A couple of affectionately promiscuous retirees continue their journey. Episode 11 in the story about an increasingly improbable marriage.
Although there are youngsters involved in this series, they are excluded from any and all sexual activity or explicit conversations. Sex only takes place between consenting adults over the age of forty. There is a single brief reference to an historic instance of inappropriate contact between children. If that disturbs you then just skip the section indicated thus; +++++++++++++++
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My name is Geoff. If you are reading my stories in chronological order you will know that my wife and I are both retired and involved, sexually, with several of her friends. One in particular, Angie, is so close to us that we have invited her to be a third person in our relationship and, to that end, we are planning a Star Wars themed ceremony to celebrate our union in front of family and friends.
This account begins one Thursday, when our grandson had invited a friend's mum to visit us after school. Colin, said grandson, had asked us if he could invite Mia, a schoolfriend, to our wedding as his plus-one. I agreed, on condition that her mum was okay with Mia attending and approved of her choice of outfit. As we were having our costumes designed and made by students at the local university's fashion design faculty, at our expense, I had veto rights and I thought Mia's choice was fine. But still, if Mia's mum thought that her daughter's costume would be inappropriate, they would have to agree on something else. That was why I wanted to meet them both.
Mia's mum, well, she had told Colin that she wanted to talk to us because she was a little confused. I assumed that was because Colin had asked her daughter to accompany him to a wedding involving three people, with the participants and guests dressed in SciFi characters' costumes. I respected the lady for wanting to know a little more about us under the circumstances, before she consented.
Anyway, that was only one issue I faced that Thursday. The other was that the previous evening Lucy, an unhappily married artist in her early sixties, had offered herself to me as a free-use fuck-toy. Oddly enough, it took the three women to persuade me to accept her offer; I know... You would have snapped her hand off if it had been you; I'm a worrier, so I didn't.
The thing is, the girls (their words) suggested that Lucy wanted to help me to explore my inner self. As a retired materials science researcher, that wasn't something that came naturally to me: as an artist, it was what Lucy tried to do whenever she could. Eventually, of course, I caved and the following hour or so found her bound and gagged, tortured with vibrators, nipple clamps, heat, cold and whips before I finally had sex with her, twice. Fortunately, she loved it. Unfortunately Marie, my wife, found my apparent excesses disturbing. That morning, she seemed as though she was still trying to come to terms with why.
Marie seemed subdued as we ate breakfast. "Are we okay?" I asked, hesitantly, uncertain as to whether I'd strayed over some obvious boundary the previous evening.
"WE are fine," she tried to reassure me. "I, on the other hand, am finding that I'm not nearly as sexually secure as I try to try to pretend."
I took a leaf out of Ronan Keating's book, or his songbook anyway. Oh, come on; 'You say it best when you say nothing at all'. Surely? Never mind. I sat quietly waiting for my wife to gather her thoughts.
Her eyes filled with tears. I stood, took her hand and led her to the living room. I sat her on the sofa and cuddled up next to her. "When you're ready, I'm here for you," I told her. "You don't have to, but I hope you trust me enough to share whatever it is that's troubling you."
She gave a brave little smile as she took a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "It's such a long time ago. It felt like it happened to someone else, until Lucy described what you did to her: Then something just felt so wrong. I realised, only this morning, what it was."
I didn't feel so flippant now. But she was happy to talk without prompting, so I let her set her own pace.
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Taking a deep breath, she resumed her explanation. "We were both about ten or eleven. My cousin Paul and me. We were just playing together in the garden one summer and he found some twine. We were comfortable with each other so I let him tie my hands behind my back and he tickled me. It was awful. I cried. Then he touched me, because he could. I couldn't stop him. I was bound and totally helpless. I started to scream and he let me go. I never told anyone and, by the time I met you, he was dead. He had joined the forces; a Para. He died in the Falklands."
Marie wiped her eyes. "It was wrong but, if he'd said he was sorry, I'd have forgiven him. We were only kids. But, without realising it, I've carried that memory, buried, for years." She look apologetically at me. "I'm sorry, Geoff. When Lucy described how helpless she felt, it reminded me of that experience. I don't think I can do it."
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I shook my head. She didn't understand. "Marie. What I did with Lucy was for her. Yes, I went further than I would usually have been comfortable with, but I made sure that she had opportunities to back out or stop at any time. She didn't." This was important to me. I knelt in front of Marie and looked her in the eye. "If I never do that again, I won't care. If it disturbs you, it will never be repeated. But I will never ask any of you to let me do anything that would hurt you. Lucy wants to do it again. Angie is desperate to try. Sam might enjoy something similar, so might Megan. But you, my love, you don't, so I don't want you to. It's that simple."
"You aren't disappointed?" She seemed surprised.
"Not at all." I though for a moment. "Well, yes; a little." Marie's eyes started to fill up again so I carried on, hurriedly. "I'm disappointed that you think I'd feel like that. I will never expect you to do anything you don't want to. I will always accept "No" as a complete answer. No need to justify or explain. Are you reassured?"
"I think so. I think that I feel better for telling you too."
"What about the others?" I decided that while we were having this conversation it was the right time to set boundaries.
She understood. "I think I was worried that you doing this, with them, would normalise it. That you'd do it to me without thinking, or worse, resent me for rejecting you." She looked at with genuine concern. "You wouldn't; would you?"
"Never. I know who you are and I think I've come to know what you like. By all means let's test our limits, but never to the point where one of us is unhappy. Are we agreed?"