Transcripts of an Open Marriage Ch. 02

Her enthusiasm was met with a trio of hung-over, worn-out groans. She came into our bedroom, still naked and was jumping on our bed yelling. Reggie, you're going to ski with me, aren't you? Just let Susie sleep. She doesn't like powder. She can stay here and screw my husband. But I know you like powder. Get up and let's go."

I groaned and sat up just in time to be hit in the face with a pair of long johns and a turtleneck. She followed that up with my jockey shorts, a t-shirt, ski socks and other clothes I would need. At least she didn't throw my ski boots. "All right," I groaned. "But I need coffee first."

"Fine," she said. "I'll get coffees while you buy lift tickets. We can drink it on the way up the hill. But we need to be on the first chair up so we can cut first tracks."

You groaned and crawled under the blankets, obviously unwilling to have anything to do with Jenna's obsession with making first tracks in new powder. There wasn't a sound coming from Bill who I assumed was still sleeping.

I did get my coffee—on the chairlift for my first run. That was where I learned about Jenna's real obsession. I thought she was just obsessed with sex. She had certainly seemed that way the night before. But this morning there was a whole new Jenna sitting next to me on the chair lift. It turned out she had been a ski racer in college—a serious big-time racer. She had injured a knee her senior year that eliminated her chances of going on to the US Ski Team, but not her ability to ski recreationally and certainly not her obsession with skiing.

Recreational skiing wasn't really a fair term for her skiing. 'Insane' might have been better. My god the woman was shredding the mountain. I've always thought of myself as a reasonably good skier and I love fresh powder, but it was a struggle to keep up with her. Thank god for the lift lines.

By one o'clock we were done. I was done physically and the powder Jenna so craved was done also, carved and shredded by the horde of powder addicts that turned out that morning into a mess that looked like badly mashed potatoes. As we settled into a chair lift I said, "It's done Jenna. The powder is gone. It's just mashed potatoes. And besides my legs are done."

"Wuss," she responded.

"Look at it Jenna. Nothing left. Just mashed potatoes."

She pouted. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But it was so good this morning on the first few runs before the rest of those assholes cut it up. My god Reggie powder like that is... it's better than sex."

I looked at her like I thought she was nuts. I'd heard a few other addicts say that and I seriously enjoyed fresh powder skiing like we had that morning. You aren't really riding on the snow. It's more like falling through it. Instead of trying to drive that outside edge into the ice and hoping it will hold on each turn, you are floating along with your weight more or less in the middle of both skis. On each turn you sink your hips down and then lift up, throwing your knees and shoulders into the turn you want to make. Then as you finish riding the turn around, you sink again to start the next turn. Two key differences are to be sure your weight stays on the middle of the skis evenly distributed between both skis and don't lean forward causing the tips of the skis to submarine under the powder. Either will lead to a fall. If you hit a deep spot that downward move can turn into snorkel skiing where the powder billows up over your head. It's just... there aren't really words for it. But it's not sex.

"Reggie," Susie interrupted. "I know you love powder skiing but these tapes are about sex and you are digressing. Besides I think powder skiing is cold and nasty and hard to do. Get on with the sex part."

"Oh yeah. You're right, Susie. Sorry for the digression. Anyhow, like I said, powder skiing is not better than sex. Now let me finish the story."

"I've heard that before," I told Jenna, "And I can't buy it. Fresh powder is good, but not better than sex."

She pouted again. Then she brightened. "Let's find out," she said. She reached over and began to softly massage my leg, working her way up until she reached my dick which rapidly hardened. I could feel her hands massaging it through my ski clothes.

"Oh, I think this leg is okay," she said as she continued her rubbing. "It's not tired, is it?"

"Yeah, I think it could still perform," I said as I began stroking the inside of her thigh. "I don't ski on that leg."

"I know," Jenna replied, "but if I remember last night correctly, you fuck really well with that leg."

"Well, since the powder is gone," I said, "we could go back to the cabin and exercise my leg that still works."

"Hmmm. You're right, the powder is gone," she admitted, still sounding a bit pouty. "But," she brightened as she squeezed my cock, "this leg is clearly ready for a workout."

