Helping Melinda Be Naughty

It was the damndest pint of Guinness I've ever drunk. Jake, my friend of many years, invited me to O'Leary's for 'an unusual man-to-man talk'. 'Unusual' ain't the half of it. Jake is your typical clean-cut All-American boy. He works for a physical fitness company and he is physically fit, and almost annoyingly positive and upbeat. He is married to Melinda who friends call Mel. Mel is pretty and perky and constantly upbeat, too. They are early forties, with two kids in college, but they could pass for mid-thirties, maybe less. As a first impression, they are people you might expect to be greeters at the Sunday morning church service.

So Jake, looking very uncomfortable, takes a sip of beer and says, "I have a little problem at home, and I'm hoping you..." And he pauses and takes a long swig, "Shit, Sam, I've got a big problem..."

"Okay, talk to me."

"Mel...is having some kind of mid-life crisis or something."

I felt my eyes blink, involuntarily, "What the hell? Surely not an affair."

"No, at least I don't think so, but a couple nights ago, she told me point-blank that she's 'restless'. That's not like Mel, at all."

"What the hell does restless mean?"

"When I asked her that, she admitted she doesn't understand it, but she told me that 'she' is having sex way more than 'we' are having sex. And she was talking about plastic friends she's found somewhere."

"Your wife MEL? You've got to be shitting me."

"I know. Hard to believe. She has a tennis friend that may be the villain. They were apparently talking about spicing up marriage and Marge admitted to watching some porn, and now..."

I tried to be comforting. "They say a lot of women watch porn; it's not just a guy thing anymore."

"I don't know about that, but I do know something has played with her mind. She actually told me that she's not sure she can resist, you know, acting out."

"MEL?!? What the fuck?"

Jake took a couple deep breaths, focused again on his glass, then looked up at me. "Okay, here's why you and I are here. Mel trusts you. I trust you..."

My amazement-meter red-lined. "Whoa, pahdner, if we're talking a threesome with Mel, you're about to witness a live heart attack."

Jake studied his beer for a moment. His face was turning red, neck up. "No, nothing like a threesome, but she's wondering...I'm wondering...whether we can party a little at our house."

I chuckled, not because anything was funny, just because the strangeness got to me. "Fuck, man, I don't even know what to say. I would have guessed hell would freeze over before I partied -- whatever that means -- with you and Mel."

"I think we're just talking about a few drinks and some conversation more like when we were college kids..." He paused, again clearly uncomfortable. "And I know she wants to wear something sexy."

I'll admit that my dick was listening at that point. Melinda is not voluptuous. She dresses conservatively, even her swimsuits. But she is nicely formed in every way a guy defines nicely formed. Still, I focused on being a good friend, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

He managed a laugh. "Well, you are an unworthy jerkwad, but you're better than any alternative I've been able to come up with."

So I laughed, if a bit uneasily, and we had another beer, and made arrangements for me to drop by on Saturday evening.

-------------------

I struggled with how to prepare mentally for the evening. I guessed it would be clumsy, with Mel somehow being casually sexy and me pretending I didn't notice. I had no idea what we would talk about, but feared that the elephant in the room would be her newfound restlessness.

I parked on the street and walked up the sidewalk toward their whitestone two-story. I rang the doorbell, the door opened, and a radiant Mel smiled warmly and practically jumped into me, arms around my neck, breasts vividly in contact with my chest, "Sam, I'm so happy you could come. Thank you."

I'm sure I went crimson like a green teenager arriving for his first date, but I managed a reasonably suave, "My pleasure, ma'am." She led me through the house, toward their patio. I'm not sure whether her dress was a mini or a short sundress or whether there's a difference anymore, but it had bold yellow and white stripes that beautifully accented beautifully tanned legs. I had noticed during my front-door greeting that the neckline was scooped, string ties at the shoulders, almost certainly braless. As I enjoyed my rear view, I said to myself 'OK, prim and proper Mel, this definitely counts as wearing something sexy.'

We arrived at the patio where she said, "Jake will be right back. He had to pick up a couple things at the grocery. I made us some rum punch. Ready?"

"Sure," I said agreeably, beginning to relax, but still having no idea where this was headed.

