Memories Ch. 05

(Author's Note: Lucas has related another memory he can't share with his family. Read his other memories on Literotica:               11/05/2019, https://www.literotica.com/s/memories-ch-01-4,

11/25/2019, https://www.literotica.com/s/memories-ch-02-6

12/11/2019, https://www.literotica.com/s/memories-ch-03-4. and

3/20/2021, https:// www.literotica.com/s/memories-ch-04-5)

Lucas is back. He showed up a couple of weeks ago in a funk. He's ninety-seven and I haven't talked with him for over two years. Over a beer he shared with me the reason for his despondent attitude. He's a sex oriented individual. Ninety-seven years old and still active, until two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, he had the first failure in his life. He was in bed with the wife of a neighbor on a rainy afternoon and, for the first time in his memory, he was unable to perform. Not just erectile dysfunction but total failure. For two hours, nothing he or the neighbor tried would bring joy to either of them. He not only couldn't fuck her, his oral skills failed as well. He left her unfulfilled in bed wondering if she'd been played by the stories she'd heard about his abilities and him disheartened and having dark thoughts about his future. He was ready to join his wife who had been dead for forty-four years.

I consoled him, gave him another beer and suggested that the problem lay with the woman and not him.

"I've had that thought," he admitted, but when it happened a second time with a frequent partner that was usually satisfied to the point of exhaustion, he was forced to accept the truth: he had lost his touch, his erection and his confidence. Even masturbation had been useless. Since then he's been refusing every invitation presented to him.

"Look, Lucas," I said. "You've had a remarkable run. Most men have problems by the time they're fifty and it only gets worse after that. You're ninety-seven. You really can't complain."

"I can and I will," countered Lucas. "My understanding is that for most men, it creeps up on them, fading away a little at a time. I just shut off. I've been denied a graceful exit and I'm pissed."

"Lucas," I tried again. "Over seventy-seven active years. Your memories alone should restore your attitude."

"Memories," he echoed. "I do have memories. I've shared many of them with my family and others with you."

"Any that you'd like to share today?" I asked.

Lucas smiled. "You already suspect that the thirty years I had with Emma were the best thirty years of my life. I've been careful about how I describe our relationship. Careful to protect her reputation all these years. It's a respect thing. I think you also suspect that she was the most exciting sexual partner I ever had.

"However, I don't think you've had a hint of what it was really like. We weren't exactly angels when it came to extracurricular activities."

"I listening," I told him as I set another beer on the table in front of him.

Lucas sat back, picked up the beer and began to speak.

<***>

The first three years of our marriage was probably similar to everyone's first three years of marriage. We were committed to each other and only each other. We satisfied each other's desires and fantasies. We lived in a continuous state of sexual arousal and expected it to last forever.

Our perspective, and our future, changed in a single weekend. For years I thought it was an accident. In retrospect I've begun to believe that it was probably preordained. It was probably our future all along.

After almost three years of self imposed, sexually abundant, isolation, Emma wondered if we should expand our non-sexual relationships and interact more socially with those around us. Except for Church and Sunday school, we rarely had encounters with others.

Emma began to interact more with the woman's auxiliary at church. She would linger after services to assist with the coffee and donuts in the church basement and attend other meetings during the week. Generally, these activities didn't interfere with our sexual routines and, on the rare occasion that they did, Emma was eager to add intensity to the next time we were intimate.

She made numerous friends and, through her, I met a number of the women and their husbands.

After about a year, Emma was part of the inner circle, those women in the church who were privy to the inner workings of the church and its hidden activities. She learned that, about once a month, about two dozen of the couples had a party. Those women who had attended the party were effusive in descriptions of the parties and the "fun" they all had.

Eventually, Emma received an invitation to the next party. It, like most of the gatherings, was to be in the home of one of the more affluent members of the church. Emma implored me to accept the invitation. "If nothing else," she said. "It's an opportunity to see how the other half lived and it would cement her position in the church. I just want to show my face," she added.

I had no inkling at the time that Emma would show more than just her face.

