Loving Husband/Loving Wife Ch. 09

After Jill had kissed her lover good bye, we showered, had a hearty breakfast, and took coffee on the porch.

"Well!" She declared.

"All is well. Very well."

"I don't know where to begin."

"Watching you with him was like having a threesome for the first time. It's been so long."

"It was so much better than the others it might as well be the first."

"I had the same thought last night. It's like we have arrived at that age and stage to completely appreciate what it is all about."

She winced. "Don't remind me of age. I am going to be a sore girl for awhile."

"Too much cock? Too deep?"

"Never too much cock for me. Never too deep. No, my old gal flexibility was put to the test."

"I heard a leg wire pop when you straddled him last night."

She laughed. "I recall I didn't dismount like a gymnast either."

"It's yoga time for you. Pull and stretch. Get loose, limber and lithe....You were radiantly beautiful, Jill. Sucking his cock, opening wide for him to fuck you."

She glowed with memory, and my praise. "You gave him to me. You gave me to him. It was perfect."

We watched the birds outside the screen. Goldfinch occupied the pegs on the feeder. The titmice hid in the leaves of nearby shrubs, waiting their turn. In two minutes the titmice came out and scattered the goldfinch in a yellow flurry up to their trees. How did they know? It was like clock work. Two minutes tops, and another genus came from hiding and scattered the titmice, taking their turn at the feeder.

"Steve likes you. That is plain." Jill said.

"No as much as he likes you."

"Well, he is my lover, after all. He did give you kiss," she said with a mischievous smile.

"What did you think of that?"

"What did you?"

"Nothing much. Just a spasm of sudden play, it seemed."

"That's what I thought. Just a way of saying thank you. I got a hell of a rush seeing you put your fingers around his cock and lead it to me."

"A spasm of sudden play on my part. Just as spontaneous as his kiss."

"Are you going to do that every time?"

"I have no idea."

"I hope you do."

"Why?"

"I was so...symbolic. You holding his hard cock and leading it to me. Like saying, 'I am giving my wife to you, take her.' No wonder he likes you." She laughed.

We watched the various groups of birds taking their turns at the hanging feeder, with clock work timing. How did they arrive at that cooperation in sharing?

"Every time, you asked. You are looking at a stretch of times."

"For sure I am. This is my Shangrila. An on-going affair with my lover with you beside me."

"Tell me, honestly, was it as good for you with me there as it was when you were alone with him?"

"Better with you there. I did nothing alone with him that you didn't see last night. I really can't imagine doing or saying anything alone with him that your presense would... hinder. No, the three of us together, that is the ultimate. You putting your hand on his cock and leading it to me, that is the ultimate." She shivered. "I just felt that same rush again!"

"You know, a couple of years back, when we were seriously talking about a hunt for a new man, I idly wondered if there was anything left in it that would be new for me. Three things, as it turned out. For the first time in my life a man's lips kissing mine. For the first time in my life I held another man's cock, albeit very briefly. For the first time in my life I had sloppy seconds."

Jill blushed. "Uggh, Jack. 'Sloppy seconds' sounds so dirty. I suppose I should apologise. I just got into it and forgot all about the condom. I don't think there's any reason to worry. About his clean bill of health I mean. Do you?"

"I don't think he's a risk," I said, with the confidence of having seen his medical records, which I couldn't tell her. "And since we are being so intimately honest, I got a strange rush of my own, feeling his sperm left in you."

"I knew you did! Or I thought you might have. They way you fucked me. And the sperm he left in me sounds so right. Not sloppy seconds," she admonished. She smiled, dreamily. "Let's do away with condoms from now on. I want to feel his sperm shoot into me every time he fucks me. That is a very special sensation for a woman. It is like a man is putting his signature on his creation. You both put your signatures in me. My lovers fill me to overflowing with their cum. Oh Jack!" She bounced and clapped her hands. "Let's do it!"

