Suzanne Comes Again

She looked at me gratefully and our talk drifted elsewhere.

Within a few weeks it got so we often didn't have a conversation without circling back into sexual or relationship areas. I was thrilled. Some door had opened. Her weight was slowly dropping, she looked good. Even Jim noticed. Hell, even Rob noticed.

"Sharon's getting skinny on me," he confided one day when he stopped over after work before heading home, beer in one hand, standing tall in the doorway between our kitchen and the dining room. Plaid work shirt, jeans as usual, sawdust still on his boots.

"Sure as hell hope I don't have to follow suit." He grabbed his gut and Jim and I both laughed.

I guess I knew things were good when a week or so later Sharon said she didn't want to lose too much more weight. "My boobs are getting smaller." She looked crestfallen.

I assured her she looked fine.

We were talking fitness one morning in her kitchen and at an offhand moment I mentioned "kegels."

Sharon looked at me blankly. "Kegels? What might these be? Some kind of Jewish food from back in New York?"

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but she was intrigued when I explained them, about the pelvic floor, the muscles there, the strengthening that happened when you did them routinely, with good general results and especially sexually.

"Do you do them? Regularly?"

I told her semi-regularly, and then I guided her through the business, how you squeezed your anus shut and tightened all the muscles you'd use to stop peeing and then hold for a count of five. I said I did them in the car sometimes when driving, watching TV, just sitting alone sometimes. I confided that when I did mine I always imagined that I was gripping Jim's penis like a python.

Her eyes got wide. "My! I expect that that is a turn-on then! I always wondered why you would get that smile on your face sometimes, even when nothing was going on or nobody said anything. Just you sitting by yourself, squeezing your parts! Now I know."

We laughed and of course from then on, whenever we practiced together we usually ruined it with fits of laughter, telling each other how happy our husbands' penises were while getting remotely strangled.

We would scrunch up our faces while clenching our pelvic muscles and Sharon would look over at me.

"Jim's cock's gettin' one good squeeze right now! Wonder if he can feel it at work!" And we would both bust up.

I didn't tell her that actually most of the time it was both of us thinking about squeezing Rob's penis.

It was early spring, just as the air was warming up a bit, the snow disappearing, the first buds coming out on the trees. Sharon and I were in her kitchen, and we had been talking about baseball season coming up for our boys, which little-league teams they would be on, the relative merits of their coaches.

But my mind was on other things. I figured I had prepared the field well enough. It was now or never. I fidgeted with my hands.

"Can I tell you something, Sharon?" I looked nervous and she couldn't help but notice.

"Sure, Suzanne. What's up?" She peered into my face.

I went slowly, carefully. I let her know that I had been taken aback to find out Jim's fantasy. I didn't say the whole story of course, but what I told her was true. That he was intrigued with the idea of two girls in bed. I made sure she knew I was surprised at first, but had gotten more used to the idea. That I found it strange but had come to almost understand it. That I put his happiness very high in my life.

She followed me closely. She asked if I was worried he might do something rash.

I shook my head. "You know Jim, Sharon. Mr. Dependable."

I looked at her closely. "So, Sharon, forgive me, I have to ask this, and don't take it the wrong way, and you are free to answer any way you want."

Her eyes were wide. "What Suzanne?"

"I would like to honor Jim's wish, once. I don't know, I think it is okay to try."

Eyes wide still. "Really?"

"Yes." I pursed my lips, looked away.

"Okay Sharon, look, this may sound crazy, really off-base. But would you be willing to be in our bed with us some night, for an hour or so?" My eyes went back to her, searching.

Her face was complete amazement. "What?"

She couldn't say anything else.

"It would be a huge favor," I went on breathlessly. "A huge favor. One I probably have no right to ask. But it might be fun to try."

We went back and forth, and after the shock had lessened a bit, I let slip that Jim had mentioned her, that he found her attractive. I elaborated a bit more than was strictly accurate.

When I left for home, I knew that she was more than a little unsettled.

Jim was okay with this when we talked later that evening. I got a thin smile out of him.

"Well, well," he said mildly but didn't ask further.

I let the idea sit with Sharon for a bit. Gradually after a few days we talked some more. I sensed her reluctance but reassured her. It would just be the three of us to know about it, no one else. She talked about infidelity, which I had guessed she would bring up.

