Author's note: This is my first attempt at writing/publishing, but it is a work I have edited nearly 20 times, changing and altering, adding details as my wife has encouraged me to do. I started writing this in 2008, as we started to blossom in our sexuality, just imagining what it would be like. Some of this will sound like other stories, so if it looks like one of yours, take it as a compliment that I was inspired by what you had written. I've been trying to get the courage to publish and trying to finish the story in my mind. I have only written 3 parts so far, but I know where the story is heading, so I hope you enjoy. Things will get much more intense in parts 2 and 3, and this has lots of potential places to go with it. Hope you enjoy.
Once all of the other patrons had made their way out of the hotel bar, it was just Pete and his wife, Michelle, and the four men they had just met. Pete was somewhat in disbelief. For example, one of the men was Tommy, who reminded Pete of Chris Farley, the ill-fated movie star. Not quite as big, but every bit as clumsy. As Pete imagined her sucking on his cock, which was probably as unkempt as the rest of him was, he couldn't figure out Michelle's end game. Just looking at him, you could tell he was not the cleanest man around. There was perspiration quite visibly penetrating his dress shirt through his undershirt, and the frumpy way in which he walked, he was the kind of guy you just knew that he had an old pair of whitey-tighties on, quite possibly turned inside out so they would feel clean. And yet, here they were, and she was flirting with them.
What was she thinking picking up these guys
? In Pete's mind, she was too pretty for them. These guys were either old or slobs or both, and while she was not of model quality, she was very pretty. At 5 ft, 3 inches, Michelle had a skinny, athletic, yet well-proportioned body, with smallish, pert breasts that sported beautiful, large, dark nipples. She had a beautiful smile, kind, brown eyes, long brunette hair, and reminded many folks of Anne Hathaway. She could have picked anyone out from the hotel bar, but these were the ones she wanted for whatever she had in mind. He couldn't figure it out.
You see, Pete and Michelle had agreed that in an effort to spice up their marriage, they would begin to act out their fantasies. This was their first opportunity to act on it, and they had agreed that she would be the first one to act out her fantasy. The only thing was that she had insisted on keeping it secret from him what she wanted. She only told him that nothing would happen that she wasn't ready for. He was expecting something like Michelle asking to be tied up, or maybe dancing and flirting with another guy just to get herself in the mood for some awesome sex. But he would soon find that he had underestimated her, and her fantasies, and even these guys.
She had obviously planned out the first details of the night, but not much further. "I want to you choose a bar for us that's out of town, so no one we know will see us while we play," she had said. He had asked her what she meant by "play," but she would not divulge. Based on her actions so far and her guardedness, Pete guessed that she was aiming to play with someone that looked like they could use a little fun, and this hotel bar was going to be the place, and these guys were the ones she had picked. Pete could feel the butterflies really start fluttering in his stomach at what might be ahead for them. For him. For her. This was just so out of character for Michelle, Pete could not fathom what he had unlocked inside her brain that she agreed to act these fantasies out.
She was dressed in a conservatively sexy manner. Enough to get guys to give her a second look, but not enough to openly advertise. She evidently wanted guys who would work for it. So she had dressed in a tight-fitting, short black dress with buttons down the front. When viewed from behind, it was about 3 inches from the bottom of her ass, tantalizingly close to exposing herself, especially when she bent over a little bit, but not ridiculous. She had worn a waist chain around it also, just to give her waist some shape. But it didn't flare out, nor did it hug her too closely. Anyone looking at her would have taken a second look, but probably would not have had any idea that she was wearing no underwear (as she had shown him was the case in the car), or that she had gone the entire evening with ben-wa balls stuck up her pussy. That little tidbit she had revealed to him just before zeroing in on this bunch of rather ordinary guys.
When they had arrived, the place was surprisingly busy. It was a nice bar as hotel bars go. It had a little waiting area with bench seats that opened out to the large hotel lobby. The main bar was a darkened room with high ceilings and square, dark wood tables surrounding a matching bar. The trim was silver, and there were a few paintings on the wall, giving a little bit of color to the room. The lights were dim, but not overly so, so that you could see who you were talking to, but not every detail about them. Perfect for meeting strangers. Off to one side of the bar was a small but functional parquet dance floor. Casual dance music played over the speaker system. They had chosen one of several high top tables that were available, and took a seat.
