tagLoving WivesPlay Date

Play Date


I don't know what this says about my self-confidence, but I've often noticed that what attracts me to a woman is how she looks at me. Give me a look that says "you're kinda nice" and I'll do anything for you, it seems. Or so my wife, Jill, has pointed out on a few occasions, and she should know. I practically wrote her papers for her our senior year in college, and all because she tugged a stray lock of long blonde hair over one ear and told me, in so many words, that I looked like I was a smart guy.

Fifteen years later, I was apparently staring at another woman at our son's basketball practice, because Jill startled me by whispering "She's kind of cute, isn't she?" into my ear.

I quickly looked away. "Who are you talking about?"

"Who else, Doug? The young little blonde cutie on the bleachers over there. She looks sorta like me: I guess I should take that as a compliment."

I tried to deny it, but we both knew I was busted. I'd been stealing glances at the bleachers, and at the young woman, ever since the game started. She did look a bit like Jill - blonde, athletic, well-dressed. Squared away. Her white blouse was tailored, but not too tight. Her jeans flattered her figure, especially her trim little ass, which I got a chance to admire when she walked down to the court to give her son (her step-son, I later learned) a water bottle. But they didn't look like she was poured into them. And she was wearing neat little brown loafers on her feet, not fuck-me heels like a desperate housewife or beat-up tennis shoes like some of the women who'd given up on life and kept the fifty pounds they'd gained after their third pregnancy.

And then she'd smiled at me, which was when she really hooked me, and I didn't even know her name (Not that I'd wanted to - Jill was my one and only). A smile that indicated there was nothing more natural in the world than that one of the team dads would make appreciative eye contact with one of the team moms. Nothing pervy about it at all, even if she was 8-10 years younger than us.

It was another two weeks before I had a chance to say hi to her. Jill had been teasing me about my renewed interest in William's basketball practices, but one night she had to go grocery shopping and I volunteered to take him. Her name was Anne, and her step-son Charles was becoming one of William's friends on the 12 and under team. My heart nearly stopped when Anne said "we should have a play date." I must have done a bit of a double-take, because she laughed softly and said "that is, I could bring Charles over. He's told me all about your basketball goal in the driveway. If you think that would be okay."

I controlled my emotions enough to say that I thought William would love it, and that I'd check with Jill about a good time. Later that night, I made it a point to give Jill the task of calling her to confirm details, although it didn't stop her from teasing me. "Oh-ho, got her to come over, have we?" Jill talked to Anne quite a while on the phone, in the kitchen while she stirred soup. I strained to hear some of their conversation, but William had the Wii cranked up with some noisy game and I didn't hear much.

After awhile she came in and sat down next to me. "Soup's on, when you're ready."

"What did they have to say about Charles coming over?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"She. Feminine singular. 'They' is a plural neuter pronoun, and sometimes used as a cop-out."

"Okay, grammar Nazi," I hissed into her ear, laughing, not sure why I was whispering. "What did she say?"

"I invited the whole family over Friday night. Charles and William to practice until they're worn out, supper to follow, Charles staying over because they have a game that Saturday morning."

"Okay, so her husband's coming too?" I said, neutrally.

"Don't sound so disappointed. She's not sure, really. He's got to get his other son over to the ex-wife; technically they're both supposed to be there but Anne doesn't think it's a problem. Usually the ex-wife is reasonable, and they all get along great. Anyway, her husband, Charles Sr., has to work until 6 and then get his other son across town; Anne said he'll probably tell her to start without him."

"That's what she said," we both whispered to each other flatly, giggling. I stole a kiss from Jill while William wasn't looking; I needn't have worried that he would look away from the flat screen TV and the explosions occurring there.


That night, lying together in the dark, Jill decided to play one of my favorite games in bed, which we call "I'll tell you mine if you'll tell me yours" -- what stray sexual thoughts had plagued us that week. As usual, I had to go first. I told her about one of our new contractors in my I.T. firm, a shapely young lady from India who likes to wear saris. I told her the thought had crossed my mind that I'd like to ask her to show me how she puts that thing on, preferably while we were alone in my private office.

"You're sure that's the main thing you're thinking about this week?" Jill asked as I caressed one of her nipples and she rubbed my cock through my underwear.

"Your turn," I said.

"The whole time I was talking to Anne, I was fantasizing about you with her."

