Author's Foreword
For all that expressed their wishes to see Gwen's story continue, thank you for taking the time to let your feelings be known. It's flattering to know you have enjoyed the story so far and don't wish it to end just yet.
For those who feel Gwen went far enough (or too far) in the first part, the continuation may not be for you.
For those still on the fence or new to it, be aware that the premise of this story is one of sexual exploration where departures from traditional monogamy are treated with openness and honesty by all characters. If you don't believe the premise is possible, this story is not for you.
Standard disclaimer—this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.
*****
Gwen made sure the bags containing her—Tim's, she reminded herself—photo album remained in the truck until Ali and Jason had left. She knew it highly unlikely her daughter would go through their suitcases, but it was best not to take that chance.
They left the house clean enough, she decided, but still found herself straightening up the kitchen while Tim brought their luggage in. Clothes were unpacked and sorted for the laundry, the corset and black lace underwear set aside for hand washing. Gwen knew the panties were in particular need of soap and water after the soaking they had gotten the night before.
The album was unpacked as well. Gwen looked about the room, trying to envision a suitable hiding place before remembering it was Tim's gift, and he should be the one to decide the best spot for it. Just so long as it wasn't the coffee table in the living room... for now, she left it on the bed and took the half-full clothes basket to the laundry room.
Tim was sitting on the bed, slowly paging through the album, when she returned. He looked up and smiled. "Still can't believe you did this. You say Natalie has one too?"
Gwen nodded, cheeks flushing. "She did hers a little while back, yes. It's much better than mine—Barry even has it in a private section of his website as a sample for prospective customers to look at." In her mind, the photographer's request to post hers as well had only been made out of politeness, nothing more.
Tim smiled again and rose to take her in his arms. "You saw it, huh? Well, I seriously doubt hers is better than yours. She's pretty an' all that, but she's no Gwen Nelson. I'll have to talk to this photographer—Barry?—about why yours isn't up there as well."
Gwen's eyes widened in shock. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't. But in the meantime, looking at your pictures has me wanting the real thing." Tim bent to kiss her.
Gwen pulled away. "Tim, speaking of Natalie, there's something I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want it to ruin our weekend at the Inn...Natalie and I went riding on Friday."
"In that downpour? You guys are hardcore."
"Well, we only got wet the last mile or so, and we didn't go for a swim after." She hesitated. Tim smiled at her expectantly, confident that was not the end of her story. "We did, uh, take a shower, though...together."
Gwen anxiously scanned her husband's face for signs of anger or disappointment. His eyebrows rose. "Really? I know they say shower with a friend to conserve water, but I didn't think we were in drought conditions..." That damnably smug smile remained.
She plowed forward, her desire to get this off her chest emboldened by her husband's seeming lack of concern. "And then she trimmed me...down there—"her eyes glanced to her crotch before returning to a spot on Tim's chest while her face flushed crimson—"and then we, uhh...did some things in here after."
His eyes sparked with mischief. "Did some things? Like what, play cards?"
"Damn it Tim, I'm sure you know what we did, alright?" Gwen looked down at the floor, assuming the pose of a child who had been caught making a terrible mistake. I know you said that was alright before, but did you really mean it?"
Her use of an expletive told him his humor had pushed her into a corner. "Whatever you two did sure as hell didn't make you lose your appetite at the Inn," Tim mused as he gathered her back into his arms. "In fact, I'm guessing it might have even stoked you up some. Yeah, I'm fine with it. I'm glad you two are friends. It's an interesting way of being friends, but girls are odd ducks to us guys anyways. Just don't get the idea Cliff and me are going to be showering together."
"Are you sure you're alright with it?" Gwen repeated, still not quite believing it. "It doesn't bother you that your wife is doing...that...with someone else, much less a woman?" The Slut giggled at the word 'that'. If you mean sex, you haven't had it with her yet, although the definition was up for debate...Gwen pushed the corset-bound alter ego out her thoughts.
Tim shrugged. "Nah. Sex is sex, love is love. I've seen enough of our younger employees in action to remember that hooking up with someone for a little fun on Friday night does not require a commitment to honor and cherish the next morning. On the other hand, I do believe it's entirely possible to fall in love with someone without things ever getting physical. So, if I don't think quiet horseback rides together are going to convince you two to run away together and start a pottery studio in Florida, then I have to be consistent and think that a little time in the shower or on the bed won't either."
Gwen stared at her husband, slightly confused a she tried to sort out his logic and apparent confidence in the strength of their relationship. She didn't know a lot about men, but she had to believe this could not be considered a typical response.
"Now," Tim continued, "to me, the best is when there's love and sex at the same time, and I love you and really, really, want to have sex with you. So..." his strong arms slid by either hip and hands pushed down inside the back of her jeans to cup her cheeks. Clothes were slowly shed between kisses, Gwen briefly considering a run to lock the kitchen door as her bra was removed before dismissing the thought and reaching for her husband's belt buckle.
