Where Do We Go from Here

In our pillow talk Eve revealed to me that while she liked dancing with Al and the vertical public foreplay that went with it, and she delighted in going out with Al dressed to excite him so that by the time they got home from a date they were ready to rip the clothes of one another, what she really valued was his patient and loving pleasuring of her in bed, being held in his arms and being told over and over again that he loved her.

After all, in her career as a call girl she had done plenty of dancing and had participated in a huge number of fantasies and fetishes meant to be exciting. But her partners didn't love her. She was convinced that even the five men she had been married to (although they didn't realize it at the time they got married) really only were looking for a call girl who would always be available to them and for whom they would not have to pay.

I revealed how so much of my married life my attitude toward sex was ruled by an unhealthy and unrealistic notion that a good wife and mother did not really like or want a sexual relationship -- that sexual attractiveness was only for girls in their teens and early twenties who were trying to attract a husband. Once that goal was achieved, a woman should stop being attractive. Further, my mistaken idea was that the sex act was only for procreation and should not be enjoyed by a good wife and mother because sex was dirty and disgusting. It was only as my daughter matured that my thinking began to change.

When she was fifteen and I took her to her pediatrician and to our gynecologist to talk with her about birth control they had talked about sex as being natural well into adulthood and bringing pleasure to both the husband and the wife during marriage. And then at the beginning of Dory's senior year when I saw teenage girls looking hot, dressing attractively, and actually seeing their sexuality as something that gave them power, I looked enviously upon their youth. And that is when Al helped me see that I still was attractive and that I had every reason to enjoy being attractive and to experience the pleasure that I could reap from being attractive.

In short, we discovered that what Eve enjoyed most about being with Al and what I enjoyed most about being with Al were not in competition with one another, but were complementary. The two of us together could both love Al more completely than either one of us could love him alone.

And as he had hinted to me earlier on when we were watching a television program about a Mormon family, there was a very good possibility that Al could love both of us without depriving either one of us of his love.

When the three of us would go out together, I tried not to aggressively pursue Al. But Eve was picking up on the fact that Al was treating me more and more like an equal with herself. At first, when I went out with them, I was somewhat of a tag-along. By the beginning of summer, it was Eve that first sensed that Al was ready to take me back -- not by throwing her to the curb but by accepting both of us as sexual partners.

So when I mentioned to Eve that I was going to get tested for STD's again, six months after I came back from Florida, she hatched this plan to get Al and me back together. We would spend an afternoon in micro swimwear at her back yard pool. She also had choreographed for us a lesbian strip show which we would perform for Al later in that day. We practiced it until she said, "We could put this on in Las Vegas -- it's that professional." We bought our costumes and what we couldn't buy we made or modified. We enlisted Dory's help, although Dory wanted something for her cooperation. She wanted Eve to teach her how to strip -- professionally. She was tired of getting minimum wage.

I got myself tested again. There was some fear that maybe I had picked up something in Florida that did not show up in the first test. That would have ruined all our plans. But my fears were unfounded.

So on that fateful day in June I announced to Dory, Eve, but especially to Al, "I'm back," and stood in front of him in nothing but a tiny lace g-string. We played for a while, dressed like that, in Eve's pool. We ate a light supper. Eve and I went to her club where we prepared to dance our lesbian strip. Dory brought Al to the club and we stripped in front of him and about sixty other guys. We drove them crazy with desire. It was hotter in front of an audience than it ever had been during our practice sessions. Dory drove us to Eve's house. Al had not been there the last couple of days. During that time Eve had purchased an Alaskan King sized bed for her room. We took Al up there, had him strip and get on the bed, and Eve and I stripped and got on the bed with him, one on either side.

This was the moment of truth. Without either of us touching him Al had a full blown erection. We made love to him. He expressed a concern about whom he should enter first. We told him we did not care. We knew we would each have a turn. We loved him. We knew he loved us, and we loved each other. So it was all good. We did not quit making love that night until all three of us were completely satisfied. And so we began a new relationship.

