Mark and Betsy had never visited the Slocum’s country home before; their previous interactions had all taken place at their plush city apartment where the spread of food and wine had always been overwhelming and their other dinner guests were wonderful conversationalists, physically beautiful or handsome, and the hosts always seemed to aggressively encourage flirting. Mark and Betsy needed no prompting in that area. Although they were otherwise happily married, they took advantage of vacations and parties to explore their options. As they drove up to the huge, impeccably restored colonial-era farmhouse with a dozen expensive cars parked in the heavily falling snow, they both silently hoped that they would find some sexual surprises waiting inside. As they padded through nearly a foot of new snow, they smelt the burning logs in the fireplace and heard the champagne-fueled laughter inside and realized they weren’t going to be disappointed.
Just before Sid Slocum opened the huge oak front door for them, Betsy grabbed Mark’s arm and swung him towards her. Before he could say anything she held his face in her small, still warm hands and kissed him deeply, her tongue immediately finding his. He loved being kissed so spontaneously and passionately by his wife, especially when she was wearing “Obsession” perfume. It reminded him of their first outings during college, when Betsy, barely 5-foot tall and blonde, would make the rounds at all the parties but always used that kiss to let Mark know it was time to go back to her off-campus apartment. On her it was such a sensual scent he could never resist whatever she’d ask after the accompanying kiss. But before she could say a word, Sid opened the door, flung his arms wide and enveloped Betsy happily, whisking her inside, while laughing over his shoulder, “Thanks for the terrific Christmas present, Mark!” Then they were lost in the crowd of partygoers dressed in tuxedos and fabulously expensive dresses.
By 2AM most of the guests had left, claiming the snow would make driving --especially after a few flutes of champagne-- more dangerous than usual. The last Mark had seen of Sid he was standing on the middle of the sweeping staircase that led upstairs to the bedrooms. “Anyone who doesn’t feel like driving, and would like to risk spending the evening here, is welcome to claim a spare bedroom. In the meantime, I have business to attend...” and he turned and took the stairs two at a time. He’s after someone, Mark thought, I’d know that look of outright lust anywhere. And I wonder where my dear wife has hidden herself, he wondered?
After a half-hour of fruitless searching he stood in the library doorway, watching the fireplace across the room in front of him, while a few couple chatted quietly. Suddenly a small hand reached out from behind the library door behind him and begins gently caressing his ass. Whoever owned that hand had snuck through the back halls of the big house and silently entered the darkened library from the other side. Mark smelled Obsession and decided that he would enjoy the moment, rather than squawking like the Christmas goose. His hands in his tuxedo pockets felt his cock growing steadily as the mystery hand slide down between his pants legs stealthily and gently found his balls.