I obviously had to restrain myself from mentioning the poker night, as that border had already been crossed, but I got her to put the idea into the "doing a friend a favor" category, not the same as some sort of willful disloyalty on her part. To be honest, I don't know how I found the words to make it all seem okay. But she came around, slowly, but then with some anxious but visible interest.

"You really think he would enjoy me? And you at the same time?"

"He would be thrilled." Of this I was certain. And I knew I could make sure of that.

There was no concern with pregnancy, we had each handled that issue for ourselves after our second kids were born.

So after some serious thinking on her her part and a whole pile of back-and-forth talking, we set a time. She stopped over one Friday night in late April. Both Buster and Aden were overnight at a friend's sleepover party. Rob was home with their own boys, watching some testosterone-driven action movie on TV that Sharon had told them she wouldn't mind missing.

All our nerves were going pretty well I think, although perhaps it wouldn't have shown much on the outside.

Jim was a gracious if quiet host as always, and when he helped ease Sharon's dark overcoat off her shoulders in the kitchen, it was hard for him to avoid noticing her dress, much less casual than usual for her. I had helped her pick it out at the mall. Dark fabric, sleeveless, fairly low cut in front. And she had not worn a bra.

She had not worn a bra!

This part was astonishing. Her chest is big enough you can't do that easily. I am not sure I had ever seen her without one before, except in changing rooms. But never in public.

She couldn't have left her house like that, Rob would have noticed. She must have stopped and removed her bra on the way over, in the car. Her breasts are large, and while maybe once upon a time they had been firm, that would have been a long time ago, like maybe middle school.

Her boobs are heavy at their ends and drift low. They looked real nice in her dress however, held in place fairly snugly but they moved about undeniably whenever she reached for something or stood up. Her cleavage was intriguing, a deep plunging valley. Jim tried hard not to be obvious about checking her out but pretty much didn't succeed.

Sharon and I had some white wine in the kitchen, Jim with his usual Budweiser.

We talked. There were often pauses, not so much uncomfortable as unusual. Words didn't come with the same fluidity they normally did when we were together. Sharon kept looking from one of us to the other. We talked about everything except what was on our minds.

I had figured, and Jim had agreed, that I would need to play air-traffic controller, and that was fine with me.

I used a pretext, one of the oldest in the books. How can the world operate without pretexts?

I had hung a new bit of artwork in our bedroom. Jim didn't care about art, he never did, but in this case it was perfect. It was a reproduction of an El Greco piece I had admired when I lived in New York and visited museums fairly regularly.

With a suitable glance, I invited Sharon in to see it, wanted to ask her opinion of it. Jim's eyes gleamed. Sharon knew what was up, and I got a nervous little smile from her in return.

Sharon and I went into the bedroom and stood looking at the newly-hung art, and Jim came up behind us.

"Nice colors," he said, looking at the piece, which was absurd since it was all grays and somber blue shades. Then I felt his right hand grip my ass. By Sharon's involuntary start, I knew where his other hand had gone. His fingers caressed my left ass-cheek through my dress. The room was electric.

I am not quite sure how we all got into bed. I do know we each helped each other getting clothes off, barely a word was said. I gave Sharon a kiss, held her hand, whispered a "thanks" into her ear. She nodded but was trying not to tremble.

Jim ended up between us in bed, we pulled up the covers to get a little warmer. He had an arm around each of us. It was about as strange as I had imagined, but totally nice.

I turned into Jim, putting my hand on his bony sternum, feeling the sparse hairs on his narrow but strong chest. I then took Sharon's hand in mine, and gently directed her hand onto his chest as well.

It took very little time like this, each of our hands on Jim's chest, before his own hands starting rubbing us, two women in parallel next to him, shoulders first, then drifting down along our arms, and then I felt fingers on my nipples, tweaking. They were erect immediately. My groin gave a squeeze.

My own internal time-clock did strange things. We lay close to each other for some while, each of us playing with the body next to ours, none of us saying a word. But fingers were moving - rubbing, tweaking, caressing.

Jim had two sets of female hands on him. All of my own touch sensations were alive. I was aware of the rustling of the sheets, quiet little finger strokes amongst the three of us, little murmurs of pleasure when good spots were reached.