*****

Something new was with us. Steve Larsen, an evolved, sophisticated, worldly smoothie was the perfect threesome partner. But he was something more. He was Jill's lover. That concept made real infused our triad with substance that flushed her entire being into bloom and blossom. I analyzed the new reality in silent contemplation, and embraced it. She had fucked the other five partners with no reservations, and some of them brought her to orgasm, but they were never her lovers. Steve was. Because Jill wanted him to be, and was free to make him so. That was the culmination of my giving her the gift of going solo with Roger and Larry and Steve, and that gift had brought us back to the right place, sharing her with a bono fide lover on the same bed. She blossomed and bloomed. She was a beautiful aura in every prosaic day. She had a husband who was her love and life, and she had a lover.

*****

Our other threesomes had been widely spaced, due to logisticl circumstances, and also conscious deliberation. Too often would take the keen edge off the cutting excitement. At her age of fifty two and mine of forty nine, our children out on their own, and Jill the proud possessor of her very own lover, we had sex with Steve anytime the three of us wanted to. But there was no regular schedule. He, and we, lived our separate lives. Jill was usually the catalyst, needing her lover again. He fucked her on our bed, on LADY JILL when we went on an over night river cruise. One time she backed her ass to him and ground away, and he lifted her skirt and bent her over the kitchen table and fucked her from behind, standing. A powerful fuck. For me to see. She sucked him off anytime her deep personal need compelled her to do so. There was no schedule, no formal choreography. Jill and her lover, and I, let sexual impulse hold sway and have its way.

I did hold his cock and lead it to her, sometimes, when sexual impulse took pause and made it appropriate. It became something of a ritual, which Steve initiated the second time he joined us. In position on his knees, he put his hands on his hips, his bare cock jutting forward, and said, "Do the honors."

I was never certain what that meant to him. He might have liked the feel of my hand on his cock. But I strongly suspected his primary feeling was exactly the same as Jill had described, my symbolic giving him to her. Confirming he was her lover and privileged to fuck her. Jill experienced an emotional, erotic siesure each time I did so.

Condom free, Steve and I filled Jill with cum. And our cocks relished plunging into the respective signature pools, to do respective obliteration.

*****

Steve was a perfect partner, and lover for Jill. No restriction encumbered his sexual pleasure with her, nor his expressions of a deep, deep affection containing a measure of love for her. But he never crossed forbidden lines. He never presented even a hint of challenged to me. And Jill held a trump we never discussed, which governed all. She screamed out my name when I fucked her and took her to the heights of orgasm. She had never screamed the name of any other man, and she never did with Steve. She knew complete pleasure and bliss with him, and his fucking lifted her to powerful orgasms, but she never screamed out his name in her surrender to him. She could not. There was, and would always be, a place in her where Steve or any other man could not go. I was permanently in that place. Steve knew it. And he knew it by countless other signals that Jill gave off in "down time," so to speak, of normal, non-erotic togetherness.

*****

One evening Steve called to ask if he could drop by. He was in a chipper mood. He seated himself and launched into a conversation about swimming pools, and his sudden keen interest in having one to set off his patio. I gave all the pros and cons I knew. He suddenly paused and glanced about.

"Where's Jill?"

"In the kitchen, last I knew," I said.

He got up and walked to the kitchen. I followed. Jill was at the sink, scrubbing the tarnished copper bottom of a sauce pan. She wore a T-shirt, cotton jogging pants, and sneakers. Her hair was tied with a ribbon to make a rear bush more than a pony tail. Steve cupped his hand to her ass cheek, and said, "Hello Jill."

She turned her head with a glowing smile and said, "Hello my lover."

He kissed her. Then he said, "Any of that Belgium beer left?"

"In the fridge. Help yourself."

He did just that. He knew the drawer that held the opener. He drank a swig, and wandered back to the living room, and jumped right back into the conversation about swimming pools. He didn't stay long. He essentially got what he came for, a gab with me and to say hello to Jill. When he was ready, I called out to Jill to say he was leaving. She came into the room and we sidled to the front door. Steve hugged her to him and kissed her, tenderly. "I'll call you," Jill said.

And the relaxed, casual behavior of that evening was as much in the center of our threesome as any naked, juicy, fucking and sucking. That meant everything to Jill. There was no conflict of any kind between her husband and her lover. She adopted the British expression "chums" to describe it. Steve and I were chums. Better still, so was she. While the unleashed power of sex took us all to shared other worlds, when they, or we, came back to earth and settled down, apart or entwined, we all three were chums. But Jill still clung to that singular luxury of having a lover. She cherished the impulse, and rightness, of saying to Steve or refering to him as "My lover."

