The Diary

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It was the first time I'd ever watched a woman masturbate, and it was amazing. Heather's panties were drenched with her juices, and she'd had such a powerful orgasm that I was hesitant to attempt to do anything until she'd had a chance to recuperate, but my erection was aching for release. So as Heather lay on the sofa, and watched me like a lioness stalking her prey, I stood up and removed the rest of my clothes.

Before I had formulated a plan of my own, Heather beckoned me to her side, and grasped my cock firmly with one hand, pulling me towards her mouth. Soon she was making upward strokes with her warm soft tongue along the shaft of my raging hard-on. After a few minutes of massaging my balls, and licking up and down my rigid staff, she apparently noticed my trembling legs, so without once removing her tongue's heavenly pressure, she knelt on the floor and pushed me onto the sofa. Perhaps not so shockingly, even though I was no longer standing, I still felt rather weak in the knees.

The next thing I knew Heather's lips were encircling my cock, and her tongue swirled around the tip. I rested my palms on the back of her head, running my fingers through her luxurious blonde hair, and softly telling her how amazing her mouth felt, wrapped around my manhood. By the time my veins felt like they were on fire, I was advising her, in short quick gasps, that an explosion was imminent. She removed her face from my lap long enough to give me her most sultry stare, and say in a husky voice, "Bring it on."

I did. Before she finished her return decent towards my primed cannon, I detonated. Long ropes of sticky cum shot out, splattering across her cheeks and chin. She laughed before she reholstered my still firing gun back into the confines of her warm embrace. My dick flexed a few more times, shooting my cream down her throat, and Heather swallowed it all, then continued to suck on my shrinking weapon.

Chapter 5 – Revealing Words

Heather kept me amply occupied that weekend, and several nights thereafter, celebrating our anniversary, making me forget all about Beth's journal while she was around. The evenings I was forced to spend alone, I was able to distract myself by watching television, flipping through Steve's Penthouse magazines, playing a few games of strip poker on the computer, and even watching one of the porn movies I'd found. As I went to bed the night before their scheduled return, I congratulated myself for avoiding temptation. Saturday morning, however, as I waited for the appropriate time to leave the house, I realized I might have been a bit too hasty in patting myself on the back.

Their flight was supposed to land at 5:00PM, which meant I'd have to leave the house at around 3:00PM to go pick them up. Since Rufus had gotten me up before 7:00AM, for the eighth straight morning, I had plenty of time to retrace my steps and eliminate all traces of my snooping. By 9:00AM, I was eating a late breakfast with the satisfying knowledge that Beth and Steve would never know I'd stumbled onto the photos on their computer, or the collection of naughtiness in the file cabinet, much less Beth's diary.

Unfortunately, that also gave me six hours of thumb-twiddling to look forward to. Heather had left on a business trip on Friday, and wouldn't be back until the following Tuesday, so I couldn't count on her to keep my mind off Beth's little digest this time. I played with Rufus for awhile, and watched some television, but by my 100th rotation through the cable channels, it was obvious there was nothing to watch. I looked at the mahogany grandfather clock that stood in the corner of their living room. It was only 10:30. Still over four hours to kill, so I found a movie in their video collection and ate lunch while I watched it.

By the time I found myself sitting on their bed, gazing longingly at the dresser drawer, I still had two and a half hours remaining before I had to leave. After about forty minutes of that, I finally opened the drawer, and looked intently at the panties covering the diary. I removed the journal and sat on the bed, just running my fingers over the gold embossed lettering on the cover. One hour and thirty-two minutes and counting.

I opened the diary to June 23rd, 1996; the day after that fateful barbecue and my first evening with Heather. Beth wrote:

"June 23, 1996 (Sunday) – This morning Heather called to thank me for the introduction to Simon, and I could swear I heard an 'I just got laid' lilt to her voice. She said she and Simon were going out tonight. I have to admit to being rather envious. She may have just gotten what I desire, but can't have. I love Steve with all my heart though, and can't bear the thought of hurting him, so this is for the best.

