Standard disclaimers.
This is a story about sexual exploration and, open relationships. Open relationships can and do happily exist; but they are not for everyone. If you do not believe it is at all possible for open relationships to exist without damage to any and all involved parties, please do yourself a favor and don't waste your time reading this.
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Also, 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.
*****
They made love again the next morning, the memory of the previous night's adventure fueling their desire. A locker-room blowjob—the plotline of a porno—was definitely driving Tim's energetic fucking, but Natalie's discrete "panty-passing" maneuver had affected him as well. The idea she knew what they were doing, and where they were doing it excited him, almost as if he and Gwen had been putting on a show for yet another person.
"Was that Natalie's idea last night?" Tim grunted as he lay between Gwen's widespread legs.
"Uh-huh," she panted, pulling him deeper to grind against his pubic bone. "It sounded like a dirty game of hide-and-seek to me. She and Adam did it first—she said they've done that before, sends him a picture of herself in a spot that gives him a clue where to find her. She had me take the picture this year. I think I messed up, though-I told him where she was rather than letting him find her."
"Huh," Tim replied in time to his next hard thrust. "I'll bet they weren't too mad. I know I wasn't after Nat helped me." The reward he had gotten for finding Gwen was fresh in his mind as he filled her a moment later.
They lay together for only a moment before the Lady tartly reminded Gwen there were things to do now that the her lust had been temporarily satisfied. Tim volunteered to start the coffee but delayed, standing at the kitchen window watching his wife cross the yard to the barn. She was dressed in jeans, t-shirt and muck boots, the same outfit she always wore for turning out the horses, and he had seen her take that walk countless times before but still stopped to admire that cute little ass swinging back and forth. Those cheeks had looked especially good as she lay on her stomach on the locker room bench the night before, her head right at cock level...
Looks like it's gonna be a nice day, he thought as he tore himself away. Much rather be out on the boat seein' if I could get that ass naked rather than going into town with Charlie to look at one of his jobs. Something more mundane from the previous evening's dinner popped into his head. Ed Masterson's wife had discretely asked him to inspect her husband's recent water heater installation, fearful the tank might rocket through the roof and into low orbit. Tim had promised he would do so and asked her to text Gwen to add it to the schedule; Ed's house was not too far from Charlie's jobsite, maybe just drag him along and do it now before The Mastersons made the local news? Gwen's phone was on the counter, where she had left it when they had returned home; he should probably text back and warn them he was planning on stopping by. Tim grabbed for her phone. The Nelsons locked their phones, more for the sake of their customers' privacy and security than anything they themselves had to hide, but they occasionally had need of the others' messages and contact information and knew how to get in.
He almost dropped the device when the screen came to life. There was the message he had gotten last night, a picture of Gwen from the neck down, sitting on a bar with a black dress hiked up about her waist and legs wide open. Except his brain and his cock instantly knew this wasn't Gwen—the body wasn't quite so petite while the completely shaven sex featured very prominent pussy lips. Natalie! Tim stared at the image, letting it burn into his memory while wondering what to do next. He briefly considered forwarding it to his own phone but hesitated—he was sure he hadn't been meant to see it in the first place and to save it for himself felt like an invasion of their privacy. The accompanying message-"Would you like a snack before dinner?-made it apparent Natalie and Gwen had also played a game of hide and seek together. He'd have to ask about that, but in a roundabout way...despite his earlier exertions, the thought of his wife sitting on a barstool, her head between those widespread thighs caused his member to stir. Ain't you a greedy bastard, he chided himself with a chuckle. You got the show of a lifetime a week ago and you wanna change the channel? Tim got the information he needed and returned to Natalie's photo for one more look before finally placing the phone back on the counter.
Tim slid into his truck and glanced at the underwear that swung from the rearview mirror. He couldn't believe Gwen had let them hang there in plain sight while he stopped to get gas last night, or let them remain after they had gotten home; she might have had something else more urgent on her mind just then, he thought, proudly remembering the promised orgasm he had delivered. She had obviously forgotten about them for now but would soon remember and ask to have them returned. He liked the idea of leaving them on display, like a teenager's trophy of sexual conquest—he remembered Charlie doing that a few times when they were younger, at least until the owner of the underwear demanded them back. It might be fun to send a message to his friend that Tim Nelson was capable of getting into a woman's pants, and that Gwen Nelson might not be the frigid stuck-up bitch Charlie thought she was. Common sense won out, and with a rueful shake of his head he threw them in the glove compartment.
