Three Alarm Fire

THREE ALARM FIRE

When A Woman Finds Her Clitoris Giving Off Bells And Whistles Like There Is A Fire, She Might Want To Heed The Warning.

I could not keep my eyes off of him and my clitoris began sending out messages like a smoke alarm in the kitchen when the stove is on fire. My pulse was higher than an elephant's eye, and my panties had been wet since he rang the door bell three hours before.

It was true, I was smitten. Worse, I was hornier than a virgin bride in her honeymoon bed. Even worse was that he was my husband's old army buddy and had shown up in uniform and I truly love a man in uniform, but I wanted him out of uniform and in my bed and body repeatedly.

Even worse than that it was showing. "I guess you like Jake," my husband said with a disturbing grin, "but could you stop drooling. You seem to be hovering around him like a moth to the porch light, or the bitch wolf in heat around the Alpha Male."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said.

"It wouldn't be if you weren't married, the mother of three, near a grandmother to at least one, and author of five books on romance and lust filled Homo sapiens," my more than average emotionally secure husband said. "You want to fuck him, wait until the kids are gone and our pregnant daughter has left the building."

"Restrictions," I said.

"And wait until I am at work and the staff has gone home," he said. "I don't mind you fucking my friend as much as I mind having to explain why his children look so much like my wife and live in our house."

"Picky," I said.

"So, I am a modern husband, well, chauvinist reformed, but if you're going to be here all day with my handsome, virile friend, I just have one request," he said.

"And what is that?" I said.

"Keep the curtains closed," he said.

"But, of course," I replied.

After my husband left, Jake came out of his room and walked up to me. "Before Will left for work he said something very surprising to me," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"He said, 'She likes cowgirl, oral, and cuddling.' So, you like oral?"

"He left out French kissing?" I said.

"That goes with cuddling," he said. "So, are you and Will a modern family, I mean 'open?'"

"Well, we haven't been too modern lately, but we might be approaching it now," I said, giving as much of a hint as I could manage without blushing or rushing things along.

"So, he thinks we might get together?" he said.

"He thinks it is a possibility," I said.

"And he's okay with that?" he asked.

"He's working on it," I said.

When Will returned home I was in the den reading. "Anything happen today?" he asked.

"Nothing carnal, if that is what you mean," I said trying to hide my disappointment. "Some nice conversation," I said. "But no sheets soiled."

"Will this be chronicled in one of your next books? Heart pounding romance?" he asked.

"You never know," I said. "Housewife Harlot. Sound possible?"

"Sounds contrived," he said.

"They're romance novels. Everything is contrived," I said. "By definition."

"So how did it go with Jake?"

"He wants to know if we are a modern family," I said.

"You mean one that fucks others?"

"It's your friend's question," I said.

"What did you tell him?" my husband asked.

"I said we're working on it," I said. "Haven't gotten there yet."

"You going to work on it tomorrow?" my husband asked.

"Thinking about it," I said. As I answered I pictured Jake and me in the throes of romance, his shirt torn and me gasping under his manly body. My imagination was x-rated and our clothes were piled on the floor near the bed. My panties were on the lampshade and his jeans were at the door.

My mental bubble burst when Jake came into the room and sat in the chair across from me. "So, would you like to go to lunch?" he said.

"You mean like a date? Sounds prurient. You going to try to get me satisfied and tipsy and take advantage of me?" I asked with a straight face.

"Whatever works," he said, looking sexy and a bit roguish.

"You might be able to ply me with a shrimp salad," I said. "I get frisky over seafood."

"Good to know," he said with a grin. "So I'll know how to proceed this week, tell me more about your 'open' relationship. Have you ever been open with anyone else?"

"Him telling you I like cowgirl, oral, and cuddling is the closest we've come to it," I said being as honest as I could without saying I was an extramarital virgin. "But I think he likes thinking he's a cuckold. He's not, yet, but he is working on it."

"A man has to have aspirations," he said with a smile, "and I'll do all I can to help him get there," he said. "Cuckold, huh?"