The night of the party, we dressed conservatively and completely. Emma wore one of her best dresses. It buttoned half way down with a bell shaped skirt and short sleeves. She wore conservative panties, a full supportive bra and a full satin slip. A shoulder wrap completed her outfit. I wore dark slacks, with a white collared shirt and tie. A matching sports jacket completed my outfit.

We left our daughter Lucy with Emma's mom for all night, expecting the after party for us at home would be more expansive if Lucy wasn't there to wake up and derail our ardor and arrived at the address of the party a respectful, half hour late. It was a huge mansion for the time. Remember this was1953 and only a year after Lucy was born.

The house was two stories tall and probably five or six thousand square feet. There was a note on the door to let ourselves in. The door was unlocked. We entered a large two-story foyer with dual curved stairways to the second floor and a huge crystal chandelier high over our heads. There was little light. We heard music from a room on the right and followed it.

We expected forty to fifty people but there was only two other couples in the room. They were holding drinks and pointed to a self service bar against the wall. I made two gin and tonics for Emma and me. When I returned with the drinks, Emma had joined in the conversation and introduced me to the other couples, John and Emily, George and Misty. The women were dressed similarly to Emma. Misty's dress buttoned half way down and flared into a skirt while Emily's had a bell shaped skirt that buttoned all the way from the neckline to the hem.

The conversation was benign, mostly about the house we were in. After a few minutes, John, Emily's husband, offered to show Emma the rest of the house. They wandered off in the direction of the foyer. I heard them heading upstairs. A few minutes later, Emily asked me if I would like a tour of the house. With Emma already on a tour, I didn't think it would be a problem so I followed her back to the foyer and upstairs.

Upstairs, there were five bedrooms. Emily showed me all of them with the exception of one where the door was closed. The last bedroom was an exquisite affair with a larger than normal bed and a private attached bathroom. Emily put her purse on the bed and headed for the bathroom. "Excuse me," she said. "I have to pee."

When she returned she was holding her panties in her hand. "This is embarrassing," she said. "But these got wet and I can't wear them." She picked up her purse and tucked her panties inside before putting it down again.

I was probably naïve at the time but I didn't see a problem or an opportunity in the moment. This was a church sponsored affair, wasn't it?

"This is unusual," said Emily.

"Unusual?" I commented.

"Yes," she said. "I'm not usually without panties with so many clothes on."

I didn't have to feign interest. "And?" I said.

"It's kind of making me randy," Emily said.

"Randy?" I asked, beginning to understand the direction of the conversation.

"Yes, randy," Emily repeated. "Like aroused, even horny."

I smiled.

"Do you ever get aroused?" Emily asked.

"All the time," I answered, the concept of a church affair fading with every minute.

"Even horny?" asked Emily.

"Yes, even horny," I told her.

"Does having a woman next to you without panties make you horny?" Emily asked.

I don't know why I continued to play her game. I knew where it was headed and I was committed to Emma. However, Emma was on a tour of her own and I justified my response by rationalizing that she was having a similar conversation with John, Emily's husband. "It would," I said, "But it's an unverifiable situation."

"Oh, you naughty boy," Emily exclaimed. "Do I have to prove it to you?"

"If you want to," I said.

"Would it make you horny?" she asked.

"It has that possibility," I said.

"And would you prove it to me?" Emily asked.

"A kind of show me yours and I'll show you mine?" I asked.

"It's a start," answered Emily.

"Where does it end?" I asked.

Emily looked past me at the bed. I followed her look.

"Naked?" I asked.

"I'd prefer it that way," Emily grinned.

"Who's first?" I asked.

"Oh," exclaimed Emily. "I like you. This is going to be fun."

Emily had me sit on the bed and stood just out of reach in front of me. She gave me a coy smile and bent over to unbutton her dress from the bottom. With each button, her smile brightened. She stopped when the next button would have exposed her supposed pantiless condition except for the white satin slip that she wore under her dress.

