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.
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.
*****
The boat was drifting in a weedy cove at the south end of the lake, a man at both bow and stern, quietly sending lures out to imagined targets with a flick of the rods in their hands and slowly reeling them back in. Tim was glad he had been able to talk Charlie out of heading further up, "near where all the nudies go," for fear they might run into the McCallums and introductions might become necessary. He knew it was unlikely Bob and Yvette would reveal the nature of their friendship with Nelsons, but anything was possible.
Charlie squinted out across the sparkling water into the shade where his cast had landed, satisfied he had dropped it close enough to the weeds to not get entangled but still draw out the bass that had to be in there. He looked down into the hull of the boat for his beer. It was only ten in the morning, but it was a Saturday morning, and he was fishing, so normal drinking rules didn't apply. "You guys almost done over at Fleetwood Homes?"
Tim set his almost-empty coffee mug down and began to reel in his own apparently unsuccessful cast. "Just about. Billy must've been somewhere else when his crews did the subfloors on a couple of 'em...fucked 'em up real good, made my life miserable for a while. I took some pictures in case anybody bitches about some fixes I had to make before I ran lines." He put the rod down and reached for his phone, opening it up to the evidence before handing it to his friend.
"Tried tellin' Billy not to hire those clusterfuck Lamie brothers...hell, I fired 'em for being screw-ups." Charlie thumbed through the images, grunting in agreement with Tim's appraisal. The view of poorly hung joists changed after a few more swipes to one of an intricately-carved bar...and a pair of bare legs spread wide on top of it. The photo ended at the woman's shoulders and the size of the screen made the level of detail less than what Charlie would have hoped for, but he hoped—he knew, it was Gwen-fucking-Nelson. "Holy fucking shit," he muttered, swiping quickly, hoping for more, instead getting a close-up view of a newly-installed drainage pump.
"Yeah, pretty bad," Tim agreed, knowing it was not subflooring the man was commenting on; the photo had been put it there on purpose. He gave the wide-eyed man another few seconds to swipe back and stare before looking over. "Oh shit—forgot that was on there! Gimme that!" He reached for the phone with faked urgency, Charlie turning his shoulder to block him while his opposite hand held the phone out of range.
"Hold on, hold on," the big man reasoned, trying to fend off his friend. "That ain't Gwen, is it?"
"Yeah, it's Gwen," Tim replied, still appearing to look like he was serious about getting his phone back. "Who the fuck else would it be? She'll kill me if she finds out you saw it."
"Relax, she ain't gonna find out, at least not from me," Charlie laughed. "This from the country club?"
"Yeah it is and gimme my phone back, you asshole."
Charlie relented, handing it back with a smile after one more look. "I really thought you were shitting me about fucking her in the locker room, but I guess you weren't. You got any others like that?"
No..." The album in his underwear drawer was ignored, and the video from the weekend wasn't a picture, technically...
"Gonna take some more?"
"Maybe, why the hell do you care?"
"Can I see 'em?"
"That's my wife, you asshole!"
I know, I know, but you can't blame me for wantin' a better look...she's damn hot when she ain't all covered up. C'mon, I always let you see any pictures I take. All I wanna do is look." Not completely true, Charlie admitted to himself, the thought of plowing the ice queen just to see the look on her face—whether it be shock or orgasmic joy-had always been something he frequently enjoyed imagining while rubbing one out, and having a visual reference would only enhance that. "I just wanna see some more of what I thought I'd never have a chance in hell of seeing. Maybe a close up? Send me that one so I can pull it up on a bigger screen? I always sent you mine," he repeated in a voice that coming from anybody else would have been a whine.
"I didn't ask you to."
"You didn't tell me to stop..."
Tim remembered all of Charlie's photos, from the earliest Polaroids of girlfriends and wives through his latest conquests, anything from titties to spread legs to cumshots. Tim hadn't saved any of them, of course, not wanting to risk Gwen finding them, but he remembered them... "Man, I dunno...it took a lot for Gwen to send it, and she's gonna kill me if she finds out you saw it, and if she finds out I sent it to ya, she'll make it slow and painful—and expensive."
Charlie understood the expensive part, divorces were like that... "C'mon man, don't be so pussywhipped..."
"I wanna stay married and I want her to keep sending me pictures like that. So fuck you. I'm not pussywhipped, I just don't want this to get out."
"It won't, it won't, you know I'd never fuck you over like that, it'd be just between you and me..." something clicked in Charlie's brain. "Wait—I thought you took the picture. Why'd she have to send it to you?"
Tim thought fast. Natalie had taken the picture..."Don't be a dumb ass. I took it with her phone."
