"You know, a couple of years back, when we were seriously talking about a hunt for a new man, I idly wondered if there was anything left in it that would be new for me. Three things, as it turned out. For the first time in my life a man's lips kissing mine. For the first time in my life I held another man's cock, albeit very briefly. For the first time in my life I had sloppy seconds."
Jill blushed. "Uggh, Jack. 'Sloppy seconds' sounds so dirty. I suppose I should apologise. I just got into it and forgot all about the condom. I don't think there's any reason to worry. About his clean bill of health I mean. Do you?"
"I don't think he's a risk," I said, with the confidence of having seen his medical records, which I couldn't tell her. "And since we are being so intimately honest, I got a strange rush of my own, feeling his sperm left in you."
"I knew you did! Or I thought you might have. They way you fucked me. And the sperm he left in me sounds so right. Not sloppy seconds," she admonished. She smiled, dreamily. "Let's do away with condoms from now on. I want to feel his sperm shoot into me every time he fucks me. That is a very special sensation for a woman. It is like a man is putting his signature on his creation. You both put your signatures in me. My lovers fill me to overflowing with their cum. Oh Jack!" She bounced and clapped her hands. "Let's do it!"
*****
Something new was with us. Steve Larsen, an evolved, sophisticated, worldly smoothie was the perfect threesome partner. But he was something more. He was Jill's lover. That concept made real infused our triad with substance that flushed her entire being into bloom and blossom. I analyzed the new reality in silent contemplation, and embraced it. She had fucked the other five partners with no reservations, and some of them brought her to orgasm, but they were never her lovers. Steve was. Because Jill wanted him to be, and was free to make him so. That was the culmination of my giving her the gift of going solo with Roger and Larry and Steve, and that gift had brought us back to the right place, sharing her with a bono fide lover on the same bed. She blossomed and bloomed. She was a beautiful aura in every prosaic day. She had a husband who was her love and life, and she had a lover.
*****
Our other threesomes had been widely spaced, due to logisticl circumstances, and also conscious deliberation. Too often would take the keen edge off the cutting excitement. At her age of fifty two and mine of forty nine, our children out on their own, and Jill the proud possessor of her very own lover, we had sex with Steve anytime the three of us wanted to. But there was no regular schedule. He, and we, lived our separate lives. Jill was usually the catalyst, needing her lover again. He fucked her on our bed, on LADY JILL when we went on an over night river cruise. One time she backed her ass to him and ground away, and he lifted her skirt and bent her over the kitchen table and fucked her from behind, standing. A powerful fuck. For me to see. She sucked him off anytime her deep personal need compelled her to do so. There was no schedule, no formal choreography. Jill and her lover, and I, let sexual impulse hold sway and have its way.
I did hold his cock and lead it to her, sometimes, when sexual impulse took pause and made it appropriate. It became something of a ritual, which Steve initiated the second time he joined us. In position on his knees, he put his hands on his hips, his bare cock jutting forward, and said, "Do the honors."
I was never certain what that meant to him. He might have liked the feel of my hand on his cock. But I strongly suspected his primary feeling was exactly the same as Jill had described, my symbolic giving him to her. Confirming he was her lover and privileged to fuck her. Jill experienced an emotional, erotic siesure each time I did so.
Condom free, Steve and I filled Jill with cum. And our cocks relished plunging into the respective signature pools, to do respective obliteration.
*****
Steve was a perfect partner, and lover for Jill. No restriction encumbered his sexual pleasure with her, nor his expressions of a deep, deep affection containing a measure of love for her. But he never crossed forbidden lines. He never presented even a hint of challenged to me. And Jill held a trump we never discussed, which governed all. She screamed out my name when I fucked her and took her to the heights of orgasm. She had never screamed the name of any other man, and she never did with Steve. She knew complete pleasure and bliss with him, and his fucking lifted her to powerful orgasms, but she never screamed out his name in her surrender to him. She could not. There was, and would always be, a place in her where Steve or any other man could not go. I was permanently in that place. Steve knew it. And he knew it by countless other signals that Jill gave off in "down time," so to speak, of normal, non-erotic togetherness.
*****
One evening Steve called to ask if he could drop by. He was in a chipper mood. He seated himself and launched into a conversation about swimming pools, and his sudden keen interest in having one to set off his patio. I gave all the pros and cons I knew. He suddenly paused and glanced about.