We found that it was not difficult to give one or the other couple some alone time. But we also enjoyed all the things we could do together. It did not take us long to employ toys in our play. It didn't take us long to realize that both of us girls should also bring out our strap-ons from time to time because they would just increase the variety of things we could do with one another.

One thing that we discovered was that as a group of three we did not share fantasies the way Al and I did before Florida. It was on one of those nights when Eve was working a night shift and Al and I were fucking that Al said, "Do you remember how we used to fantasize?"

"Yesss?" I said rather tentatively.

"Some of those things were really hot," he said.

"Yeah, they were," I said. "What were your favorite fantasies?"

"I'm a little afraid to go there," said Al. "Will you tell me if I go into uncomfortable territory?" he asked.

"That sounds reasonable," I said.

"I fantasize about you seducing and fucking other guys. I'm sorry. Maybe you feel that that is what got us into trouble in the first place, but it is just a really hot fantasy," said Al.

"I know," I said. "During these last six months when I have been by myself and I played with myself to get some relief, I fantasized about that, too. Then I worried and felt guilty that maybe that is what got me into trouble, but the next night I'd fantasize about you being with me while I seduce and fuck another guy. I'm sorry. It's just so hot."

"Don't be sorry," Al said. "Even after you left me and I was afraid that I had lost you forever, I got out the video that T.R. had made of you with him and with his two friends at his club and I jacked off as I watched the video. You were soooo hot. I think we are just two compulsive exhibitionists and voyeurs, and the best we can do is try to keep it under our control rather than letting it control us."

"As long as we're confessing, I also have gotten out the porn videos that I made down in Florida and Jilled off watching them, wishing you would have been there when I made them and then would have taken me to bed when I was done. You're right. It has become a really strong drive in me. I like to be with you, choose a guy carefully, then seduce him and fuck him while you watch and either join in or reclaim me afterwards. And when we're not being that extreme I love going out with you dressed as outlandishly sexy as I can get away with and have guys lusting after my body and wanting to touch me, hold me, fondle me and fuck me.

"Maybe this is going too far on my part, and if it sounds like it is, try to stop me before you get angry with me. I got my ass done as early as I did, hoping that maybe we would be able to get back together. But if not, my plan was to go on line and display my body to guys on the internet. I had vowed to myself that I would never leave you again the way I did when I went to Florida. But I also felt that if we never got together again I had to have a way to feed my exhibitionist."

"That doesn't make me angry at all," Al said. "At that stage in our relationship I was not paying much attention to you, so I didn't quite understand what you were doing or why, but at that point, I didn't much care. I wasn't hostile. I just figured, 'let her do what she wants to do.' But I've got to admit your big ass looks sexy. It tempts me to want to fuck you in the ass."

"Really?" I asked. "I think I'd like that from time to time. I get the impression that Eve doesn't really care for it up the ass, so I've thought that you fucking me in the ass might be a kind of special you-me thing that just the two of us do."

"That sounds good to me," said Al, "although if Eve were to really want me to ass-fuck her I would do it because I do not want to withhold something from her."

"I can live with that," I said.

"So we can go back to fantasizing? How about living out our fantasies like we did at spring break? Do you think we can really not just talk about but actually go out and seduce and fuck other people?" Al asked.

"I think we can if we're careful and we do it together. Where we went off the rails was when I left you to go out on my own. It wasn't good for you; it wasn't good for me; and it wasn't good for us," I replied.

"Ohh," I said, "but what if one of my lovers wants to fuck my ass? Will that ruin the special you-me thing.?"

"It doesn't have to as long as you don't offer him your ass on your own," Al replied. "If you get him so excited that he wants to take your ass, you can give it to him and that will be hot. Or if you are so excited that you need him to take your ass to move you to the next level, that is hot. Just don't let it become a normal thing -- offering up your ass. It should either be with me or if you and/or your lover are having over-the-top sex."

We went back to fucking more and talking less. Even then, Al had to say, "You are the hottest fuck in the world."

