. 03

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 text Tim had sent from the driveway warning of his delay did little to dampen Charlie's displeasure and none of his impatience.

"This time of day I'm gonna have to park the trailer in the fuckin' boonies after I unload the boat," his friend grumbled as Tim pulled his truck up driver window to driver window a distance up the lake's access road.

"The walk'll be good for you."

"Fuck that. You're the one that's late. Go park your truck then get down there and help me get the boat in. I'll stay with it while you go park my fucking truck."

Fair trade for a good fuck, Tim thought and said no more. In the end, the walks weren't that bad, but it was probably good he was the one who had taken them—it would have been more of an effort for Charlie and would only have only pissed him off more. A steady diet of fast food and lots of beer had added quite a bit of weight to his friend's frame since high school, and it was finally catching up with him.

His mood did not noticeably brighten once they were on the water, Tim good-naturedly listening to the muttering about all the best spots being taken, the fish having already risen to feed, and the melting ice in the cooler. Finding one of their favorite areas unoccupied did help.

"You're never late," Charlie grumbled as he began casting. "For anything. Especially for fishing. What the fuck happened?"

"I was twenty minutes late. It's not like I made you wait all morning."

"Half an hour. Close enough."

"Christ, is this going to piss you off all day? What's your problem? You sound like you are in sore need of a blowjob."

The big man began to laugh, unable to keep up his surly front. "I'm always in need of a blowjob, just not from you!" He watched his next cast strike the water, nodding with satisfaction at the placement. "Everything okay?"

"Yup, fine. Something came up with Gwen just before I was getting ready to leave."

Charlie's voice took on a tinge of concern. "Uh-oh. That don't sound good. She's not pissed you're fishing today, right?"

"Nope, she's good, too. Matter of fact, I woulda been later but she knew you were waitin' for me and hustled me out the door as soon as I was done."

Charlie's focus was on the empty lure he was reeling in. "And whatever the hell it was couldn't wait 'til you got back?"

Tim's first instinct was to give as neutral an answer as possible, like he always had when talking about his sex life when there hadn't been anything to talk about, but that had changed. On the other hand, he had spent many mornings on the lake listening to Charlie describe his bedroom feats in great detail. Now that he had the stories of his own, Tim couldn't resist the urge to brag a bit, to give back at least half as good as he had gotten from his friend all of those years. He couldn't talk about last night, but this morning was fair game...

Tim continued to look out across the water. "I was gettin' laid."

"The fuck you say!"

"Yup. Good enough for ya?"

"Shit! Why didn't you say so? That's an excuse I can get behind! So what happened? You wake up with morning wood and make Gwen take care of it for ya?"

"How long have you known Gwen? Do you really fucking think I can make her do anything? It was her idea."

Charlie smiled mischievously. "Okay, so you begged her to take care of yer mornin' wood and she felt bad for ya?"

"Fuck no. I didn't have morning wood." Cricket took care of that the night before, he thought. "I was all ready to get in my truck when she backed me up against the sink, dropped my pants and went down on me."

"No shit? She gave you a blowjob and you didn't have to ask her for one?" Charlie said slowly, the doubt in his tone mixing with hope. "Okay...so then what? You gonna tell me she got you off like that?"

Tim felt an irrational urge to squash the idea that Gwen called the shots even in their sex life and made up a little white lie. "She probably would've if I wanted her to, but I bent her over the table instead and did her that way."

"The table?" Charlie's vivid mental image of the master bathroom Gwen was on her knees in didn't contain that particular piece of furniture. It suddenly dawned on him which room had both sink and table...the vision in his mind smoothly shifted to the spot where he had sat many times enjoying more than a few beers. "You were doing her in the kitchen?"

"Told ya, I was just about out the door...had my coffee and everything."

"So she started it and you finished it...yeah, I woulda been late, too. I might notta showed up at all." Charlie wanted more detail for his imagination. "What was she wearin'?"

"One of my t-shirts."

Gwen went from sprawled across the table naked to sprawled across the table with her shirt flipped up over her ass. "Yeah, that would make gettin' to her pussy easy enough," he sagely agreed as if solving a vexing puzzle. "Good thing her friend didn't stay over," he added with a laugh.

