The decision to merge our smaller aviation design and supply company with a larger international based consortium located in Montreal was one that required almost a full year of discussion by our Executive and Board of Directors. Finally however the vote was cast and by a small margin we became a regional office of one of the largest international aviation equipment manufacturers in existence. I, as the local manager, was selected to represent our agency at a series of meetings scheduled in Montreal to organize and implement the process of change. Through that visit and initial meeting, a relationship was established and a friendship ignited and grew.
The blonde, tall, husky German design engineer who met me at the Montreal terminal introduced himself as Ernest, and almost immediately, the first spark of our friendship formed. We chatted incessantly of technical and personal matters during the drive from the airport to the office complex, and long before we reached our destination, he had invited me to join him and his wife for dinner. Later that evening over candlelight and a delicious dinner he, his wife Bianca, and I relaxed enjoying the warmth of conversation and, in turn, making plans for his upcoming visit to our Eastern regional office.
Bianca was dark haired and attractive, a short mere five feet to Ernest's six feet plus, and obviously one who enjoyed the fruits of her culinary abilities. Later that evening with the slightest brush of a kiss on my cheek, she wished me good night as I climbed into my cab and departed to my hotel.
Weeks later, and as a result of many telephone conversations, planning, and admittedly some scheming to extend his stay, I was returning the favor as I met his incoming flight. Lorna, my wife, had insisted that I, in turn, should invite our German friend and business colleague for dinner. Following an afternoon of meetings and a quick visit to his hotel, we were en route to my home where Lorna would play hostess over an evening which she hoped would equal that which I had experienced in Montreal.
Lorna at 5'6" and 125 lbs is a slender brunette with her hair cut in a teasingly pixieish style that so many men including myself find incredibly attractive. Her small but firm 34B breasts are topped with the most delicious nipples that any man has ever had the opportunity to enjoy. Her firm and slightly rounded tummy flares into hips that have at their core and joining with her thighs, a dark, soft growth of curled pubic hair that she keeps trimmed but relatively full. Its darkness hides a mystery that never ceases to amaze me with every look, touch, taste, and penetration. Now there was little doubt as introductions were made, that in a fitted mid thigh navy skirt and loose cream blouse, her legs bare and tanned from the summer sun, she had lost none of her attraction to the opposite sex. Ernest was quite taken, and although perfect in his discretion, had difficulty in hiding his interest and atraction.
Later as I drove him back to his hotel, he quietly turned the conversation to her.
"Lorna is one hell of a beautiful lady, Charlie" he grinned turning to me.
"You devil," I smiled looking quickly in his direction as I drove. "Your eyes were all over her."
"I apologize," he replied as we turned into the hotel parking lot. "but as much as I love Bianca, Lorna is so different, slim, attractive and hellish sexy. Damn you're lucky."
Realizing that my wife was home at this very moment relaxing, probably with a drink herself and one poured for me with the promise of her warm naked body twitching beneath me later that evening in our queen size bed, I was already somewhat aroused. Now as Ernest expounded on her physical attributes, I couldn't resist the temptation to explore his interests further. Quickly accepting his invitation for a small nightcap, I parked and followed him to the quiet first floor hotel lounge.
Almost immediately as we shared a corner table, the conversation re-focused as I hoped it would, and almost as quickly, I realized that his interests expanded far beyond that of complimenting my wife.
"Charlie," he murmured as he settled his lanky frame into a chair. "Have you two ever discussed, in fantasy or otherwise, a more open relationship? Bianca and I do frequently, simply dreaming about it, I admit, but it is a powerful fantasy, and I suppose one day we might consider it as a reality."
"Of course," I admitted. "We all have, I suspect, in some fashion. Lorna is quite confident in her own sexuality, but if I really want to get that woman off, all I have to do is do a little role-play involving another man and bam she's having an orgasm like no other."
I watched as he obviously processed my comments and then pausing, possibly assessing my reaction to his suggestion, leaned forward slightly and quietly made the comment that would ultimately provide the material for this story.
"Charlie, you're due to visit the Montreal office again next month, am I correct?"
"Yes," I replied. "I am."
