I guess this all started out of sheer boredom in our sex life. My wife and I have been married for 18 years, and for the first few years, we made love like animals in heat, going at it often up to three or four times a day. Though my wife is pretty straight-laced, she would let down occasionally, and we managed to fuck in every position imaginable. We even pulled out the video camera once in while.
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Daniel and I had been together almost a year. I had moved to Portland for a teaching job and didn't know anyone, but had hooked up with Daniel in the spring of my first year at the high school. He'd come into my classroom to recruit students for summer jobs maintaining trails in the city parks. He was handsome with his brown eyes and golden hair, and he was smart and funny without being cynical and his professional life was devoted to making a difference in kids' lives. I couldn't help but fall for him.
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After a long drive through the desert from Fresno to Las Vegas, both you and I were nearly exhausted but excited. We had both put in a full week of work, and we needed some time away from the more mundane details of our jobs. We planned the trip to Vegas a few weeks prior in honor of our second year together, and we were both ready to usher in another year in style. Our friend Michelle, along with her new boyfriend, was supposed to help us kick off our next year together, but, after a falling out two days prior, they decided not to make the trip.
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My girlfriend and I had talked a lot about our fantasies together, especially during sex. One theme we brought up a lot was the idea of a threesome... she was more comfortable and receptive to having a guy join us, and we focused on that. We would incorporate a lot of dirty talk in the bedroom... she'd describe what she wanted to do to "him", or I'd ask her what she wanted us both to do. It grew over time and obviously turned us both on.
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Marie rolled onto her back and stretched sensually. Her back arched as her hands and arms reached out above her head, her hard nipples, perched at the tip of her firm breasts, reaching up towards the sun. She relaxed, resting back on the towel that was still cool despite the heat of the late afternoon sun, her hands still above her head, her breasts taut on her chest.
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I woke up around three thirty in the morning with a raging piss hard-on. Since at the present time I live alone there was nothing to do with it but head for the bathroom. At my age, a hard-on of any kind is a terrible thing to waste.
Also at my age, waking up this early is always a problem as it's hard to get back to sleep. I tried to go back to bed and sleep but it wasn't happening, so I got back up and made a pot of coffee.
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Back in the 70's, in that decade of post-Pill and pre-HIV, I was a first year grad student at Berkeley when I met a new assistant prof in the history department. Jed was a few years older than I was, and he was a real product of the 60's: a bushy bearded and somewhat stocky teddybear kind of a guy who loved his dope and loved the sexual freedoms that emerged from those times.
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We first saw him at the beach, just down from the resort where we were spending two weeks. He was with a girl as stunning and as gorgeous as he was. While Steve and I first remarked on the absolute lusciousness of the girl, I made sure to comment on the "big bulge" in the crotch of the boy's Speedos, drawing Steve's attention to the ample package of hidden male genital goodies. We shared a knowing smile, both well aware of our common appreciation for such goodies.
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Looking back, we both must have known it was over. But at the time I doubt even she would have admitted it.
Amanda was angry at me though, that much was obvious. She told me not to get too drunk, because I had to drive home, so of course I wait straight to the bar and made myself a strong vodka tonic. The first of five in a not very long evening.
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"You will wear the blue skirt!" she tells me, reaching to pull it out of the closet.
I am already wearing the corset; black satin, laced, long suspenders linked on to sheer black stockings. Fishnet, she says, is tacky. Personally I think the whole suspenders-and-stockings thing is tacky, and much prefer bare flesh, but then, it's not for me to decide.
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