"Even with coming to that conclusion, something inside me had to know the details of Heather's evening with Simon though. So I convinced her to meet me for lunch and proceeded to interrogate her like a New York cop grilling a murder suspect. I have never asked her for any kind of graphic details regarding a date before, so I know she was taken aback. When I told her that I was just an old married woman who wanted to live vicariously through her, she just laughed and told me that 29 was hardly old, and that she was sure Steve and I had plenty of passionate nights together. Regardless, I kept pressing for information.

"After grinding her down for a while longer, she finally surrendered, and admitted that things got rather heated back at her place. She said that they didn't just have sex. They had toes-curling, skin-burning, hair-raising, out of this world sex. She also said Simon seemed to know exactly how to touch her, how to kiss her, and how to lick her. He made her cum so hard, using just his tongue and fingers, that she thought her goosebumps were going to be a permanent declaration of their night of passion.

"She cut our lunch short, since she wanted to go home to prepare for her date, so regrettably, I couldn't get anymore details out of her. She did promise to call me later to let me know how tonight's date goes though."

After reading that entry, my head grew at least three hat sizes. A compliment feels so much better, when the person offering the praise has no idea it'll get back to you. I continued reading, impatient for more.

"June 24, 1996 (Monday) – Heather called. She said that she and Simon had another wonderful evening together. After seeing a movie and eating dinner, they went back to her apartment again, and for the second night in row, she had two intense orgasms. She said, even knowing full well that they both had to get up early the next morning, she couldn't hide her disappointment while watching him leave.

"June 26, 1996 (Wednesday) – Steve and I had a romantic evening out last night. I thought I'd done a good job of purging Simon from my thoughts, but when we got home and began getting intimate, I once again, I imagined it was Simon I was making love to. Actually I guess that's not entirely correct. I wasn't imagining love-making, so much as fucking. Wild and crazy fucking. I'm such a wretched, horrible wife.

"June 29, 1996 (Saturday) – Heather and I met to play racquetball. She couldn't stop thanking me for playing matchmaker. She kept telling me how great Simon is. I got so jealous I aimed a few shots at her. I didn't hit her, but I think I messed up her game. Usually she beats me three out of five games, but today I dominated every match.

"June 30, 1996 (Sunday) – Steve caught me masturbating in the shower. Of course he had no idea I was fantasizing about Simon. I just told him to get in and join me. We've never done it in the shower before. It wasn't easy, but it was lot of fun."

As I turned the pages, my name showed up less and less. It seemed she had finally begun to lose her crush on me. I flipped through several months of mundane entries and more than a few remarks about people who pissed her off. I did find a fascinating entry just a few months before they left for Cancun though.

"April 15, 1997 (Tuesday) -I caught Steve taking pictures of me in the shower, with his digital camera. I should make sure he erases them, like he said he would, but part of me is turned on by the idea of him showing the pictures to someone... especially Simon."

Apparently even though she'd stopped writing about me, she still had some feelings for me. I continued to flip pages, looking for any more interesting entries and came across one a month before I arrived to dog sit.

"May 20, 1997 (Tuesday) – I think Steve has a crush on Heather. I've finally realized a correlation between the evenings Steve seems particularly passionate in our lovemaking, and the days Heather comes over for a visit. Looking back, it seems like every time Steve's sexual appetite has been exceptionally insatiable, it's been a day when Heather was visiting. It hurts, but how can I be mad at him, when I'm constantly fantasizing about Simon.

"May 30, 1997 (Friday) – Heather and I met for racquetball. After the game we sat in the sauna to relax. I don't know what impelled me to do it, but I blurted out of nowhere that Steve had a crush on her. She eyed me for a few minutes, obviously not sure how to respond. I helped her out though by telling her that I wasn't jealous because I had a crush on someone myself.

"After an eternally long silence she responded, 'Simon.' It wasn't a question. I asked her how obvious it was. She replied that it was obvious to her, but Simon and Steve probably had no clue. We both laughed about that. After another long silence I asked her if I'd weirded her out, and whether or not we were still friends. She said she was okay. Then she said she'd just been wondering how open we should be with each other. I told her I would love to hear anything she wanted to reveal, since I didn't want to be the only one feeling exposed.