"Where's Jill?"
"In the kitchen, last I knew," I said.
He got up and walked to the kitchen. I followed. Jill was at the sink, scrubbing the tarnished copper bottom of a sauce pan. She wore a T-shirt, cotton jogging pants, and sneakers. Her hair was tied with a ribbon to make a rear bush more than a pony tail. Steve cupped his hand to her ass cheek, and said, "Hello Jill."
She turned her head with a glowing smile and said, "Hello my lover."
He kissed her. Then he said, "Any of that Belgium beer left?"
"In the fridge. Help yourself."
He did just that. He knew the drawer that held the opener. He drank a swig, and wandered back to the living room, and jumped right back into the conversation about swimming pools. He didn't stay long. He essentially got what he came for, a gab with me and to say hello to Jill. When he was ready, I called out to Jill to say he was leaving. She came into the room and we sidled to the front door. Steve hugged her to him and kissed her, tenderly. "I'll call you," Jill said.
And the relaxed, casual behavior of that evening was as much in the center of our threesome as any naked, juicy, fucking and sucking. That meant everything to Jill. There was no conflict of any kind between her husband and her lover. She adopted the British expression "chums" to describe it. Steve and I were chums. Better still, so was she. While the unleashed power of sex took us all to shared other worlds, when they, or we, came back to earth and settled down, apart or entwined, we all three were chums. But Jill still clung to that singular luxury of having a lover. She cherished the impulse, and rightness, of saying to Steve or refering to him as "My lover."
And how did that make me feel? I thought about it often, with no defensive mind set. The truth is I liked it. She didn't over do the "my lover" phrase. It just sort of popped out from time to time, in a fitting moment or context. And in point of fact that was exactly what he was. When he kissed her, put his hands on her body to fondle and caress, positioned himself between her opened legs to fuck her, he was her lover making love to her. That was very, very good, because that elevated Jill to a higher plane of consciousness and communion, and invited her to be his lover in their time of sexual freedom. That refined our motive of gift exchange two decades earlier, of my desire to watch, and her desire for sex with other men for her own pleasure fulfillment, and to fulfill my unique need. Watching my wife with her lover gave an element of purity to our intensely private gift exchange that was never quite the same with the other partners. With Steve, there was a higher attainment of our combined motives of my sharing her. As she had said about my holding his cock to bring it to her wanting pussy, giving him to her and her to him, "that is the ultimate!"
*****
Jill and I were not into porn, written or filmed. Oh, we watched some video back in courtship and early marriage days, but we both found it mostly boring. Our fantasy sharing, and later real threesomes, had a sizzling excitement that made porn as dumb as television commercials. Never the less, drawing on that limited knowledge, I asked her if she would like to try some new things.
"Such as."
"Oh, maybe you suck his cock while I fuck you doggie style."
"Hummm." She allowed. "That might be very thrilling." She thought about it. "Or it might be overload. Distracting. When you fuck me from behind you take me out of this world, to the heavens, to play among the stars. My ass high, my head down, my hands gripping the wrinkles in the sheet, the power of your thrusting cock the only thing in the world that matters at that time... When you do that, it's all you. No other man even exists... Still, it's something to think about. I will certainly do it if that is something you want to happen."
"Not really. I'm just tossing out some ideas, musings."
"Taking my lover's cock in my mouth is a very special indulgence for me. Just him and me. Let's keep it that way for now."
"Of course."
I also tossed out the idea of anal sex. We rarely did anal intercourse. When we did she asked for it, and it had almost that ceremonial speciality of my peeing on her. Now that I think of it while writing this, her wanting my cock in her ass was a kind of substitute for her lying in the shower and my pissing on her. But both activities were equally special and equally rare. My size was an obstacle. The only way she could tolerate entry was by sitting on my cock. That way she had total control of progress of stretching and zaps of pain, taking all she could bear, knowing when to ease off, until my large cock head popped into her. Maintaining that total control of start and stop until her ass was settled on me and the entire length was buried in her. In that way she found accomadation and expansion, and then pleasure. After a while she would rise and position herself and I would re-enter her with little or no difficulty, and fuck her ass. Her excitement and pleasures were so intense she would lose her mind and react like someone having an epilectic fit. But that was a rare and very special event with us. My tonguing her ass was also a very special event, but that happened much more frequently.
