Beginnings

Beginnings

The following tale is a little different from most of our previous works. Plus, there's more sex than usual. It's the first in a series of stories which will feature Kaycee and Tony, a married couple on the first stage of an adventure in exhibitionism and voyeurism. The story was written five years ago and is only being published now, for reasons we'll get to later in the series.

Everyone portrayed is over eighteen. This is fiction; as always, all characters and events, etc. are figments of our imagination and have no connection to any living or dead persons, or true events. In other words, we repeat - this is all fiction.

*****

Let me begin by telling you everything that follows doesn't change how I feel about my wife of six years, Kaycee. She's a strong, independent woman who isn't afraid to compromise on important matters with her partner. She is a loving wife, a great friend and an unrelenting cheerleader who picks me up when I need a boost or a boot.

I met her one evening at Portland's Bridgeport Brewpub. We just seemed to connect on multiple levels. We're both graduates of Oregon State and had similar likes and dislikes. I fell in lust with Kaycee that first evening as I walked her home and she gave me a nice kiss at the door before she said goodnight. I fell hopelessly in love two months later as I watched her coach a soccer team of junior high girls. She was the perfect balance of encouragement, mentoring and competitive intensity; you could tell the girls loved her. It confirmed for me this was the woman I wanted as the mother of my children and would spend my life loving.

Why did she fall in love with me? I don't know - lucky, I guess. I'm not a bad looking guy and I keep in shape. Kaycee seems to appreciate my sense of humor; she laughs when I tell one of my many corny jokes. We made love for the first time three months after we started dating and I know I rocked her boat. We pledged to be exclusive, and Kaycee never gave me a reason to doubt her fidelity.

In almost every way, we're the perfect example of the perfect couple - lovers, best friends and now, she's the yin to my yang (or maybe she's the yang to my yin - you get my point).

If I had to trace back when our relationship changed, from monogamous/fidelity to what we are today, I'd have to say it was three years ago, the day my flight home from L.A. was cancelled and I had to rebook on a late-night flight to Portland. It had been a long week in L.A., it was now Friday night and instead of spending the evening with Kaycee, I was in an airport bar drinking my second bourbon, watching the Dodgers on the TV above the bar.

The announcement for my flight came over the PA system; I finished my drink and headed to the Gate. It wasn't until I was standing in line to board, handing the slip of paper to the boarding agent, that I looked at the boarding pass. What the hell? The customer service agent had given me a first-class seat on this flight. It goes to show, sometimes being nice really does pay off.

When my earlier flight was canceled, I waited in line to get reassigned. The asshole in front of me spent five minutes giving the poor agent a rash of shit about the cancellation, as if it were the poor woman's fault the storm came through and screwed everything up that day. When I came up to the counter, I apologized to the agent, offered her an Almond Roca from my briefcase stash and gave her the kindest smile I could muster given my own disappointment with the situation. I didn't notice the seat assignment when she handed me the boarding pass; I was just so thankful I'd be home and kissing my wife that night.

So, seven long hours after my original flight was supposed to take off, I was in the wrong line to board the 10:00 pm flight to Portland.

"Sir, you're in first-class, you didn't need to wait in line."

I smiled, not knowing what to say, other than, "Thank you, that's all right." before walking down the jetway toward the plane.

I'd never flown first-class before - always walked past those seats as I boarded. It always looked rather nice, everyone with a drink in their hand, plenty of legroom with more than enough shoulder space. Now it was my turn. I sat down and before you could say, "jack-rabbit", the flight attendant asked if he could get me a drink.

"A bourbon, thanks."

"Jack Daniels OK?"

"Sure, OK. Thanks." Yea - I know JD isn't 'officially' a bourbon - but who the fuck really cares? (Besides the Kentucky distillers, of course.)

The seat next to me was empty until one minute before the door closed. Almost as if it were scripted, he came rushing onto the plane, a raincoat over one arm and a small suitcase in the other hand. He plopped down in the seat beside me and spoke to me as if we were good friends. "Thank goodness, I didn't think I'd make it. I actually had to get out of the limo a quarter-mile from the terminal to sprint here. I felt like OJ in one of those old commercials."

The flight attendant approached us, "Mr. Davis, please fasten your seatbelt. We're about to take off."

