Beginnings

Don Jetman

Well-Known Member
May 11, 2021
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L was my girl, a fresh-faced college senior, nine years my junior. It was Saturday night, and she had persuaded me to hang out in her dorm to meet some of her friends. Music poured into the long hallway, a different song coming from each open door. I'm not sure how many of her friends I met, a dozen or more most likely, as they wandered in and out of her room where we sat on her bed, listening to Billy Joel on her tiny stereo. Most were girls - young, exuberant, sexy, and a little stoned or drunk. They visited just long enough to give me the once-over, giggling and wiggling, getting a kick out of teasing me in front of L. But L didn't mind - they were like sisters to her, and she knew it was all in fun. I met a few guys as well. They seemed to know L as well as her sisters, and I had flashes of jealousy now and then when they shared an inside joke I didn't get. They were all so damned young.

As the hours passed, the alcohol and pot took their inevitable toll. The halls grew quiet, candles replaced the harsh overhead lights, and people began to crash in any convenient room, sprawled contentedly on floors and beds, their conversations more serious, more candid. L's guests slowly dwindled until only three of us were left. L and Paul shared the same major and a few classes, and were deep into a discussion on the fine points of a recent chapter of abnormal psychology. Yawn. My degree was in chemistry, and the psych talk left me teetering on the edge of a coma. Of course, I had consumed my share of the available recreational goodies, and was somewhere between a buzz and spiritual fulfillment.

I'm not sure when the talk turned to sex. It had something to do with psychology, as I remember. Maybe. Paul held that men and women were basically different, that men were hard-wired hunters, sexual predators with an instinct to spread their seed. L was into her feminist period at the time, and argued that women weren't hard-wired to be cowering babymakers. Or something like that. I was amused when she told him women are as sexual as men. I was her first lover. We had done it less than 20 times. So, I guess I snorted. Or harrumphed. Whatever it was, she got the message. And she didn't like it much.

"So, you don't think I'm sexual?" she said. Her eyes were fiery. I knew when I was being baited.

"I think you're very sexy," I answered, now recognizing that damage control would require resources I couldn't muster at the time.

"I said 'sexual', not sexy," she repeated. I was stoned and a little drunk. I took just a bit too long to answer. Hell, I wasn't sure she was all that sexual. She had been pretty innocent during the time we had dated. A virgin when we met. But I did think she was sexy. The first time I saw her. Yum.

"You honestly believe I don't think about having sex with other guys? That I might never be tempted to do it?"

I was stunned. Paul was grinning. I stammered something like, "Um I, uh don't know..."

"What would you think if I took off my clothes right here, right now, and had sex with Paul?"

I grinned, snorted, and shook my head. "Oh please," I told her. "Sure. Right." It was a mistake.

She stood up, and without a word, walked across the room to where Paul lay in her roommate's bed, propped up against the wall, still grinning. She began to undress.

I still remember how she did it. Each step. First, the button at the front of her jeans, then the zipper, drawing it down, opening a V that showed the smooth skin of her belly and the top of her pink panties. She tugged the jeans over her hips, hooking her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties, pulling them along with her jeans until she was naked from the waist down. She stepped out of them and stopped, looking straight at Paul, waiting for his reaction, as if to say, "Do you think I'm sexual? Do you want to fuck me?" Her back was to me, and her ass was magnificent in the candle light. Paul stared. His eyes were fixed between her legs. I was jealous and angry. But I was also mesmerized. I knew I should do something, that I should put a stop to this. But I couldn't. I just stared.

She played with the buttons at the neck of the knit top. Was she uncertain, or teasing him? The flickering candles threw shadows across the dimples just above her ass cheeks. The last thing I wanted was for her to have sex with this guy, but at the same time, watching her, being in the same room with her as she stripped for him, was exciting in some strange way. It was just impossible that she was standing there half naked in front of him.

It seemed so easy for her to peel the top up over her head, so effortless to pull her arms from the sleeves and toss the tan ball of material into his lap. He just sat there, still staring at her, leaving her top softly rumpled over his erection. It was just as well. I didn't want her looking at the bulge in his pants. I didn't want her thinking about another guy's penis. But I knew she was. I hated it and loved it. But I couldn't explain it.