And how did that make me feel? I thought about it often, with no defensive mind set. The truth is I liked it. She didn't over do the "my lover" phrase. It just sort of popped out from time to time, in a fitting moment or context. And in point of fact that was exactly what he was. When he kissed her, put his hands on her body to fondle and caress, positioned himself between her opened legs to fuck her, he was her lover making love to her. That was very, very good, because that elevated Jill to a higher plane of consciousness and communion, and invited her to be his lover in their time of sexual freedom. That refined our motive of gift exchange two decades earlier, of my desire to watch, and her desire for sex with other men for her own pleasure fulfillment, and to fulfill my unique need. Watching my wife with her lover gave an element of purity to our intensely private gift exchange that was never quite the same with the other partners. With Steve, there was a higher attainment of our combined motives of my sharing her. As she had said about my holding his cock to bring it to her wanting pussy, giving him to her and her to him, "that is the ultimate!"

*****

Jill and I were not into porn, written or filmed. Oh, we watched some video back in courtship and early marriage days, but we both found it mostly boring. Our fantasy sharing, and later real threesomes, had a sizzling excitement that made porn as dumb as television commercials. Never the less, drawing on that limited knowledge, I asked her if she would like to try some new things.

"Such as."

"Oh, maybe you suck his cock while I fuck you doggie style."

"Hummm." She allowed. "That might be very thrilling." She thought about it. "Or it might be overload. Distracting. When you fuck me from behind you take me out of this world, to the heavens, to play among the stars. My ass high, my head down, my hands gripping the wrinkles in the sheet, the power of your thrusting cock the only thing in the world that matters at that time... When you do that, it's all you. No other man even exists... Still, it's something to think about. I will certainly do it if that is something you want to happen."

"Not really. I'm just tossing out some ideas, musings."

"Taking my lover's cock in my mouth is a very special indulgence for me. Just him and me. Let's keep it that way for now."

"Of course."

I also tossed out the idea of anal sex. We rarely did anal intercourse. When we did she asked for it, and it had almost that ceremonial speciality of my peeing on her. Now that I think of it while writing this, her wanting my cock in her ass was a kind of substitute for her lying in the shower and my pissing on her. But both activities were equally special and equally rare. My size was an obstacle. The only way she could tolerate entry was by sitting on my cock. That way she had total control of progress of stretching and zaps of pain, taking all she could bear, knowing when to ease off, until my large cock head popped into her. Maintaining that total control of start and stop until her ass was settled on me and the entire length was buried in her. In that way she found accomadation and expansion, and then pleasure. After a while she would rise and position herself and I would re-enter her with little or no difficulty, and fuck her ass. Her excitement and pleasures were so intense she would lose her mind and react like someone having an epilectic fit. But that was a rare and very special event with us. My tonguing her ass was also a very special event, but that happened much more frequently.

"I don't know, Jack." Jill said. "My ass is your exclusive place, and you are my exclusive pleasure there. Though my lover could probably do very nice things there as well. I will give that some thought."

"I was thinking of both of us at the same time."

She was startled. "You in my pussy, him in my ass?"

"Yes."

"Oh my..." She grew round eyed in wonder. "Can such a thing really be done?"

"Popular belief seems to think so."

"I can't imagine it. Draw me a verbal picture."

"Well, I lie on my back with my feet on the floor. You sit on me, then bend down on me. Your lover stands behind and puts his cock in your ass."

"His legs would have to straddle your legs."

"I hadn't got the far, but yeah, you're right."

"Even so, there's precious little space down there. My ass hole is only an inch or so from my pussy. You really think it could be done?"

"I'm as much a virgin at that as you are. Hell, I don't know! Just another idea to toss out."

"Maybe we need to get some porn films for instruction." She laughed. "Now that you have brought it up, I will give that option a lot of thought."

"It might be all pain and no fun."

"He is smaller than you. I'm sure I could manage. I have the picture now. His balls would do a lot of smacking against your balls. Wouldn't that be painful?"

