Opening the Door: The Stash

My new life started the day I found my husband's magazine stash.

We were doing some cleaning out. Old clothes were at the top of my list because we needed closet space. While Larry was dealing with the attic, putting up hangers and moving boxes around, I was attacking his closet. As I pulled out a batch of his oldest suits and shirts, I found about forty magazines in a stack. They'd been hidden in the back corner where I would ordinarily not look.

I pulled the top one from the stack and fingered through it. It featured articles on swapping, swinging, threesomes, foursomes, group sex, and gangbangs. I flipped through the pages and skimmed a couple of the articles. As I scanned backward, I came across a letters section that detailed the excitement generated when these men saw their wives or girlfriends engaged in sex with other men. I was floored.

One after another, I worked my way through the stack. Some dates were fairly recent, but others went back years. I determined Larry had collected what he considered a "best of" set of the issues. Whatever contributed to that decision was not readily apparent. They all seemed to be pretty similar in content to me.

Eventually, after having read through three of them and scanning many of the others, I put them all back in their original spot and pushed the remaining clothes down the hanging rod so they would be covered once again. I noticed, however, as I performed these tasks, that I had been aroused by the content of the issues I'd read.

This was new territory for me. Larry and I had a conventional marriage to this point. He never even suggested this type of activity. Our sex lives were regular, but fairly uneventful. Two or three times a week Larry and I would make love. That was it. Once in a while, we experimented with a different position. We'd occasionally engage in some oral sex as part of foreplay, but I would term our usual activities as fairly normal, mundane, and according to Larry's stash of literature, boring.

The rest of that Saturday was spent moving the clothing to the attic, selecting some for disposal and general cleaning up around our place. I was determined not to mention my discovery to my husband until the time was right.

Saturday night is our usual night out. We visited one of a dozen or so regular haunts for dinner and drinks. I suggested we go to one of those restaurants with a bar centrally located within the dining room. The ambience of the place was a little loud, but the music was good and the clientele usually well behaved. Larry agreed.

As we ate our dinner, I scanned the bar area looking for likely candidates. Finally, I asked my husband the crucial question.

"Do you think that guy would like to screw me?" I said, pointing to one of the better looking fellows in the bar area. Larry's face went white.

"What did you say?" he asked. His face was frozen.

"I asked if you thought that guy would like to fuck me, Larry. Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you," he responded, "but I don't believe what I'm hearing."

I put another forkful of food in my mouth and chewed slowly, looking straight at him. After swallowing, I took a sip of wine and smiled at him.

"What would you think," I began, "or feel like, Larry. Imagine me naked, my legs in the air, spread wide, and that guy right there," I nodded, poking the back of my fork in the general direction of the bar, "in between my legs, pounding his cock into me?"

"Have you lost your mind?" he said.

I smiled at him and shook my head very slowly. "I know you've thought about it in general terms, Sweetie. I want to know, what if we took that specific guy," I nodded toward the individual in the bar, "and invited him to a hotel room so you could watch him fuck me. Would you like that? Would it turn you on? Doesn't it turn you on just considering it? Would you like to see me suck his cock, too?"

Larry was aghast.

I laughed. "Don't look so astonished, my darling. I found your stash of magazines. I read them all. There's seems to be a common thread. In all of them, the wife, me, is fucking somebody while her devoted spouse, presumably you, watches. Sometimes he gets to fuck another woman, and other times he just watches. The fact you saved all those magazines says it's something that turns you on. I want to know if you're serious about it."

He could have been slugged in the gut the way he looked. His poise evaporated. He actually looked ashamed.

"They're just...I don't know," he said, glumly, "fantasies."

"Ah," I nodded. "And, when you fantasize, am I there? Is it me?"

Larry looked deflated. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"I'm not mad, Larry," I comforted him. "In fact, reading all that stuff got me pretty hot, too. But, I'd like to know why that particular fantasy."

"Because," he said, after a deep breath, "I never get to watch. When we're together, I'm always so occupied that I never get to see you. Everything is colored by my own involvement." He shrugged his shoulders.

"So, you'd like to see me fucking without being involved, as you say?"

"Something like that."

I nibbled another morsel from my plate as I considered my husband's answers. He had been my third lover. Sex was an activity for the males of the species, I'd always believed. The female participated in order to make her man happy. The orgasms I'd experienced with Larry were the first and an unexpected benefit of the act. They were pleasurable, to be sure, and an affirmation, I had always thought, that I had found the right man.