"Really?" I said, hoping that the immediate perking up of my erection wasn't too obvious.

"Yep," she half-whispered, half-moaned as my fingers trailed down her abdomen and curled through her trim bush. "Kind of narcissistic, really. I thought it would be as close as I could come to watching us together, not counting those videos, of course. Like an out of body experience for me. Poor you, though. Not much of a fantasy. She looks so much like me; it would be a busman's holiday."

"I think it would be okay for me. In our fantasy world, of course."

"Of course. Darling, could you go down there for me first? I promise to make it up to you."

Actually, I love giving my wife head; she likes to talk like it's a chore because she's just a little bit on the dom side in bed. I eagerly scooted down and began to cover her thighs with kisses as she squirmed into position; her sock-covered feet on my back. As I began to lightly tongue her outer lips, she began to squirm; she was way more turned on than she normally was at this stage. I went very quickly to inserting my tongue in her. I could have sworn that she had a bit of an orgasm from that, but she didn't seem to want me to stop, so I pressed on, gently stroking her clit with my thumb, which was covered with her juices. When she began to buck against my hand I gently inserted two fingers and lightly pinched it all together; thumb and fingers on a slippery slope. She threw her head back and moaned. She thrashed so hard I was afraid I would hurt her, then she shuddered and stopped.

"Oh, sweetie, I know I said I'd return the favor," she said when she caught her breath. "But can you fuck me really hard first?" She pulled my underwear off of me, then turned over and stuck her ass in the air.

"That's returning the favor, in my book," I said, caressing her ass and running my hands down to cup her breasts as I easily slid into her wet pussy.

"Oh, god, faster and harder. I know, baby, but I know how you like your blow jobs, too. Pretend you're fucking Anne; you've bent her over the side of the hot tub..."

I nearly came on the spot; as it was I had to stop or it would have been all over. "Oh, you do like that idea," she laughed as she pushed back on me mercilessly. "Oh, fuck her hard, baby, fuck her hard."

That took me into that plateau where, strange as it sounds, it feels so good you can't quite come. I took Jill hard and fast for about two minutes after that, our bodies slapping together, Jill cursing and telling me to fuck her harder. She started coming, and then so did I; I wanted to pull out so I could spew it all over her back, but she kept me trapped, receiving my spunk deep up in her pussy as she sighed with satisfaction.


When Anne and Charles came over, her husband wasn't with them. Anne had the practiced look of a single mom, even though she had no children of her own. Charles and William went outside to practice their dribbling and shooting skills. We sat around on the sofa in our rec room downstairs drinking wine. Jill had grabbed the seat next to Anne on the love seat, which suited me fine. I lay back on the couch and took turns looking at them both. You wouldn't confuse one for the other, but they really were the same "type" - blonde, toned, and narrow-waisted. Anne was in a sleeveless dress with a skirt that didn't quite make it to her knees. The main difference was the breasts: Jill's were larger and looser, while Anne's were smaller and perkier. I fought back images of taking one of Anne's entire breasts in my hand, and rubbing on her nipple until it hardened.

We made the inevitable small talk; I was an IT guy, Jill was a lawyer, Anne was - well, she called herself a homemaker and part-time interior designer, but I got the impression that her husband made most of the money and that they had a maid who did most of the work around the house. Charles was her step-son, but she seemed to genuinely adore him. It was a nice conversation, but it served to build that wall of normalcy around the weird fantasies Jill and I had gotten off on. We were all married, upper-middle class people in the suburbs, and that was probably that.

As I was thinking this, Anne's cell phone rang and she was in a brief conversation with her husband, twisting a finger in her hair. "Okay, see you tomorrow," she said, and ended the call.

"I guess we're not waiting dinner on him, then?" Jill asked, taking another sip of wine.

"No, he's not coming home tonight," she said as she reached for her glass.

I tried to keep my jaw from dropping with the implications, since we all knew he was gone to take his other son to his ex-wife's house. Jill tried to give her a chance to cover: "He's going out of town, then?"

"No, he's presumably sleeping with Amy tonight." Anne drank some more wine.

I gave up on trying to keep a straight face. Jill, never one to shy away from the obvious, simply said "Oh my," sympathetically.

