Rachel Goes Back to School

"I really thought I would get yelled at," my wife said.

"Why did you call me to come to you?" I asked.

"I don't know. I guess I wanted to feel safe and even if you got angry it was worth it," she replied.

A profound message existed in her words, and I squeezed her tightly, and said, "I'm glad you did. Plus, you know I can't yell at you."

"Well, not usually," she giggled, and then quickly added, "I still can't believe I did it."

"Mmmm... it's the condo sweetie. Like I told you before, the sleeping naked, shaving, flirting with students and professors, and teasing the repair guy all because you have that place," I told her and after a pause, I continued with, "We should get rid of it."

I had purposefully poked her as I knew she loved the place and the freedom it provided, so I had to fight back a laugh when she immediately countered, "It's not the condo."

"That means it's you," I whispered as I found her lips with mine.

The kiss gave her time to regroup and as soon as it ended, she replied, "You bought the robe."

"True," I answered.

"And you bought it knowing about the guy and even teased me about wearing it. You're culpable," she said with her voice gaining momentum.

"Maybe..." I replied, impressed by her rebuttal.

"So, we're keeping my place," she declared.

I couldn't help but chuckle and Rachel joined in before kissing me. We held the embrace for a time as we gently fondled each other, but a thought entered my head and when we broke, I said, "He's going to come around again. I'm worried about him trying something."

"I'll stay away. Besides, one trampy episode is enough," she replied.

The follow-up to her encounter with Larry and the sharing we experienced opened things between us even more. Now, each evening when we talked on the phone, she would share any flirtations that had occurred that day. Stunned by the frequency of the attempts, at first, I thought she might be teasing me, but when I pressed, she explained it was the norm. She went on to describe similar situations with her friends and how they often would compare notes. That led me to attempt to get her to share the local occurrences, but like before, she refused to go down the path.

Typically, we had phone sex when she finished talking about her day, and before long, in my mind, I was linking the flirtatious interactions she had with our play. At first, it was about them seeing her, like the maintenance man, in the sexy robe, but it wasn't long before other more decadent thoughts developed. My thoughts led me to probe more about the men which I managed to do without Rachel sensing any ulterior motive. Professor Henry Kott, I learned, had emigrated from Poland and as she had described before, was tall and slender with a bald head. However, now she stated his age as mid-forties rather than the 50ish estimate she had previously provided. Also, I learned his Polish wife, named Anna, was younger and attractive. She taught European History at the university. While Rachel didn't have a class with the professor in the current semester, she saw him often in the building.

Josh, the student from her workgroup was mid-twenties, and large. She said he was around six-feet tall and guessed he weighed over 200 lbs. He had long red hair that reached his shoulders and a full beard. They were on a similar degree plan so shared classes and even though the workgroup activities had ended, they had formed an informal study group with several other students.

At times, she mentioned others, but these men never demonstrated the consistent effort like Josh and Dr. Kott. On occasion, I thought about sharing some of the visions invading my brain, but the moment never seemed right. However, when she announced the study group would be meeting at the condo the next day the wheels immediately started to turn, and when she called later that evening, already in bed, I couldn't hold back.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"Fine... I got some wine and made some snacks," she explained.

"Who was there?" I probed.

"Just Josh and Carin. Antonio couldn't make it," she advised.

"Did Josh flirt?" I pushed.

My question made her start to giggle, and then she replied, "That's what you're really interested in knowing!"

"Yes... did he?" I asked.

"He stayed behind after Carin left," she announced with her voice intentionally becoming lower.

"What happened?" I asked, and realizing I sounded too eager, I paused and then said, "Did he flirt?"

"Sounds like you wanted him to," she replied.

"Did he?" I tried again.

"Yeah..." she responded, this time in a whisper.

"Tell me," I demanded.

"He wanted to see the apartment and when we got to the bedroom he asked if I was ready for some fun," she explained.

"He just flat asked you for sex," I gasped, surprised even a young man would be so aggressive, and before she could speak, I asked, "What did you do?"

"I left the room but he didn't follow, so I had to go back and get him," she described.

"Did he try again?" I asked.

