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Passion , Perspective Ch. 20-21

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Deep

This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren’t interested in, you may reconsider reading this.

Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography.

*

I was on my way home, fighting the scramble of traffic in the heat of summer when my dashboard lit with a telephone call. I didn’t recognize the phone number, assumed it was work. “This is Don,” I answered.

“Hi, Don,” a contralto voice soothed, I recognized it from somewhere, couldn’t place it. “I don’t know if you’ll remember me, I’m Amy, you and your wife met my husband Luke and I in December.” Seven months had glided by, but I still remembered that evening, Amy had impressed me, Luke was a turn-off for Molly. It was obvious we wouldn’t be going further, but I’d used Amy as mental encouragement a few times when I and Molly made love.

“Oh, yes, how could I forget! How are you?”

“Just fine, do you have a moment?”

“I’m in a traffic jam doing fourteen miles an hour, I’ve got nothing but time. How can I help?”

“Well, when we met, I was very impressed with you, and I got the feeling you were a little attracted to me.”

“I was!” I admitted, “I thought you were the cat’s meow.” A chuckle through the speakers. “I was sorry your husband and Molly didn’t hit it off.”

“Oh, so was I,” she admitted. “But, listen, I was wondering if we could grab a drink some night, just you and I. Just to talk.” Just to talk? I wanted so much more! Just speaking to her on the phone aroused me. Molly wouldn’t mind me having cocktails with her, would she?

“I don’t see why not, I’d love to see you again.” We compared schedules, Amy and I made a date at a wine bar we both knew, Thursday, sevenish, I knew Molly had her book club that night. For some unknown reason I didn’t tell Molly what I was doing, I really wasn’t sure – although I had hopes – where this was going to go. But Molly appreciated my increased vigor when I attacked her that night.

I was waiting in the bar fifteen minutes early, and I watched the door as Amy entered garbed in a zesty summer frock, tight across the bodice and waist, flowing pleated skirt just above the knee, high heels, just enough of the breach between her ample orbs showing to entice the imagination. She came to me at the bar, I stood to shake her hand, she had other ideas, I felt her breast on my left chest, her lips were on my cheek. “It’s good to see you,” she ardently breathed, I agreed just as heartily. She gazed around the restaurant, saw the last booth was open, steered me towards it, we sat across from each other. The waitress took her order for a glass of white zinfandel, we schmoozed. I remembered what I enjoyed about her those months earlier, the perky smile quick to her face, the charming hairstyle, blond and short. I complimented her on the earrings, silver and swaying with every laugh. She seemed free of butterflies, some of which were winging their way through my intestines, for forty-five minutes I found out about a birthday party for an old boss, she discovered that my favorite country was Portugal and why. I ordered a tumbler of white port to explain the Douro valley, we shared it, I tasted her lipstick on the rim of the glass. She stared into my eyes, when she placed an airy palm on my forearm I didn’t move, a few minutes later I traced one of her fingers. She asked about Molly, I enquired of Luke, everyone was fine.

Her mobile rang, she looked at it, said, “Work. Would you mind if I took it?” and stepped to the vestibule, I watched her converse, she seemed serious, but at the end laughed and clicked the phone off. Returning to the table, she waved for me to shift, sat beside me, our knees touched.

“Remember back in December,” she said, “when we met up? I was so attracted to you, I can’t tell you how distressed I was when I figured out Luke and your wife didn’t have any chemistry. You’ve met enough couples like us that you can feel that too, right? We have, a few times, and I’ve always chalked it up to fate, sometimes things work, sometimes they don’t, que sera and all that. A few days later the only thing you remember is that you met with the couple. But a funny thing happened after we met you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I felt that way, too. Molly teased me about how I’d fallen for you, even offered to get together with you guys again, see if she could change her mind, but I couldn’t ask her to do that.”

“You’re a wise man. I’ve taken a bullet for the team, it wasn’t pretty, I’ll never do it again, Molly shouldn’t be sorry. Well, as I was saying, Luke and I were talking last week, you know, sort of trying to get each other excited, and he asked of the men we’ve met which one would I like to see again, and I mentioned you. He remembered it as well, apparently he realized what I was feeling that night, and he suggested that even though he didn’t want to see Molly, yenibosna escort maybe you and I . . .”

I realized immediately what ‘you and I’ meant, quickly considered the ramifications. “Have you done this before?” I asked, “Just you by yourself?”