I watched her fingers undo the hooks at the back of her bra, then slide the thin straps over her shoulders and let it fall away from her breasts. She squared her shoulders, pulling them back, arching her back just a little, a slap to my face for my arrogance. She knew that I would get it, that she was thrusting her small firm breasts at Paul, daring him to touch her. It was very odd. Beneath the waves of overwhelming shock and jealousy, I became aware of this faint ember of excitement, just a sliver of constant warmth that stayed with me, holding me to the bed, making me watch my naked girlfriend as she flaunted her body before a guy I had never met. It wasn't that I wanted them to have sex - I dreaded it. It was more like, deep inside where I was afraid to look, I was curious to know if she would, and what it what it would be like to see them together. These weren't conscious thoughts, but looking back, they were there, whispering to me, nagging me, daring me to go someplace new and possibly very dangerous.

Within seconds, Paul stood and took her in his arms. They kissed, deeply, for a long, long time. His hands roamed over her bare back, down to her ass, then up her belly to her breasts. She gasped when he touched her there. Her gasp hit me like a second slap. Yet, I watched, frozen there on her bed, unable to look away.

They had stepped apart a few inches, still kissing, their hands busy between them. Paul continued to fondle her breasts and nipples while L unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt and pants. Up until this point, I was certain that L would never fuck him, that it was all an act to make her point. Now his shirt was open and his pants were around his knees.

They moved closer. Her nipples grazed his bare chest. A second later their bodies were glued together, her breasts flattened against him, his hips grinding slowly into hers. They kissed harder, sucking and slobbering, attacking each other's mouths. L's back was still turned toward me, and I was astonished to find how erotic her body looked - her back and waist twisting as she devoured his mouth, her ass cheeks clenched into two tight, round balls of flesh as she pushed against him, her arms sensuously draped over his shoulders, fingers weaving through locks of his thick brown hair as she held him. It was a perspective I never got to see during sex, and the beauty of it pushed my jealousy to a back burner. But it was simmering just the same. This was my girl. MY girl.

L's little moan suddenly turned this thing of beauty into something else altogether. It wasn't really a moan - more like a short, quiet, "nnnh". She shivered a little when she made it, and stopped kissing him. It was then I noticed her legs were parted slightly, and he was fingering her. He was inside my girl now, even if it was only a finger. I was freaking a little, but still paralyzed, unable to intervene.

The final test was when she took his penis in her hands, moving her fingers lightly over the length of his erection. I saw but I didn't see. I believed, but I didn't believe. It was surreal, horrifying, and amazing. Totally over the top. She would never do this. Never. Never.

They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, masturbating each other. In spite of the periodic tremors and gasps, they seemed almost peaceful, as though they were alone in the world, simply enjoying the pleasure they gave each other. Beautiful, but disturbing, from where I sat. They seemed so at ease with each other I began to wonder how many times this had happened before, here in her room (in the very bed I sat on?). Maybe she wasn't only MY girl after all.

He froze for an instant, then let out two short grunts as he came in her hands. She just kept stroking him softly until he recovered somewhat, then she pressed her body against him again and kissed him fiercely. By this time she had more than delivered her point, but the final kiss was almost more than I could take. Was it just icing on the cake she was feeding me, or was it more? And if it was more, why would she rub my nose in it? She was a tease, but she wasn't cruel. As convincing as the kiss was, I was pretty sure she was relishing the final blow, a lesson about smugness I wouldn't soon forget. There was no doubt I would have to concede to her "sexuality", and to the revelation that there was a bold, adventurous, uninhibited side to L that I never knew existed. My jealousy soon turned to humility. But, my god, what she had done to prove her point.

Reality came to Paul very quickly. He glanced at me, backed away from L, pulled up his pants, and headed for the door. Mumbling an embarrassed, garbled farewell to her, he shot me a second worried look, then closed the door behind him.

L turned toward me, her nakedness almost an assault. "So, do you think I'm sexual?" she asked me again. I stared the small shiny patch of semen on her belly. Her fingers on one hand were wet with it as well. I was speechless.

"Well, I guess that's a 'yes' then," she told me, grinning. Touche.

L and I were married soon after her graduation. I had asked her for months after the incident whether she had been seeing Paul while we were dating. The answer was always the same. "He's just a friend." She seemed convincing. But apparently there was a lot I didn't yet know about L. I wondered what other surprises she had in store for me in the future. Back then, I couldn't have begun to imagine.