"Sorry. Hey - is it too late to get a drink, please? Just a double JD, neat?"

I looked at the young flight attendant who had stars in his eyes and I almost laughed. Samuel Davis, star of stage, screen, TV, etc., could have asked for a five-course meal and the star-struck flight attendant would have figured out a way to get it. Thirty seconds later, the young man handed Samuel Davis his drink before strapping himself into the jump seat in front of us.

The plane took off and as it leveled off, Mr. Davis turned to me. "Sam Davis, pleased to meet you." He even held out his hand.

I almost burst out laughing. "Yes, I know. Who doesn't? I'm Anthony Costa. It's an honor to meet you. My wife and I are big fans." I could have gushed and groveled; but did my best to act cool. I could have blurted out that Kaycee and I watched his latest movie last weekend and spent the evening fucking like crazy after it ended - it was the sexiest movie we ever watched together. Instead, I just took his hand and tried to be chill.

"Costa - that Italian?"

"Yea, my grandparents came from Sicily."

"No shit, mine too. Davis is 'Anglo-cized', my father's name was DiSalvo."

For the next hour, Sam (he insisted on me calling him, 'Sam', not Mr. Davis) and I shot the shit about a number of topics. Maybe it was the second JD, who knows? But for whatever reason, I had the courage to ask him this:

"Sam, I have to ask. Kaycee and I watched, 'The Caller' last weekend and we couldn't get past the fact that the love scene between you and Lauren Towers looked so real. We know she's married, but we couldn't understand it. How do you actors do those love scenes? I mean, don't the wives and husbands get jealous? I mean, really - how could Towers' husband watch that and not be pissed or jealous?"

Sam looked at me before lowering his voice to answer. "Maybe he likes it."

"I'm sorry - what?"

"He likes it. Look, it's been a long a day and maybe I've had too many of these." Sam held up his drink. "Or maybe I just think you're an OK guy - don't tell anyone, but - Lauren and I were fucking in that scene, really fucking. And do you want to know the craziest part of it? Her husband was on the set and got off on it."

I was stunned. "No?"

Sam smiled. "Some guys get off on it - watching their old ladies get fucked. It's a crazy ole world, Tony."

Sam kept his voice down, almost a whisper as he continued. "Me? I can't imagine watching my wife, if I had one, getting pegged by another dude and enjoying it; but, I can't tell you how many people have approached me and offered their wives to me, on the condition the husband gets to watch. Fucked, huh?"

I don't think I said a word in reply to Sam's statement. I am embarrassed to say though, the entire conversation was surreal and very exciting.

"Tony, have you ever seen the Penthouse Letters magazines or books?"

"I've seen them in the airport bookstore, but never read any."

"Well, most of the letters are how some guy gets off watching his wife get it on. There are all kinds of variations to the central theme; but it all comes down to the voyeuristic and exhibitionist pleasures of the mind and flesh. Sure, the letters are all made up; but the entire industry is built around the fact that men and women are buying, reading, and getting off on the kink. Hell, you can't believe how fucking wet Lauren was when we were doing that scene. She's an exhibitionist - she was creaming just thinking about fucking in front of the camera crew and her husband."

Our plane was landing. We said our 'good-byes'. Turns out his folks retired and moved to Hood River; Sam was in town to decompress from the Hollywood rat race and visit his mother and father. Hell of a guy.

The airport bookstore was closed by the time we landed. I got home after midnight, but my beautiful wife woke up when I got into bed, gave me a scorching kiss, spent all of fifteen seconds getting me hard with her hand, then rolled on top of me and planted herself on my pole. Kaycee rode me while I played with her breasts, tweaking her nipples. One week's worth of backed-up jism flooded her vagina as I let go. I felt Kaycee's shudder, the sign of her own release, just before she collapsed on my chest.

"Damn, I needed that." We said it in unison, then laughed. Kaycee rolled off me but stayed snuggled against me with her arm across my belly and just before we both fell asleep, she said, "Welcome home, husband - I missed you so much."

