My co-worker Jim stopped by my desk one afternoon. "Hey, Chuck," he began, "I know how big a Beatles fan you are. I scored four tickets to the McCartney concert next month. You and Amy want to join us?"
"Oh, man, Jim -- absolutely! Wow! I really appreciate you thinking of us!"
"Hey, no problem! Pay me when you can, and we'll see you there!"
"Great! Man. . . thanks a lot!"
*****
That was just like Jim, thinking about me while he was scoring some choice tickets for himself. He was a really good guy. But also a bit of a wild man. He and I are about the same age, and we came to work for the company at about the same time. I got married to my wife Amy pretty quickly after starting work, but Jim remained single -- he enjoyed his status as a 'swinging bachelor' too much to 'settle down'.
In the early days, Jim and I used to go on business trips together fairly often -- a few times a year, at any rate -- and traveling with Jim was always an adventure. One time, after we had dinner together, Jim invited me to go bar-hopping with him, but homebody that I was, I passed. A couple hours later, a knock came on my door. It was Jim, with two women -- two very well-endowed and provocatively-clad women -- inviting me to join them for some extra-curriculars in his room. "Come on, man," he urged, with a grin. "I promise I won't tell Amy." Tempting as it was, I still declined. And then I got to listen to Jim's threesome through the wall, punctuated with shrieks and groans and orgasmic wails, for the rest of the night.
But I sure appreciated him offering me the tickets, and I looked forward to being at the concert with him.
*****
When I got home from work that evening, I told Amy about Jim's generosity, but she was less excited by it than I was.
"Oh," she said, "you know I'm not a huge Beatles fan like you are. I'll go with you if you want, but you'd probably have more fun with someone else. Why don't you ask Rob?"
Now, Rob is my best friend in all the world. We met each other as randomly-assigned dorm roommates when we were both college freshmen. Things just clicked between us, and we've been great friends ever since. When Amy and I got married, Rob was my best man. When Rob married his wife Stacy a year later, I returned the favor. And ever since, our families have been close. We even ended up living on the same block, and had our kids about the same time, too.
Rob, though, wasn't much more interested in the concert than Amy was. "You know who'd love to go with you, though?"
"Who?"
"Stacy. She actually saw the Beatles in concert when she 14."
I paused. Had I really heard my best friend suggest that I take his wife on a date to a McCartney concert?
"Really, Rob? You want me to take Stacy?"
"Sure! She'd love it! And the two of you would have a great time together. It's not like I'm gonna be jealous of you. I just look at it as my wife and my best friend having a good time together."
"OK!" I said. "But I should probably clear it with Amy first."
When I asked Amy, she was even more enthusiastic than Rob had been. "What a great idea!" she enthused. "The two of you will both love the concert, and you'll get to share it with someone who loves it, too! Go ahead -- take Stacy to the concert, and the two of you have fun!"
Okay, then; that was easy. When I finally offered the ticket to Stacy, asking her to accompany me to the concert, she was overjoyed. Instantly, she was jumping up and down and shrieking with joy. She jumped into my arms, even wrapping her legs around me as she thanked me, which put me in the slightly awkward position of holding my best friend's wife by her ass, while she pressed her groin against mine, with her husband and my wife standing there watching, and laughing at her reaction.
*****
Stacy is a really neat lady, outgoing and bubbly. She's a perfect complement to Rob's more conservative ways. I knew as soon as she and Rob started dating, that they were a good match, and she'd do a good job of keeping him from getting too uptight.
At their wedding, Stacy wore a low-cut dress that displayed her décolletage very admirably. And, allow me to say, Stacy has magnificent tits. Not so huge as to be cartoonish, but they are big. Really big. I have often teased Rob (out of earshot of our wives) over his good fortune in marrying such a well-endowed woman. And he only ever grins in response. So I spent much of their wedding gazing appreciatively at the tops of her breasts as they bulged out of her dress, while Stacy smiled coyly at my attentiveness. I almost felt bad for the poor clergyman, who had to stammer out the vows and the ceremony, with Stacy's half-moons staring him full in the face. Perhaps he and his wife had some fun later that evening.
Just about every year since we've been married, we've gone on vacation together. They've got a cabin in the woods, on a lake, and we'll take the kids up -- we've got three, they've got four -- and just all cram into the cabin together. The kids sleep in an open loft, and there are two bedrooms on the main floor, for the parents. It's a lovely setting, serene and relaxing, and we always come home refreshed.
Of course, there was always the question of what to do with the kids, vis-à-vis the sex lives of their parents, especially once the kids got old enough to stay up late. The four of us worked out a system -- every day, one of the couples would take the kids on a 'nature walk' for an hour or so, so the other couple could have some 'conjugal time'. That way, in the course of a week, each couple could have sex together at least three times. Amy and I would always make a joke of cutting our walks just a little bit short, to try to catch Rob and Stacy still 'in the throes', and listen in on their final orgasmic groans. It was really just harmless fun, and we only 'caught' them a few times. But it always turned Amy and me on a little extra, when we did. I don't know if they ever did the same to us. . .