Over a couple of watered-down drinks, they listened to the sounds of the bar. The music was good 70's and 80's dance music, just what you would expect. "Kung Fu Fighting," "September," and "Dancing Queen" were the types of songs being played. They also overheard several conversations at different tables talking about a new kind of piping material. They both surmised that these must be men from a sales convention at the large hotel that housed the bar, and they were right. What surprised him was that aside from two women who Pete and Michelle could tell, by their casual conversation with the bartender, were local regulars looking for quick hook-ups, Michelle was the only other woman in the bar.
After a few dances with Pete, the two of them nervously engaged in small talk. Privately, Pete had been wondering what she had up her sleeve. For her part, Michele was nervously contemplating how to live out her fantasy, which was far more extreme than Pete had a clue about. What he didn't know was that she wanted to act out real fantasies she had carried with her for most of her life. These were not halfway, role-playing fantasies that would be fun for a while, but would grow boring. She wanted to start with a bang. What she didn't know was that she, too was in for more than she bargained for. After about an hour or so, Michelle got her first invitation to dance from another guy.
As they were talking and thinking, they both looked up, and saw a tall, dark-haired man with penetrating blue eyes approach. He had a small salesman's pouch for a belly and by Pete's estimate, looked like he was in his late forties. He was dressed in a dark polo shirt and gray slacks. He was clean-cut with cheap aftershave, and had his hair slicked back, but neat. In other words, he was a prototypical salesman, but looked like he meant well.
"I noticed that you guys have been talking for a while, but as you can see, you are the only woman here worth dancing with," he said. Tthen looking at Pete, he added "Do you mind?"
As Pete was getting ready to nod his head that it was fine, Michelle surprised everyone: "Oh, he's fine with it. Let's go!" As she was lead to the dance floor, she looked back at him with a smile that said that the game was on.
Well, isn't that wonderful,
Pete thought.
I guess I am supposed to be a voyeur in this fantasy
," Pete thought to himself, along with "
What in the world is she up to
?" Deep down, he had an inkling, but this was a sudden surprise, and he wasn't sure he was on board with it. He quickly tried to wrap his brain around embracing the voyeur role, because despite his butterflies, he really wanted her to live out her fantasy. He had been working on her for the entire ten years of their marriage, asking her to tell him what she really wanted sexually, but he had been unable to get a straight answer. She was evasive about answering the questions.
Occasionally when he put the pressure on too hard for her to open up, she turned the tables, and asked him what his fantasies were. He could never admit how wild and extreme his fantasies were. Admittedly he had picked them up from watching more porn than she was aware of, and he didn't want to get into a fight about that. They were both devout Christians, but her background was based on shame, and porn was a forbidden thing. Staying married was more important to him than admitting his fantasies. So he would just try to nudge her into some things that were different from their usual routine, which was always a blowjob teaser for him to get him hard, followed by cowgirl to get her going, and then missionary for him to cum, followed by a vibrator for her to get to orgasm.
"We could try anal," he would offer up. "Anything that takes us out of the ordinary. We could have sex in a different room, maybe outside in the back yard? Anything. Come on, just give me a clue what turns you on, so I know what to do."
But she would quickly finish the conversation by giving him a blowjob and letting him finish in her mouth. She was clearly uncomfortable talking about this stuff. Despite how well he knew her, he couldn't tell if he was pushing her too far, or if he wasn't pushing far enough. He didn't know if it was her upbringing that made her this shy talking sex, or just a lack of confidence, or if she really was that cold.
After years of going back and forth and having no luck at getting her to admit her fantasies to him, he finally had had enough.
"This isn't working," he said to her one day. "I love you. I love our children. I love our family. I love everything we have together. You are my best friend, and I am still attracted to you. But we can't live like this sexually any longer. We have sex once or twice a month, and it is always the same routine. We are little more than kissing roomates. Is this what you imagined when we got married? It certainly isn't what I imagined."
After a few pensive moments, she quietly offered up, "No."
"Before we got married, you were a tomcat. We waited for sex until we were married, but we did everything else, and you were always wet and looking for action. Now I have to beg you to make time for sex, and you are never in the mood. I can tell that most of the time you do it just out of a feeling of obligation. What happened to that girl I dated back then? Where is she?" He immediately felt better after saying it. He had wanted to get it off his shoulders for a while. But he was also nervous about her reaction. He knew that if he went too far, and she would just go into a shell.
"I don't know," she said. "This isn't fun for me either, you know." Then after another moment, she added, "I was more turned on about things sexually back then, I guess. Sex was a mystery for me. It just isn't anymore."
"Then let's get that mystery, that edge back. What do you think we need to do?"