"I think a huge weight was lifted off of her, as much as me. She confessed to fantasizing about Steve on more than one occasion. We ended up actually sharing a few of our fantasies with each other. When we were leaving I joked with her that if she was as turned on as I was, both our men would be getting lucky tonight."

My heart was in my throat, and a wave of nausea came over me like a giant tsunami engulfing an ill-fated wooden shack unlucky enough to be in its path. This was a turn of events I hadn't foreseen. I had just learned first hand, the genuine reason someone else's diary should remain off limits. I was mortally wounded at the thought of Heather fantasizing about another guy. I was also a little uneasy about both Heather and Beth sharing such intimate details about me. I looked at my watch. It was 2:30PM. Still another half hour before I had to leave. I apprehensively paged past a few more entries until I saw my name again.

"June 8, 1997 (Sunday) – Simon came over to help Steve hang the new vertical blinds, so Heather and I went to lunch to enjoy some girl-talk. Ever since that day in the sauna, we have totally opened up to each other. We have discussed and debated our feelings about Steve and Simon, and have mutually determined that there is nothing wrong with us. We have decided that just because we lust after other guys, it doesn't mean that we love our respective partners any less.

"I wasn't even jealous when she told me about her most recent fantasy involving all of us. She described in detail about a late night poker game that turned into strip poker. By the end of the game we were all naked and I was sitting on Simon's face enjoying his magical tongue, while she sucked his cock, and Steve fucked her doggy style. I think our teenage waiter overheard part of our conversation, because he got all nervous, and spilled Heather's glass of water."

A sudden revelation hit me with an impact not dissimilar to a freight train blasting through a car made of balsa wood. It was just a few weeks ago that Heather had been pressuring me to tell her my fantasies. She kept telling me that no matter how crazy, or lewd they were, she wouldn't be offended. I had been determined not to fall for that, so I made up a fantasy involving her and I making love in a stalled elevator. She seemed to be happy with that, and didn't pressure me any further, so I had subsequently forgotten all about it.

Another epiphany hit. Beth and Heather were right. During the last year, I'd been totally faithful to Heather, but I'd had the occasional fantasy about other women. And after seeing the photos of Beth in the shower, I'd fantasized about her numerous times that week. How could I possibly be hurt and offended by Heather thinking about Steve in the same way I'd been thinking about Beth? It was a nasty double standard, and even though I could reason it out logically, my heart still ached.

Chapter 6 – Homecoming

I watched Beth and Steve walk out of the tunnel leading away from the jumbo jet, wondering if they'd be able to read the guilt written all over my face. They strode hand in hand, smiles as bright as the sun. Their tinted skin was evidence enough that both had spent a great deal of time on the beaches of Cancun. I couldn't help but chuckle when I saw that Beth had somehow convinced Steve to wear a shirt that matched the pattern of her tropical print dress, which was splashed with a rainbow of colors. The sleeveless short dress was covered in flowers in multiple hues, and seemed to flow around her as she walked, like a field of flowers bowing to a slight breeze. They both looked so cheerful, and Beth gave off an aura of confidence that I'd never recalled seeing before. I guess I was seeing her in a new light, or possibly this vacation had done wonders for both of them.

We greeted each other with hugs, and Beth shocked me with a kiss on the cheek. She'd never done that before. On the long walk to the car, they couldn't stop talking about how wonderful Cancun was, and how they would have to go back again. When we reached the car, I helped Steve load the bags in the trunk while Beth climbed in the back seat. As I took my position behind the wheel, I glanced in the rearview mirror, and was a little disappointed when I noticed that I couldn't see Beth's radiant face. However, my displeasure soon turned to quiet jubilance when I realized that I could clearly see her well-toned legs, and the hemline of her flowery dress.

During the drive back to their place, I kept looking in the mirror, hoping Beth would unconsciously move her knees apart, or shift in her seat. She must have read my mind, because no more than five miles from the airport, I glanced in the mirror for the hundredth time, and was rewarded with a slight parting of her knees. I still couldn't actually see up her dress, but her tan inner thighs were enough to get me moderately hard.