We were coming to the top of the lift. I was untangling my ski poles to be ready to step off the lift. As I rose from the chair, I said, So, back to the cabin then?" Then we separated as we slid down the ramp. When I stopped sliding, I bent over to tighten my boots just as Jenna slid up behind me. She reached between legs and stroked that sensitive tissue just behind my balls. Thank god it was through my clothes. I was already horny from the massage she had been giving my third leg on the chairlift. If she had done that to me naked, I might have cum right then and there.

As she stood alongside me, she whispered to me, "There's no need for the cabin. That will take too long to get to and who knows how our spouses might interfere when we get there. Follow me."

What else could I do? I had been following her all morning. This time she took a groomed run tearing through it like it was a competitive giant slalom run. She was using slow moving skiers for racing gates. I followed, but not at her speed. I found her at the lodge leaning forward on her ski poles with a big grin. "What took you so long. Don't you want to get laid?" A woman standing to her left gave her a withering look.

"Here?" I asked. I definitely wanted to get laid, but the snow looked uninviting.

"No, not here, dummy," Jenna said. "The snow is cold. We'll go to the boiler room. It's warm. Put your skis in the rack and follow me." She quickly released her bindings and the top couple of buckles on her boots, racked her skis and poles, and began trudging into the lodge. Her ski boots clattered on the wood of the lower deck and as we walked through the lodge's ski shop, Jenna leading me through as though she owned the joint. The clerks were busy helping a flood of customers, so we were ignored. In back corner of the shop there was a door with a sign—Employees Only. Jenna, without so much as a look around to see if we were being noticed, opened the door and strode through it. I hurried after her, trying to move with her confidence. Once through the door, we were in a storeroom with packaged skis, boots, bindings, racks of clothing, boxes of sunscreen, and all the other things a ski shop sells. Jenna kept going to an unmarked door at the rear of the storeroom and led me through it. I found myself standing on a small platform at the top of a set of stairs that led down into the dark, a basement I assumed.

"Come on," she said, and started clattering down the stairs in her ski boots. The stairs were an industrial style metal grating, not friendly to ski boots. I gripped the railing tightly as I worked my way down. The exhaustion in my legs wasn't helping. Jenna trotted down as easily as she skied. At the bottom there was another door with a dim light above it. It was labeled Mechanical Room. Jenna pulled it open, its rusty hinges creaking, and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

By the time I caught up with her she had found a light switch that brilliantly lit the room. The metal door closed with a clang as I let it swing shut. It was, as she had promised, a boiler room—a tangle of pipes and control cables leading to and from a giant old piece of cast iron that was, I assumed, the boiler. It looked like it had been there since the ski area was built in the 1940s. It was filling the room with a low hum, a background noise of something on standby ready to leap into action. The room was warm—very warm, well above 85 if I had to guess. You could feel the heat radiating off the old machine. The other aspect of the room was Jenna who was rapidly approaching full nudity, her clothes in a quickly growing pile atop her ski boots.

"What's that, I asked, gesturing at the mass of iron occupying half the room.

"It's the boiler. We used to call it 'Thor.' It's loud and sometimes a little frightening, just like the Norse god."

As she finished Thor kicked into action and the room was filled with a roar that I had to yell over to be heard. "What the fuck?"

"That's just the gas burners kicking in," she said. "Don't worry about it. Happens all the time when it's cold out. Come on. Get your clothes off. You want to get laid don't you. I know I do."

I pulled a bare wood chair out from a worktable on one side of the room and begin fighting my way out of my boots. Jenna, now completely naked and obviously in a hurry and bent over before me, her muscular backside to me, giving me a spectacular view of her bare pussy, as she pulled off one boot and then the other. I'll have to teach Susie how to do, that I thought.

[there's a snort from Susie on the tape at this point]

Within moments I was seated naked in the chair with a similarly naked Jenna on her knees before me engulfing my cock in her mouth with the obvious intent of restoring the erection she had created on the chair lift. It didn't take long. How good could get life get? Five minutes earlier I was outside at 15 degrees with a strong wind blowing and my legs feeling like they were about to fall off from a morning spent shredding a foot of new powder and now... now I am sitting back naked in a very warm room with an equally naked leggy blonde sucking my quickly recovering cock. Life is good.