Not long ago, after her second session with her first lover, she admitted that she and Paul had played out the scene in her room more than once, both before and after that night. At first she claimed they never fucked, that to her that was too much like cheating, but they did get naked and masturbate each other, on weekends when I wasn't able to visit, or when her roommate was out of town. After questioning her claim, she finally admitted although there was no romantic involvement, it was just fun, convenient, physical sex. "So, you were just fuck-buddies," I'd said after she told me. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way," she objected. Then she looked at me and grinned. "Yeah, I guess we were."
 
A decade passed. We weren't exactly the "little white picket fence" couple, although L played the "good little wife" to perfection. We climbed the management ladder together, worked long hours, and outwardly enjoyed our professional successes. But inside, a disquieting empty spot was growing. Where were the excesses? Is this all there is?

The scene in L's dorm room really never left my head. Feelings from that night began to fill the evolving empty spot. Finally, one night, in bed, after taking her out to celebrate her birthday, I asked for her fantasies. The wine at dinner had greased the wheels, both for me to ask, and for her to answer. Of course, I told her mine as well - to watch another man have sex with her. We began to role play during foreplay, often with her pretending I was an old musician friend she had secretly fantasized about for years. Then, at a friend's party, we met Dave. He and L hit it off immediately, and some candid talk between he and I led to more role playing with L in bed that night. "Would you like to fuck him?" I asked, never expecting her answer. Her answer was, "Yes, I think I would." We invited him to our home, and he's been L's favorite lover ever since. But that's another story.

After ten years of hiding our fantasies, L finally became less reluctant to talk about her "virginal" past. She knew I loved to hear the sordid details, and eventually came clean about her college days. She rarely drinks, but when she does, I never fail to be surprised. I bought some Sangria and made L a batch her favorite drink, Sangria, cranberry juice, and sprite, with a twist of lemon. Too sweet for me, but I thought it might get her talking. It did. She started taking about college, and I brought up Paul, and as I poured more drinks, the revelations began to pour out of her. She confessed that she actually fucked three guys while in college, but not until after we had sex. She claimed that after we "did it" a few times, she needed it, sometimes when I was away, and it was "convenient" for her to get it from these three guys she hung out with. She just started spilling the gory details while she played with my dick.

Paul was the quiet, smart one. Into philosophy, science, and computers. A physics major. She told me they'd go on these romantic dates, picnics under the stars at night, dinner at nice restaurants, chick flicks, all that stuff. She liked the attention he gave her, and that he took his time during sex, usually in a remote outdoor location after one of their picnics. He did her science homework, wrote her computer programs, and she paid him with sex. Or so it seemed to me when she told me. Her story was that when she wanted sex with someone most like me, he was her first choice. I'm not sure I was flattered.

Brad was a jock, with all the muscles and outgoing personality that you'd expect. He was less in tune with her, and always took her to sports events and those cheap little sub and pizza places near campus. She said he was really funny and fun to be around, and always wanted sex. She claimed he would cum and be ready again almost right away. He was the first guy who made her sore the next day, not because he was big, but because she always knew they would fuck more than once every night they went out. She told me that some nights, after I was gone for a while, that she just needed that, to have a guy with a great body give it to her two or three times in one night. "I'm not proud of it," she told me. "But sometimes I just got so horny, and when I started thinking of his body, I just couldn't keep from calling him. I knew he'd always say yes. I felt guilty for using him, but he always said he didn't mind. All we wanted was the sex. He loved doing it. He was an animal." Gulp.

Brad often took her to a few frat parties. She hated them, mostly because she didn't drink much, and to her they were just drunken chaos. She admitted she stopped going after one night when he convinced her to drink some of the "community punch" the frat guys had made. Since everyone seemed to be drinking it, she thought it would be OK. To make a long night a short story, she ended up fucking him in an upstairs bedroom at the frat house. When they were done, she looked across the room, and there sat two other couples, watching. She claims not to remember too much about the night, but told me even after she saw them, she just laid there under him, looking back at them. She remembers feeling a rush when she realized they were watching, even though she was partly shocked, and pissed at Brad. She got dressed (again feeling partly humiliated and partly turned on as they just sat and watched her put her clothes on), and left. She called her girlfriend to pick her up.