Tim pulled into his friend's driveway a half hour later. The big man amble out his front door and to the truck.
"Hey."
Charlie settled himself into the passenger seat with a combination wheeze and groan. "Hey." Tim looked over his shoulder to back out and could see his friend patting his pockets. "Got something to write on?" he asked, reaching for the glove compartment to help himself to whatever he could find. Tim wanted to stop him, but it was too late; what excuse could he give for not going in there anyway? "What the hell?" The big man withdrew the lacy garment almost reverently, unfolding the panties and admiring them. "You steal these from a job, you perv?"
Tim glanced over at the man holding his wife's panties. "Put 'em back, and I didn't steal 'em."
Charlie's expression changed to one of understanding and he grinned. "No shit! You finally got smart and got yourself a piece on the side! 'bout fucking time! You're cheaper than I thought if you're fucking around in the front seat of your truck instead of getting a room, but hey, at least you're getting some."
"I'm not getting any on the side, you asshole!"
The big man's grin disappeared and he gingerly grasped the edges of the underwear between thick fingertips as if the fabric had suddenly become radioactive. "They, uh, one of the girls?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Those aren't my daughter's underwear!"
"Alright, alright...so whose are they? Any one I know? And why do you have 'em in your glove compartment?"
Tim smiled. "They're Gwen's, you nosy bastard."
Charlie looked at him doubtfully. "Bullshit. She wears longjohns, and they're made of steel."
"It's not bullshit, and how the hell would you know shit about her underwear? They're hers."
"She know you took 'em?"
"I didn't take 'em, she gave 'em to me—last night at the dinner." Tim knew he was revealing way too much, but didn't particularly care at the moment—it was fun to turn the tables on his friend for once.
"Bullshit."
"No shit."
"What the hell for? Don't tell me she gave you your semi-annual pipe flushing here in the truck, cuz' I sure as hell ain't believin' that." Still, the big man spread his thighs and glanced down between them, looking for any tell-tale stains on the seat cover.
"We didn't do it in here. We did it in the locker room at the Country Club."
"Now I know you're just makin' shit up, and you suck at it." Charlie brought the lace up and inhaled deeply. "Mmm, perfume and the smell of bitch in heat. Fresh, too. Okay, maybe you did get laid last night. What's the occasion, she tryin' to get knocked up one more time?"
"What? I told you to put 'em back," Tim yelled, snatching the underwear out from under his friend's nose and stashing them between his own thighs, a place he knew Charlie wouldn't dare go to try and retrieve them. "No, she's not trying to get pregnant. She just wanted to have sex."
"Gwen Ice Queen Nelson wanted to get laid in the locker room of the Country Club," Charlie carefully stated, trying to make it obvious how unlikely that sounded. "I still call bullshit. So how did her panties get in your truck?"
"She said I could hang on to 'em for her after."
"So she was walking around without underwear all night? She was wearing one of those sensible pantsuits she wears to Chamber of Commerce meetings, right?"
Tim laughed. "She was wearing a dress, a hot-looking little black one."
"No shit," Charlie breathed, really wanting to believe what he was hearing. He had imagined that stuck-up-bitch in a lot less over the years, but the idea of Gwen Nelson strutting around in a short dress and bare pussy was pretty hot, especially if it was true. "You sure she ain't tryin' to get one in the oven before the kitchen closes?"
"Some guys are better at talkin' about fuckin' than doin', and some are better at doin' than talkin'. You're really good at talkin'," Tim said with a grimace and a laugh.
Charlie tried for quite a while for more details, but Tim wouldn't say anything more, an annoying smile plastered to his face as he tormented his friend. "Fuck you then, you probably ain't talkin' cuz you couldn't get it up." the big man grunted to signal his debate victory and finally fell into silence.
Cricket arrived mid-morning, long after Tim had left on his errands. She and Gwen were sweating freely by the time they had finished saddling their mounts and the older woman surprised her companion by stripping off her shirt and jogbra before leading Dart out of the barn. Her undergarment was hung on a nearby nail to dry before she stuffed the shirt in her saddle bag. Grasping the saddlehorn, she swung a practiced leg over her mount. "Ready?"