"I'll tell you what," I said, finally. "I'll consider making your fantasy a reality."

"You don't have to do that," he protested.

"I know I don't. But, I told you, those magazine articles, or letters, or whatever, had an effect on me, too. I just might like doing it. Anyway, before I do, you have to do something for me."

"What's that?" he asked, not entirely convinced of the idea, yet.

"We're going to do a little role-playing first to see if I'd like it."

"How are we going to do that?"

"We're going to keep the lights off and pick a name, any man's name. You'll be that man for the night. Then you can fuck me like that man and I'll see if I like it."

"I told you that you didn't have to do anything," he reminded me.

I smiled at him. "I know, Sweetie. You never know, though. Maybe I'll get off on it as much as you do and your fantasy can become a reality. Who knows? This little adventure could give our sex life a kick in the backside. That would be a change for us, wouldn't it?"

"You know I've never complained about our sex life," he said.

"But there must be something," I responded. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have collected those magazines.

"Besides," I continued, "before I read your collection today I'd always thought sex was a duty of marriage. An enjoyable duty, to be sure, but I'd never considered it a vital element of our relationship. I think it would be fun to make it one."

Larry surprised me. He dabbed at his lips with the dinner napkin, stood up and disappeared into the bar. He stayed gone for about ten minutes. He returned to our table with a glass of whiskey and a serious look on his face.

"His name is Greg," he said. "He's an attorney working on a divestment case for some investment bank that's gone broke. He's single, well, divorced. He doesn't live here, but is staying in a condo his company arranged while he works out the details of his case. He expects to be in town for another three months. Here is his card."

Larry reached across the table and handed me the business card. The front was embossed with the name, address of a firm from St. Louis, and the words "Attorney at Law", and several telephone numbers. On the back was his local address and cell phone number.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Hold on to it," Larry told me. "Maybe sometime in the next three months we'll decide to call him. For legal advice."

"Or maybe," I said, slowly, "you could take me home, strip me and fuck me, Greg."

We barely made it to the house.

Larry played his part to perfection. We did things to each other we'd never considered in the course of our normal coital relations. In the dark of our bedroom, he kissed and licked every part of my body as he stripped the clothing off me. My nipples seemed alive with electricity as he suckled them while he unsnapped my brassiere. I could not keep my pussy from pushing forward as his lips and tongue traced their way to my navel. When he slipped his thumbs in my thong and pulled them over my hips, his mouth slid sensuously down my belly until his tongue was driving between my labia and slurping up the wetness that had developed there since we'd left the restaurant.

"Leave the stockings and heels," Larry/Greg growled as I stepped out of the small pile of my clothing and spread my legs to give him greater access to my dripping pussy.

I shuddered with tiny orgasms as his tongue scrapped across my clit and tickled the outer regions of my vaginal orifice. For the first time in my life I actually ached to feel a cock slide in there and told my lover of my desire.

"Please," I begged, my voice unfamiliar to me with the strange whimper of desire, "I want you to fuck me."

"Who am I?" Larry growled.

"You're Greg," I whispered.

"Then ask Greg," he mumbled.

"Please, fuck me, Greg. I want your cock inside me. Come fuck me, Greg."

In seconds I was on my back on the bed. My legs were lifted to his shoulders and I felt the bulbous, rubbery head of his cock probing my opening. I shifted my hips, spreading wide to allow him access. The head popped in, then withdrew. The next thrust succeeded in only half the cock I needed. By the third, he was fully lodged inside me. His arms wrapped under me, his hands on my shoulders pulling me against his hips and filling me with deliciously full and throbbing cock.

"Squeeze my cock with your muscles," my love directed. "Feel Greg's cock fully inside you, ready to pump his come into you."

I squeezed. I could feel the log of his member filling every space inside me. My heart was pounding rapidly. "You feel so wonderful inside me, Greg," I whispered. "You're filling me up. It feels so good!"

Sex had always been very nice. This was incredible! Every nerve in my body shrieked desire with the contact. I craved stimulation.

"Fuck me, Greg," I pleaded. "Fuck me now."

The log of flesh inside me began to move and the nerves inside me quivered with the sensation. My belly seemed aflame. The heat oozed up my sides and around my back to where his arms clasped me to him. Normally reserved and fairly quiet during intercourse, a stream of invective and encouragement involuntarily began streaming from me.

"That's it," I snarled. "Fuck me with your hard cock. Fill me up. Keep moving. I want to fuck you. Fuck me. Give me your prick. Pound your meat into me. Fuck me harder. I want you to fuck me."