The Brad saga has another darker chapter. She later told me that he liked to fuck in public - they did it all over campus in the wee hours. One night he took her in the middle of one of the tennis courts - stripped her down to her socks and sweater, and fucked her, completely out in the open. L found out later, through a girlfriend that went with one of his frat brothers, that he had been given that very task during his final pledge week - to fuck L in a place where they all could watch. Supposedly, quite a few of the frat guys secretly watched them from behind some bushes nearby. She was mortified when she found out, but thinks that may be why she has this urge to do it public to this day. Her girlfriend told her that the frat requested L specifically. She was that hot. My god, I'm glad I didn't know at the time. To think much of the campus knew at the time makes me a little queasy to this day. But, feeling the way I do now, I'd have given anything to have been there watching as well!

Nick was pre-law. A pretty boy, tall, slim, and came from a family of lawyers. Very rich. He drove a new Cadillac (pretty strange for a college kid), and L and he used to fuck in the back seat. She liked this guy the most because he was going to be an attorney, and she planned to become one too someday. She said this was the first time any guy brought out the submissive side of her. He liked to talk during sex, which was new to L. He'd tell her stuff like, "You love my cock, don't you!" "Beg me to fuck you harder!" "You're my little slut, aren't you?" She told me it shocked her the first time, but almost right away it turned her on. She said she had to be in the mood, but when she was, he was the best of the three. He started making her strip in front of him, tied her hands during sex, and made her go out on dates without her bra or panties (which explains why she started going braless after we started dating). He pawed her in public, and eventually they started having sex in public places, which L loved. She told me that she could have fallen for this guy, but he told her to her face that he was on track for bigger and better things - law school, and then a position in his family's law firm. He told her he loved to fuck her, but that he would eventually marry money, a woman of similar background. She said she jokingly told him, "You make me sound like a slut." He told her, "And you like it, don't you?" She said she told him she did.

So, the entire time I was dating her, she was fucking these guys when I wasn't around. Guess I had an idea she might have been doing more than she let on, but all three of them? I'd show up on campus, go to her room, and they'd be there, chatting in the hall, or sharing pizza in her room with a few of her girlfriends. I'd take L out, and we'd meet them at a concert, drunk, swaggering, giving me those shit-eating grins, eyeing her like a tasty snack. Of course, I wasn't blind, or stupid. I'd get suspicious, even a little annoyed at the way they acted around her, so familiar, so many things implied when they talked to her, right there in front of me. She said I was silly, that they were just friends. Then she'd give me that dazzling little-girl smile and put her hand in my pants. She loved that I was jealous. She always told me so, while she was jerking me off. I hated it - and I loved it.

L claims that at other times they behaved like her brothers. Just having fun, protecting her, paying her way. They went out together often, just the four of them. Just buddies. But "fuck-buddies" came to my mind pretty quickly. Had they all had sex together? Absolutely not, according to L. They all knew she was fucking the others, but they liked her one-on-one, no other guys present.

When I asked her about the submissive sex, she said after she graduated she was ashamed she had done those things, even if they were still exciting to her. So she decided never to tell anyone she liked it, and hoped it would just go away. All the years we were married in between, she hid it well. Never said a word. Until Dave came along and opened her up. He flipped the switch, and it just came pouring out of her. She told me it's one of the reasons she felt comfortable coming clean about her college days. It did explain how all her submissive fantasies started. Thanks to Nick.
 
Meeting Dave was an accident. Against all odds. It was a party thrown by a friend of a friend. My friend didn't show, and we didn't know a soul. L and I mingled, and the guests were nice enough, but eventually we just couldn't find a reason to stay. I felt a little guilty - I had pressed L to go, thinking we'd meet some interesting new people. She's never been into socializing in crowds - forcing small talk to strangers feels faked to her, and much of the time I agree. But it was a Saturday night, we hadn't gone out for ages, and I was beginning to get a case of cabin fever. So she agreed, finally, and we dressed for the party.

I met him in the kitchen, pouring himself a scotch like a real scotch drinker - straight up, no ice. My kind of scotch drinker. He offered to pour me one when I told him that, and L arrived a few minutes later looking for me. I introduced her as my wife, she agreed to stay until I finished my drink, and then left in search for the bathroom.