"Yes, basically the same thing, but this time he followed me out. Then, he got his things and left," she said.

"Were you going to tell me?" I asked.

"Of course, but you jumped straight to the questioning before I could," she declared defensively.

"Okay, you're right," I acknowledged and then a thought hit me and I asked, "Are you wet?"

"What! What kind of question is that?" she responded with surprise.

"Are you?" I pushed.

There followed a long pause before she finally admitted, "A little..."

"From Josh," I stated.

"No! No, from telling you," she replied.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's kind of fun," she giggled.

My laughter joined hers and we discussed the man's attempts a bit more. From the interaction, I could tell she was in a playful mood and hadn't taken offense to my questions, so I decided to continue.

"You should have put on the robe," I teased.

"That thing? I threw it away," she responded, and a wave of disappointment swept through me.

"Really," I asked dejectedly.

"No... my God you're so easy," she laughed, and then added, "How do you know I didn't put it on? Maybe I did."

Rachel had never been so daring in her play and instantly my half-hard dick became fully erect. I couldn't help but visualize her parading around the small space in the sexy garment with the student following her like a hound dog.

"You should have," I answered.

"I'm horny, baby," she whined, changing the subject.

I knew if I asked, she would claim it was because of me or our conversation, but I believed, or perhaps wanted to believe, that at least part of it was a result of the young man's efforts.

Guessing she wanted permission to masturbate, I replied, "Sorry, sweetie. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Maybe, I should call Josh back," she whined.

"Maybe," I answered which brought a loud gasp.

The call ended soon after with her whining about her state until it ended. It had easily been the most playful discussion involving others we had ever had and provided further support for the openness created in our relationship due to our discussions following the maintenance man encounter. While my wife had a ban on self-play, it didn't extend to me and I slowly pulled on my dick as I thought about the call and her description of the student. Before long, I could feel my balls tighten, and then my semen began spewing onto my stomach.

The following week, I was in the middle of some work when I got a call from Rachel who had left earlier for the city. It was too early for our phone sex time, so I suspected she needed help with something or had a question about the kids.

"Hi, honey. I just arrived and looked for the dress I wanted to wear to the party Saturday but it's not here and I vaguely remember taking it to the cleaners. Can you check and see if it's there?" she asked.

"Sure, I'll do it right now," I replied.

"Hold on, someone's at the door," she said, and after a few seconds of silence, she came back on and announced, "It's the repairman... Larry. What do I do?"

"Before I could respond, in the background I could hear a man's voice calling out, "Hello?"

I hoped that he thought the condo was empty and had let himself inside to do what he needed as the other reason was not good.

"Larry, I'm here," I heard Rachel respond in a loud voice.

Following that, I could hear words being exchanged that I couldn't make out before my wife said to me in a whisper, "He's here to check on the A/C. I'm in the bedroom."

I thought about saying his timing seemed suspect and that he might have seen her arrive, but deciding it would serve no purpose, I merely asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she responded and I noted there appeared to be no stress in her voice.

Then, unable to hold back, I said, "Your admirer."

"One of them," she answered playfully.

She started to giggle and suddenly my concerns about her safety melted away, replaced by a surge of sexual excitement, and without thinking it through, I said, "You should put on your robe."

"What?" she replied in shock, but before I could offer an apology, she stunned me when she asked, "Really? Should I?"

In a thousandth of a second, my mouth became bone dry, and with my head spinning, I managed to croak out, "Yeah..."

It seemed like time stood still, and then in a tiny voice, I heard her say, "Okay..."

I had expected us to discuss it some more, but the phone suddenly went dead and I found myself staring at the small screen. It took only a few seconds to determine what I wanted to do, and I practically ran to my SUV, jumped in, and raced towards the city, hitting eighty before I had reached the city limits. The drive to the condo would take me just under ninety minutes and with each mile, I expected to hear the ringing of my phone. It finally arrived when I was half-way there and I had to use maximum willpower to remain calm so I could speak clearly.

"Are you okay?" I asked immediately.

"Yeah..." she answered vaguely.

"Rachel, what happened?" I asked.

"I... I did... I went out with the robe on like we said," she answered and I could hear the nervousness in her voice.