She walked to a side table and filled two yellow party cups from a sizable crystal punch bowl. As she handed me a cup, she smiled sweetly, "I'm one ahead of you. You'll have to catch up... Let's sit on the deck."

I followed her to the backyard deck where three lounge chairs were arrayed around a circular fire pit. She sat on the side of her chair and swung her legs onto the long cushion. It would be fair to say that she was careless about the whereabouts of legs and hem before arranging herself a bit more modestly. I took a hefty swig of rum punch immediately upon sliding onto my chair.

"Sam, I want to ask you an unusual question."

"Okay, fire away."

"What color are my panties?"

I shook my head, badly disoriented, but I assuredly knew the answer. "Uh, white; really bright white."

"Do you know when the last time I did that was?"

"Did what?"

"Intentionally showed my panties to a boy." This was getting weirder by the minute, but Jake had warned me, more or less, and what voyeur doesn't dream about a conversation like this? I silently shrugged regarding my ability to even guess when the last time was. "I was eleven, and I got in big trouble because my mother figured it out."

"How did she figure it out?" I asked, although unsure which of several possible questions was best.

"I rode my bicycle home while I was wearing a skirt. I didn't think she would be home yet."

I furrowed my brow hoping to appear thoughtful and wise. "A no-no, right?" And to myself, I said, 'Buddy, that was truly lame.'

Mel nodded, her recollection turning her expression to near grim. "She kept asking me questions until she made me admit that I did it for a boy named Johnny Hart."

I sipped punch, having no idea where to go conversationally, hoping my loose-fitting slacks were loose enough that my forming erection wasn't obvious. She said, "Do you like my outfit?" as she flipped at the hem and shifted her legs just I little. I was able to verify the whiteness of her panties and actually see the tanned skin of her stomach above the bikini waistline.

"That would be a yes. I like your outfit."

"Jake said you would."

"Jake's not supposed to reveal guy secrets."

"He probably wouldn't have, but I kept asking him until he talked about it." I finished my rum punch in a long gulp, but the tension didn't end swiftly. She said, "Hey, you've almost caught up," and got up from the lounge chair more carelessly than she had sat down. It was definitely best that she went to the punch bowl for me. My dick had spoken to me, 'Rise and shine, man. You've gotta admit that this is really cool.'

She returned with my glass, then sat again. I was breathing harder, probably noticeably. Her expression was serious. "Sam, I really appreciate this." If she hadn't looked so earnest, I might have laughed a hearty guy laugh. In my wildest imagining -- and I've done some pretty wild imagining -- I wouldn't have predicted being thanked for watching the greatest leg and panty show of my entire life.

I tried to shift focus away from my boner. "Jake told me you're struggling some."

She looked at me with troubled eyes. "I am, and I don't understand it. Maybe we'll talk later, but tonight I want to get a little drunk and have a little fun, and I think you are the perfect fun-buddy."

This time I couldn't avoid a laugh. "Mel, I'll do my best. So far it's been grueling, but I'm willing to soldier on."

She laughed with me. Jake arrived shortly thereafter. We grilled burgers, drank too much punch, told stories and jokes that were increasingly bawdy, and before it was over I was able to study Melinda's panties, almost stitch by stitch, and to verify that she was braless and that her breasts with their pert nipples might cause a leg-and-panty man to become a switch hitter.

As I got ready to Uber home, she said, slurringly, "I just figured out, Sam ol' buddy, that this isn't fair to you."

I chuckled and gave her a serious smooch on the forehead. "No problem, I'll take care of it as soon as I get home." And I did.

-------------------

I called a meeting of the Buddy Club on the following Tuesday, again at our favorite Irish pub. "Jake, ol' buddy, talk to me about whatever the hell went on Saturday night."

He grinned as if fully understanding my multi-faceted question. "Mel thought it was great, as long as you thought it was all okay?"

"I want to talk about that, but before we start I want to say that the prim and proper Melinda knows how to dress up for an evening. She is an awesomely attractive lady."

He nodded agreement but said, "I know this will sound crazy, but I think I learned as much about Mel as you did?"

I literally laughed in my beer. "I seriously doubt that."

"She was pretty blatant, huh?"

"Yeah, and I hated every minute of it."

"She told me there might have been a couple moments when you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"I thought she might have noticed that. Guilty as charged. So what did you learn?"

