This tale will make no sense without the context of the previous chapters. The first episode, My Daughter's Panties, introduced the main characters and they just took over from there. All the sexual situations involve mature adults in consensual relationships, however weird.
As this episode begins, our valiant retired lothario, Geoffrey, has just finished a live sex show performance with an equally aged Jo. Now his wife, Marie, has invited his friend, Jane, to join them at home for 'supper'!
------------------------------
And then it was time. Signalling for Jane to join us, We waved goodbye to our friends and we left.
Jane and Marie sat together in the back of the car as I drove the short distance back to our home. Jane was obviously conflicted. On the one hand, I had gently flirted with her over the ten years since her husband, a good friend of mine from my rugby years, had died after a short illness. On the other hand, she was sitting next to my wife who was explaining the terms under which my cock would be available for periodic bouts of sexual relief.
One of the issues Jane seemed to be struggling with was one of our core principles; that it was unacceptable for either Marie or me to be left alone while the other was engaging in sex. Now, we'd recently revisited our rules to be less prescriptive but this was a fairly important precaution that we'd had from the very beginning of this lunacy, to stop resentment from ruining our marriage. In short, if Jane wanted to have sex with me that evening, then Marie would be participating too.
My wife had recently admitted that, as a student before we met, she had been with male and female lovers, though she had sublimated her bi-tendencies once we were exclusive. After a brief dip in our marital relations earlier in the year, her excitement at our resurgence had been spoiled when she realised that she was the only one in her friend group that was still getting laid. And thus began my, or our, descent into managed promiscuity. Jane would be the ninth woman that my wife had invited into our bed in the last two months: not, you understand, that I'm complaining.
As we turned into our road I heard Jane's shocked voice. "So, if I understand what you've just said, you are happy for Geoff to fuck me but if he does, then I have to have sex with you as well?"
"Exactly," Marie agreed, obviously pleased that Jane had got the message.
"But I'm not gay," Jane all but wailed.
"Sweetheart," my wife comforted her. "Once Geoff starts pounding his penis into you, you really won't give a damn who it is that's sucking on your tits." She took Jane's hand. "Neither me nor my friends are committed lesbians," she said, reassuringly. "But sometimes another woman just instinctively understands what you need. And then other times, you just need cock."
I stopped the car on the drive and turned in my seat. "If our suggestion repulses you, Jane. I'll take you home now. If you come in with us, you can still say no if there's a line you just can't bring yourself to cross; but understand this, it is both of us or nothing. I will not leave my wife alone while I share her bed with you.
Jane bit her lip, nervously, then opened the car door. "I can think of a dozen reasons why I should not do this," she complained, mainly to herself. "And they are all fucking ridiculous." She got out and walked round to join Marie and me at the front door. "What will people think?" she asked herself in an ironic tone of voice. "Only a slut would have sex with a man she's not married to. Ooh! Look at her, all fur coat and no knickers," she mimicked a disapproving common accent. "It's all bollocks isn't it? Like Marie said, as long as no-one gets hurt it's nobody's business but ours."
I unlocked the front door and stood aside to let the women enter first. They were hanging up their coats when I re-joined them. There was a semi-awkward silence as we each debated the next step, although we all knew where that step would ultimately lead us. Drinks were offered and declined and I decided to move us on.
Winking at my wife, I announced that I intended to shower before meeting the ladies in the playroom. After all, I had just had sex with another woman, so both good manners and good hygiene required I clean off any... Well; you know what I mean. I caught Marie's almost imperceptible response. Good! We were on the same page.
Once in the bathroom, I dumped my clothes into the laundry basket and stepped into the shower. I had just started lathering up my meat and dumplings when there was a tap on the en-suite door. "Geoff," Marie called out. "Can we come in?"
"The more the merrier," I called back. "Come in; it's not locked."
My wife strolled in, all but dragging an obviously reluctant Jane by the hand. "Don't be silly, dear," she was saying. "He doesn't bite." Then she corrected herself. "Well, he does, but earlobes and nipples don't count, do they."
Now it was Marie's turn to give me a meaningful look. I got the message. "Would you like to join me ladies? Get all those special little places squeaky clean?" I carried on washing.
Jane looked mortified, and even more so when my wife began to help her undress. "But..." Jane stammered.
"But what?" Marie challenged as she unbuttoned Janes blouse. "But he's naked? - Of course he is; he's having a shower. But it's 'wrong'? - Why? I'm his wife and I don't mind. But people don't get into the shower with men while their wives are there? - No," Marie conceded. "That's quite unusual, I admit, but it works for us. Now, hurry up and I'll join you both in a minute. Don't hang about or he'll get all wrinkly." She giggled to herself. "Or even more wrinkly than he already is." I gave her a glare that bothered her not at all.