Tim was surprised at how much fun he was having watching his friend try to digest all this and couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. "Cricket? She did. She was still in bed." He left out whose.

Charlie's eyes grew wide. "No shit? And Gwen still wanted to polish your knob in the kitchen? Wouldn't she have freaked if you got caught?"

"Maybe," Tim lied again with a shrug. "I guess she thought it was early enough we wouldn't get interrupted. Her friend sleeps late."

"She probably thought that since you're a minuteman it was only gonna take a few seconds anyway," the big man guffawed.

"I could have gone a lot longer than I did," Tim retorted, remembering how tempting that little pucker winking up at him had been, "but like I said, Gwen knew you were waitin' and didn't want to make me too late."

"Well, you tell her that was damn nice of her to be thinkin' of me when you was doin' her. Ya did stay long enough to get her off too, right? At least try?" Charlie asked, his voice dropping lower.

"I was gonna, but like I said, she didn't wanna make you wait."

"Look, I know you're kinda new at this whole fucking thing, so remember that ya always gotta make sure to try and get 'em off," Charlie patiently offered. "Even if you don't make 'em come, they like that you didn't just pump and dump 'em.

Tim smiled to himself. Charlie sounded like he was giving pointers on how to frame a wall to a new hire he liked. "Thanks, I'll remember that."

"And as far as getting' 'em off, I figured out a long time ago that just havin' a big cock ain't enough so ya gotta do other stuff. Me, I got good at eatin' pussy," he said with pride. "Your cock's gotta be a lot smaller than mine so I'd guess you're gonna have to get real good at that to make up for it. She does let you eat her out, right?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Ya like it?"

"Yup."

"Then practice as much as she'll let ya. Yer tongue'll get tired but her pussy'll thank you," the big man chuckled.

I got twice the practice last night, Tim silently replied. Still, he couldn't resist tweaking his friend a little. "But the time's gotta be right, right? Practice before I fuck her? Not after?"

"Whatever floats yer boat," Charlie replied with a noncommittal shrug while staring out across the water. "I ain't gonna judge ya by how thick and salty you like your pussy juice."

They were silent for a while, the boat nearly motionless in the still water, the shade slowly retreating from their spot as the sun began to climb overhead.

"If you don't mind me sayin' so, I think you got a—whaddya call 'em—exhibitionist on yer hands."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, exhibitionist—a girl who likes to show off her stuff, really likes to show it off. I mean between the picture at the country club AND doin' it in the locker room, and your kitchen, I think she wouldn't mind bein' seen. Somethin' ya might want to encourage, know what I mean?"

Tim grinned. "Yeah, maybe. I know I'm seein' plenty."

"Speakin' a which, you get any pictures?"

"You mean of this morning? Of me and Gwen?"

"No, of the sunrise. Shit yeah, you and Gwen. Mainly Gwen, but if you're in 'em I'll try and not laugh at yer dick."

Tim looked over to Charlie studying his latest cast. "No, no pictures. I was kinda in a hurry, you know."

"Yeah, I get it...you ever take pictures of you two goin' at it?"

"Naw, I'm busy enough when we're doin' it without havin' to handle a camera."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, that took some practice for me, too. So, you got any more pictures of Gwen where you're not goin' at it?" The big man turned to look at Tim, suggestively raising an eyebrow.

Tim had not shown his friend the pictures Gwen had allowed him to take of her spread wide and on all fours yet; the time had never been right, and he wasn't sure now was, either. He did have some others, though, some that were more anonymous. He chuckled and shook his head. "Just of her new haircut."

"Gwen got her hair done? I don't think I ever seen her with nothing but a mom cut and a ponytail."

"Yup, she cut it short—real short."

Charlie groaned in disappointment. "Short? I hate when girls get their hair cut too short—makes 'em look a guy with tits."

"Naw, she definitely still looks like a girl."

The big man sighed. "Well, lemme see what she did to that pretty little head of hers. Hopefully she left enough for you to grab on to when you got her bent over."

Tim reached for his phone, working to keep his expression neutral. "Got a before, during, and after picture."

Charlie wedged his rod between his foot and the side of the boat and reached for the offered phone. "I like a ponytail to grab—"his lament was cut off mid-sentence and his eyes widened, staring at the first picture, then up at his friend. "Whoa."

