We Need to Talk Ch. 04

She continued her delicate stroking, bringing me to a high state of arousal but withholding enough stimulation to let me cum. After 29 years of marriage, Myra knew me well. She was playing with my cock, alternating stroking with scrapes and pinches with her fingernails, and massaging my balls. She wanted something from me and I knew it. I'd play along.

"I never fucked her. I don't even remember her name," I replied.

"Cheryl Tomlinson," she replied. I was surprised she remembered her name, and that told me something. A strategic retreat was called for.

"Look, that's water under the bridge. I don't care that you fucked Rich 30 years ago, more power to you. Rich and I are still good," I said. "And I never had sex with that woman."

Oops! That sounded like a lie.

"You never slept with Cheryl Tomlinson? Really?"

"Really, scout's honor," I said, holding up three fingers.

"I don't believe you. You scouts were horny little bastards," she said, picking up her stroking pace. "Stand up."

Myra got on her knees on the floor. "Stand right there," she said, pointing to a spot right in front of her.

I got into position, spreading my feet to bring my rampant cock down to mouth level. Myra grabbed my scrotum with a tight, painful grip, pulling me toward her.

"Now fuck me like you mean it. Make me take it," she growled, swallowing my prick. She guided my hands to her head, then pulled me into her mouth. When she was in this kind of mood I knew she could take anything I could dish out, at least short term. I wanted her to feel this but I knew I couldn't last long. I began stroking long and slow, back and forth, holding my in cock deep, all the way in, straining to prolong the fierce sensations, but too soon I felt my legs tighten and quiver. With a loud cry, I unleashed a torrent of cum and she swallowed it all. I had barely enough energy to get back into bed.

Myra always seemed energized by the experience, almost prideful, as if she reveled in her ability to lay me to waste. She climbed into bed next to me and kissed me. I didn't mind my own taste. After all, she'd just swallowed a whole mouthful. Fair is fair.

She picked up her phone and tapped out a message.

"I just told Rich that we're on. He said the police will supply the marijuana. That's different than college, eh?"

I barely heard her because I was fading fast. I knew I'd just been played, big time, but I didn't care.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night to pee. Myra was sleeping soundly beside me and I noticed her phone on the nightstand. I took it with me to the bathroom. A little experimentation and I unlocked it. It was my six digit birthday, and that made me feel better.

Yes, she and Rich had been engaging in a texting storm for the last month since our big adventure with David Newton. But it was surprisingly tame. It started out about me: how I needed help with the booze, how to get me to Claude's gym, Myra's proclamations of love for me, and Rich's proclamation of friendship. Pretty benign stuff, not flirty at all. But they were texting and Myra had never mentioned it.

Then, about a week ago, Myra mentioned Claire Haskell. Rich said he remembered her and remembered the affair. Myra downplayed that, said that she'd forgiven me years ago. And then Rich invited us to spend the weekend at his family's lake house. Myra said I would be easy to convince, just leave it to her. I was relieved to see they were not carrying on a clandestine affair, not that I expected they would be.

A husband is wise to keep tabs on such things, as I had so recently learned from the Newton affair. Rich and I had been friends since childhood, but Myra had just confessed having sex with Rich back in college. I had strayed with Claire, Myra had nearly strayed last month with Newton, and Rich was a man like any other, with faults and virtues.

And I knew one more thing about Myra. She could act a little submissive if she got excited enough.

I went downstairs for a snack and stopped myself as I starred into the refrigerator. I didn't need the calories and breakfast was only four hours away. But something else, too. I hadn't thought of booze all day until now. It sounded enticing but only a little, like a bad habit that needed breaking. I counted that as a victory and went back to bed.

*****

The next day, during a lull in the action at work, I called Rich. He was a little chagrined that I knew about his texting with Myra. Purely innocent, he claimed, and technically I knew that was true. But he and Myra had exchanged many texts, of which I had known nothing, and that's not nothing.

I told him I was agreeable to spending the weekend with him at his lake house but didn't want to be around any alcohol. Rich agreed there would be none. He asked if he could bring some weed, newly legal in our state. I wasn't anxious to get involved with that but I knew Myra used to like it, so I said okay.

Then I hit him with the big one.