*****
The day of the concert finally arrived. Amy went with me to Rob and Stacy's house, to see us off, then she and Rob were going to grill out for dinner, with the kids, who by that time were all teenagers. It was about an hour's drive to the arena, and we aimed to get there pretty much when the doors opened, so we wouldn't have to rush around trying to find our seats at the last minute. We waved to Rob and Amy and the kids as we pulled the minivan out of the driveway, and we were on our way (I chuckled to myself at the idea of going to a rock concert in a minivan, but whatcha gonna do?)
During the drive down, we talked excitedly about the concert, and what we anticipated it would be like -- which songs would he play? What would the crowd be like? Stacy regaled me with stories from the time she saw the Beatles, when she was 14, and I told her about seeing Wings when I was in college.
Stacy was looking good -- she wore a pale yellow scoop-neck T-shirt that brought back memories of her wedding dress, at least in terms of the view of her cleavage it afforded me; and it was tight enough to give a really nice presentation of her biggest and best assets. She also wore some jean shorts that showed her legs and ass to nice advantage, without being overly provocative (but just provocative enough). Being very happily married to Amy, I wasn't in the habit of checking out other women in very great detail, but I had to admit -- for a 40-something woman, Stacy still looked really good.
When we got to the arena, I parked the minivan in a far corner of the parking lot, shaded by some trees. Then we walked across the parking lot, handed our tickets to the usher at the door, and went in to find our seats. The atmosphere in the arena was like Stacy and me, times 20,000 -- everyone in the building was buzzing with excited energy. When we found our seats, Jim and his date Debbie were already there. We had great seats -- on the floor, maybe fifteen rows from the stage. Leave it to Jim to get the best seats I'd ever had for a concert. It was still nearly two hours before the concert was to start, so we settled into our seats and just relaxed into the pre-concert ambience.
Jim looked at me strangely, and I realized that it must look odd to him for me to have a date who wasn't Amy, so I explained the whole scenario to him. "Cool," he said. Then, he introduced himself to Stacy, saying, "This is gonna be a great concert."
Stacy nodded eagerly in reply. "Thanks for getting the tickets," she said.
Jim's date Debbie was short, blond and vivacious, and at least ten years younger than the rest of us. In short, she was Jim's 'type'. She had a nice pair of tits all by herself, which were only restrained by a thin T-shirt, through which I could make out the shadows of her areolae. Her tight, round ass was wrapped in a pair of jogging shorts, from which her lithe, firm legs stretched down to the floor. I figured I was going to enjoy sharing the concert with her, too.
Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag with four joints in it. He looked questioningly at Stacy and me.
It had been a long time since I'd last gotten high -- certainly since before I had kids, probably even before Amy and I got married. But it was a McCartney concert, after all, and nostalgia -- especially 60s nostalgia -- was a big part of the fun of it. I turned to Stacy and raised a questioning eyebrow.
She was grinning. "Thanks!" she said, as she accepted the proffered joints. "I haven't toked up in years," she said. "This'll really take me back, I'm sure! I was quite the pot-smoker in my college days, you know."
I grinned at Jim and shrugged. "Thanks," I said.
"This is some pretty strong stuff," he said. "Enjoy!"
As we lit our joints and began to savor the sweet, aromatic smoke, I almost immediately settled into a mellow, happy buzz. I hadn't been stoned in many a year, so maybe I was more of a lightweight than I used to be, but as far as I was concerned, Jim's appraisal of the quality of the weed was absolutely accurate.
Stacy agreed. "Oh, man, this is good stuff," she enthused. "Rob would throw a fit if he knew I was smoking weed, but I remember this feeling. . . You won't tell him, will you?"
"Your secret's safe with me," I assured her. "Although," I chuckled, "I don't know that he'd be any happier with me, knowing that I was toking up with you." We both lapsed into a momentary fit of giggling. Once our joints were burned down to tiny roaches, we settled into our seats to savor the mellow buzz.
Stacy stood abruptly. Grabbing her purse, she headed up the aisle stairs. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder. "I've got to use the bathroom."
"Hurry back," I called after her.
When Stacy returned, my eyes nearly fell out of my head. I don't know what else she may have done while she was in the bathroom, but she had clearly removed her bra. Her large, full tits bounced and jiggled freely, and her nipples raised little bumps in the fabric. She giggled as she showed me her purse, with the bra tucked inside, as confirmation. "If Debbie can go without her bra tonight, so can I! Besides," she chuckled, "If we're gonna go back to the 60s tonight, I want to go ALL the way back, and FEEL like we're in the 60s. You don't mind, do you?
"Uh, no -- not at all," I responded, trying to be just a little bit subtle about enjoying the view of her bounteous tits. "I'm glad you're having a good time."