"Look I'm on my way. Did anything happen?" I pushed.

"We can talk about it when you get here," she replied and before I could protest, she said, "I think he's at the door again."

"Rachel..." I started.

"Let me check," she interjected, and once more, the call ended.

I tried to call her but it went unanswered, and now quite worried, I made the remaining distance fighting back panic. I didn't think the situation called for police intervention, at least I hoped not, but I wasn't at all certain what I would find. Fortunately, when I opened the door, I spotted my wife on the sofa, still wearing the robe, with an open bottle of wine on the table. She looked flushed, perhaps even a bit disoriented, and she stared at me with a strange expression I couldn't place.

"Rachel? Honey, are you okay?" I called out as I closed the door.

"Your wife got felt up," she responded.

A surge of emotion hit me and in an instant, I contemplated a dozen different responses, but fortunately, I managed to gain control and simply said, "Come here."

She rose without speaking and when we met, I pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her hard. I knew there would be lots to come, but at that moment, I thought the best thing to do would be to ensure she felt loved. I think my action must have surprised her at first as her arms stayed flat against her side, but soon they lifted and looped around my neck. Then, she was kissing back with equal passion and we continued this way for what seemed like minutes before we broke.

"I needed that," she declared as the beginnings of a smile formed on her face.

"Rachel, I just want to know... I got to ask... were you forced in any way?" I probed, cringing at the thought.

"I... I'm not sure I want to answer," she replied.

"Why?" I asked.

"The answer doesn't make me look very good," she explained as her head fell into my chest.

"Let's go lay down," I said and directed her towards the bed.

When we entered the room, I could see the comforter disturbed on one side as if a body had been on it. Suddenly, I wondered whether my wife had been merely "felt up" or if something much more decadent had occurred. Nevertheless, I helped her onto the bed and then joined her in a renewed embrace.

Some time elapsed, as I slowly stroked her hair, and then with a deep breath, she said, "When I came out in the robe, he came straight over to me and he asked what I was trying to do. I pretended I didn't understand, but he didn't buy it. He hugged me and put his hand on my butt."

"You let him?" I asked, shocked it had happened so quickly.

"I... I guess so," she whimpered.

"Keep going. Tell it all," I said.

"He tried to kiss me, and at first I wouldn't let him, but finally I guess... he did. Then, his hand went into my robe and he touched me... my breasts and then... between my legs, too," she admitted.

"How long did it go on Rachel? It took almost forty-five minutes for you to call back," I pressed.

"I don't know... most of that time, I guess," she whispered.

"Standing up the entire time?" I asked.

"No, we went to the couch," she explained.

Now, other thoughts entered my mind, and I asked, "He just used his hands on you? Nothing else?"

"His mouth," she replied.

"Where?" I pushed.

"Everywhere," she answered.

"Did he keep his clothes on?" I probed realizing I was having to extract info piece by piece.

"At first..." she answered and I felt her body tremble.

"Rachel, did he do it... did he put his cock in you?" I asked, very nervous about the answer.

"No, he wanted... I wouldn't let him. I used my hand," she explained.

"Why did he come back?" I probed recalling his return.

She explained that he had still been excited and tried to coerce her again. However, when he realized she remained unwilling he left after a few minutes. Then, wanting to think through what had occurred before speaking with me, she had rested on the bed. With relief, I realized this was the likely reason the comfort appeared mussed.

Slowly, the talking ebbed until we lay together in silence as each of us contemplated the significance of what had taken place. Still stunned she had taken such a giant step, but knowing I had no room to be judgmental and concerned about my wife's emotional state, I decided we needed to connect as husband and wife. I began to pull on her robe, and after a few seconds, she got the meaning and helped me remove it. Then came my clothes and when we were naked, I pulled her on top of me and squeezed her hard. We kissed for a while and then I rolled her onto her back and slipped into her pussy.

Neither of us made any sounds, no sighs, or needy whimpers with only the rustling of the linen providing any indication of movement. When I lifted my head, I saw that she was gazing into the distance and needed support.

"Rachel, it's okay. Don't be upset," I whispered, and then added, "I pushed you to go out in the robe, so blame me but not yourself."