That was when I had a bad thought. What if we got caught? The people who owned and ran this place certainly didn't intend their boiler room as a site for casual sex between near strangers who felt they needed a break from skiing. If someone came in, would they call the cops. I could live with having my lift ticket confiscated. That had happened at ski areas before, but this could be go-to-jail stuff. I found the whole idea distracting. Thor's burners shut down restoring the room to a semblance of silence—just the background hum of its standby equipment waiting to leap into action.

Although I found the whole situation distracting, my cock, with its usual mind of its own, was totally unconcerned. Thanks to Jenna's ministrations it was standing tall and ready to go. Jenna shared my assessment of my cock's readiness and was and stood facing me, her long legs astride mine, as she prepared to lower herself down on to my prick for some serious fucking.

"Wait Jenna. Wait," I said.

She froze her long muscular legs bent and my cock, unconcerned as ever, just about to enter her. How could she maintain that position I wondered after our morning's skiing? If I tried that my legs would quiver and collapse. "Wait? Wait for what?" she asked.

That was just as Thor's burners kicked in again in drowning everything in a dull roar and a blast of even warmer air. What had I got myself into? I was naked in the basement of a busy ski area next to a roaring antique of a boiler that sounded like it might blow up at any moment while a naked Amazon blonde was about to lower herself onto my cock with every intention of fucking my brains out. And, oh yes, there was still the question of whether someone might walk in on us and call the cops.

"Jenna," I yelled over the roar of the boiler. "What if someone walks in on us?"

"Don't worry about it. No one ever comes down here except Lars."

With that she eased herself down on my cock. Oh god it felt wonderful, so soft, and warm, and slippery. It made it hard to keep worrying. But I did. "Who's Lars," I yelled.

"He's the mechanical guy. He keeps Thor running." We were both yelling to be heard over the boiler.

"Are you sure Thor is safe?"

She waved at the boiler, yelling, "Yeah no problem," and began twisting her hips to rub my cock against all her important parts. "Ooh yeah," she panted. "Oh Reggie, you have such a great cock." I love those little terms of endearment, but they lose something when they are yelled at the top of your lover's lungs over the noise of an aging boiler.

"What about others? Are you sure no one else might find us?"

"No chance. Only Lars and he only does it because it's his job. Would you come down here with that thing?" She waived at Thor again and started flexing her legs to raise herself up and down on my prick. What a fuck!

There was a clank from the boiler, but it just kept roaring as it consumed whatever was fueling it. "Is that thing safe?" I asked again. I would have used my legs to match her thrusting, but there was nothing left after the morning's skiing so I remained passive and let her fuck me.

She was grinning with joy. "Oh god yes, you've got such a great prick Reggie. Where have you been all my life."

"But the boiler?" I repeated. "Is it safe?"

"Lars says it is. They installed it here in 1948. Before that it was in an old train station in Auburn. They converted it from running on coal to running on propane from that big tank out behind the lodge. He says it was built about 1905."

"How do you know Lars?" I yelled over the roar of the boiler. It was getting so hot we were both sweating.

"I used to fuck him down here when I was ski racing in college. He was our team coach. But he got fired for having sex with the team members... like me. After he got fired the owner here gave him a job as the mechanical guy. Oh god damn, your prick feels so fucking good in me, Reggie."

"So does he know anything about things like this boiler?"

"He's been learning. He's been doing it for ten years now and..." she waved at it again... "It's still running. Oh shit," she screamed as I called on a last remnant of my leg strength to drive my prick home.

"The owner is nuts," I yelled.

Jenna laughed and then yelled, "Lars fucks her too. Lars is a great fuck. Not to bright and not much of coach, but a great fuck. Do that again Reggie. Just like you did before."

The boiler shut down leaving us with near silence. The hot wind stopped at the same time. We were both covered in sweat.

"Oh yeah," she whispered "Suck my tits. Make me cum."

Much better, I thought. Talking dirty is so much nicer when it doesn't have to be screamed to be heard over a roaring boiler named after a violent Norse god.

I accommodated the lady, sucking on her nipples and alternatively twisting and pulling on them while she bounced on my cock like it was a pogo stick. I could do that without depending on input from my legs. I felt slightly bad about not being able to fuck her more energetically, but there was just nothing left in my legs. It was okay though. My titty play was rapidly pushing her to the edge. She was moaning and whining and had dropped one hand between our belies to rub her clit.

