"Okay, I'll drive while you sleep in the car, and we'll come back tomorrow for your car."
"Aren't you supposed to be working today?"
"I took the day off. That's how I got to be here."
"Right. Wake me in an hour so I can get packed."
She was asleep in two minutes. I stayed up and packed her luggage as well as I could without knowing what she was planning to wear. I washed off the toys and put them in their bag. I let her sleep an extra half-hour. After breakfast I went back to the room to sleep until a half hour before check-out time while she finished her work.
Saturday morning we went back to the hotel to get her car, which the manager allowed us to leave there overnight.
Monday evening we sat down to discuss our past -- specifically hers -- and our future. Initially Sarah tried to explain her actions as the result of my being too conventional. How many men wear thong bikinis that expose their ass cheeks on a public beach? How many men allow, indeed encourage, their wives to expose themselves to other drivers on the highway. How many men accept blowjobs when they are driving? How many men permit their wives to exhibit their pussies on sidewalks? Next she pleaded loneliness. We talked on the telephone every night we were apart. She needed to have an orgasm every night; she had several vibrators and ten fingers. Finally she got around to her desire for a variety of partners. That was an argument I couldn't shoot down.
Then came the subject of my needs. What more did I want? Would I be willing to wear the butt plug more often? Why not, especially if we were engaging in a marathon fucking session. Being able to keep a hard-on would be helpful for both of us as had been amply demonstrated Thursday night. The handcuff issue was simple; I trusted her completely. All we needed was a different bed frame, one with posts. Would I allow her to occasionally use the ball gag on me? That was a tough one. I probably wouldn't resist, but I certainly wasn't going to encourage it because of the discomfort. Did I want to sleep with other women? Was I serious about swinging or just talking? What man hasn't had his hormones go into action at the sight of a beautiful woman? Acting on the impulse is another matter. The concept of marital fidelity was so ingrained in me thar I had never considered sleeping with anyone but Sarah after the first time we had bedded down together. Swinging had just been a fantasy.
The thought of her fucking other men excited me. We spent a couple hours going her previous liaisons in detail. The more she told me, the more aroused I became.
She was intrigued by the idea of me having other women. She gave me permission to screw around but wanted to hear all the juicy details afterwards. She even offered to let me bind her up in a closet to watch as she had done me.
The questions of group sex and swapping were left unresolved. If a situation arose, maybe. We wouldn't deliberately seek it out.
The subject of a divorce wasn't brought up, much to my relief. She always came home when she said she would, so I concluded her heart was exclusively mine.
We went shopping for a new bed frame the following evening.
My next trip was three weeks later to one of the company's banks. Sarah insisted I take the handcuffs, gag, and butt plug. I had doubts that I would score. The reality is that women pick up men despite what the male ego thinks. I promised to try, but I secretly expected I would have to make something up when I got home to make her happy. She was eager to hear a suck and fuck story when I returned.
The meeting was in a city where the company had another division. My counterpart, Fred, attended with me. As we were leaving Fred invited me to dinner at his home with his wife, Julie. Thinking this would get me off the hook with Sarah, I accepted. After getting directions to his house, I went to my hotel room to freshen up and to call Sarah with the news. I could sense the disappointment in her voice; she knew I would be home the next night.
Julie answered the doorbell. She had strawberry blonde hair that reached her narrow waist. Her blouse was open enough for me to appreciate her amble bosom. Long dancer's legs extended from her micromini skirt. High heeled shoes stretched her calves into smooth lines.
Her cooking was as tasty as she was beautiful. Fred and I sat opposite each other with Julie at the head of the table between us. More than once, he caught me sneaking a peak at her breasts, but he only smiled. Midway through the meal, a button popped off her blouse into her mashed potatoes. We all laughed as she picked it out and laid it on the table. Since I was on her left, I could see into the opening left by the missing button. She was, as I had suspected, braless.
After dinner Julie sent Fred and me to the living room where she would serve us coffee. "She's a beauty, isn't she?" Fred said as we sat down.
"Yes," I said. "I think she and Sarah could be friends. You two should come visit us some time, and I could show you around my plant."
"You're on," he said. "Julie likes you a lot. I know she loved your attention at dinner. Don't worry. She's a big showoff. Personally I like having other men gawk at her. It helps me appreciate how lucky I am to have her."
"Do you take milk or sugar, Mike?" I heard Julie ask from behind me.