"Hadn't thought of that. That would be a risk, I suppose. What I do imagine is you being filled and stretched to the limits with two cocks buried in you. Can you imagine it?"

Her eye lids half covered the pupils, her lips smiled the shape of her fantasy of two cocks filling her and stretching her to the limits, and she said, "I'm not sure I can imagine it. That kind of thing has to happen before you can ever know... Maybe, Jack. Just maybe. I will give it a lot of thought."

She did give that a lot of thought, delightful, slutty, shivery thought, but she never acted on it. All in all, her love making with her lover was what the lingo calls "vanilla." Except...

One evening Steve visited, and he was out of sorts. Nothing dramatic had happened. Just one of those days commonly called getting out of bed on the wrong side. He didn't come for sex; just thought a visit with his "chums" would cheer him up. Toward the end of his visit, vivacious Jill had him laughing. Then she walked to where he sat on the end of the sofa, and knelt between his knees. She unzipped his fly, pulled his cock out, and took it in her mouth. She sucked him and his spirits soared from gloomy depths to heights of bliss and she swallowed his cum. I sat ten feet away and watched, entranced and awed. If that is vanilla, then let's hear three cheers for "vanilla."

That same evening, in bed said, "I sucked him off."

"I saw."

"I know. Your seeing meant as much to me as my doing. Did you love me as you watched?"

"I loved you with every cell in my body. With all that I am."

"Perfect." She said. "Simply perfect." She hugged me to her and we lay in peace. Later she said, in a fragile tone, "You know, Jack, this might just be our last hurrah."

*****

Jill was prescient. The first wrinkle in our perfect triangle was the question of our children meeting the neat new friends of their respective parents. Our son Jack Junior and daughter Lauren returned to their home base from time to time, for stays of various lengths. We wanted Steve to meet them. Steve wanted his children to meet us. But would that be wise? Jill had serious doubts that she would not let slip some hint, totally unaware, that Steve was more than a Country Club acquaintence. Much more. And Lauren, mother's daughter and all woman herself, would pick up on it. Her doubts infected Steve, and he saw the same risks in introducing his children to us. Our delimma was much like Jill's impulse to confide her radient happiness to her closest women friends, that she had a lover. But that was strictly forbidden. It was equally forbidden that our children have any inkling that their parents had what my wife and I, and her lover, had. What we had was complete freedom of sexual delights, a husband sharing his wife with her lover, where no one was reduced to an object, where no suggestions of exploitation or humiliation ever occurred. That made our triad a sacrosanct thing, a secret that had to be quarded at all costs.

The next and bigger wrinkle was Steve started dating again. I had Jill every day and night. He had a lot of free time to fill. And, he confessed with disarming candor, the sexual treasure of my wife so openly shared with him had greatly expanded his libido. His two divorces had cost him dearly, and he had a sour outlook on ever marrying again. But the sweet, sweet pleasure, and the power of release he experienced in fucking Jill made him look on the potential of ultimate satisfaction in a woman all his own with a refreshed point of view.

I was very curious to see how that development would sit with Jill's curse of jealousy. She handled it with surprising aplomb. She was not stupid, to say the very least. But it wasn't easy for her. She asked many detailed questions when discussion of the women he dated came up. She often took a big sister role in offering advice, when Steve was in a muddle about a woman he was seeing. The fact of his fucking those women, or not, was carefully left out of discussion.

Once Steve came for big sister advice while I was at work. She told me about it that night. The new woman in his life, Anne, was a cut above the rest, and my wife's lover had "THAT" look on his face. They had an open talk about her. Jill eventually cuddled with him on the sofa to tie up loose ends of the new importance Anne had for him. That cuddle led to kissing. The kissing to fondling. She led him to our bed. She sucked his cock, and fucked him with a raw urgency.

"That's not a problem, is it?" She asked.

"No. No problem at all." I said. The bed was as they left it when Steve left. Cum stains were visible on the sheets. "Tell me all about this Anne."

There wasn't all that much she could tell. "My God I'm dying to meet her! I really need to take the measure of my competition."

"I bet your lover is home right now thinking of the same thing. After the fuck you gave him this afternoon. Wondering if any woman could measure up to you."