Dave didn't mince words. He went on and on about how pretty and sexy L was. No fear at all. I suppose some husbands would have been worried. Not me - I was nervous, excited by the fantasy in my head. Brief scenes of him seducing L with words, then of them kissing, and maybe even fucking in a secluded spot there at the party. We talked about our marriage, our jobs, and our hobbies. He wanted to know everything, especially about L. I warned myself not to be too hopeful, that maybe he was just naturally inquisitive. Besides, this never happens, right? After all our role playing in bed, L meets the first guy she fucks since our wedding at a chance gathering of strangers? In spite of her assuring me she wouldn't actually have sex with someone else? That our kinky foreplay was enough?

Dave and I had a second scotch, then a third. L had disappeared for almost an hour after finding a guest with the same work background. Dave brought up that he was single, divorced, and knew no one at the party. He didn't offer to explain why he was invited. He went on to tell me he hoped to meet new people there, and how attractive some of the women were. L never seemed far from his mind. I was so lucky, he kept telling me, to have someone so beautiful and sexy. Eventually he apologized if I had been offended, that he may have been too forward. I admitted that in fact, I loved to hear men compliment L, and even that I didn't mind them staring at her body. In fact, that it even excited me a bit. Probably too much information shared, but he had a way of making me feel comfortable talking about L. We were friends on our fourth scotch.

He went on to tell me he knew a little about "the lifestyle" - how some men get a kick from seeing their wives hit on. I was quick (perhaps too quick) to point out we were not in "the lifestyle", but I knew something about it. I remember him smiling at that, like he knew I was hiding something.

"Still, I'll bet men hit on L all the time, don't they?"

"Heh - hit on her? If you only knew. Guys used to do it right there in front of me when we were dating. It drove me crazy."

"In a good way, or a bad way? I mean now - when men flirt with her."

There was just something between us that told me I could bare my soul, but by then my brain was saturated with scotch.

"Oh, it's all good," I told him. "She's never given me a reason to worry about our marriage, and I know how hot she is to other guys. I know what they see, and what they want - a cute virgin in public, and a whore in the bedroom at night."

"And would they be disappointed?" he asked, smiling.

I smiled right back at him. "Not at all. Not at all."

Almost on cue, L returned to ask me if I was ready to leave. And everything changed.

Dave began his seduction with words, and L fell under his spell. She seemed mesmerized with his voice - in fact, everything he said to her. She seemed to melt with every compliment he gave her. His small talk fascinated her. After a while she left my side and moved closer to him. I watched as she touched his arm over and over when she laughed at his jokes. I was well aware that she was no longer in a hurry to leave. Was I really witnessing the seduction of my wife?

I was so ambivalent. So nervous and angst-filled that L seemed smitten with our new friend. So excited with thoughts of them fucking when his magic succeeded. I was in limbo. Did I want this or not? Was I too insecure to have all our role play become reality? Was there real danger in L being completely taken by his charm? Would her first time as a hotwife be with a man she fell for so easily?

I was overwhelmed. I left them and mingled with the other guests throughout the house. I'm not sure what I said or did - the only thing I thought about was L and Dave - together. Were they talking about sex? Planning it together while I was away? Had he already seduced her? Could she imagine herself single again - or at least free to fuck another man? A man who fit her role playing fantasies?

They seemed like old friends when I finally returned. Or old lovers? She stood so close to him, touching him, smiling up at him when she spoke. Dave apologized for keeping her to himself for so long, but at the same time told me how adorable and sexy she was, and what a delight she was to be around. L's eyes beamed at me with each compliment. He kissed her on the cheek before we left. She walked on air to our car.
 
"So, you know when you asked if I'd ever have sex with someone else? Like we do when we pretend?"

We had just fucked, and this time the "other guy" in our fantasy was Dave. It was too much to hope for. And even then, would I really want it? But backing down now wasn't an option.

"Um-hmmm. Did you have someone in mind?"

She's naked and sweaty. I'm lying beside her, catching my breath, staring at the ceiling, trying to sound rational.

"Umm - I think it might be Dave. That's not a surprise, is it?"

I'm in a little bit of shock, but muster my courage. I refuse to be the one who fucks this up.

"Not a surprise at all. I know you like him. Did you talk about sex? Did he ask you to fuck him?"

Silence for a few seconds, then she rolls on top of me. Her breasts are pushed against my chest, nipples now urgently hard.