Charlie smiled at him, accepting the explanation. He pressed on, confident Tim had not reached his breaking point yet. "So if you take some more, can I see 'em?"
"I dunno, maybe, if you're not bein' an asshole..."
"Titties make a nice picture, or maybe one like the one you got, only a close-up, know what I mean?"
"Holy shit, you're putting in requests now? This is my wife you're talking about, not one of the girls at Scandals, remember?"
"Just makin' some suggestions is all..."
Tim smiled grimly. "Here's a suggestion. Keep it in your pants and be happy with what you get, or you don't get nothin' at all.
***
Gwen hurriedly reined Tigger to a halt just before they broke the tree line above the barn. Dart had shown his indignation with her choice of the Arabian as her mount that morning, but she knew KD's horse had gone the longest without riding and needed the exercise. Marvin was not particularly happy about being left behind either; Cricket was in Atlanta for the weekend, 'volunteering' at a home-loan workshop sponsored by her employers.
She had let the horse choose the pace up and over the ridge that morning, giving him his head for a bit before pushing for more control and crisper response to her commands on the return trip. He responded well to the call for a sudden halt just before they broke cover, hooves sliding over the hard-packed dirt as he shifted his weight back and up the incline. His rider looked through the trees at the truck and boat parked down below in the yard; Tim and Charlie had returned, and descending to the barn topless was no longer an option. She patted the Arabian's neck and praised him for his attentiveness, then reached behind her to grab for the shirt tied to the saddle. Gwen guessed Charlie was between her and her nearest bra back in the bedroom, but nothing could be done about that now, and the shirt would have to do. After a quick scratch of the horse's cheek she gently touched his flank with a boot heel to start him forward and break cover.
The truck and boat were still there when Gwen finished grooming her mount and turning him out, and she briefly thought about finding something to do in the barn until they were gone. It wasn't that she disliked Charlie, at least not any more; despite his opinion of her he had always been the kind of friend to give Tim, and by extension Gwen, the shirt off his back if necessary. In fact, the house as well as the barn she was now standing in had in large part come about because of quite a few weekends of his labor and expertise paid for with nothing more than lunch and beer.
Still, there was something about him, about how he was so different from her husband and so like the kind of man her mother said all men were like, that gave her pause. Maybe it was the fact that despite his loud and quite often crude nature women still seemed to find him attractive; he couldn't keep a wife or girlfriend, but he certainly had no problems finding somebody to share his bed. Or perhaps it was that while he appeared to treat the wife of his best friend with the required level of respect, she would occasionally catch him looking at her. Undressing you, the Lady corrected, while the Slut pointed out he looked at most all women that way, even the ones he had already seen naked. Her mother was right about that part, Gwen decided. Men just had to look. They lacked the self-control not to.
And I now apparently lack the self-control to not encourage them, Gwen thought grimly. Her customary cautious nature had quickly begun questioning the wisdom of letting Tim share that country club photo as soon as the lust that had made it seem like a good idea had worn off. Almost daily she considered telling him she had changed her mind and wanted it kept private if not deleted altogether, delaying, all the while wondering if it was already too late.
Gwen sighed. A missing bra seemed pretty tame in comparison to what her husband's friend—or friends, the Lady quickly reminded her, who knows how many people he's shown, although Gwen doubted that—may have already seen. She looked down at her shirt, telling herself he probably wouldn't even notice anything different, choosing to ignore the nipples pushing against the damp fabric, and purposefully strode across the yard.
They were seated at the kitchen table, both with a beer in their hand, Charlie with an empty before him as well. Gwen's plan to quickly walk past them and down the hall dissolved and she moved to her husband's side to bend and kiss him, the smell of sweat, gas and fish wafting up to greet her. "You need a shower." She smiled and nodded at his friend. "Charlie, nice to see you."
The big man smiled back and nodded. "Gwen, good to see you."
The Lady quickly pointed out the air of smug confidence about the man and the Slut didn't disagree. Like he knew something she didn't...he saw it, Gwen knew, he saw it, he saw my... "So did you two catch anything?"
"Couple a decent size bass," Tim volunteered, "not big enough to keep, though. We'll let 'em grow up another year."
Gwen paused, feeling a sudden surge of defiance, a need to regain some control. You want to look, Charlie? Look all you want. I'll make you beg for more, but you're not touching what your best friend can have any time and any way he wants. She took a glass from the cabinet over the sink and filled it. "How far up the lake did you go?" Running into the McCallums had been a concern of hers, as well. It was a big lake, but still...her defiance wavered a bit. Maybe he knew about that, too.