The next morning, I told Kaycee about meeting Samuel Davis on the flight. I didn't tell her that Sam and Lauren Towers actually fucked in the movie, I understood that it was told in confidence and treated it that way. Kaycee was all a-gaga with the fact we sat together. I had to tell her something about our conversation, so I related how he told me some stars got off on being naked in front of the cameras and how some spouses got off on watching their wives do those scenes; I didn't mention the actual sex or name names. Still, Kaycee seemed to enjoy hearing the Hollywood insider gossip.

There's an adult bookstore about two miles from our house and Saturday afternoon I was inside browsing through the magazine and book racks. I bought a Penthouse Letters magazine and one of their paperbacks. I even looked through a few DVD titles; surprised at the entire row of 'amateur' selections; but passed on renting any.

Kaycee and I had a great weekend 'reconnecting'. I travel at least one week every other month for my job as a forensic accountant, usually to Southern California and sometimes Florida or Texas. Kaycee can usually accompany me during the summer when she's off (she teaches high school Math) and sometimes meets me for long weekends if I'm somewhere warm during the school year.

Monday morning, Kaycee left for school and I stayed home to write my report for work. I had most of the week, the deadline to complete my report wasn't until Thursday and I just wasn't in the mood. I went to my nightstand and opened the 'Letters' magazine.

Sam was right, this stuff was "fucked"; but I found myself getting turned on just the same. Some of the stories made me hard, some were a little too much for me. I finished the magazine and started the paperback. The wife-watching stories fell into a few different genres. There are the straight-forward 'wife gets picked up by some dude and gets nailed in front of hubby', there are the 'big cock nails my wife', usually the 'big-black-cock' nails my wife. There are the 'gang-banged wife' stories.

I had to skip over the stories whenever the husband ended up eating a cream-pie left by the other dude or the whole panty-wearing/caged cock wimp shit. My cock wilted immediately at the mere thought of either of these situations, even if it's another guy being the cuckold. To each their own, I suppose.

There were a few stories written from the wife's perspective and these got me thinking. One story had the wife entering an amateur strip night while the couple was out of town. The wife in the story didn't have sex with any of the men in the audience, but she was totally turned on by being naked in front of so many men that she screwed her husband to exhaustion when they got back to their hotel room.

Another wife's story related the couple's love-making on their Las Vegas hotel room deck while being spied on by guests in the rooms across the courtyard.

These stories had me thinking about Kaycee from an entirely different perspective. Let me explain.

From the time Kaycee and I began dating, she seemed to go along with my suggestions; things she knew would make me happy: going to baseball games, watching movies I suggested, going to rock concerts. One day, after reading an article in the local free press, I asked Kaycee if she would consider going to the nude beach on Sauvie Island - Kaycee's reply: "OK".

Collins Beach is an 'official/legal' nude beach ten miles outside Portland. At the beach, Kaycee didn't hesitate before slipping out of her bikini and I quickly followed by taking off my shirt and shorts. I found myself thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the sun on every inch of my body and especially swimming without a swimsuit. Yes, I enjoyed seeing so many naked women; but most of all, I enjoyed watching Kaycee's nude body basking in the sun and skinny-dipping in the river.

I could tell I wasn't the only one enjoying the sight of a naked Kaycee. Every time Kaycee got up from the blanket to walk to the water at least ten pairs of eyes followed her movements. Was it from walking on the hot sand that made her hips move just a bit more than normal?

The fact that so many men paid attention was a source of pride. Kaycee stands five-six in her bare feet, weighs less than one-twenty, slim but athletically built from coaching soccer, running and lifting, a great set of B-cup breasts topped off by a perfect set of nipples. And all that was before you saw the cute face with the friendly smile and long blonde hair. Yes, I'm one lucky son of a bitch.

We started going to Collins Beach at least every other weekend that summer. I thought it was just another case of Kaycee doing whatever I suggested.

It was the same the two times we made love in the woods while hiking. Neither time did we expect anyone to see us, but the possibility existed. Both times I pulled Kaycee off the trail, stripped her naked and fucked her. Both times she came all over my cock before I came myself.

Now, reading the 'Letters' supposedly by women, relating how they felt when exposed or fucked in public - they did it to get their rocks off, not to please their husbands - I couldn't help but think of how Kaycee reacted to our own public nudity and sex.