Anne laughed. "I can't really complain, can I? I started out as the 'other woman,' and Amy divorced him because she wanted to be single so she could run around too. Charlie is a great husband and father and takes great care of us; he just works a lot and likes a little variety every now and then. Mostly it happens when she's going through a bit of a dry spell, as it were, and she calls and asks if she can borrow him back for the evening. C'est la vie, and I'd rather it be this way than dealing with a bitchy ex-wife. She even comes over sometimes."

I adjusted my legs to avoid my interest in this developing story becoming too obvious through my jeans. Jill asked "How does Charles Jr. take all this? And his brother?"

"Oh, they don't understand all that's going on. He grew up with Charles and Amy, so it probably doesn't occur to him that it's odd for his father to stay there, and when she's come over, she's had her own room. It's kind of like a sleepover! Sorry, we are way into TMI territory, aren't we?" Anne said, putting her glass down. "I think his brother Stephen is starting to catch on, though."

"And to think that Doug felt guilty because I caught him looking at you a few weeks ago," Jill laughed.

I felt like crawling under the couch, but Anne said "That's okay; I was looking at him a bit, too." They were both laughing at that when the boys came down the stairs, hot and sweaty from their play, instantly switching us into parental mode.

"I'll get some pizza on order; how does that sound, boys?" Jill asked, to enthusiastic cries of joy.

"Why don't you get into the shower while we're doing that, sport?" I asked William. "Charles brought his stuff to stay over, right?" I asked Anne.

She nodded and took the cue, which was good; I don't like telling other people's kids what to do "Charles, why don't you take a shower after William does? I'm sure he can show you where the towels are."

"Okay, Anne," he said, which sounded strange until I remembered Anne wasn't his mother. There was a little reluctance in his voice I couldn't make out, until I remembered how shy I was as a 12 year old to undress around other boys.

"Actually, Charles, there's a shower in the guest room. I'll show you where everything is," I said as William, with the obliviousness typical of his age, had already taken off to his room, which also had a shower in it.

"His stuff is in the car; I'll go get it and see you up there," Anne said as we made our way upstairs.

A minute or so later, Anne found us in the guest room. I'd gotten towels for Charles and shown him where more were to be found, and as Anne entered Charles braced himself for the embarrassment of someone unpacking his underwear in front of someone else. She spared him this, simply putting his bag on the bed and saying "It's all in there, dear," and retreating. As we went down the bedroom hallway, I stifled a giggle. "What?" Anne asked.

"Poor guy," I said. "When I was his age I was so easily embarrassed by stuff like this."

"Oh, yeah, you're right. My brother was like that. I guess girls don't go through that as much. Or rather, so much we get used to it." We had stopped in the dim hallway, and I could hear the showers start up on both side of us. "Say, how many showers do you have in this house?"

"I had one put in all three rooms over here on this side and there's another in the master bedroom, which is down the hall."


"It's our dream house. Make sure Charles knows he's welcome anytime."

"Thanks. We like sleepovers," she laughed as we descended the stairs to the main living area and the kitchen.

"I'm off to pick up the pizza," Jill called from the door by the garage. "Make yourself at home, Anne." The door closed.

"She's not getting it delivered?"

"We're just a mile or two outside their delivery area. We like this local pizza place, but one of us has to go get it." We picked up the wine glasses we had brought up earlier, and I motioned her over to the kitchen table. "Speaking of embarrassing, my wife has a way of prying stuff out of people. I think it's the lawyer in her."

Anne laughed. "She didn't exactly pry it out of me. Wine acts like sodium pentothol on me. Cheers," she said, and we clinked our glasses.

"More?" I asked, picking up the bottle and smiling at her.

"Why not? You know all my secrets already," she said, moving her glass over for me to pour. "You haven't revealed many of yours, though. Your wife and I did most of the talking."

"Oh, I'm but a humble IT guy. I'm an open book. Like any other kind of engineer, it's strictly tab A into slot B. Uh, so to speak. God, that was tacky..." I said as she started laughing.

After she stopped: "I bet there's more to you than that," she said quietly, looking directly at me. Her legs were crossed, and her skirt was riding up a bit. I tried not to look at her legs. I thought I could feel a little heat coming from her, which wasn't possible; I wasn't sitting that close. Perhaps it was a faint scent. "So is Jill's life with you as complicated as mine?"