We went to lunch at a quaint little seafood restaurant next to the beach. I had shrimp salad and he had pastrami on rye. "How is the shrimp?" he asked with a smile. "Feeling frisky?" he said. "Will tells me the beach near here is a nude beach. Ever been there?" he asked.

"Always wanted to," I said. "You?"

"Been a nudist since college," he said. "That's why Will told me it was here. I'd love to see you naked," he added calmly.

"I like the outdoors," I said, "and I'd like you to see me naked. Besides, I don't have a suit to wear."

"Perfect. Neither do I," he said with a gleam in his eye.

When I finished my salad, and he put half of his pastrami in a take out container, we drove to the parking lot at the edge of the cliff. The path to the beach was long and went off up the coastline. We found a spot in the dunes and put out the blanket he had brought alongjū.

There were few others on the beach and the spot in the dunes was secluded enough that it could not be seen from the sand. Jake warned me about sunburn and volunteered to help apply sunscreen over every part of my naked body.

I have to admit it felt wonderful having him apply copious amounts of sunscreen to my nude sunbather's body. He had wonderful hands, although I think he applied sunblock where the sun would never reach. I did not stop him from applying it copiously, however.

After awhile Jake asked me if I wanted to take a walk. I accepted and we started off down the beach. We discovered another couple, but they were occupied with one another and we pretended not to see them carnally engaged.

When we got back to our spot we stood together next to our beach blanket and our lips met, frantically, hungrily, pawing at one another, exploring the other's nakedness with urgency and resolve. I felt his hand go to my wetness and his finger slipped into me. I opened my legs and wanted to lay back, but I stood and allowed him to probe me and kiss me ravenously.

I felt his erection touch my stomach and I took it in my hand, held it, caressed it, and let my hand move up and down its shaft. He moaned into my mouth and we pulled each other to the blanket. His finger is replaced by his straight, hard penis that slides into me in one quick push, needing no lubricant because I am so very wet.

I arch my back and push myself forward to meet his thrust, taking him far into my pussy. There has been no other man there except my husband for twenty years, but I hunger for the new sensation of an unfamiliar body part occupying my inner space. "Oh, God, yes, fuck me," I cried using a word I hadn't spoken or written for thirty years.

His hands held my bottom cheeks and pulled them apart, opening the space between my buns and I pushed my pelvis into him, wanting him deeper, harder, faster. We were electric cords that crackled with sexual energy and desire. I felt him inside me and his member was hot and thick and piercing. His beautiful cock repeatedly forced into me and I cooed like I haven't done since my first few times with another person's body in mine.

I didn't care if anyone could see us, I simply plunged ahead and drink up his passion. When I felt him begin to squirt into me, I simply held him tight against me and let him empty his scrotum into my receptacle. I hadn't wanted anything so much in decades, and I tensed and push against him.

"Fill me," I groaned. He continued to come and I held him in, letting him give me all the semen he had. My tubs were tied and I had no fear of pregnancy. I'd lost my mind from passion and sexual hunger that had eluded me for as long as I can remember. I was a virgin again crying out for his cock and loving it inside of me, craving the feeling of his hardness between my legs.

I didn't want him to stop, didn't want our fucking in the dunes to end, and I could feel every inch of him filling me, thrusting into me, and satisfying me beyond anything I had even imagined on our way there. I was a girl again, a maiden being penetrated for the first time by an erect penis of a man I desired.

I wrapped my legs around him and squeezed him into me. I was loving every shove, every withdrawal, every reentry. I was naked in his arms and I didn't want him to let go. I was a married lady with a husband she didn't think about once. I was a ingenue in my books that didn't want to ever go back to being just one man's lover. I was the heroine in a romance tale of lust and passion.

I gave myself in the dunes to another man without a second of indecision, without a speck of doubt or regret. My husband had told him what I liked, so he had opened the door and I had plunged through. I was giving my body to him and I was loving every lustful second.

I never was a noisy lover, but there was so much going on inside of me that I found myself just saying words, disordered words that had no context, no connection, except that I was saying them out of a need to make sounds. I heard myself saying his name but it doesn't sound like me. It sounds like a craved sex maniac who cannot control her speech.