"Not only hot, but dirty," I replied. "I'm your hot dirty fuckin' bitch. Now fill me with your cum."

He did. From then on, when we were alone and at home, we watched porn, used toys and fantasized as we fucked. We specialized in hot, dirty, sweaty, wild, animal sex. Al's alone time sex with Eve was almost always very soft, gentle and cuddly. Our threesome sex was all over the place.

The week after I announced, "I'm back," on Monday morning I got up fifteen minutes earlier than usual and spent extra time on hair and makeup. I put on a black stretch pencil skirt that I used to wear to work. I coupled that with a red satin fitted blouse under which I wore a red lace bra that exposed the top third of each breast. The shirt was open enough to reveal what the bra was offering. Around my waist was a three inch wide black belt with a silver buckle cinching in my waist. That belt was mirrored in a black leather choker collar I wore around my neck. I wore long silver hoop earrings.

While I had worn booty shorts out in public to a concert, this was the first time I was wearing revealing street clothes over my reshaped ass as I went to work. Looking at myself in the mirror I had to admit that the implants made my ass pop. Between the boob job and the ass job I was voluptuous. On top of that on Saturday I had gone to a cosmetic surgeon to add a little filler to my lips. Now the latest improved version of the old Amy was returning to work.

When I walked into the bank I turned heads. At first you could hear a pin drop, then excited whispers. I'm sure some were critical, others approving. I was most interested in the reaction of one person: Mr. Larson. Mr. Larson was the man who, when I first wore a short stretch pencil skirt to work labeled my style: Banker Chic, thus giving approval to what I was wearing even though it was a little more revealing than what the other girls wore to work.

It was Mr. Larson who approved my medical leave when I had my boob job done -- and that was without knowing it was going to be for a boob job. The leave was granted mostly because I had an excellent work record and seldom asked for time off. It was Mr. Larson who hesitatingly approved my indefinite leave of absence for personal reasons to go to Florida -- again, because of my excellent work record. And it was Mr. Larson who granted my month leave of absence to get my butt implants. I had asked my immediate supervisor for a medical leave for surgery and when he asked what kind of surgery I had replied, "Female stuff."

He did not have final say, but unlike the last two times I asked for a leave he told me, "Up until a year ago you had a stellar work record, not even using up all the sick days that you could claim. But here lately it has been just one thing after another. I'll forward it to Larson, but don't get your hopes up."

So when Mr. Larson called me into his office to ask me about this medical leave of absence and he asked, "What for?"

I decided that complete honesty and openness would be the best path to follow. So I told him, "I want to get butt implants." Judging by the expression on his face, I think he wanted to say, "What do you want to get butt implants for? Your butt is fine. I'm sure a lot of the women working here wished they had a butt as fine as yours." But he couldn't come out and say that. He could have refused me by saying that what I wanted was elective surgery and elective surgery could be put off for a while. Instead, he gave me a smile and said, "I hope you won't need any more surgeries for a while."

So I got my butt implants and came back to work a month later, but kept on wearing the old lady slacks that I had been recently wearing as I continued to heal.

But now it was the end of June. I was largely healed. I had worn hot looking clothing the year before and Mr. Larson had approved of my attire -- had even called it Banker Chic. With my new ass I was looking hotter than ever but was wearing the same clothing I might have worn a year ago. The clothing was just covering a more sensuous figure. If Mr. Larson approved, I was in. If Mr. Larson did not approve I was in - - - trouble. So I carefully looked for Mr. Larson.

He was in his office at his desk. That office was all the way across the lobby from where I had entered the bank. His office had glass walls from about thirty inches from the floor on up. So he could see me as I entered the building and I could see him. Other employees who were at their work stations could not see him as well as I could. Other employees were still coming to work and had not entered the building. I looked toward Mr. Larsen's office and gave him a nod, a smile and a small wave hello across the lobby. His hands were on his desk. His right hand moved ever so slightly. He gave me a smile and a thumbs up. I knew I had nothing to worry about.