"No," I said, breaking the eye contact by drinking again. "Just one spouse apiece. I will admit, sometimes when we're trying to get William everywhere he wants to go, with all the hours we work, we've joked about needing an extra spouse, and wondered where we could get an 'ex'."

"Sometimes two is better than one," she agreed, whereupon one of those awkward silences ensued. It was either kiss her or start telling her about my job.

"So I mainly do I.T. application security, if you were wondering..."


"I left her alone with you, the boys were upstairs, and you started babbling about your job?" Jill exhaled with a laugh that sounded like a sigh.

I took my mouth off her right nipple long enough to say "Jill! I've never cheated on you. We were just talking."

"I know," she said. "I wasn't saying to rape her. I'm just amazed that with all that build-up you didn't neck with her a little, or something."

"I don't neck with every woman I meet, either. She might have slapped me."

"Oh, she wouldn't have slapped you. She might have raped you, is what might have happened," she giggled. "Ohhh, I like that, keep going."

"I don't know if she likes me like that."

"She likes you like that. I saw the way she kept crossing her legs. She told us all about her love life. She didn't have to do that."

"It sounds a little complicated."

"Uhhngh. Shut up and fuck me."


On the next play date, Anne arrived in jeans and a sweater. "I can actually go to the game tomorrow, guys," she said as we began to eat our salads, later on. "Big Charlie has Stephen and is picking up Charlie after the game, and I don't have any clients to meet."

"Great!" Jill said. "One of these times you should just stay over with us."

"Oh, I just live up the way." I began to watch the eye contact between the two of them. The boys were also paying attention to the conversation. "Not much point, really."

"Well, the boys like staying up late and playing games," Jill said. I nudged her with a foot. What the hell?

"Yeah, Miss Anne, that would be awesome!" William said, helping himself to a breadstick. He seemed innocent of everything, except maybe of having been coached a little.

"What do you think of that, Doug?" Jill asked me.

I shrugged, trying not to slosh my wine glass as I did so. "Our casa is your casa. Whatever you ladies decide." I smiled, trying to make sure I was doing so with my entire face. Exciting as I found Anne to be, I felt like we were heading into major mixed signals territory.

Lest you think Jill and I were experienced swingers, we really weren't. I'd had a brief affair early in our marriage, when we were both stupid kids. Jill hadn't known; I felt awful about it, ended it, and eventually confessed about a year later. She wasn't happy about it, but she forgave me and I spent the next year trying to make up for it. During that time, while she was trying to decide whether she was over it, she made it a point to flirt with every man we both knew. As far as I knew, that had been the extent of the extracurricular activities. We weren't prudes, but we knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and we knew how damaging an affair could be. Or so I thought.

"Why not stay with us, Anne?" Charles Jr. asked. "It'll be fun - we could all play a game on the Wii."

"It's tempting, but to be honest kids, I'm a little sloshed right now. I shouldn't be going back for clothes and stuff, and when I go later I'll be tired and just want to crawl into bed."

This perked me up. I didn't want anyone to drive drunk, or tired, for that matter. I was about to say something when Jill spoke. "Nonsense, come upstairs and I'll find you some things and a toothbrush. You're about my size." On one level I was glad she said it; on another I wondered where this was going to lead. To be honest, I practically knew where this was going to lead.

We finished dinner and we all wound up playing on the Wii. After the kids beat the grownups on several games and it started to get late, we made them go to bed and we started doing stuff with Wii Fit. Yoga and red wine are an interesting combination.

Anne got up on the balance board and began to do a yoga pose. As she began to fall over to one side, I reached over to steady her,, and she came down into my arms like we were slow dancing.

"Hi," she said, as Jill laughed and applauded.

"Maybe we can watch a little TV before bedtime," I suggested.

With what seemed like a little subtle manipulation from Jill as to who sat where, I wound up sitting between the two women on the couch, our stocking feet propped up on the coffee table, watching a romantic comedy. A large bowl of popcorn was placed on my lap by Jill, and both women reached for it mindlessly as we watched. I knew from having watched the movie before that there was a bit of a steamy scene coming up, and I wondered what their reaction would be. They both dropped kernels of popcorn on my shirt and pants leg from time to time and picked them off of me, which can be hotter than it sounds, especially when they turned sideways to me and reached across my chest, their breasts brushing my shoulder and chest.

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