"I think he's the one, Don. The one we talked about. Have you thought about us together? Me and him naked together? Having sex? It's what you want, isn't it? I think it's what I want. I really like him - he's so smart and sexy."

To my surprise, L and Dave had exchanged contact information before we left the party. He emailed her first, and she invited him over so the three of us could talk. He was busy that weekend, but free the next, so the date was made. We had almost two weeks to fantasize about what may happen, and we took advantage of every chance we had - almost every night, as I recall. L was especially excited when we imagined him fucking her - she came more quickly with powerful orgasms. And as a result, so did I.

Dave was every bit as charming that Saturday night as he was when we first met him. He brought a nice bottle of cabernet that made beginnings more comfortable. We finished it, then put away a bottle of my own. We talked for hours, about everything, and eventually about sex as the wine flowed. When he asked L whether I was ever jealous when men flirted with her, she admitted that I had been when we were dating, but never these days. I froze when she told him, "In fact, I think he likes it when guys flirt with me. I know he does later when we're alone."

I watched and listened as they began to flirt - him teasing her about how she must get a lot of attention from other men, and she confessing that she enjoyed teasing me about it. L was never an adept drinker - but now she was slurring a word now and then and revealing much more than I even expected. Dave kept the heat to a low boil, but L was slowly losing control. Where was my innocent wife?

Finally there was an awkward lull in the conversation. We were all a little buzzed, and had met a hurdle between innocent flirtation and genuine seduction. Little things come back to me - Gato Barbieri's warm, sultry sax playing in the background, the clock chime at 1:00 AM, the faint outline of Dave's erection on the front of his khakis, and L's face as she turned to me with a look of expectation and arousal that begged me to do something - anything.

I stood and moved behind the sofa where L and I sat. My first thought was to leave them alone and let nature take its course. But I was desperate to see, to watch them get naked together for the first time, to see how their bodies fit together just before he put his cock in her. So I began to unbutton L's blouse from behind, slowly, one button at a time, from the top down.

L looked back at me and smiled, as if she was telling me she was fine. Telling me to continue, thankful I had taken some action to move the night forward. I've seen that look many, many times since then, and it always reminds me of that first time.

Dave watched intently from his chair nearby. There was no sign that he was surprised or shocked - he just studied L patiently with intense interest. I kept glancing over at him, a bit worried his reaction would be to excuse himself with polite concern about our marriage. The longer he stayed and watched, the more certain I became that the night may be at least one of our recent bedtime fantasies.

Not that I wasn't nervous. My hands were shaking as I undid button after button down the front of L's blouse. I remembered convincing her not to wear a bra earlier that evening, assuming it would tease Dave as he noticed, and that maybe, just maybe he'd be taken by the sudden sight of her bare breasts as he undressed her. "It will let him know that we planned this, and how much you want him," I had told her. She had grinned at me and finally consented. I was a bit disappointed that the outline of her nipples didn't show through the blouse as much as I had expected. But hell, we both knew, and one way or another I was sure Dave would know as well.

I had no real plan. I was on autopilot. I pulled the remainder of her blouse from under the waistband of her slacks and moved the sides apart exposing the inner curves of her breasts and a soft path of skin down her belly. Dave stayed glued to his seat and stared.
But something in me didn't want to merely hand her over to him naked. I wanted to see L beg for it. I wanted to see him be the aggressor. I didn't want it to be too easy. I wanted them to show how much they wanted each other. I was simply giving my permission - it was up to them to let their passion lead them to fucking.

I reached over her shoulders from behind and unfastened the front of her slacks, lowered the zipper, and pulled them open as far as I could, baring her lower belly and a hint of her pink panties. Then I stood back from the sofa, looked over at Dave, and nodded. I wanted to tell him, "I've opened her for you. You can have her. She's yours." But I'm sure my look said it all.

I thought it was odd that he never looked at me, only at L as he rose and went to her. But then I got the message - that I no longer mattered there. I stepped further back and dimmed the lights, thinking I could maneuver unnoticed in the shadows. As I began to watch, I was sure they didn't care where I was or whether I watched or not. They were alone, and they went at each other instantly.

Dave pulled her slacks and panties down her legs in a single swift move. L spread her legs and he went to his knees between them. She gasped suddenly as he began to lick her belly and inner thighs, then he lowered his face between her legs and ate her. Her eyes were closed, and she made little whimpering sounds as he worked.