She giggled, “No, that’s why this is so strange. Everytime I’ve been intimate, Luke has been right there, or at least very close. In a way, it sort of seems like cheating but Luke says I’m being silly. Have you and Molly ever, you know, been apart from each other?”

“She has. She’s got a steady boyfriend, I know him well, sometimes she goes over to his house.”

“Oh, Luke’s got a bit of a cuckold thing, I’ve always been a bit leery of trying something like that, maybe Molly can give me some tips. Or even . . .” she turned to me, her lips were an inch from my ear, she put her hand on my thigh, “. . . you could help me with Luke’s fantasy. Mine, too!”

With one hand I brushed a lock back from her cheek, the other was on her leg. “I’d love to, really I would.” Our lips met, since our backs were to the bar there was no chance anyone could see us, I let her feel my sincerity for the proposition, she felt even higher than that. We necked for a few moments, then she broke it and said, “Do you have to talk to Molly about it?”

“I should, we’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Of course. If she’s not cool with this we probably shouldn’t go any further. How do you think she’ll react?”

“Pretty positively, I think. She’s had her opportunities, she’s not the jealous type, I’m sure she’ll say it’s okay.”

“Let me know as soon as you can, please. I don’t remember the last time I was so excited.”

I escorted her to her car, the sun had set and in the last glows of twilight we stood and kissed, pressed bodies to each other, I wished we were in a more comfortable spot and wearing a lot less clothing, she finally pulled out of the lot going left, I turned right.

When Molly got home she had a couple drinks under her belt and started telling me the latest story about her friend Kat. “Apparently, she was with her husband at Sandals and she picked up a guy from right under his wife’s nose, took him to the room and screwed him, just like that. She said the wife didn’t suspect a thing. Then she told me I should start doing things like that, it’s not too late even if I am fifty-six! Oh, if she only knew!”

I put tea on, she asked me what I’d been up to. “I went over to the Bleu Turtle for a sandwich, watched the ball game, came home,” I lied. I didn’t want to admit I’d taken even the first step without her knowledge, I didn’t think it would matter since I would have her permission when, I meant ‘if’, I took things further. We took the tea into the bedroom, Molly put on her nightie, I took off my clothes revealing my god-given pajamas, we talked as we pulled down the covers and got ready for bed.

“I talked with Bobbie today, they were wondering if they could talk you into that sailboat ride you’ve been promising,” Molly said.

“Sure, absolutely.”

“And you know how Mark likes it. He’s getting pretty good helping you with the sails, isn’t he? I was wondering, what would you think about all five of us out on the bay?” It was a thought, should we intermingle Lifestyle friends?

“Why not? Do you think something would happen?”

“Maybe,” Molly pondered, “would it be the worst thing? Bobbie’s been complaining that you can’t get it up more than three times in a night anymore. She’d probably like another guy to play with.” It was a complete razz, I always satisfied Bobbie before I had my single orgasm.

“Set it up,” I allowed, “either way, vanilla or sexy, we’ll have a pretty good time. How about next weekend?”

We were in bed, Molly began to reach for the remote, I stopped her. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about. Do you remember Luke and Amy? We had drinks back in December.”

“A little bit. She’s blond, he’s short?”

“That’s them.”

“And, if I remember, you were hot for her but I didn’t like him, right?”

“You got it. Well, she called me, and asked me if I wanted to have dinner . . .”

“Donny’s got a girl friend, Donny’s got a girl friend,” Molly sang in a lilting, teasing voice. “Wow! Do you want to meet her?”

“I’d like to. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Molly kissed me, affectionately. “Of course I wouldn’t. I assume you’d like it if it turned into more than just a meal. Oh, I can’t wait! After all these years, finally you’re gonna get it all by yourself. My goodness, what are you going to be when you turn sixty?!?! Where are you going to go?”

“I was thinking that Italian restaurant out in Edgewater . . .”

“The one with the views over the river, all candle lit and everything? Good choice. Then where? If you want I can go over to Mark’s, you can play here.”

“Maybe another time,” I declined, “I was thinking the first time, yeşilköy escort assuming we get there, I’d take her to the Marriott.”