Standing vertical again, Emily began to unbutton her dress from the top down. She stopped when there were just two buttons undone, centered between her hips. She slipped the open top of her dress off her shoulders, slipped it off her arms and let it fall. Her dress hung on her hips, held in place by the two unopened buttons. She blew me a kiss and twirled around slowly so I could appreciate her offering to me.

After a slight pause, she began to slide the satin slip up from behind her dress. She bunched it in her hands until it cleared her dress and let it fall. It collected in a heap on top of her dress. She lifted her arms, took the straps of her slip in hands and began to pull the slip up and over her head. When the slack in the slip was in her hands, the heap of satin began to climb off her body. She carefully folded the slip and placed it reverently on a nearby chair.

She wore just a bra and her dress. The two buttons holding her dress together and maintaining it on her hips had been carefully chosen. I could verify the absence of panties but little else. She gave me a few seconds to stare expectantly. When I looked up, she smiled and pointed to her bra and then her dress followed by a flared hand position that asked, "Which one next?"

I pointed to her bra. She removed her bra without fanfare, casually reaching behind her back, unhooking the strap and letting the bra fall into her hands in front of her. She tossed the bra aside and stepped closer to me. She leaned close to me and whispered into my ear, "You can touch them it you want."

As she leaned, her pear shaped breasts hung on narrow bases from her chest. They expanded out into rounded globes with her nipples pointing at the floor. When I didn't respond quickly enough, she slid her lips across mine, barely touching, and whispered in my ear, "Touch me."

I reached out and hefted a breast in each hand. They were heavier and firmer than I expected. Emily closed her eyes and sighed. I squeezed her breasts gently. "Fuck," she whispered to no one in particular. Eventually, she stood up and positioned herself close in front of me. My face was almost perfectly aligned with her hips. "Next," she said.

I looked up at her face. Her smile was encouraging. I reached out and took the fabric on each side of the upper of the two remaining buttons between my fingers. With my fingers, I slid the button from its hole. Then I let go of her dress. That's all it took. The dress fell to the floor. The fact that she wasn't wearing panties was confirmed. The dark hair on her vulva was natural, unadorned, unmanaged, curly and contained into a small triangle. Emily pushed her hips in my direction. "Touch me," she ordered.

I slid one hand between her legs. She separated her legs further to assist me. I placed my other hand on her stomach below her navel and began to search for her clitoris in the jungle of pubic hair with my thumb. Her body began to tremble. When the trembling increased and threatened to unbalance her to the point of falling, I stood up and helped her to sit on the side of the bed.

I leaned over her, slid my lips across her lips and whispered in her ear, "My turn?"

She nodded vigorously, grabbed my face, kissed me and said, "Yes, and make it quick."

I tried my best. I lost my balance several times, sat on the bed, sat on the floor and generally made a mess, leaving my clothing in several piles on the floor. Emily had moved to the center of the bed and was laughing as I stood naked next to the bed. Later she told me that she had thoroughly enjoyed my quite comical performance trying to remove my clothing in a different order than I had put it on. In my own defense, I was only twenty-six at the time and while adequately schooled in the field of sexual activities, no one had ever come on to me quite that way.

Embarrassed but encouraged, I crawled into the bed alongside Emily. She reached for the proof of my horniness. "This is nice," she commented. "Do you know what to do with it?"

"I have a rough idea," I told her.

"Show me," she insisted.

I felt her legs separate next to me as she rolled on her back. I climbed over her left leg and on my knees between her legs. Emily gripped my erection again and pulled me into position. When my erection touched her warm labia, she rubbed it up and down between her lips effectively lubricating it.

"You know what to do," she said calmly.

I pushed my hips forward. Her labia separated and I slid inside her easily. I continued to push inside her. Her hips lifted and she pushed back. Our pubic bones connected at the same time that my erection pushed against her cervix.

"Ahhhhhhh," moaned Emily in a prolonged exhale. I realized she had been holding her breath.

Her eyes were closed. I leaned in and kissed her. A real kiss, not the teasing lip touching we had done earlier. Her eyes popped open, glowing brightly. She threw her arms around my neck and our kiss expanded until my erection wasn't the only thing I had in her body. I slid back and forth inside her between her hips and our tongues did the same between our lips. Her eyes closed again, her hands slid down my body to my hips and she began to push and pull on my hips.