They resumed their embrace after the last articles had been removed, Tim's erection leaving a slick trail as it slid against her stomach. Slowly he walked her backwards, lips locked, her calves bumping up against the mattress. Gwen turned and flipped the covers back before lying on the bed while Tim followed her. She spread her legs in expectation of his entry as he moved between them, but instead his head dipped and she felt his tongue draw slowly up the side of her cleft while a hand found her breast.
Her own hands instinctively went to the back of the head between her legs even has his tongue began to circle her clit. Gwen's fingers burrowed through her husband's salt-and-pepper hair down to the scalp, lying there in wait should the source of her exquisite pleasure try to escape. Her senses were on full alert; she saw Tim's head moving ever so slightly as he bent to her pleasure, heard his muffled breathing from between her thighs, and her nose picked up traces of Ali's perfume, reminding her the sheets needed to be changed. Gwen also smelled male musk mixed in with her daughter's scent; had she and Jason been intimate right where she now lay? The Lady squawked at the complete impropriety of the thought, and Gwen's focus returned to the feelings radiating from her sex.
The tongue left her, and she had to restrain herself from pushing it back down in an attempt to complete the orgasm that was just beginning to tease its way into a fullblown fireworks show. The body between her legs shifted, rough skin meeting her thighs as he positioned himself for his first thrust.
"Wait," she pleaded softly. Tim looked up, his face a mix of impatient lust and confusion. "Lie on your back."
He did as she asked, protesting as she bent to take him in her mouth, "Thanks hon, but I'm ready to go now."
Gwen looked at the rock-hard staff just inches from her face and could see he was not lying. "Are you sure?'
"Very." Even now he was attempting to roll her back and resume his place between her thighs. Gwen resisted his gentle push and swung her leg over his hips. "Alright, then." Reaching back, she found his twitching length and angled it up to where she guessed they would meet. Her aim was true as she sank down on him, his tool easily sliding into her until she sat on his thighs, hips undulating as Tim's own thrusts signaled his desire. Changing the angle of their joining just a bit brought her clitoris into contact with his pubic bone, and she ground against her husband even as his hands began to squeeze and stroke the breasts pushed towards him. From her vantage point she could see that while the lust in Tim's eyes was still there, that the confusion had been replaced with a sort of rapture, and she wondered if her face was as expressive.
Tim continued to stroke with purpose but not urgency. Gwen's body, however, was losing control as the hardness against her clit sped her resurgent climax. With a whimper, she fell forward on to the body beneath her, face buried in his neck and breasts mashed against his chest as she shuddered through the waves of pleasure.
Tim's pace quickened, hips lifting off the bed to drive his cock into the prostrate body above him, his arms wrapped securely around the recovering woman. With one last push that lifted his straining body as well as the limp one above him off the mattress, he erupted.
They lay there for some time after, side by side as their sweat dried in the air-conditioned room. Gwen knew she should go and clean up, but Tim's body felt so good next to her, and from where her head lay on his chest she watched his satiated manhood return to its slumbering form.
"Five times in one day," the man beneath her rumbled. "That's a new record. I'm going to have to just sit and let the apprentices do all the work tomorrow. Jordan might have pick me up here and drive me over to the shop."
It took Gwen a moment to figure out the number her husband was referring to. We made love at the Inn twice last night, twice this morning, once just now...got it. "I must admit, I'm a little sore down there."
Tim chuckled as his fingers lightly scratched her back. "C'mon, I'm not that big..."
Gwen smiled in reply as she continued to look down on his slumbering length. "More than big enough for me." There was silence for a while. "Did you ever do it more...before we met?"
Tim surprised himself with his ability to not flinch at the question, his hand continuing its arc across his wife's bare back. She had always known she was not his first, but Gwen never had asked much about his girlfriends before her, and certainly had never wanted to know about his sexual experience.
He had only been with three women in his life—two one-night stands, and a month-and-a-half of young lust with Tammy Domillo. While he and Tammy and not been able to keep their hands off each other, their situations had not allowed for the extended bouts of privacy, and so backseats of cars and a few minutes together in party bedrooms had been the norm. Certainly not the stuff five times a day is made of.
"No, this was the most I've ever done it," he answered truthfully.
"Did Tammy Domillo like to do it?"
Tim could not believe she remembered her name—he had mentioned her maybe once or twice at most, and certainly not since they had been married. "Yeah, I guess. We were both young and full of hormones," he offered as a mix of explanation and apology.
"Why didn't you two stay together?"
"I think she wanted more of a bad boy, and a plumber's apprentice in trade school didn't fit that description for her. And, anyways I just kind of knew she wasn't the one for me. So, I moved here to apprentice with Mr. McGilvary, and she moved to Missouri, and there were no hard feelings. Last I heard, she was in Oklahoma, living with a bike mechanic."