This 'revelation' opened my eyes. Why did I think of these situations from my own perspective? As if Kaycee was doing it only for my pleasure? Why hadn't I considered Kaycee was turned on by being completely exposed to whomever could see her on the beach? Or when we made love in the woods and there was a chance of being caught?

I realized my ignorance wasn't entirely my fault. Kaycee never suggested we do it, she just always went along with whatever I asked. It now occurred to me that although many women at Collins Beach removed their clothes while sitting down on their beach towels, Kaycee always stood up while removing each piece of what little she wore, almost performing a slow strip tease for the audience. Was I married to an exhibitionist?

The best part? Now that I understood how our trips to nude beaches might be as big a turn-on for Kaycee as they were for me, it made the experience even more erotic. Two weeks after 'The Revelation' as I began to think of it, I booked a weekend at a nude resort in Palm Springs.

It was early November, much too cold to be hanging out on a beach in Portland, not unless you're wearing an Eddie Bauer rain parka. After some research, I booked a room at 'Raffles', a small resort near the old section of Palm Springs. It was our first time in a 'close quarters' atmosphere, eleven rooms surrounding a swimming pool, and everything I read about the resort was positive.

It was a great weekend. We arrived on Friday night and enjoyed a soak in the hot tub. Saturday morning we woke to sunshine, a nice breakfast of yogurt and fruit served at our lounges by our hosts, Peter and Barry, then spent the morning swimming and sunning.

The other guests were nice couples; no one gave off any creepy vibe. We thought two of the couples may have been swingers; but they kept to themselves and there was never any outward sign of sexual activity by any of the guests other than kissing and innocent touching. One thing we've found about our fellow nudists, they love to share information on other places they've been vacationing. While we shared a soak with two other couples, we learned there were great beaches in Miami (Haulover) and St. Martin (Orient). By the time we left Palm Springs, I was already planning our next trip; this time to Miami when Kaycee was scheduled to have a week off for Winter break.

Kaycee and I took advantage of some decent restaurants in Palm Springs, jogged through the streets where Elvis, Frank, and Liberace had homes in the 50's and 60's. Sunday we drove to Joshua Tree National Park to hike in the desert. All in all, it was a great weekend.

Haulover Beach in Miami was a revelation. During the weekends there are literally thousands of naked people on the beach. As we sat on our beach towels, we heard at least five different languages spoken by the people around us. The water was much warmer than the Columbia River; Kaycee and I spent hours floating in the surf.

We spent a day on South Miami Beach. Here the men and women were required to wear bottoms, but the women could be topless. I was stunned by the number of 'Victoria Secret model-beautiful' topless women on that beach. More than once, Kaycee gave me a quick elbow to the ribs whenever I stared too long. "You better be happy with what you got, buddy. Here I am with my tits hanging out for you, I'm wearing a string bikini with my ass hanging out - and you're looking at some other woman! Guess I might as well go back to the room and put on my one piece."

"Babe, you have no reason to be jealous. Number one - none of these women are any better looking than you (I know you're thinking I was ass-kissing, but I honestly think it's true). Number two - you rock in that one-piece, it fits you so tight, it looks like you're naked. Number three - I love you so much, I'd never fuck that up."

"So why are you staring at those women?"

"'Cuz they're nearly naked and you don't see naked models every day. Therefore, I'm taking advantage of the situation."

Kaycee laughed, so I knew I wasn't in trouble. "OK Tony, just remember who you're going home with."

Kaycee's easy response lightened the mood; but I did notice she was especially demonstrative the next day when we went back to the nude beach; doing little things to bring attention to herself. She even shaved her pussy bare. Until that day, she always left some hair above her clit; but now it was all gone.

Kaycee continued to tease me during the day. She shocked me when she pointed out a man that was walking along the water's edge. "Well Tony; given what you said yesterday - that there wasn't anything wrong with you ogling those models on the beach, I guess it's all right if I check out the men today. Did you see the cock on that guy? I didn't know they came that large and it's still soft."

"Shit Kaycee. I don't remember pointing out any big-breasted women yesterday."

"You didn't have to say anything. I saw the way you stared and I'm only a B-cup."

"Well, you're wrong there. I never had a thing for huge breasts. Yours are just perfect. Besides, he's probably a shower, not grower."