Jane finally surrendered and finished undressing herself. I finally got to admire her naked body as she shed her clothes. In her mid forties, her boobs were still full though her nipples probably pointed further South than they did fifteen years ago. Her belly, softly rounded rather than taut, still showed some stretch marks from carrying her son to term. The skin on her bum was ever so slightly rippled rather than smooth, and all of those flaws were, to me anyway, the fine patina that said this woman had lived a life.
I held out my hand to guide her into the shower with me, noticing that Marie was almost naked by now too. "Back or front?" I enquired.
"What?"
"Do you want me to wash your back or your front?" I explained patiently. "You're our guest, so we don't expect you to wash yourself."
"I don't know," she complained. "No one has ever asked me that before."
"You wash her back," Marie suggested, surprising Jane by quietly entering the shower behind her. "I'll do her front, and then," she continued, mischievously. "we can turn her round to rinse her off."
"Very fair," I agreed. "Is that okay with you, Jane?"
"I don't have the first idea how to answer that," the overwhelmed woman replied.
I adjusted the showerhead for maximum spread and passed a shower scrunchie to my wife. She gently turned Jane to face her and planted a soft kiss on her lips then, very gently we began to wash our new playmate. I knelt behind her, working my way up her legs to her cute feminine tush while Marie started at her boobs and worked down. We converged, deliberately so, at her groin; Marie gently soaping her bush while I cheerfully lathered between her bum cheeks and, to be honest, a little bit further forward too.
When Jane parted her thighs to allow us better access, we knew that we had turned her. She was no longer the bitter, judgemental woman that ten years of widowhood had created. She wanted to feel pleasure and both Marie and I were free to touch her any way that we chose. I worked my way up from her bum, catching a feel of side boob on the way, while my wife went down. From the shudder I felt as I worked on her shoulders, I assumed that my wife couldn't resist planting a kiss on Jane's conveniently placed muff.
We stood and turned her again. This time I played the showerhead over her boobs, her belly and then her mons before passing it to Marie to rinse her back. "Geoffrey?" Marie whispered, not wanting to break the spell. "Is Jane squeaky clean now?"
Jane stood between us, powerless to resist as I dragged my finger down her chest to her nipple. "Her boobs feel clean," I confirmed. I bent my head to take the other teat in my mouth. "Taste clean too." Now my finger traced its journey down her belly. She whimpered. I gently cupped her mound. Again, without conscious thought, her thighs parted. My questing digit found its way between her lips and she sighed as if all the sexual deprivation of a decade of loneliness drained away in that exhalation. Marie stepped forward pressing her own breasts into Jane's back while reaching around to caress my friend's.
"Make her come, Geoff. Here, now, in the shower together."
Jane's pleading expression alone would have convinced me even without my wife's words. So there, in the shower, Marie teased and tormented Jane's breasts while I fingered her and then knelt to use my tongue between her thighs. When I felt her body begin to tense, I moved my focus to her clit, slowly at first but then more forcefully. Her moans deepened until she finally cried out in release as she sagged into my wife's arms.
I stood and stopped the shower then we led the unresisting woman to the playroom and towelled her dry. "Geoffrey, why don't you dry yourself while I finish Jane's hair,' Marie suggested. "Then if you prop yourself up on the headboard, perhaps she could cuddle up to you while I help to broaden her horizons." My wife's raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Jane's horizons were going to be broadened alright - the lucky girl.
I built myself a nest of pillows and those pointless cushions that wives seem to insist we buy to 'dress' our bedrooms. I know that I've just admitted to putting them to good use but, truthfully, how many women buy the damn things so that their husbands can use them to embrace a lady-friend while his wife goes down on her?
But that what we did that night. Me propped up in bed; Jane between my legs watching as Marie showed how much pleasure one woman could give another just by using her tongue. I was content too, for now anyway. Even straight out of the shower, Jane had a scent all of her own and it was my privilege to inhale it. That my arms were wrapped around her with my hands gently kneading her boobs, was a bonus.
Inevitably, Jane eventually succumbed to Marie's tender but expert ministrations. I have to admit that, in all modesty, I played my part too but my wife deserves most of the credit. I sensed Jane's breathing quicken; her moans and pleas for Marie not to stop; her erratic grasping of my hands on her breasts. Then her body arched as another orgasm took her. Marie was relentless though, carrying on until Jane begged her to stop.
My wife took pity on her and complied. She climbed up next to me, kissing me, sharing our new lover's essence in the process. "Your turn Geoff," she said quietly.