"Say my name," he growled.

"Yes," I acknowledge. "Fuck me, Greg. I want Greg's cock inside me. Oh, yes! You're making me come, Greg. Don't stop moving. Please fuck me, Greg. Harder, Greg. Do it faster."

My mind's eye formed a visual tableau in the darkness of the room. I could see Greg's handsome features, his face grim in determination as he plunged himself inside the woman on the bed with her stocking-clad legs and heel-covered feel waving in the air with every thrust. I knew I was that woman I was watching. It heightened the sensation, the stimulation to realize that the cock pounding into me was his, and I was there as a receptacle for his sex. He wanted me. I was attractive, sensual, and a great fuck. This was marvelous!

I was amazed at how easy it was to accomplish this pretense. There in the dark, the cock plunging into me could have belonged to anyone. It was simple to keep the attractive face of Greg, the attorney, in my mind's eye. For his part, Larry restrained from any activity that could be identified as uniquely his. I felt completely wanton, like a fully sensual creature with the sole purpose of achieving my own gratification. That meat pounding into me, invisible in the darkness, was there to for only one reason; to make me feel the exquisite sensations of a glorious orgasm. I surrendered to that general feeling of shameless self-indulgence.

I couldn't count the number of small orgasms I'd had. A big one was building. I could feel the origins deep in my belly. A wonderful, warm ball seemed to grow there and spread heat into my loins, thighs and knees. At several points of juncture between the pounding meat and my own sensitive flesh tingled with craving at the friction.

"Fuck me, Greg," I cried out. "I'm so close. Fuck me 'til I come. Your cock feels so good! I want it. I want your cock to pound in me. I want your hot seed inside me. Please fuck me!" The last came out as a scream as I topped the crest of the giant wave that swept over me.

The effect was that my mystery cock lodged at its fullest penetration and pulsed, stretching my innards as I convulsed on the invasive meat. He pulled out and shoved back in, my own involuntary convulsions pressing hard against him as he plunged inside me. Hot spurts of his come bathed my flesh, sparking a recognition in my mind.

"You're coming inside me!" I yelled. "Oh, yes! Fill me with your seed. Let me feel your heat. Pump your come into me."

My lover plunged deliberately deep inside and unleashed a huge, hot spurt that warmly coated my inner flesh. Three, four, five spurts, and then it was over. I slowly gathered my wits as I gasped for breath.

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed. "That was fantastic!"

We lay, panting, joined, and recovering for several minutes. Larry's cock began to soften and he rolled away.

"You never used to talk that way," Larry gasped.

"It's not my usual vocabulary," I admitted. "After I read your magazines, though, it seemed like everybody uses those words."

"I liked it," Larry said. "For the first time it seemed like you really liked it, too."

I rolled to my side and reached for him in the dark. "I always liked it," I told him. "But, this time it was really different. This time it was raw and primal. This was just sex. It was exciting."

"Must have been the Greg factor," he tendered.

Was that the factor, I wondered? Was it the idea of a different cock? Maybe it was. But, there was another option.

"It could be that," I told my husband. "But, I think it might be something else. I think that Larry always made love to me. Tonight was a fuck. You got turned on. I got turned on. We were connected to our basic animal instincts. As far as I can remember, we haven't ever done that before.

"I had no anticipation that Greg would make love to me. He'd just want to fuck. That allowed me to drop all pretence and simply do the animal basic. So, did you like it?"

"Oh, yeah," he grinned. "I like the animal side of Laurie. Not all the time, mind you. But, once in a while it's nice to see that aspect of you."

"How about most of the time?" I asked him. "Once in a while you'll see the devoted, loving, tender wife."

Larry laughed, "So, you do like it?"

"You know what I like?" I asked. "I like having the freedom to ask you if you want to fuck. I like being able to be nasty and wanton with you. I like the feeling of celebrating our sexuality. And, I like the variety of fucking and, when it's appropriate and necessary, making love."

"What about the Greg thing?" he wanted to know.

"It's a great tool," I said. "I'm not sure we'll need it, though. We might try this role-playing bit a couple of more times and see if it makes a difference. Frankly, though, if you fill the bill, I don't see the need."

"So, I should throw away his card with all the numbers?"

"That's a fantasy, Sweetie," I told him, giving him a hug. "But, maybe you should keep it, though. Who knows? We might need some legal advice sometime in the future."