"She has some kind of need to be naughty -- her word -- but she knows it's important to be safe."

I shook my head. "I'll tell you, man, you and I are having a strange discussion. Are you SURE you're okay with all this?"

"Same answer as last time. This thing in her head is real. You are way better than any alternative I can think of?"

"But are WE okay. I mean, not to go softy here, but you are my best friend in the entire world."

He met my gaze. "I'm okay..." He paused. "... to be honest, I enjoyed her show a lot more than I thought I would... " He paused again and grinned like guys sometimes do "... and she stayed naughty after you left if you know what I mean."

An odd angle occurred to me. I looked at him accusingly. "Are you saying I'm something like a volleyball player who sets it up so you can spike?" He thought for a moment, apparently arrived at the same visual I had, and we shared a hearty guy laugh.

Jake turned more serious. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I've been thinking about all this from Mel's viewpoint."

"So was Saturday naughty enough?"

"That would be a giant yes. I think she surprised herself about how well it seemed to go, I mean how comfortable she was. She's hoping for an encore; maybe a regular encore. What do you think of that?"

I shook my head, trying to process the non-stop astonishment. "Well, I'll need to check my calendar, but I can probably work you in."

"Cool, she'll be happy to hear that." His brow furrowed. He took a long moment to study his beer. "Sam, I need to ask you something that I think is going to be an issue, not right away, but I can see it coming like a freight train."

I just waited, watching him fidget, wondering what new strangeness might take place between two close friends. He took a deep breath. "It really bothered her that...that you were going home...you know..."

He paused and I thought 'What the fuck? Is this really happening?' I said, "She mentioned that at the door Saturday, but I thought it was just rum punch talking."

"If so, the punch was still talking Sunday morning, So I guess the question is, when the time is right, are you okay if she...you know... if she jerks you off."

This time, my red-lining amazement-meter caused me to laugh out loud, even though Jake was looking earnest. "Do you know how fucking crazy this sounds to me? Are you really asking whether it's okay if a spectacularly sexy woman wacks me off?"

He laughed, but not a hearty guy laugh. "I know, asshole, but is it okay?"

I grinned at my friend, "I'll have to think about it."

________________

We didn't meet until two weeks after the initial party, a time interval that had worked well for me. I have a lady friend who is an airline stewardess, stationed in our city, but a literal world traveler. It will never be serious for complicated reasons, but Tess and I play a role in each other's lives, in terms of bottled-up passion.

When Jake and I were setting up the next get-together he said, "She would like to do the last one, all over again. She really is happy with how it went."

I smiled inwardly, sensing that this coming Saturday was not going to be the night she would help me out, but I was A-OK with the idea of an encore. Once again, it was a great time. She wore a white minidress that was truly mini, as in purchased online in the '70s disco-dress category. The top was a deep V that was, well, deep V'd. Not the slightest hint of a bra. Even though I had been here once before, I still struggled to fit my prior perception of Melinda with the eager party animal that was sitting across from me, laughing and joking while enjoying cups full of a slightly different flavored rum punch. And this time, she didn't need to intentionally show me her panties -- which, for the record, were tiny bikinis in a medium shade of blue. There was no way she could NOT show me her panties -- non-stop while we sat on the lounge chairs and while she was giving OMG crotch shots when she was maneuvering in or out of her chair.

Here's what I realized about halfway through that second night. The voyeur moments were fascinating, putting it mildly, but I really liked being with them. They are fun and funny, and bawdy jokes were just fine. They are well read and great conversationalists. The amount of rum punch was a little too much but under control. No one sloppy drunk or sick. And I continued to be amazed by Mel's honesty about her need to be 'a little naughty'. At one point she caught me staring, or maybe drooling would be closer. "This dress is a bit much, right?"

I looked toward Jake who gave me that guy expression that said, 'what the hell can I do, she's on her own.' I looked back toward Mel, again gazing shamelessly. "It is a bit revealing."

She said, "I know... and look what happens when I try to pull it down." She grabbed the hem with both hands and tugged mightily. "There, did that help?"

I laughed out loud, but affectionately. "Not much."

"I know, I guess you'll just have to put up with it."