By the time my own hand had drifted down to Jim's penis it was already hard. Like desperate hard - iron-like, irresistible hard.

Jim and I hadn't gotten this far in our planning, and I wasn't quite sure what to do next. I guess I just kept up the same pattern all evening. I took Sharon's hand and put it on Jim's penis. I could feel it twitch in her hand.

Well, we were not long and slow about it, this first round anyway. I remember my hands on Jim's balls, churning away, while Sharon fondled his shaft and prick-head, sliding his foreskin up and down.

I remember taking Jim's cock-head in my mouth, already seeping wet at the tip. Sharon took a turn, we went back and forth, while Jim ran fingers along the nape of my neck, then Sharon's shoulders, encouraging us, silently letting us know that this was wonderful, that it felt good to him.

A few images also stay with me. It was a shock to my system to actually witness Sharon take Jim's penis in her mouth. She was so tentative at first, reluctant.

But pretty soon her lips were going up and down his shaft with some enthusiasm, her eyes closed, totally focused, and she looked like she was enjoying it. I swallowed hard. It looked nice. And of course I had never seen, or even imagined, Jim getting sucked by anyone else.

I guess some part of me had never expected this sort of thing to actually happen, and my feelings were quite mixed. It is one thing to think something, quite another to have it occur in front of you.

There was a jolt of something unpleasant, at the time certainly it could have been called it jealousy - my man's attention was diverted from me, stolen almost, although I had given it away freely. He was mine, I didn't want to share him. But there was a bit of excitement too. Naughty. Forbidden. Dangerously arousing.

But of course, Jim had seen me get shared too, without even the advance knowledge and planning that had gone into this night. It could not have been easy for him either. The tables were turned and it made me wonder about his own thoughts that night of poker. A jumble of mixed-up feelings.

I knew Jim's penis was not going to be able to endure much attention in its current state of arousal. I decided to finish him off then and there, hoping, it proved correctly, that the excitement level was high enough that a second round would be in the offing.

My lips slid up and down that familiar penis. The curve to it, the veins standing out. The excited head, the twitches it made with each touch of my tongue. I liked how smooth his shaft was, how sweet it was to pause at his cock-head and feel that sensitive expectant ridge around it with my wet lips. Slither my tongue around, tease his slit-opening and taste his leaking fluid.

I was aware of Sharon's hands on his body too, stroking his flanks, feeling his balls.

His hips were very restless next to me, now pushing back into me with each touch. I knew well the warning signs - the stiffening legs, the tightly held breath, the tension built up in the rest of his body. The way his hand was now clamping down tightly on my shoulder, no longer caressing my hair. My lips went faster, wet and sliding.

His penis got that last bit of hardness, the cock-head just a tad larger and firmer in my mouth, and then my reward. A good strong spurt, while his hips bucked. Sharon's right hand was on his testicles, and her fingers could feel when he humped a good half-dozen spurts of sperm into my mouth. My own groin squeezed with pleasure with his obvious enjoyment.

The pulsing of a sperm-discharging penis in your mouth remains an indescribable pleasure. So powerful. Rich, intoxicating, primal. The results of a happy penis are always immediately tangible to me then, as my mouth is far more sensitive to the violent rush of the sperm than my groin. In many ways having Jim flood my mouth with his built-up semen is more intimate than even copulating.

Just then I couldn't avoid the thought of having Rob's penis in my mouth again too, how lovely it had been when his sperm rushed forth on that hot July night last summer. But at this moment in the evening, nothing of the future was guaranteed. I was just inwardly satisfied that I had been able to maneuver Sharon into our bedroom intimacies, and that Jim had found pleasure with it all.

I nursed at his cock-head for a few minutes while it shrank and grew rubbery. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sharon staring. Her eyes were wide, almost an "I can't believe I just saw that!" look on her face.

I didn't know until later, after we talked, that she had never personally experienced a penis erupting in her mouth. She had masturbated Rob to completion with her hands sometimes, when they couldn't couple for whatever reasons and he was desperate for release, but never had sucked him to ejaculation with her mouth.

Oral attention was just foreplay for them, she only licked and sucked Rob as a preliminary to coupling, and so she had been taken by surprise that night when I finished Jim with my mouth.