I knew I could not go back now. I had to have this man again, but in my bed not on the sand. He was beautiful. He was virile. He was a fucking machine. I have never wanted anything as much as I wanted him in me, and I held his cock in place with the muscles of my cunt.

Yes, I thought cunt, a word that hadn't appeared in a single one of my books, but I thought it and it rang through my head. "Fuck my cunt," I said aloud, driven by desire like a horny housewife in the pages of my books to speak of wild, lustful, carnal sex. I was one of them and I had always been able to keep us apart until those moments of desire in the dunes.

I held him in my cunt with muscles I hadn't used since Carter was president. I put my hand between us and wiped some our mutual foam from his cock and brought to my lips, tasting the lemony flavor of our sex. It excited me to taste him, and I wanted his ejaculate over my tongue, down my throat, and into my belly. I loved the feel of him inside me, but I needed to taste him. I needed to drink his semen like soda, and I smiled to myself at the thought.

I pulled him from my pussy and took him into my mouth, savoring his tangy flavor, loving the feel of his slippery lotion on my tongue, the sensation of his round and full cock between my lips, and letting his flow slide down my throat.

He softened in my mouth but I held him there, not wanting it to end, not wanting the feelings to stop. Finally, the dropping sun and the chill said we had to finish, and we gathered our things and started back up the trail to the parking lot at the top of the cliff. We walked slowly, as if we didn't want the day to end. He walked behind me, I think to be able to watch me as I walked ahead.

When we got back to Jake's rented Camry there was a policeman standing behind the car holding a citation book and a pen, about ready to write down the license number. "If you're leaving now I won't write you up," he said as the sun had not yet dropped below the horizon. "How was the beach?" he asked with a knowing smile.

I looked over at Jake. "Glorious," I said and my smile communicated that I'd been gloriously and thoroughly fucked I was sure.

"That's good," he said with an awareness that sent a bolt of satisfaction racing through me, like a college girl acknowledging her first taste of womanhood. As the police car drove away Jake took my hand before getting into the car and thanked me without words for a wonderful afternoon at the beach in the dunes.

"I couldn't help myself," I said. "It was shrimp salad." He smiled and put the car in gear and pulled out of the hang glider parking lot. When we pulled up to the house Will was already home and we parked next to his truck. I looked over at Jake and said my thanks silently.

"Well, how was your day?" Will asked.

"Glorious," I said for the second time that afternoon. The meaning wasn't lost on my husband and he actually smiled, happy that I had had the afternoon that showed in my face. "We even got to the cuddling," I said, letting him know I knew what he had told Jake that morning.

That evening at dinner we talked about the beach without mentioning the sex, but it was there in the conversation in every look, every smile, every shared glance with Jake. After dinner, as we put away the clean dishes, Will moved up beside me, "Would you like to stay with Jake tonight?" he asked quietly, essentially reading my mind.

"I would, yes," I whispered back. We exchanged a smile and that was worth millions. "We'll take the guest room," I said. He just nodded.

"Are we a modern family yet?" he asked.

"Evidently," I said.

Jake stayed with us a week after that, and I slept with him the last three nights he was there. Will was understanding, although he didn't comprehend the feelings inside of me, but he accepted them and dealt with it like a modern husband who may not understand, but adjusts to the change occurring in his wife and his marriage. We became a contemporary, open family and our boundaries have changed, our view of life has evolved, and our marriage has actually congealed into a more solid union. My need for sex has intensified, and Jake comes to see 'us' regularly, even keeps some clothing in the guest room closet.

In the dunes I became a liberated woman who has two men and a passion that grips me like a steel clamp. If this was one of my books it would be called Passion in the Dunes and it would have a man on the cover (Jake) with his shirt ripped partly off and a semi nude woman with her arms around his muscular torso.

If I close my eyes almost any day, I see that cover, except he is nude and part of him is inserted deeply into me, just like it was "in real life" next to a dune not far from the wet sand on a nude beach near San Diego.