I was afraid things would go south when after just a few minutes she asked him to stop. He looked up at her, and she was staring at him and panting. I could tell she was trying to regain control, and I was sure she had decided she couldn't go through with it. I had always worried that if L finally had sex with another man and suddenly let guilt and recrimination get in the way, she might never agree to try it again. I was more than disappointed - Dave seemed like the perfect guy for her. I wondered if me being there had made her too self-conscious, in spite of all the role playing we had done. Maybe I should step out for a while. Would the privacy allow her to continue?

Then I heard her say to him, "We should go to the bedroom."

I remember going from despair to elation within a second or two, then trying to temper my expectations with a dose of reality. I suppose I knew L as more of the "stop, I can't do this" wife than the "let's go to the bedroom" wife, if I was completely honest. The way she spoke to him was out of character for L - her words reeked of both intimacy and hunger. Maybe the role playing had helped, although I reminded myself that playing a hotwife may be much easier than being one, especially the first time.

I watched as she took his hand and led him toward our bedroom. It was a scene out of my hottest fantasies - he was fully dressed, confident, and I believed certain that he would fuck her when he first arrived. L was naked except for her open blouse which still covered much of her breasts and nipples. He was "taking" my wife before my eyes. And she was leading him to our bed where she would surrender everything to him. Could this really be happening?

But she stopped half-way to the door, turned to me, and extended her hand.

"I can't do this without you, Don. I want you with me. Please?"

I took her hand, and she led us into our darkened bedroom. With my back against the wall, trying desperately to stay out of the way, I watched them strip each other. He pulled L's blouse off her shoulders, staring into her eyes, reassuring her that he'd be a lover with the utmost care. To my surprise, I'm not sure she needed it. She undressed him quickly, efficiently, I thought. She never paused, even when his erection sprung from his boxers as she tugged them down his thighs.

They just stood there for a minute, naked, excited, as though they couldn't decide what to do next. He took her into his arms, and she melted into him, trapping his cock between them against her belly. She had barely looked at his cock, at least not as long as I had. That he wasn't the archetypical fantasy Bull with a nine inch cock didn't surprise me - in fact it was a bit of a relief. He was the same length as me, but a bit thicker. Very, very hard. I imagined how good he'd feel inside her, with no fear of the pain a huge cock might cause. L is very small and very tight inside, with muscles that can grip a cock like a fist. He was going to love fucking her.

L wanted me there by the bed as they made love. I couldn't get enough of the way her body responded, the way she circled him with her legs and raised her hips into him as he fucked her. Eventually she reached for my hand and I could feel the tension in her build. She pulled me close suddenly, almost violently, and my head collided with Dave's for an instant. Seconds later we were kissing deeply as L's orgasm washed over her in waves of animal sounds and spasms. I wish I could put into words the brief burst of emotions that ran through me. There would have been no better way of showing me how much she loved me for letting another man give her that much pleasure.

I moved away and let her encourage Dave's orgasm. She stroked his body with her fingers, pleading with her eyes to have him cum in her. Finally he did, grunting and thrusting his cock deeply inside her as she smiled up at him and took everything he had. And at the same time she gave herself up to him, this time her orgasm focused on the man who was cumming inside her. I hadn't known she could be that woman. Every inch of her body so hungry and out of control with an orgasm unexpectedly triggered so soon by another man's cock spewing inside her. Is that what someone would see when she comes with me? It was the first time I watched a guy fuck her. The first time I saw her body orgasm as I watched from the side of our bed. How would I know?

I was pleasantly surprised when Dave wanted to talk about the night during breakfast the next morning. He seemed intent on hearing both L's and my fantasies - what we had experimented with in bed during our role playing, and what we might want to play out in the future. He didn't force any ideas of his own. He just listened to us talk. It certainly wasn't very sexy talk. Mostly it was letting him get to know us better - an intellectual interview of sorts about who we were and what we thought we needed sexually. Again, there was something about him that allowed us to open up to him, even about our most confidential taboos, needs, and fantasies.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. He's been able to decipher the drivers of our needs and fantasies like no one we've met. He has an innate talent for knowing our boundaries, recognizing them when we play, and even how to push us a bit over the edge to keep things fresh and exciting.