She asked all kinds of questions about this later: what sperm tasted like, wasn't it gross, did Jim really enjoy coming in my mouth, could I tell when he was about to ejaculate, would he kiss me afterwards, had I done it this way with anyone else, on and on. I suggested she might want to consider doing Rob some time but her eyes just went wide.

So after Jim's entirely satisfying climax, we each settled in next to him, all nice and warm. He kissed me, then turned to Sharon and kissed her.

"Thanks," he murmured, careful to speak to both of us, "that was sweet."

We had heated up the bed pretty good.

After a short rest, Jim pulled us both close together, and nestled between us, rubbing our legs and flanks. It felt so nice to feel his fingers running along my hips. I quivered with anticipation.

So we lay there, side by side, Jim between Sharon and I. Not sure how long it was, it didn't feel uncomfortable, and Jim was sure to have fingers on each of us, slowly caressing, not so much erotically but affectionately, gratefully. Jim making sure we knew he was aware of us, not lost in his own pleasure.

I was desirous myself however. My crotch was damp, not seeping, but in that early state of excitement, due to my own pleasure in feeling Jim's excitement. A couple ideas came to me, one being me on top straddling Jim's face for a good lick, something we didn't do often enough that way, and then maybe getting Sharon to do the same. My ideas hadn't gotten very far.

But I also knew that this was Jim's night, and if you give a healthy man with a working penis, even if just discharged, a little time and even the slightest encouragement, desire was likely to rear its head again and take control. I was not wrong.

Jim took me, likely Sharon too, by surprise. He raised himself up and knelt between us, then slowly made his way down our parallel bodies. He kissed my lips to start, then my neck, which I adore, and shoulders, then turned to Sharon and did the same, keeping one hand on me to remind me his attention was not entirely gone.

Alternating, he made his way - neck, shoulders, armpits, ticklish flanks, breasts.

If there was a high point of jealousy that night, it would have been with the amount of time he lavished on Sharon's chest compared to mine. But of course he was meeting her breasts for the first time, and they are so different from mine - I cannot blame him.

They were large, pale, limpid, and immensely flattened-out while she was on her back. He hefted them, cradled their curves, nursed at her nipples. These grew erect, very small compared to mine both in relative and absolute dimensions.

Unlike mine, however, they have large dark circles around them and bumpy little flesh nubbins within their dark circumference that also grew erect with his attentions, like little gravestones around the central spire of a church.

Sharon shot me a glance of pleasure. I squeezed her hand.

Finally Jim came back to me and gave my boobs a decent, if shorter, work-over. Always something enjoyable, he knows both when to treat them gently and when to be more aggressive, flicking his tongue abruptly over my nipples, now hard and anxious. My groin squeezed.

He continued his way down our bodies, a journey of kisses, soft, gentle, wet. Sweet. Careful Jim, my man.

He was kneeling between us, kissing my navel, when I noticed that his penis had begun to harden again. It was handsome in the dim light, the head hanging down, just emerging damply from the cock-sheath, balls still dangling.

Fingers went to my groin and teased my lips. I quivered. By Sharon's movements I knew his other hand was on her mons as well.

He kissed my navel, twiddled his fingers in my groin, kissed my hips, around my triangle of hair, then moved to Sharon. Back and forth he went, Sharon, then me, then Sharon again.

He twiddled our groins long enough that I found my hips pressing forward to met his hand. He knew my arousal responses well, of course.

Then he shifted and he kissed my now gaping lips as I spread my thighs for easier access. He kissed, he nibbled. I closed my eyes it felt so good.

Then cool air on the moistness of my lips as he left off and moved to Sharon's crotch, making sure to keep a hand on me. She has a large triangular thicket of hair, dark and thick. Neither of us were at all trimmed or shaped at this time of year, swimsuits still a ways off and we weren't concerned about errant tufts of hair sticking out from anything. Two luxuriant, winter-coat quims for his pleasure.

He returned to me, kisses less soft now, his tongue flicking my excited clitoris. Too soon he was back to Sharon whose hand gripped mine. I was astonished how arousing this was. No sooner would I become aware that Sharon was enjoying his attention, my own groin oozing fluids, when I found Jim's attention back on me, licking lips, sucking my clitoris, making my arousal almost unbearable.