"Why not bring Lorna along as a little vacation, shopping and so on? Be our guests for a few days, and if you're comfortable with the idea, on a specified evening allow me to take her alone to a restaurant downtown, and you can take Bianca somewhere as well for dinner or whatever. We, as you know, have a large guest bedroom, and, if Lorna doesn't join you that night in the guest room, then you must realize that she will be very naked behind the closed door of my bedroom as I do things with her that you my friend probably have never dreamed of."
Seeing my expression changing as he spoke and realizing the impact that his conversation was having upon me, he continued. "And you, Charlie, will no doubt be joined in the guest room by Bianca, and if you doubt me, let me say that we have already discussed and agreed upon this little plan. Think about it, my friend. We can discuss it again when you and hopefully Lorna are ready."
Drinks finished, we both stood and he grinned seeing my semi erection as I straighten and walked with him to the door.
My drive home was a blur of thought and emotion. Lorna was waiting, the soft light of the bedside table bathing her as she sat in bed the tiny straps of a cream satin gown the only disruption to the nakedness of her tanned shoulders. Minutes later, as she sprawled nude beneath me, legs parted, gasping, hands clenching my shoulders, I quietly and carefully commenced my fantasy. In this case almost word for word of Ernest's conversation earlier.
Her reaction was as I hoped. Lorna, to exclude herself from reality and further absorb herself in the fantasy, rolled upon her side and presented her ass to me. Spooning into her and sipping my cock into her slippery warmth, I continued. My murmured comments were just describing the emotions which I would experience as I ascended Ernest's stairway and seeing his bedroom door closed, possibly hearing faint sounds within and realizing that at that very moment she was spread naked and sweating beneath him as he worked the length and breath of his no doubt massive cock deep up into her, when she tensed, moaned deep in her throat, and convulsed.
The next evening as she and I relaxed over dinner, she softly broached the subject of our friend.
"Charlie, when does Ernest return to Montreal?" she asked.
"Saturday afternoon, dear," I replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Friday night is free," she replied. "Why not invite him over for dinner again. We can enjoy a late dinner and spare him the agony of a cold Friday evening dinner at the hotel."
Although the events of the previous evening were still fresh in my mind, neither her expression nor suggestion gave me cause for further consideration. A short telephone call to Ernest's hotel room later confirmed our and his plans for Friday evening.
Friday afternoon at the office is a relaxing time, and after my boss, Ernest, and I enjoyed a somewhat liquid lunch, my boss left for the golf course, and I dropped Ernest back at his hotel with a promise to meet him at the entrance at 8 PM. Punctually, I pulled up a the door as Ernest in tan slacks and polo shirt, wine in one hand and flowers in the other, slipped into the car. A short drive home where Lorna, dressed in a knee length, navy and lightly flowered caftan, greeted us both and smilingly accepted the gifts of both wine and flowers. Leaving them together, I slipped down a level to our family room and having selected some music, slipped several discs into the player and then, drinks in hand, returned to both our guest and wife.
To say that my wife eluded an incredible sexuality was an understatement. The caftan, although loose, fell around her as though she was melted into it. Her naked and well tanned legs crossed revealed the slightest teasing glimpse of thigh, and it was obvious to both Ernest and me that her small breasts were unencumbered by a bra. Later over dinner she demonstrated that her physical qualities were equaled by her culinary abilities and, over coffee and a light brandy, we chatted into the evening.
Dinner aside and as they both moved into the softly lit living area, I slipped downstairs and once again renewed both the music and our refreshments. Returning I was not surprised to find Lorna wrapped in the arms of our German friend as they moved slowly to the music of the stereo. As the evening progressed she found herself seldom given the opportunity to sit as both Ernest and I shared her, time after time, moving to the music with her in our arms. My earlier suspicions were confirmed, beneath her caftan there was Lorna and obviously only a tiny pair of panties, and there was little doubt that Ernest was also early to realize this. I watched with jealous arousal as his hands caressed and stoked her back sometimes drifting low outside the thin material of her caftan.
Close to midnight, as Lorna and I were locked in an embrace to the music, Ernest excused himself and asked directions to the downstair's bathroom. As he disappeared, I murmured, "Hell Lorna, if he's reacting to holding and feeling you as I am, then he's probably going down to take a cold shower".
"Do you like what you see and feel?" she smiled teasing me.
"Damn, yes," I muttered boldly dropping my hand to feel her ass outside her caftan.
"Ummmm," she murmured settling against me.