"I know you find Myra attractive, Rich, and she's been flirting with you. I know about that business from 30 years ago, too, because Myra finally 'fessed up. I'm okay with that now, it's a long time ago, and we were all just kids back then. But I don't want a repeat, okay? We're not coming up for sex or sharing or a threesome. I don't want you hitting on Myra. She's been acting differently lately and I don't know why, exactly. She might be feeling vulnerable, maybe because she's ashamed about David Newton, or it could be something else I don't know about. Anyway, don't expect any special favors from her," I said, as firmly as I could.

Rich and I are simpatico and he knew what I meant, and he agreed. Myra was off limits. But we'd try out this new-fangled dope, too.

*****

After dinner I sat next to Myra on the couch and explained my conversation with Rich.

"You looked at my phone. You invaded my privacy," she said with a steely voice.

"I'm your husband and I've got a right after what we just went through with David Newton. I want access to your phone, just to reassure myself. I love you and I trust you, but for my peace of mind I need to see for myself."

Reluctantly, she agreed.

"And what about Newton? We haven't ever talked about him," I continued. "You haven't ever told me why."

She turned to face me, drawing her legs up under her and taking my hands in hers.

"I'm so sorry, Wendell. I don't know why myself. I could say I was lonely and feeling neglected. I could say you were becoming an overweight slob and a boozer. I could say I was just horny after being neglected in the bedroom."

That last one hurt the most. I'd been falling down on the job, sexually.

"I could say all those things and they'd all be true, or partially true, but none of them justified what I did. At least you stopped me in time because David...I mean that asshole...was coming on strong and I was under his spell. He would have had me with just a little more time."

The thought made me shudder. But Myra had several justifiable complaints against me and I was doing my best to fix myself. But a piece of the puzzle was missing. I decided to ask her flat out.

"Are you thinking of sleeping with Rich? Is that the reason we're spending the weekend at the lake? Are you planning to fuck him behind my back or right in front of me? Because I won't stand for that, Myra. Not even."

"NO! I'm not planning any such thing. Are you going to be super-suspicious and keep tabs on me all the time up there? 'Cause you know we could sneak off and do the deed behind a tree and be back 15 minutes later and you'd be none the wiser. He could be doing me right now while you're at work. Like you said about David, you couldn't stop me no matter how hard you tried, if I really wanted to do it. You've got to trust me, Wendell, you've no choice. Rich gave you his word and I give you mine. I'm yours, you're mine, and I won't stray, either here or up at the lake, not now or ever."

Whew! I felt better.

"How about those silly cigarettes, Myra? They used to make you pretty goofy."

"Yeah, I want to try them again now that it's legal. I hear the new stuff is more potent than what we were used to in college," she replied.

"Well, just don't start dancing around and taking off your clothes," I said, and she punched me in the arm. I grabbed her and kissed her.

*****

My shift ended at 3 pm and by 7 pm we three were sitting on the deck of Rich's lake house, eating lasagne that Myra had prepared earlier that afternoon. It seemed a shame we couldn't have a glass of red wine to go with it but the craft root beer was a decent substitute and out of deference to me, no one complained. With two bug zappers, the mosquitos were not a problem, either. After we cleaned up from dinner, Rich opened a cigarette case and pulled out a joint.

"When's the last time the cops brought the marijuana?" he asked. He loved that joke. He lit it, took a drag, and coughed. We all laughed and he passed the joint to Myra. "I'm a little out of practice, I guess."

Myra took a deep drag and held it in. I was impressed. Had she been practicing? She let it out and passed the joint to me. I looked at it. It had been 30 years since I'd taken a hit. Here goes nothing.

I was surprised at how smooth it was, nothing like the harsh stuff of yesteryear. I held my toke down in my lungs and passed the joint back to Rich. He already had a silly grin on his face. I felt a warm sensation wash over me and I heard Myra giggle. This was some strong stuff! And easy on the lungs, too.

In no time the joint was finished and Rich said," Wow! I think that's enough for now. How about you guys?"

Myra was giggling again but with me being the biggest person there, I felt only a warm, pleasant buzz. Yeah, I might do more, but I was happy just the way I was.

Conversation seemed a little surreal and fantastic, like I couldn't make my words come out right and it seemed hilarious! I noticed Rich was acting about the same. Myra seemed really blitzed. It seemed like an hour but probably it was only a few minutes later when Myra got up and walked into the cabin. It was dark inside and how she navigated through the dark house, I didn't know. She bumped into something and that, too, seemed hilarious.