Jenna had just tipped into her orgasm and was screaming loudly when I heard the latch turn on the door. Finishing her orgasm, she collapsed onto my shoulders. The door opened with an ungodly creak of its rusty hinges followed by a gruff voice that yelled, "Hey you two. What the fuck are you doing?"

Jenna picked her head up and looked over her shoulder and, after taking a deep breath, said, "Hi Lars. What does it look like we're doing? We're fucking. I'm sure you remember fucking in the boiler room, don't you Lars?" That was when the roar of the boiler kicked in again.

"Jenna?" Lars yelled over the roar of the boiler. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We're fucking. I told you that."

"Yeah but... I haven't seen you in ten years. No, fifteen years."

Lars was a stocky man, in his forties by my guess, short and strong with a beer gut and a huge graying beard. His clothing consisted of a set of greasy looking Carhart bib style overalls and a rough knit shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A heavy pair of boots completed the outfit. They were so old you could see the metal toe caps where the leather was worn away. He looked strong as hell, with forearms the size of my calves. When he walked in on us, he was carrying a couple of big wrenches and a long pry bar. At first, I was concerned that we were in truly deep shit here, but now that it was clear that he and Jenna were old friends, actually old fuck buddies, I relaxed a bit. Once I decided this was the same Lars she had used this room for sex with, I became less concerned.

"What are you doing here?" Lars repeated. Hmmm, not to bright, I thought. He had already asked that question twice and received an unambiguous answer from Jenna each time—fucking.

Jenna stood, removing herself from my wilted prick and turned to face Lars. "Lars," she said, ignoring his repeated question, "this is my friend Reggie. We were skiing but the powder is gone so... we found something else to do." I waved weakly and remained seated. I knew standing up would be painful on my exhausted legs.

"Oh yeah. We used to do that down here, didn't we? It's been a while."

"Yes, it has," Jenna said as she walked across the room toward Lars. Her broad muscular ass looked delicious as she walked with a sexy swing toward Lars.

"Well, if you guys are done you probably ought to get on out of here. I got to do some work on Thor here." He gestured towards the aging boiler with his pry bar. "It's going to get warmer in here."

Shit, I thought. How hot can it get? It's already pushing ninety in here.

Now Jenna was standing in front of Lars, close enough so her tits were brushing his greasy overalls. "Are you really in a hurry Lars. Haven't you got time for one more... just for old-times sake?" As she spoke, she was releasing his overall shoulder straps and pushing them down.

"Uhm... well... yeah maybe just a quickie... for old times sake." By this time Jenna had pushed his overalls down to a puddle around his boots and she had a hand pushed down the front of his long johns massaging his cock. Lars gasped as she played with his prick. "Uhm... oh fuck Jenna, that feels good. It's been a while... a long while, since... "

She pushed his long johns down to join the puddle of garments around his feet and sunk down on her haunches before him. She was stroking his prick with both hands. Lars had a huge prick. No wonder the girls on the college ski team liked him. Then she sank her lips around the head of his cock and begin to suck.

"Oh god, that's good," he gasped. Then he pulled back, his prick emerging from Jenna's mouth with a pop. "But wait. What about your friend here? Is he gonna be okay with this?"

"Reggie will be just fine," she said. "He's not my husband and he likes to watch."

"Oh good." With that Lars picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his back. The boiler kicked back on with a roar that almost drowned out Jenna's scream when he impaled her on his big cock. My god the man was strong. Jenna wasn't a small woman and he held her like it was nothing, using his arms and back to pump her up and down on his prick. His feet were tangled in his clothes but he managed to shuffle over to the table where he laid her down on her back, still holding her ass and never pulling his cock from her. Now he could use his legs and he didn't have to hold her weight. Jenna had pulled her legs back and apart with her hands behind her knees. Lars was holding her ass and began to fuck her ferociously, slamming his big prick home on every thrust. I could hear Jenna's screams over the roar of the boiler. Neither of them lasted long. Lars quickly reached a point of no return and stood rigid, his back arched and his prick jammed as far into Jenna as he could get it. He groaned repeatedly as he pumped his seed into Jenna. Jenna in turn screamed as her climax overwhelmed her.