Thank You for Fucking My Husband

When I came upstairs to the bedroom, Lisa was still awake, in bed reading. She put her book down as soon as I appeared in the doorway.

"How did it go? Tell me about it."

I couldn't help smiling, grinning even. I'd done it and everything was okay. We'd beaten the odds and proven it was possible to live this way. I walked over to the bed without saying anything and gave her a kiss, a deep kiss on the lips. "It was good. Very, very good." I was careful to temper my words. If I'd said it was amazing, that might make her feel less adequate, second place.

"What happened?" she asked. "Tell me everything."

This was about trust. I had to tell her everything. But there were no surprises. I hadn't done anything she hadn't given me permission to do. "Well ..." I started.

* * *

Mandy and I met at the bookstore like we agreed. She was late, for which she apologized. I didn't mention that I'd been early. Thirty minutes early. I came straight away after work and stopped at a Rite Aid for condoms, just in case. (Magnums, but I'm not bragging. It's simply an anatomical requirement with me.) I'd already been through most of the sections that interested me. It's the mark of a thorough bookstore that has a dedicated section for books about UFOs and aliens.

She'd never been to this store before, so I feigned continued interest, following her around so I could always be close, within a few feet. We didn't know each other well, so we asked tentative questions based on each other's browsing habits, as if these were our own books at home that could tell something about us.

I'd known Mandy for ten years, since she was a teenager, the daughter of my wife's mother's best friend, if you can follow that without a diagram. She always seemed like a nice person, polite, interested in books. It wasn't until after she turned eighteen that I became attracted to her. Still, even then, off-limits, right? I loved my wife and valued a harmonious relationship at home. Then Mandy married Joe and double off-limits.

After browsing for a while, we each bought a book. Mine was on Kirlian photography; hers was a novel. Then we walked down the street to the restaurant and wine bar. We sat at the bar and Mandy ordered a wine sampler for us to share and we each ordered an entrée. As we sipped the wine and waited for our food, we talked about how crazy this seemed that we were there, together, on a date, at the bidding of our respective spouses, Lisa and Joe.

It was a lucky thing, in a way, that Lisa and Joe were attracted to each other, and had even made out a couple of times recently. Now they wanted me and Mandy to get to know each other, before they took things further themselves. There was no denying the chemistry Mandy and I had, but our relationship was underdeveloped on the social front. This date night, with no promises made and no strings attached, was the product of weeks of coaching from Lisa and Joe, an attempt to even things out. On my end, Lisa had given me permission, if things developed that far and that fast, to have sex with Mandy, as long as we used a condom. Over our entrées, Mandy told me that Joe wasn't comfortable with me or her coming tonight, on a first date, but short of that constraint, the playing field was wide open. I expressed my pleasure at hearing that by putting my left hand on Mandy's right thigh.

Even after three glasses of wine, much more than I was accustomed to, I felt like the hand-on-thigh move was pretty bold and doing anything more than that, in a restaurant, would be taking things too far. But it was clear the wine was having an effect on both of us as we leaned in toward each other, moving past the initial awkwardness of what was essentially a blind date set up by our significant others.

* * *

The bookstore and restaurant were in a small riverside town, with wide brick sidewalks and little vehicle traffic. It was late December, but balmy and comfortable. Holding hands seemed awkward—she was in her mid-twenties and I was in my late thirties—we weren't teenagers. I tentatively put my arm around her waist as we walked, but our hips bumped as we walked so close, so I took my arm back. She was wearing a black dress, professional, but inevitably showing a little bit of cleavage from her large breasts. She wasn't wearing glasses tonight—she did sometimes—so I assumed she must be wearing contacts. Her chestnut brown hair framed the ivory skin of her face. I always loved that contrast.

We stopped at a bar and she treated us to lemondrops. I'd never had one before. That on top of the three glasses of wine and I was well gone. It was clear that her tolerance for alcohol was in a different league from mine. Once again, I put my hand on her thigh as we spoke, a move that Lisa had coached me on earlier in the week. But it seemed that I had nothing else in my arsenal and we soon left the bar to walk around some more. We talked about our upbringing, our writing, our jobs, but the whole time I kept thinking to myself—I am blowing this. I need to make a move. At the same time, I didn't want to be too aggressive. What if she didn't want me to make a move? This was torture.

Then, suddenly, as we walked in the shadow of a building by the river, she made the move. Grabbing me by the lapels of my coat, she pushed me up against a wall. Game. Fucking. On. I grabbed her coat and pulled her into me as we kissed frantically. We grabbed at each other outside of our coats; we unzipped and unbuttoned to thrust hands inside each other's outerwear. I had my hands on the curves of her sides, on her ass. At long last! For the last few years I'd (innocently!) had my eye on this ass, and now, finally, it was within my grasp, even in my grasp.

Coats. Fuck these coats. We were too hot now for coats. Coats get in the way. No coats.

"We need to go somewhere. We need to go somewhere now." This was her, Mandy, expressing her need matching exactly the way that I felt.