Tim maintained his air of indifference. "Yeah, it was getting' kinda long, not that I cared."

"Holy Shit, is this Gwen?"

"No, it's me. Who the hell do you think it is?"

"Whoa. That's what you mean by haircut? It kinda looked like she was shaved in the picture you showed me from the country club, but it was hard to tell since you wouldn't send it to me so I could get a closer look."

Tim ignored the jab. "She had it trimmed pretty short in that one, but kinda let it go for a while after that."

"Yeah, she's a little furry. Not bad though, I seen way hairier. Looks kinda smooth and soft like that, like it'd feel good to pet." Charlie had to will himself to swipe to the next photo, fearing that once gone he might never see this sight again. Shaving cream now obscured his view, but the hips, waist and spread thighs of a naked woman—Gwen Nelson, he reminded himself, Gwen-fucking-Nelson—were still there in all their glory. He swiped back to reassure himself the first photo was indeed still there, then swiped forward twice. "Ho-lee shit," he murmured, pinching the screen to enlarge it. The result was a little grainy, but still very recognizable as freshly-shaved cunt, a mound of bare flesh sitting above two puffy outer lips, just the hint of the inner lips peeking out between them. "Ho-lee shit," he repeated, "I do love me some bare pussy! When you said short I didn't know you meant this kind of short!" He laughed self-consciously. "Yer right—she does look like a girl!"

Tim nodded, an easy smile finally breaking through. "Yup."

The pictures were flipped back and forth again and again, each one enlarged until the image quality made it difficult to recognize what he was looking at. "Fucking hot," he murmured, studying them intently. "Never thought I'd see that. You're a lucky sumbitch. But I still think somebody stole the old Gwen and replaced her with this one."

"Still the same Gwen," Tim disagreed. "Loves her horses and her kids and will fuck up anyone who messes with either of 'em. She just decided that sex ain't all that bad, I guess."

"And the world's a better place for it," Charlie replied somberly before chuckling. He waggled the phone. "Can I have 'em?"

"I told you, Gwen doesn't know I'm showing 'em to you. If they got out, she'd go apeshit and cut me off."

"Swear to God, she won't find out," his friend pleaded.

"What do you want 'em for, anyways?"

"Let's just say I'm a collector of fine art."

"You're gonna jack off lookin' at 'em, aren't you?"

"Can't promise I won't...that don't piss you off, right? I mean, you told me you jack off to the ones I send you."

"I didn't tell you that."

"You didn't say you didn't when I asked, so that means you did." Tim had to admit his friend's logic was sound. "It's not like I'm gonna hit on her or anything, just pay her tribute in my own special way."

Tim chuckled and shook his head. "You're gonna jack off thinking about the pictures anyway, whether you got 'em or not."

He shrugged. "What can I say? Sorry, I got an active imagination. The pictures are just to refresh my memory."

"Why don't you get a girl to work out that imagination on? This is the longest I've ever seen you go between girlfriends."

"Too busy at work, man," Charlie groaned. "You know that. Hell, I ain't even been making it down the titty bar."

"You need to cut back some," Tim warned. "You're killing yourself."

"Gotta go hard when times are good to get you through when times are bad," he retorted. "You know that."

"Keep it up and you won't make the next bad time."

"Fuck that. I'll be around to kick the next bad time's ass. Now c'mon, how 'bout them pictures?"

Tim looked at him intently, studying him. "You got your phone?"

Charlie scrambled to find it. "Yeah?"

"I'm going to send you these. Then I'm going to watch you save the pictures and delete the e-mail so nobody knows it came from me. If you show them to anybody—and I mean anybody—I will tell everybody about that time you told that girl to stick a carrot up your ass. We good?"

"Hey, I didn't tell her to, she did that all on her own. I told you she was horny, I passed out and she got pissed...the pictures are private use only, swear to God. I'm a fine arts collector, remember?"

Tim began to type. "You want all three? The middle one doesn't show much."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah I want it. Shows enough, and I can pretend the shaving cream is my jizz."

"You really don't give a shit that's my wife's pussy under the shaving cream, do you?"

"I very much give a shit. Hey, if I thought you were pissed that I was beating off to your wife I would—"

"Not tell me you were beating off to my wife?"

