Mary and Charles, Hotwife and Cuck

"I'm not sure how to play this," Mary said. We were on their sofa and Charles was seated across from us grinning.

"How about we go upstairs," I said.

Mary, Charles, and I are in our early 70s, not the typical demographic for swingers, but considering we survived the 60s, not surprising. Baby Boomers might be on the backside of life, but we intended to take these next chapters with a boom.

He and Mary were looking for a male for play and I replied to the ad. Charles revealed himself as a cuckold, bisexual, and submissive. Couples were my first preference in swinging so we were apparently a fit. They had some bad luck meeting younger guys, not bad luck, just no good luck. Charles and I established a daily online chat and he was able to schedule coffee for the three of us, one hour, no obligation. It was Mary's call.

Charles was lean and gray with a beard. Mary was a redhead and curvy, as one would expect. Body type is by no means an issue. I have learned that up close and in the dark all bodies are the same. What I seek is the passion and, in a perfect situation, trust. I had taken a table inside, but she suggested one outdoors "so we can talk."

Mary looked as if she was talking to an insurance salesman, cautious, but curious, but her folded hands expressed confidence. Charles got the cups and remained silent. We did the usual dance, what are you looking for? Does your wife know? What do you like? My answers met their interests, a long term relationship, we have a don't-ask-don't-tell understanding, pretty vanilla with lots of kissing. I brought up the issue of protection.

"I don't really like condoms," she said. Fine. I've always been careful and my last test was negative.

"I'm happy to be exclusive with you if this continues," I told her. "So we can skip protection. I would like that. As I said, I'm interested in something long term." Coffee ended with brushing cheeks.

Our next meeting was for lunch and then time together at their house. In the meantime I learned more about them from Charles. I was not in touch with Mary at all. She was adamant about not being online and I respected that boundary. Charles was the cuckold so leaving all the arrangements to him fit into his submissive side while still giving him control in the relationship. Over lunch we talked about grandchildren, in-laws, vacations, and the joys of post-employment.

We left the restaurant and Charles said, "Mary, why don't you ride with Dave and you can show him the way." He shared with me in our daily chats that his fantasy was for Mary and I to play alone and have him excluded. Riding together as he followed appealed to that. Mary and I got to know each other a little more, but she was happy to remain snugged in by a seat belt against the door. I reached for her hand across the console, but she did not respond. Yes, she was nervous. I learned that she had been alone with one friend once and he showed her "some things." I inquired further and she would only say, "No, I'm shy."

Mary and Charles have a beautiful home with a view of a meadow and the mountains. The decor was somewhat rustic. Charles is a serious fly fisherman and the walls were full of framed flies and paintings of leaping fish. I found a seat on the sofa and Charles sat across in an easy chair. Mary joined me on the sofa and they chatted about the next fishing adventure and some business with a guide.

She got up for something and when she returned she reached down and brushed my knee, probably the hottest thing I can remember in any seduction in memory. It was hardly a seduction. We all knew why we were there, but she wanted to signal her readiness to proceed. I reached out and she gave me hers, cold and stiff. She warmed and the conversation continued with Charles on family business.

"Mary," I said, "can I kiss you?" She said yes. I leaned over and our lips met, warm, soft, wet, as if we were old lovers. Which we were—old.

Did I say I love to neck? Long embraces with fingers making their way from hand to arm to the side of the breast make the encounter last. At this end of life we have more memories than expectations and it is these languid moments I retain over actual coupling. Give me words and feelings anytime.

Mary wore casual clothes, a denim top and jeans. As I explored I learned she had a black, lace camisole over her bra. Despite all this covering I was able to undo a button or two and make love to the top of her ample breasts.

"I'm not sure how to play this," she said.

"How about we go upstairs?" Was my reply.

"Would you like to see some lingerie?" How could I say no. I had revealed to Charles that lingerie was one of my things and he passed it along. Indeed, bedroom wear was also something Mary enjoyed.

We all rose and I followed her upstairs to the master bedroom. The eroticism of climbing stairs behind a woman as she leads me to sex must have a primal origin. Did our prehistoric ancestors resort to trees and hilltops to be safe from leopards on the savannah? Did our species endure only because of this simple climb. How many bloodlines vanished from history because a couple could not wait to go upstairs? The climbers survived.

The master bedroom had wedding photos, more fishing prints, and the view. Mary disappeared into a walk-in closet and closed the door. I hit the bathroom and took the opportunity to strip down to my briefs. Charles did the same. I suggested we turn down the bed. I prefer sheets to bedspreads. He and I stood around with a bit of self consciousness. After all, here I was in my shorts with a man in his shorts as we waited for me to fuck his wife; not something discussed in etiquette school. I don't even think there is a Youtube video.

The door to the closet opened and Mary stepped out in a blue satin nightie with a matching coverup. So far she was hitting all my fantasy cylinders, being invited by a couple into their home for sex, following her upstairs, and her presenting herself in something naughty. I stepped over and gave her a long deep kiss. I slid the coverup off her shoulders and nudged her over to the bed. In a trice we were kissing and fondling and being the lovers we were waiting all day to become. The nightie allowed fuller access to her breasts and soon she shrugged out of the thin straps and I was able to enjoy them free of the nightie.

I reached down to touch her thigh and brush her pussy. Her mons venus was smooth as a... well, nice and smooth. She opened her legs to my touch. If my mouth was not on hers, it was on one breast or the other. Her pussy was nice and wet, no need for lube with this grandmother. She returned the touching and pushed me over to pull off my briefs. She moved on top of me, but I wasn't ready for the main event.

"Rub your clit against my cock," I whispered to her.

"You're a tease," she replied and pushed her button against mine.

Charles? He was there somewhere, in a chair I think. I was totally into Mary. He and I had worked out our individual wants and desires so I knew what to expect.

"Charles," she said, "do you want to suck Dave?"

"Sure."

Charles and I had worked this out ahead of time and I knew this was coming. I had dated other couples and a little man on man action was not unheard of. Soon he was copping my joint as I kissed and fondled Mary. I could do this all day.

I think it was Mary that pushed Charles away and she got back on top of me, her lovely tits rubbing me in my face. I tried to catch a nipple as it brushed past. She surprised me by settling onto my cock so that we were officially, formally, carnally, completely non-monogamous lovers. This is when the senses begin to overload with pleasure—breasts, skin, saliva, breathing, touching, satin, and, that basest of human activities, coitus. She was in charge and I was happy to do as instructed. It sure felt good.

"Fuck me, Mary," I whispered, "fuck my cock with your pussy." This drove her onward, until the power welled up in my toes and legs to burst through my loins and into her. OMG I love to cum into a woman. I was sure glad for all those ancestors to made it to the trees.

Mary rolled off and spread her legs. "Finish me off, Charles," she said and Charles dove in for a cream pie and her money shot. That's one of the many nice things about dating a couple. The husband helps with all the sex and emotion and it's not all up to me. He knows what it takes to bring her off. I have learned that to give pleasure is to experience pleasure. I am happy to be the cause of her joy and have no reservations turning that honor over to a vibrator, her own fingers, or her husband.

"That was lovely," she whispered, "lovely."

"Charles," I said, "do you want to clean me off?"

"Sure."

It didn't take long to do that and we three arranged ourselves, Charles and Mary embracing and I spooning against her back. We drifted into that post-coital euphoria. I considered that I could be pleased to come back for this for years. Alas, it was me to seek an adjournment. Lunch and the seduction scene took longer than expected and I still had an hour to drive home. This is always awkward and I knew that Mary was not pleased.

More to follow