"My car ..." I managed between kisses, "... right over there." If my car hadn't been twenty yards away, I don't know what we would have done. Ripped off each other's clothes right there, barely masked by the shadows, and on a December evening? Our needs were so great that may have happened. But my car was there and we tripped over ourselves to get there. I opened the back door and we tore off our coats and tossed them in.

Mandy stayed in the lead—"Get in the passenger seat, and put the seat all the way back." I did as I was told and she climbed in on top of me, shutting the door behind her. I laid back, the weight of this sexy woman now writhing on top of me. "What's this?" she asked, breathless, clutching at my shirt pocket between us.

"Oh, nerd stuff. Phone. Pens. I'll get rid of them." I took them out of my pocket and put them in a cup holder as she closed the gap between us with her enormous breasts.

"Good call." She continued to grind up against me, working her hand down between us to grab my hard member through my pants. "These pants may have to go, too." She lowered herself into the footwell as I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. She pulled my pants down before I could, as well as my boxer shorts and immediately took my cock into her hot, wanting mouth.

I reached down and struggled to get my hands into the top of her dress. I wanted access to those tits. Those beautiful, bountiful boobs. She raised herself up, kissing my face, giving my hands more access to her body. I reached my hands under her dress, pushing down her silk panties, seeking out her warmth with my fingertips. Mandy opened for me easily as I pushed a finger in, two fingers. She was soaking wet. She stroked my cock with one hand while riding my hand, forward, back, seeking the friction on her g-spot.

The head of my penis got closer and closer to her opening. "I can't ..." Mandy said, panting, and as if she hadn't been moving us closer herself. "I want to, but I can't ... no condoms." Suddenly that stop at Rite Aid on my way to the date, though it seemed a little presumptuous at the time, now struck me as prophetic, brilliant.

"I have some."

"Is it okay? With Lisa?"

"Yes, Lisa's fine with it. And Joe?"

"He just said we couldn't come. He didn't say I couldn't fuck you."

That was all the prompting I needed. I unwrapped a Magnum and rolled it on. Mandy lowered herself slowly onto me, shuddering as I penetrated her. "No coming," she reminded me. "No coming."

I was too drunk to come anyway, but also too drunk to care. This woman, this smart, sexy woman was fucking me, wanted me, and my wife, sitting at home with a book, was fine with that. And Mandy's husband, also at home, was fine with it. We had their blessing. This wasn't cheating, but it was hot. And public! At least once, a couple walked past to their cars, stealing a quick glance at the steamed up windows of my car.

We had to stop, though, before we lost ourselves, before we broke the promise that she'd made Joe, that diabolical bastard, before either of us came in or on the condom. Reluctantly, she eased herself off of me and moved over into the driver's seat. I pulled the condom off, letting my throbbing penis take in the cool night air.

Somewhat awkwardly, we resumed earlier lines of conversation, about jobs, about writing, about anything other than the fact that we'd just fucked in the passenger seat of my car. Every once in a while, though, whenever there was a lull in the dialogue, she leaned her head over to my lap and took my drooping cock between her lips, refreshing it with her tongue, bringing it back to its full, proud height.

As we sat there, side by side in the car, recovering our breath, I remembered something Lisa had asked me to give to Mandy. I reached into the backseat to retrieve it. "Here, Lisa made you this gift bag."

"A gift bag?"

"Yes, well, you know Lisa. It's a thank-you-for-fucking-my-husband gift bag."

* * *

Neither of us felt sober enough to drive home, so we took advantage of the fair temperature and walked around town some more, eventually finding ourselves in a grassy field next to a bulwark at the side of the river. When we reached this dead end and stopped walking, our bodies, our still drunk brains, found other occupations. Kissing, for one. Fondling. Pulling on each other's clothing. Grinding our bodies into each other. She laid back on the grass, with me on top of her, an she pulled her dress up until I could see her black silk panties. I buried my face into them, feeling the warm pressure of her ivory thighs on my ears. Mandy squeezed my head as a warning, a reminder of Joe's constraint that I was not authorized to make her come, not tonight. It thrilled me to know that we were so close.

I stood up and walked over to the river's edge, taking a seat on the bulwark, spreading my legs out. Mandy came over and knelt between my legs, lowering her head into my lap. She left my pants done up, but stroked up and down my erection, first with her hand, then with her lips, renewing the promise of a blowjob without relief.

I sat back and looked past her bobbing, chestnut brown head at the lights of the town. The town. I would be king of this fucking town now. There wouldn't be a surface left that wouldn't give me an erection when I thought of it.

* * *

When we got to Mandy's car, which she'd left parked in front of the restaurant, she leaned in to kiss my goodbye. Then, as our lips touched for the last time that night, I was surprised when she grabbed my cock with her hand. "Mmmmm," she said. "Good night ..."

I agreed.

* * *

I fell in on Lisa as I told her the story of my evening. I was feeling proud and virile and desperate to come. She spread her legs and welcomed me home.