When there were lulls in the activity during the day, I thought of Mr. Larson. He was about ten years older than I. He had salt and pepper hair that gave away his age, but other than that you would think he was much younger because he kept himself in good shape. He kept a picture of his wife and children on his desk, but it was obviously an old picture. His wife was very attractive and his children were very young in the picture -- preschoolers from the looks of things.

Yet, we who worked at the bank knew that he and his wife were empty nesters. The only time we saw Mrs. Larsen was at the annual Christmas party. She was no longer attractive. There was no attempt to wear makeup or jewelry. She was morbidly obese. He pushed her around the party as she sat in a wheel chair. The only time she talked was to bark orders at him to get her something to eat or drink. And she never thanked him when he did as she asked. He had no opportunity to socialize because she expected him to be at her beck and call every moment.

Driving home the idea occurred to me. I would bring it up with Al the next time we had some alone time. Mr. Larsen deserved it -- if he wanted it. Al was all for it.

I continued to dress well all week, either in stretch pencil skirts or yoga pants both of which looked marvelous with my butt implants. On casual Fridays I would wear low rise jeans that looked like they were painted on. I wore fitted tops, jewelry, and modest heels. My hair was brushed out and ran in ringlets down to the middle of my back and I wore wide belts which only served to show off my tits and my ass to best advantage. On Tuesday I talked with Mr. Larsen's secretary to schedule an appointment for me to see him during one of my breaks on Friday.

On Friday, I brought an extra pair of shoes with me to work -- a pair of two inch platform shoes with a six inch heel. Just before I was to see Mr. Larsen I changed into them. I slipped into the ladies room, took off my belt, rolled up my skirt another two inches and put the belt back on. I knew when people came to see Mr. Larsen he always came out from behind his desk to greet them, so he would be able to take me in from head to toe.

I stopped at his secretary's desk and she got him on the phone. He came out to meet me and usher me into his office. He had me walk ahead of him. His hand came up just a little bit. He wanted to put his hand on my waist to usher me in. Once in his office I faced him. His eyes scanned me from my feet to my face. When our eyes met I intentionally held his gaze. Finally, he offered me a seat and asked me what he could do for me.

I told him that I really appreciated the three times that he had given me a leave of absence, especially the last time when he had every right to be hard nosed about it if he had wanted to. But instead, he had been very kind to me and had granted my request.

I think I read in his expression a moment of dread, maybe thinking that I was about to ask for another leave. "So," I said, "my husband, Al, and I were hoping that you would be able to come over to our house on Saturday for a couple of hours so that we might show you our appreciation."

At first he declined, saying he was just doing his job and my job record indicated that I deserved the benefit of the doubt. I countered that that was well and good but that we could still show him appreciation. Then he went on to say how it might be unethical for him to receive some kind of a gift from us. But I assured him that we would not be giving him anything of monetary value - just showing our appreciation. He wasn't so sure, but he was intrigued.

"Can you come over about 2 in the afternoon and stay for a couple of hours?" I asked.

"I usually go shopping on Saturday," he said, "but I could get that done before 2 in the afternoon. I'll have to see what the wife has to say. She usually does not like to come to social things."

"She wouldn't really have to be there," I said. "Al thinks what we have planned out is pretty much a man thing. Do you need to be home for your wife?"

"I'll have to check with her," he said.

"Tell you what," I said, "Talk it over with your wife when it is convenient and then just give me a call. If it does not work out for this Saturday, we can schedule some other time." I asked for a piece of paper and a pen. I stood up, and leaning over his desk I wrote down my name and number. I also gave him a nice view down my blouse. After that I excused myself because my break was just about over and I needed to get back to work.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I said to myself. "I wasn't even thinking that he would bring his wife along. I had heard that she never goes anywhere." By the time I was back at my work station I had resolved in my mind that if he said that his wife was coming I would eat crow, apologize profusely and say that something came up that is forcing us to change our plans. Mrs. Larsen being there would definitely not be a good idea.