood light, I added, "Besides, I get to watch, remember?"

"Only the first time," she reminded.

During the two hours left to our drive and our conversation wound like a mountain road across a hundred different topics. Sometimes we were just quiet and that was nice, too. We were still an hour away when Lynn asked, "What if I said I wanted to do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, my mind as far away from our previous conversation as we were miles away from home.

"What if I said I wanted to do it with Georgia? Would you do it with me?"

"Do what?" I asked, still confused.

Lynn giggled. "Her, I guess."

That needed clarification. "Wait, you're asking if I would have sex with you and Georgia at the same time? As like a buffer?"

"More like an excuse. Maybe then I could do something or let her do something and if I didn't like it, you could get between us."

"But doesn't that mean she would be having sex with me, too?"

"Is that okay?"

I chuckled while shaking my head. "You realize that's a really unfair question, right?"


"Because if I say yes, you can turn it around on me and accuse me of wanting to fuck your best friend."

"Do you?"

"Geez, Lynn," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Honestly? I never thought about it. I mean, I guess she's attractive and everything, but I just don't go there when I think about her. Does that make sense?"

"So go there," she said as if it was nothing. "She's cute, isn't she? I mean, I always thought so and lots of other guys do."

"I prefer blondes," I pointed out because Georgia had long, curly hair and a deep, almost olive tone to her skin.

"Her tits are bigger than mine."

"You've got a better ass," I shot back.

"Wait, what's wrong with Georgia's ass? She has a cute bubble butt. And she shaves down there," Lynn dangled, knowing that something I liked.

"You do, too," I reminded her.

"Yeah, but she likes to shave all of it off and I won't do that."

I laughed. "Are we really having this conversation?"

"We're just talking."

"Yeah, we're just talking about me having sex with your best friend!"

"Only so I can do it too."


"Besides, maybe seeing you having sex with her will make me want you more. It might be fun seeing you doing it with another woman."

"Are you serious?"

"I don't know, should I be?"

"I feel like you're telling me to go fuck Angelina so you can fuck Jeff Goldblum."

"Baby, if I had the chance to fuck Jeff Goldblum, you could fuck anyone else you wanted."

"Says the lesbian," I teased.

"I'm not a lesbian yet. I haven't done anything."

Georgia charged out of her cabin the moment she saw us bouncing down the dirt path she vaingloriously had called a road. She looked better than ever, which was good to see. After her second divorce, Georgia had gone into a mourning period and stopped taking care of herself. This was the first time we had seen her after marriage number three and I think we were both relieved to see her looking happy and healthy.

"I thought you'd never get here!" she squealed, throwing her arms around Lynn and kissing her squarely on the lips. It was the same greeting Georgia always gave Lynn, but after our conversation in the car, it took on new meaning. Lynn looked at me over Georgia's shoulder with a look in her eye that suggested she was thinking the same thing I was.

After pushing away from my wife, Georgia attacked me next. "Studly!" she squealed as usual and charged, leaping into my arms and showering my face with kisses. "When the hell are you going to dump that skinny blonde and fuck a real woman?"

"Maybe sooner than you think," I laughed, setting her down. The comment flew over Georgia's head, but Lynn caught it and laughed, too.

Georgia gave us the grand tour of her tiny cabin. There wasn't much to see. The downstairs was a single big room with a half bath tucked in the corner. In one corner was a kitchen. In another corner sat a small dining table with four chairs and in the final corner was a sitting area with a rustic couch, chair, and coffee table hewed from a log. "It's not much, but I call it home," she smiled, proud of her space. "There's no cable, but I don't own a TV, and you have to depend on your phone for internet service. Otherwise, there's not a neighbor for miles and during the summer, it's clothing optional."

"It's supposed to be warm this weekend," I said, joking, of course.

"I don't mind the cold," she joked back and, as always, Georgia's joking voice held the promise of an invitation. "Let me show you the upstairs," she said, leading the way up a narrow staircase against one wall. Upstairs was a loft that included a rustic king-sized bed with four posts. The two headboard posts were cut to follow the sloping roofline and looked like it was part of the structure to the house. Upstairs also included another half bath and a large jacuzzi tub tucked against the wall. "This used to be a vacation rental before I bought it, but the tub still works and those jets are divine!" Above the hot tub was a single showerhead with made the idea of bathing very interesting.

Back downstairs, Georgia had a pot of stew on the stove. She served us in pottery bowls she had made herself while filling us in on her new lifestyle. "It's the best change I've ever made," she gushed, making sure our wine glasses stayed full. "I finally feel as if I'm free enough to be me! I make all my own dishes and I have a firepit in the back where I fire my claywork. And, in the summer, it's so peaceful out here. At night it feels as if you can see every star in the sky!"

Seeing Georgia so happy was infectious and my face felt like it was hurting for smiling so much. "What about company?" I asked. "Don't you get lonely?"

"There might be a mountain man who services me when I need it," she giggled. "Though I'm not too much into the whole beard thing between my legs. Still, he's not a bad lay if that's what I need. Otherwise, remember those jets on the jacuzzi?"

"Duly noted," I said, grinning at Lynn.

"Careful or she'll make you tear up your bathroom for one of her own," Georgia laughed, picking up on my smirk. "It feels like the best oral sex you ever had."

"I don't know," Lynn giving me a playful smirk of her own. "I've had some good oral sex."

"Maybe you'll have to loan him to me," Georgia said, caressing my smooth cheeks. "I miss a smooth face between my legs. I mean, seriously, what's the point of a girl shaving her pussy if the guy has a beard?"

"I guess shaving is optional," I offered.

"Oh no, honey," Georgia squealed, patting my hand. "I've got too much Italian blood in me. If I don't shave down there, I start to look like Sasquatch. I started shaving as soon as I graduated high school and I've never stopped!" At least that explained her curly dark hair and olive toned skin. All something I should have guessed before except I've never been good at guessing nationalities.

"He always wants me to shave it all off, but I won't," Lynn said. "I'll shave some, but I like to keep some, too."

"From what I remember, you barely have anything down there anyway," Georgia laughed.

Having a conversation about pussy grooming habits was a strange dinner time conversation unless you knew how it went with Georgia. Nothing was ever off limits for her. When I think backwards about some of the conversations we've had through the years, they've included anal sex, swallowing vs spitting, exhibitionism, and the joys of having two men at once (which Georgia swore she preferred). So saying what I said next didn't feel out of place.

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