Apparently it was enough to distract me too, since I almost jumped out of my seat when Steve inquired about Heather. I thought he'd caught me looking up his wife's dress, but upon asking him to repeat himself, I learned that he was just wondering how things were going with Heather. I of course, responded with an enthusiastic "Great" and tried not to get distracted again as I listened to their further questions and comments about the previous week. Rufus is great; I am great; Heather is unbelievably great; now open your goddamn legs, I thought.Apparently once again reading my mind, Beth's legs parted a little bit more, but to my dismay, she placed her folded hands in her lap.

As the miles rolled by on the odometer, I continued my furtive glances in the rearview mirror. It could have been my imagination, but I became convinced that the hemline to Beth's dress had indeed gradually risen during the drive. Finally, with only a few more miles to the turn-off to their house, Beth leaned forward, presumably to hear Steve better, as he asked about Rufus' behavior while they'd been absent. She'd placed her forearms on the shoulders of the front seats, and the space between her knees widened even further. I made an audible gasp. They both asked me what was wrong, but I brushed it off as an exaggerated yawn.

Beth wasn't wearing panties. I could clearly see her shaven labia bronzed the same color as her muscular runner's thighs. She had a small patch of dark pubic hair, shaped like a heart, resting directly above her lips, which appeared to be swollen with arousal. As I studied her womanhood, her lips began to split of their own accord, and a glistening moisture was evident around her petal shaped inner lips. It felt like a dream. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing.

Once again, Steve awoke me from my blissful diversion, when he sniggered and remarked, "I realize I've been out of town for awhile, but wasn't that our exit?"

By the time I'd gotten us turned around and headed in the correct direction, Beth was sitting back with her hands in her lap again, and I began to wonder if I'd imagined the whole thing.

When we arrived at their house, I helped Steve bring the bags into their bedroom, and Beth said she needed a shower after all that time on the plane. After she closed the bathroom door, Steve elbowed me in the ribs, and whispered, "I've got something to show ya. Come on." He led me to the computer and booted the machine up. He plugged in his digital camera and we waited for the pictures to download.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Just wait and see," he responded sounding like a teenage boy about to show his best friend his Dad's secret Playboy collection. The download finished, and he opened his picture viewing software. He clicked on the slideshow function and after quickly scanning through the normal touristy photos he stopped and said, "Now keep in mind, you never saw this. Okay?"

"Okay," I replied wearily.

Up came a picture of Beth on a beach in Cancun. She was wearing a very flattering orange bikini that showed off a generous abundance of cleavage, washboard abs, and flawless legs. The next photo showed Beth bent over fixing her beach towel. I smiled as I studied her thong, which disappeared between her taut ass cheeks. The following ten photos were of Beth posing for the camera in the same Bikini. When the next photo came up Steve glanced behind him, visibly nervous, and he whispered, "This is where it starts getting really good."

I was already amazed. After seeing Beth's collection of panties, I would have expected a much more puritan swimsuit. Then my mouth gaped as a topless Beth sporting a brilliant smile appeared on the screen. Her sunglasses hid the fire that I somehow knew was in her emerald eyes, and her toothy smile revealed that she was indeed having fun sunbathing topless for all to see, and her husband to photograph. Her breasts were as I remembered from the shower photos I'd stumbled across; only they were now nicely tanned, along with the rest of her body. Several more photos, all of Beth without her bikini top, passed in front of my eyes on Steve's high-resolution 17-inch monitor. Then a shot appeared, of a completely nude Beth, covering her crotch with both her hands, giving the camera a naughty grin. When that photo vanished the anticipation of the following photo slowed time to a crawl. The image appeared leisurely, working from the top of the photo down. First Beth's joyful face appeared. Then her magnificent breasts, framed by her arms, pushing them up and together in a classic pinup pose. Finally her torso appeared displaying her adorable little navel, followed closely by a small patch of pubic hair, shaped like a heart. I was impossibly hard once again, keenly anticipating the view of her smooth lips, now knowing that the incident in the car was no hallucination.

"What are you two looking at?" came Beth's voice from behind us.

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