Eventually, Rich took out the second joint and lit it. 'Oh, oh,' I thought. Myra liked getting high back in college and I knew she'd be back for more. I took another hit and felt myself sink deeper into the patio chair. To the east, across the lake, a full moon was rising over the mountains. We were no longer in darkness. The trees surrounding the cabin, formally in deep darkness, now seemed outlined in silver light. To my eye, it was a scene of unimaginable beauty and I could do nothing but stare.

Time seemed languid and fluid. I couldn't quite comprehend what he was referring to, but I saw Rich look over my shoulder and say, "Fuck."

He looked at me with a stupid grin on his face, then returned his gaze over my shoulder. Yeah, I get it. I turned around to see what he was looking at, but I already knew.

Myra was standing in the sliding glass doorway, arms holding onto the frame, and she was wearing the exact same outfit she had worn that Sunday when Rich and I had consumed half a bottle of scotch. She had on her black silk nightshirt and her long white robe. Like before, it was open giving us a fine view of her bare legs. With her arms lifted, the nightshirt had lifted, too, exposing alarming expanses of her thighs to Rich and me.

My brain was moving slow, but I realized if she wasn't wearing panties, and I doubted she was, she was very close to exposing her bare pussy to us. I was trying to find the words to warn her when she released her grip on the door frame, allowing her nightshirt to fall back to mid-thigh, and she walked out onto the deck. Like before, she was wearing black pumps with a low heel. The sharp sound of her heels on the deck was the sexiest thing I had ever heard in my life.

I fixated on her shoes, like I couldn't tear my eyes away, and I thought the moonlight on the shiny black leather and the gold buckle was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I ogled her ankles, then her strong calves and thighs, then the silk nightshirt draped over the swell of her hips. Her prominent nipples stood out in stark relief, casting shadows in the moonlight, I imagined. When my gaze finally reached her face she was wearing a knowing smirk, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had something in mind, I could see that.

Rather than posing like a model with legs partly crossed and turned 3/4 away, she was standing six feet away, face-on to both of us, and her feet were spread shoulder width. It was a wanton, slutty pose; a challenge to men.

Without a word, she walked over in front of Rich and bent deeply forward at the waist, taking the joint from his fingers. I couldn't see, but I was sure Rich had a view of her bare hanging breasts. She stood up straight and took a long toke, looking out over the lake at the moon's reflection shimmering on the black water. Then she turned and sinuously walked back into the house, pausing at the door to look back at me, and disappeared inside.

I seemed frozen in place. I heard Rich say, "Fuck."

Rich came to his senses first. "She wants to get fucked, Dell. Get upstairs and get to it. I'll stay right here."

I found her naked on top of our bed, skin pale in the moonlight. My Myra, my loving wife, my entire life. My head was spinning.

"Fuck me now," she hissed, spreading her legs in a most lewd manner, reaching for me with her arms. She pulled me onto her, then urgently reached for my stiff shaft, guiding it into her. She felt hot, wet, and tight. Her nipples bore into my chest like I had never felt before, and her movements urged me on.

"Just fuck me, Wendell, fuck me hard, don't hold back. I need it, I need it so bad!" she gasped.

I was overcome with lust. The moonlight, the dope, my newly promiscuous wife showing herself shamelessly to my friend, and her marvelously fashioned body wrapped around mine spurred me on. We moved as one together and as two against each other, skin violently slapping against bare skin, both crying out. I felt a rising crescendo of pure energy, a loud buzzing chorus, and the sudden realization that I was going to orgasm, ready or not, and it was going to be big. Myra realized it, too.

"Just do it! Fuck me hard, get it, Wendell, get it!" she cried, and I did. The marijuana seemed to drag the build-up on forever, and my cock seemed so hard it would split, I pumped and pumped a gusher of semen into Myra, emptying myself completely into her. It was a cum for the ages.

I awoke in the moonlight. Myra was awake, looking into my eyes, smiling.

"You like?" she said.

"My God, Myra. What did you do to me? That was incredible," I answered.

We lay there, cuddling, snuggling into the bedclothes. Suddenly, I realized something.

"Did you, uh...?" I started, but Myra shushed me.

"It's all right, baby. That one was for you," she said, kissing me for emphasis.