“Oh, you romantic! She’s going to be a very lucky girl.” By this time, Molly was cuddling my contraption, I knew that not only was I going to get very lucky with Amy soon, that night I was going to get lucky with my wife.

~~~~~

I called Amy the next evening, her phone rang out to the message, I tried to be circumspect. “Hi, Amy, it’s Don. I talked to the other interested party and got the agreement. Give me a call and let’s go over the details.”

Twenty minutes later, I got the return call, my wife was out of earshot. “She said yes?” Amy was excited.

“She doesn’t mind. I’m beside myself. When can we get together?”

“We’re busy all this weekend, but I could make it next week.”

“How about Monday,” I suggested.

“Could we wait till Tuesday?” she retorted.

“Of course. I was thinking we could go to dinner at this place I know . . .”

“Don, I’d love to have a meal with you sometime, but I’m so ready. What do you say we order room service?”

That, also, was music to my ears, we made a date for seven at the Marriott, she asked me if I’d get the room, meet her in the bar. All weekend, Molly was in a good mood while I anticipated my upcoming rendezvous.

~~~~~

Tuesday night I got home about six, plenty of time to take a shower, chat with Molly, she wasn’t around. But when I entered the bedroom I found laid out on the bed some clothes, short sleeved linen shirt, beige pleated pants, my nice cordovan loafers, and a surprise, a pair of new, kelly green silky briefs, and a note, ‘I hope Amy has as much fun taking these off as I did buying them. Have a wonderful time, love, M.’

I showered, put on my wife’s suggestions, was at the desk at 6:50, picked up the key. I was just in time to glimplse Amy walking into the bar, a small carry bag in her hand, she sat in the last booth, I got a couple glasses of wine and joined her. “Hello, you look marvelous,” I complimented, just a little saddened that she was wearing a sterile blouse and pants, her make up was a bit tired.

“Not as good as I hope you’re going to make me feel,” she vouched, taking the white, a kiss on my cheek. “You look wonderful. You ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Listen, let me go up to the room before you, give me fifteen minutes, okay?” I allowed her the boon, watched her ample ass as she walked from the bar.

When I got up there, I knocked, seconds later I heard the latch, by the time I opened the door, the one to the bathroom was just closing, I heard Amy holler, “I’ll be a little while yet, relax, won’t you?”

I sat on the short couch, tried to settle myself, wondered what was taking her so long. Then I found out. I don’t know why women think we like lingerie, but they’re very wise creatures. Amy was now garbed in a black bedroom frock, two strips of filigree descended from her neck, disguising yet advertising her abundant bosom, a small strap at her breastbone providing structure. At her waist a fleeting transparent skirt scarcely covered her hips, a black g-string displayed the territory I longed to conquer. Her eyes were sharply lined, her hair was freshly brushed in an updo, her lips glowed red. She danced to me, twirling and exhibiting her bare back, she sat in my lap. “You like?” And she kissed me.

She was one of the best kissers I’ve ever met, better than Molly, better than Bobbie, soft lips, a technique that slowed to a pace of a tax refund, closed mouth to begin, then a crack, then her mouth fully opened to me. I forgot about the rest of her, concentrated on just those two red lips. Perhaps we kissed for two minutes, maybe twenty, when we finally broke she kept her eyes closed for seconds, appreciating the lingering innervation. “Oh, this is going to be good, isn’t it?” she observed, and we returned to our kiss, extended it to include our hands. All that had been caressed to this point had been neck and back, we now allowed further scrutiny. I found the side of her torso, the fabric allowed a foray to the side of the bulb, my mouth slid from her neck to the valley, she bent back, the softness of the overabundance was adored, she performed a trick of magic with the clasp, the straps separated, I had only to nudge the fretwork, an orb was displayed for my view, my touch, my taste. Even before I approached the firm center, broad and elongated, I heard her sigh, and when I sucked for the first time she tautened, I heard a soft cry, the more and the harder I nibbled the louder she breathed, moaned. Her chest was rising and falling fast, and slowly the beat subsided. She opened her eyes, focused on mine and exclaimed, “I’ve never come just from sucking on my nipples, oh, you’re marvelous.” We kissed, pledging even further pleasures, and then she had me rise, standing behind me I felt her unbutton my shirt, drawing it from zeytinburnu escort my shoulders, a hand unbuckled my belt, unzipped the fly, my pants fell to the floor, I stepped out of them. I tried to turn around, she forbid me the action, still behind me I felt her nakedness bore into my back, her kisses thrilled my neck and shoulders, yes, her hand traveled to cover the invader, still swathed in emerald satin. I remained in place, my eyes closed, sensing her every temptation, and then I divined movement, seconds later she begged me to turn around, she was ten feet away, facing a mirror, her back to me, in the reflection I was astounded by the beauty of this woman who was allowing me everything, she was unclothed save only for a humble patch of silk, two strings. As much as I admired her loveliness she lusted for my body, clad only in those jade briefs, the bulge barely concealed.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” she asked. Only one syllable answered her, “Yes!”