I matched my movement inside her with the rhythm she established with her hands on my hips. Her hips joined the ensemble and we rumbled to an inevitable conclusion.

I got there first. I pushed against her hard, tensed every muscle in my body and pulsed 600 million live sperm deep into her vagina. Her shaking started as the first spurt hit her cervix. As my ejaculations tapered off and, by the time I finished, she was shaking uncontrollably and trying to curl into a ball under me.

Emily rolled onto her side with her knees almost against her chest and her hands squeezed tightly between her thighs. I curled up behind and wrapped my arms around her body. I held her like that as her trembling slowed and her body relaxed. As she recovered, she pulled my arms around her body and pressed my hands against her breasts.

Her breathing moderated and she whispered, "God, I'm glad we did that."

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm okay. I'm way beyond okay. I've only had a result like that a handful of times in my life and I remember every one of them. Whenever I'm alone and feeling randy, I grab one of my favorite toys and masturbate to the memory of one of them. I guarantee you that wasn't the last orgasm I'll have while replaying the last ten minutes."

"Wow," I whispered.

"I probably shouldn't have told you that," said a slightly abashed Emily.

"Told me what?" I said.

"Thank you," Emily said.

"Think nothing of it," I said. "But I do have a question."

"Ask away," said Emily. "I owe you at least an answer."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why? About what?" asked Emily.

"Why are we here? Doing this?" I explained. "We met scarcely an hour ago and here we are, in bed together, naked and sweating after an intense personal experience."

"I'll tell you but you have to promise not to be angry or even upset."

"How bad can it be if it resulted in what happened?" I asked. "I can't promise but I'll do my best to understand and not blame you."

"I was asked to do it," said Emily quietly. "And, before you respond," she quickly added. "I'd do it again if you're willing."

"You were asked to do it?" I didn't understand.

"Your wife is an incredible person and she's been nominated to become a member, along with you, her husband, to join the elite, the very personal elite, of the women's auxiliary. I was assigned to vet you."

"And that was how you vetted me?" I asked.

"As incredible as it seems, that's what I was assigned to do but what actually happened went much further," Emily responded.

"How'd I do?" I asked.

"I'm surprised you have to ask," answered Emily.

"I'm still lost," I said. "How does any of this relate to the church?"

"It doesn't," said Emily. "The church is not involved in any way. The social relationships created by the church only provide the means of locating candidates for our very exclusive and secretive group."

"And what's that, exactly?" I asked.

"We exist to only promote and participate in a hedonistic life style that satisfies our personal needs that we can't get from our conventional marriages," Emily explained.

"In other words, you have regular orgies," I stated.

"No," Emily responded. "It might seem that way at times, but we regularly gather to socialize, exchange ideas and feelings not usually discussed in similar gatherings and help each other to experience varied intense relationships. Sometimes we engage in small groups but we don't engage in specific wife or husband swapping or indiscriminate sexual activity."

"But everybody gets laid and not only with your spouses," I asked.

"That's usually the case but it's not that crude. It's a comfortable and pleasant experience that individuals in attendance frequently pass upon," Emily further explained.

"So, individuals can attend without their spouses?" I wanted to know.

"We discourage it but it happens," answered Emily.

"So that's why John was giving Emma a tour of the house?" I asked. "He was vetting her?"

"True," Emily said.

"And they had sex?" I asked.

"If Emma wanted to," said Emily.

"But she'd fail the test if she didn't," I stated.

"Not necessarily," said Emily. "We're evaluating an individual's acceptance of our concept. Sex is an excellent indicator but we have initiated members without having sex during the vetting process. They usually engage with us after a few meetings."

"So, what happens next?" I asked.

"I'd love to spend the rest of the night with you," Emily said. "But we're expected back in the main room, but I want you to promise that we'll spend valuable time together, possibly all night, in the future."

"Does that mean Emma and I are members of the group?" I asked.