"Well, yeah, probably not," Charlie admitted with a laugh. "But hell yeah I give a shit. It's fuckin' hot to finally see what yer slippin' yer dick in to after all these years. But that's it. I just look, I don't touch. Hey, I seen plenty of pictures of other guys' women, but have you ever seen me make a move on 'em?"

"Other guys have shown you pictures of their wife?"

"Made some trades. I sent them some, they sent me some. See how that works? Wives and girlfriends and one night stands," Charlie clarified. "Saved every one, Got a decent collection. And not just pictures, movies too. And I didn't even tell you and don't even ask who I got. See? I keep that shit private."

Tim thought for a moment. As his friend had pointed out, he had never seen him go after someone he knew was in a relationship, even if he knew the relationship was in bad shape. In fact he could remember times when Charlie had pulled off of his target the moment he had realized she was someone else's girl. He did seem to have an almost admirable respect for those boundaries.

"There's no way in hell I would ever make a move on another guy's woman, and I sure as hell wouldn't do it on Gwen. If I didn't give a shit I'd be over to see her first chance I got, trying to get her to show me more. But I do give a shit, so I'm happy with the pictures and knowin' that you're finally getting' the real thing on a regular basis. Like I said, I got a healthy imagination, but I don't do nothin' more than make shit up in my head. Ya gotta admit, a beautiful woman like Gwen is prime stroke material."

"Everything with a pussy is stroke material to you."

"Some are a lot easier to stroke to than others," he admitted with a chuckle and looked at the message he had just received. "'Course, I been getting home from work so late I've been fallin' asleep before my dick can wake up for a workout. These," he waggled the phone at his friend, "are worth staying up for."

***

"Sorry I'm late," Tim offered as he stepped into the kitchen. Gwen was at the kitchen counter cutting up vegetables for dinner, dressed in one of her t-shirts. Unlike the one of his she had been wearing that morning, it wasn't long enough to cover her naked rear end, a view that always made him smile.

"You didn't say when you'd be home, so you're not late," she reasoned, turning her head over her shoulder to accept a kiss.

He pulled a beer out of the fridge. "Charlie wanted to head back to the landing at about 1, but I kinda made him stay out later. I knew he was gonna go back to do paperwork right after and he needs the break, whether he wants it or not."

"He may have his faults, but he's always been a hard worker."

Tim chuckled. "You're right about both his faults and his work habits. When did Cricket leave?"

"About an hour ago."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked over her shoulder. "What'd you guys do today?"

Gwen rubbed her ass against his jeans. "Oh, the usual. Chores in the barn, rode...

"Anything before you went out to the barn?"

"Breakfast," she teased.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I did go back to bed after you left..."

"I'm guessing you didn't go back to sleep?"

"Not really..."

"So I guess you don't need me to finish what we started this morning?"

She laughed. "I didn't say that. Let's just say you have time to go take a shower, we can have dinner together, and then see what happens."

He released her, playfully slapping her bare butt and getting a mild squawk in reply. "Shower. Right."

"Want to tell me what you did after you went back to bed?" Tim asked with a smile after they had finished dinner on the deck.

Gwen smiled mischievously. "In a bit."

"In a bit," Tim agreed with a grin. "Okay, so what'd you two do after you both got up?"

Oh, you know, like I said, chores in the barn, breakfast, went for a ride over the hill, stopped at the picnic table to eat lunch, came back and went for a swim."

"Just a swim?"

"Just a swim."

"Did you wear suits?" Tim growled suggestively with a raised eyebrow.

Gwen laughed. "Do we ever any more? I swear we've become a regular nudist colony up here!"

He smiled and shrugged. "I got nothing to hide, and I think I'd be very happy if you never wore clothes ever again."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "It does occasionally get cold here you know, and I don't think running around naked during business hours would count as an act of professionalism."

"Yeah, yeah," Tim agreed with a dismissive wave. "It would be a hell of an incentive, though."

A pleasant silence descended around them in the early evening air. "Was Charlie upset that you were late?" she asked softly."

"He was until I told him why," he answered slowly.

"Oh! You mean you told him...everything?"

"Pretty much. Just about this morning, though, not about last night," Tim quickly added.