That night was, indeed, almost exactly like the first except that at the door, I got a full body hug and cheek kiss that I could feel, all the way home. It reminded me of those magical moments as a hormonal teenager when you realize that the female body is soft and curvy and it's great when she holds 'her warm and tender body next to mine'.

-------------------

Jake called me the next Monday morning. "Can you do this Saturday?"

"Why so soon?"

"She just asked me to check. She, uh... she wants to dance."

A warning bell went off in my brain, but faintly. "I'll need to check Tess's schedule, but I think Saturday will work."

"And, uh, Sam, I'm okay with whatever she's thinking about."

------------------

Her outfit this time was a mini jean skirt with a purple tube top that was barely more than a bra. Panties were pink that accented the tube top, and the mini jean skirt didn't do much better at keeping her covered than last week's disco-dress.

I didn't mention it last time, but I'll mention now that at this point in our relationship I was making no effort to hide the erection that was becoming something like an annoying friend that wouldn't leave me alone. Mel was clearly aware. Sometimes we exchanged private glances and smiles. I had the sense that she viewed my arousal as a triumph of her new naughtiness. I wasn't bitching, but let's just say it was becoming a real issue between me and my dong.

The first two-thirds of the evening was much like our highly enjoyable previous parties. Then Jake went inside for a couple minutes, and music began playing through the all-weather speakers built into the deck. I didn't recognize the artists or songs, but it was "slow dance" music compared to the upbeat stuff that always causes me to make an ass of myself on the dance floor. Mel and I were in our lounge chairs. I was gazing adoringly at the best-formed pair of legs I've ever seen, at least as judged in the moment. Jake came back and sat down.

Melinda spoke, but huskily. "I want you guys to do something for me." Of course, she had our immediate attention. "I want to dance, but first I want you to take your shirts off."

Jake glanced toward me and nodded. I grasped that this was the moment he had pre-approved during our phone call. He lifted his golfer shirt over his head. And like any good friend would I followed suit. My dick and I noticed, right away, that a new dimension was at work. There was a warm breeze blowing on newly bared skin. Hell, I think my nipples were getting hard, although they usually don't.

Mel stood and walked to an open area on the deck. "Okay, my husband first." Jake approached her. She waited, with a truly beautiful smile and a different kind of expression. They danced, and it was definitely 'warm and tender body next to mine' or I guess I should say 'next to his'. Her arms were reaching upward, around his neck. Jake and I are both a little over six feet tall. Mel is maybe 5'4". They danced for a minute or two, mostly just swaying with her arms around his neck, his hands on her hips but roaming on and under the jean skirt. Then I heard her whisper, but loudly enough for me to easily hear, "Take my top off."

I could read surprise on Jake's face, leading me to believe she was out in front of him in terms of clearly communicated plans for the evening. But he said nothing, put his hands under the sides of her top, and lifted it over her head then over arms she had raised straight up to make removal easy. Because of the way they were standing, I didn't have a full view, but neither did my dick and it had sprung to its full upright position.

They danced through at least two numbers. They kissed sometimes. They talked and laughed sometimes. And when she leaned back to smile or laugh with him, I did have a full view. My dick was screaming 'wack me - wack me' and I damn near did. But I decided to wait for my turn.

I approached her and saw the same beautiful smile and expression. As she prepared to put her arms around my neck, her eyes were sparkling in the dim light. "Hi, Sam."

"Hi, Mel. You'll have to excuse my pecker, he's a little out of control."

Her reaction was somewhere between laughter and giggle. "Good, my plan is coming together."

I met her dancing eyes. "Naughty, huh?"

Instead of answering, she squeezed tighter around my neck and pressed her breasts into my chest. "Do you think this counts as naughty?"

"A lot of people would think so."

"Do you think so?"

"I don't know what to think. I do know that this feels... oh hell, I don't even know what to say about how this feels."

"Does it feel good?" And she squeezed tighter. I felt her upper body gyrating somehow, making her nipples trace mini circles against my chest."

"Jesus, Mel, where did you learn to do that?"

"Take a guess?"

I just shook my head and danced on.

A few minutes later -- or maybe it was an hour -- she stepped backward, took my hand and pulled me toward the house. "Jake, honey, Sam and I will be back in a few minutes." And I easily picked up on the humor in her voice as she emphasized 'few minutes.'