"It's not that simple," she replied.

"Why?" I asked, unclear of her message.

"He made me... respond. He made me..." she answered.

"Did you orgasm?" I asked, guessing her direction and when her head nodded rapidly, I continued with, "Good, I'm glad you did."

My words made her give me a strange look and she asked, "Do you love me?"

"Of course, I do... more than you know," I replied instantly.

I felt her body relax and when I began to push into her with more purpose, little mews of pleasure stared to escape her mouth.

Then, without prompting, she offered up more, "He almost did it. It was suddenly... just there and I was so excited."

"But, you didn't," I replied hoping to give her comfort.

"No, my God if I did... my God..." she gasped.

"How many times did you cum?" I probed.

"Once..." she responded, but before I could ask another question, she clarified, "One and a half."

"With his mouth?" I queried.

"Yeah... and his fingers," she said.

"Did he cum?" I asked, and when she nodded, I followed with, "Where?"

"On my tummy," she replied.

With that, we ceased our discussion and for the next few minutes I kept up a steady pace, although it was clear that Rachel was not progressing. Clearly, her mind remained in turmoil, so finally, I decided to let go and it wasn't long before I blasted into my wife's recently tongued opening. When I collapsed onto her, she gently stroked my hair until I rolled to her side.

"Rachel, did you get undressed when he came back?" I asked, and when she nodded, I added, "Did he?"

"Yes, I don't know... he did... " she sighed.

"He'll come back for more... you're going to have to move out," I said, thinking out loud.

"No... I love my place. I can handle it," she declared, as she turned to look at me.

"We can find another..." I began.

"No, honey. I like this place, it's fine," she interrupted, evidently fearful that any change might impact things negatively.

"Okay, sweetie. I need to go back to the kids now. Are you going to be alright?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered although I could tell she was not.

I left with the understanding I would call when I got home to check on her. On the drive, I realized things had moved too far, too fast. In the heat of the moment, with both of us energized by our ongoing play, we had let the genie out of the bottle. I knew it would take time to rectify things and I planned to start that very night with the call.

"Hi, honey," I said in a soft voice.

"Ummm, hi... I was napping," she replied.

"I'm sorry for pushing you and letting it happen," I said, jumping straight in.

"I'm okay now. I had the rest of the wine," she replied, and I could hear a pep in her voice that had been absent when I left.

"Good... You want to talk about it?" I probed.

"What's to talk about? Your wife is easy," she offered and I knew she was still feeling me out.

"Stop it," I fired back

"Well, he... he did almost everything he wanted. Almost... and I let him," she said as her voice dropped.

"That's because you were super excited from all our play in that apartment. All our talk, the phone sex... all the things," I said trying to give her a safe place to land.

"Maybe... But, what if it's more? What if it's just the way I am," she asked.

"Stop it Rachel you're not that way," I countered, thinking she was being a bit too dramatic.

"Maybe... " she said again.

"Honey quit beating yourself up. I'm there with you, so if you're guilty, then so am I. But I don't think there is guilt. It's just something that happened," I said to try to get her out of the funk.

"Do you really feel that way?" she asked and before I could answer, she followed with, "Are you concerned about anything?"

"Yes, I'm concerned about where you are emotionally. I'm concerned about the guy bothering you. I'm concerned about letting you down and it bothers me some that you had orgasms with him," I fired back.

"Just the orgasms? Not the nakedness or the touching or the kissing?" she pushed although I sensed a tiny hint of teasing in her voice.

"Yeah, but I'm still processing it all," I replied, and then before she could speak, I added, "But, please put the blame on me."

With that, we ended the call but agreed we would re-visit the subject after we had both had a chance to rest more and regroup. The following evening, well after dinner when the kids were off doing their own thing, we finally adjourned to the bedroom.

"Want to talk?" she asked in a nervous voice.

"Not until we are in bed, naked and each other's arms," I replied and was pleased when her hands went immediately to her buttons.

Soon, we were in each other arms kissing tenderly as a prelude to the discussion. Finally, feeling she was in a relaxed state, I broke away and looked into her eyes.