We lay together but I couldn't doze off. I tried to hold her but Myra seemed restless, and she arose from the bed to stand in front of the open bedroom window. The moonlight seemed brighter than usual. Her naked form was flawless, her luscious ass and runner's legs the perfect support for her strong back, tapered waist, and shoulders. Her hair was still in a ponytail, a wonderful place to hold onto her head as she worked a cock.

A cock.

Myra needed cock, I just knew it. I saw her grab the window frame at the top and lean forward, her legs spread. The open window extended nearly down to her knees and with sudden clarity I realized that if Rich was still sitting on the patio, he had a splendid view of my naked wife. Her gaze was upwards, out over the lake, but she had to know that Rich was still down below in the shadows, taking in her nakedness; her breasts, her flat belly, and her pussy all prominently on display.

She turned to look at me. Nothing had been said. She gave me a crooked smile, a funny, inquisitive look I'd never seen. She was sharing a mystery with me, something she could not put into words. She walked to the side of the bed and sat down, still smiling her enigmatic smile, now looking a little forlorn. I knew what she needed.

I thought of Claire and how she and I had fucked. I thought of Myra and Rich all those years ago, fucking in college. I thought of our recent near miss with David Newton, how he had nearly fucked my wife.

I knew what I had to do. I loved her, I possessed her, but for her sake I had to share her. At that moment, she needed Rich.

"Go to him," I said.

"Are you sure? We can't undo this," she said. I detected an excited tremor in her voice.

"I'm sure. Just come back to me."

Without another word she got up, opened the bedroom door, and disappeared down the hall. She left our door wide open.

I heard Rich's bedroom door open but I didn't hear it close.

I could hear voices but I couldn't make out what was being said. I heard Rich's dark baritone, then a long period of quiet. I heard Myra's gentle, sparkling laughter, and more talking from both of them. Then I heard the bed springs creak. There followed a longer period of quiet, finally punctuated by Rich saying, "Oh, Myra! Yes!"

I wanted to rush to his doorway to see what they were doing, I wanted to see my wife having sex with another man, something I both hated and wanted. I was doing this for Myra and maybe doing this for Rich, but I realized something else, too. I was doing this for me. I was both excited and ashamed by giving my wife away, and a hot flush of blood filled my face.

I wanted to rush down the hall and put a stop to her adultery, to take her back, to lock her up and throw away the key. But I knew I shouldn't, and I knew I couldn't. I owed it to Myra and I owed it to Rich. I knew it didn't make sense, but this could settle old scores, atone for Claire, and even though we had been married for 29 years, atone for taking Myra back from Rich. In my lust and in my drug addled thinking, it all made perfect sense. I had the presence of mind to wonder if it would still make sense in the morning, but right then, I didn't care.

A loud groan from Rich brought me back into the moment. Yes, I could definitely hear Rich now. He was getting louder and I could just make out what he was saying. "Oh yes! Just like that!" along with aching groans of approval, but I couldn't hear Myra. After long minutes straining to hear, I realized what she was doing, for surely this was Myra's style and Myra's idea.

The occasional creak of bedsprings told me Rich was seated on the edge of the bed. It was Myra's preferred position for cock and ball worship. She was in a giving mood tonight and she was giving Rich her best treat. I knew she would have him draw back his spread legs to give her full access to his ball sack and that exquisitely sensitive spot just behind the scrotum. If she was feeling particularly wicked, and I knew she was, her tongue would reach back even further.

I wondered how long it had been since Rich had received that treatment. I thought it likely she would perform that most delicious and decadent of acts because she had left both bedroom doors wide open for me to hear. She had said nothing about not watching, but watching somehow seemed disrespectful to her. No, I would not interfere, I would not interrupt her passion. This was for Myra, for them, and I was privileged to listen. She and I could sort this later, together.

Suddenly there was quiet and I heard Myra cough and I heard her silver laughter, then indecipherable murmurs. I heard the bedsprings creak. After a moment I could hear Rich's labored breathing. I could hear the muffled sounds of Myra trying to talk or moan, and I knew she was sucking his cock just as she had sucked mine, kneeling on the floor with Rich standing. I knew his hands would be on my wife's head, holding her every more tightly as his lust intensified. I knew Myra would have urged him to fuck her mouth and I knew he would be thrusting deeply. That's what she wanted when she got wound-up this way.