“Take me now,” she beseeched, “I’m ready.” She advanced to the bed, threw the covers down, laid on the mattress, disposed of the scrap of clothing. I desired her, her mons, bare of any hair, her cleft fuchsia with hints of moisture. I joined her, my briefs were thrown to the breeze, we were as Cupid and Psyche, prepared for our venture. When I came to the bed, she gathered me into her nest, pleaded, “There’s no need to use a condom, I want to feel every bit of you.”

Her first touch of my naked penis, mine of her burrow was when I penetrated her. Her innards were blistering, warmer than any woman I’d ever been with, her natural lubrication eased our movements, the friction of our agitation inflamed us further. Within a few strokes the woman below me arched her back, a scream occupied the room, she squirmed under me uncontrollably, her legs and arms crept through the air without pattern. I could have released but I withstood the snare, we shifted to our sides, her knees curled to her breasts, I behind her, buried. I was now able to tickle her earlobes, cup a breast, if she shifted her top leg it was possible to rub the clit, she roared again, in the hall I thought I heard someone halt to hear the festivity. Again we shifted, she on top, her heels above my shoulders, her palms next to my knees, she was in control now, I wallowed in the vision of her sweaty, perfect body, again she exploded. And then she became more erect, vertical above me, her knees supporting her ballet, she told me to release, fill her, and as she pinched my nipple, held my balls behind her, moved her hips viciously, I blasted every iota of my extract to quench her completely. I wrenched, she kept me inside, anticipated my quakes, crushed her pelvis onto mine, capturing my last globule.

Perhaps I lost consciousness, the experience was so overwhelming, but I found Amy leaning toward me, asking if I was all right, to which I responded, “Oh, my goodness, that was fantastic.”

“You’re really, really great yourself, the best!” We kissed, then she announced, “I’m hungry, how about you?” “Fungry,” I agreed, we decided upon a cheese, fruit and meat tray, a bottle of champagne. While we waited for the repast to arrive we played, not seriously, but lovingly. I had a finger inside her, my mouth on her nipple, when we heard the knock and call, “Room service!” Amy bounced up, got a ten-dollar bill from her purse, and disappeared around the corner to the door. I expected to hear the closet creak, the clang of hangers as she got a robe, but all I caught was the heaviness of the portal opening, a shocked male voice repeating, “room service,” and Amy asked, “Would you put it on the table, please?” I quickly threw a blanket over my loins, a youth in black and white entered, and as professionally as possible, although I knew he was doing his utmost to memorize Amy’s parabolas, set up the plates, put the wine in an icy bucket.

“Should I open it?” he asked, doing his best not to stare.

“No, that’s okay,” Amy responded, and she approached him, putting the bill in his shirt pocket, and then pressing into him, giving him a peck on the side of his face. He turned red, and headed for the door. To me, Amy mused, “I wonder if I tipped him too much?” I laughed, then got out of bed and opened the wine with a ‘pop!’ We drank and ate on the couch, feeding each other, and it got playful again. Amy wrapped a pliable slice of muenster around my just as pliable penis, proceeded to devour it. Then she grabbed a plump strawberry, sucked on it, then placed it within her womb, rubbed it around to ensure all the juices coated it, ate half of it, and I swallowed the remainder. And, the last act of the meal, she put a piece of orange inside herself and displayed it, just peeping out of the burrow and dared me to eat it. I did, and then started on her.

It took just a few moments until I discovered the specifics of her netherworld, the clit that chose to hide itself, the abundance of the folds of skin, the the heat of the inner sanctum, a good four or five degrees warmer than the other women I’d been with. She responded well to long strokes of the tongue on the labia, speedy hard sucks on the clitoris. I quickly had her excited again, the room and the hallway were filled with the music of her orgasm. I kept her there for ten minutes until, finally exhausted, she cried ‘uncle.’

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