This is the version that my memory has embellished over the years. This may not be quite the way it happened, but it sure is the way I *want* to remember it, voyeur that I am.
All this happened in the seventies, back in those happy days of birth control pills, before AIDS, and before rampant VD; just after the days of "If it moves, fondle it" and a decade before the days of "Two condoms in every purse." Happily it was also before the days of breast implants and mandatory exaggerations of breast and penis size.
Back then, this sort of unprotected sex was normal behavior. Today, it would be insanely irresponsible. Do not try this at home. If you do try this at home, be safe.
My young wife and I are taking a week's vacation on Nantucket. We're in our early thirties. We've been married less than two years.
It's cool, being late in the season. We're both wearing sweaters, and she has pantyhose under her skirt. Remember pantyhose? Her skirt is short, well above her knees, but not what you would consider mini today. She is a very slinky babe, medium height, thin and curvy, with good handful-size breasts.
We're having dinner. The tables are crowded close together, and we meet the two guys at the next table: an older guy in his fifties, tall, stocky, nice looking, salt and pepper hair, and the mechanic/first mate on his boat, much younger, our age, lanky, dark, scruffy moustache. They're sailing around the world on a really big sailboat.
They're both very personable and funny and we all have a great time over dinner and much wine. Roger invites us to the boat for more drinks after dinner. The main cabin is as large as the living room of our house. And filled with a huge, beautiful oriental rug that probably cost as much as our house. More wine comes out for all of us to drink, with the occasional Scotch for Roger. We talk and laugh and drink too much.
She and I are sitting together on a couch. It's warm; I take my sweater off. I kiss her, long and deep, not just a peck but a lover's kiss. And not just once. It's okay; we're married. We smile at each other. I'm not sure what she's thinking, but I sure know what I'm thinking.
Billy put on some music and I danced with my wife. A slow dance, holding each other close, just swaying to the beat, talking. The guys wanted to dance with her, too. Seemed only fair. So we rotated partners. They danced the same way, close, her arms around her partner's neck, his on her waist or lower.
When my turn came around again, I held her by her butt. I wasn't subtle about it, either. I'm sure the other guys saw me do it. I held her butt firmly and pulled her hips into mine. Just a little fun. We always dance that way.
Dances were punctuated by more wine, sometimes a small sip, sometimes not small. We were all pretty toasted and stayed that way.
When she danced with them next round, they felt free to roam her butt, too. She didn't remove their hands so long as they didn't get too aggressive. Well, *that* was interesting. She looked over at me for my reaction. I was a little surprised but not concerned. Boys will be boys. And playing with girls' bodies is the number one sport of boys.
Next dance, I kissed her, deeply, real lovers' tongue kissing, and I really played with her ass holding her hips tight to me. I decided to have a little fun, so I pulled her skirt up in the back to feel the back of her legs. This exposed her legs to anyone who was looking, and, believe me, everyone was looking. As I mentioned, her skirt wasn't very short, but my pulling it up like that made it look quite short.
The next dance, Roger kissed her, too, and she accepted it. Not just a friendly peck. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue and they French kissed for most of the song. He nuzzled her neck, too, beneath her short hair. And then he started playing with her butt as I had. She looked over to me with some alarm. Again, I wasn't too concerned. She's a big girl, and if his attentions are unwanted, she can stop him easily. I guess she didn't object because she saw that I didn't. And I didn't object because I saw that she didn't. She was accepting being kissed and fondled openly. I just wondered if she had a clear idea of where she would stop.
When his turn came, Billy then took the same sorts of liberties, too. He kissed her and fondled her butt and her hips. At the end of that dance round, her wine sip was larger.
When we next danced, she asked me if I saw their hands on her. Yes, I did. And what did I think? I didn't mind. "You know I don't mind. You do whatever feels like fun to you."
She looked hard at me. "They're copping feels all over me. Strange guys. I don't really know them. They're feeling me up like we're familiar."
"Is it a problem? Have fun. We're on vacation. We'll never see these guys again."
I raised her skirt a little more until I could reach under it to her ass. "They'll see what you're doing and think it's okay." She's feeling some pressure.
"Probably. Yes. Try to relax."
"They'll want to do the same."
"You want that?"
"Oh, god, honey, there are three of you and only one of me."
More wine.
In the next dance, Roger kissed her deeply again, long. And then moved his hand from her waist to her breast. Right on it. Kneaded it, fondled it. She looked over to me again. But she didn't remove his hand. I was very surprised. She's letting him really feel her up! A hand on the butt is friendly. A hand on the tit isn't just friendly, it's sexual. They were just swaying slowly to the music, holding each other, her arms around his neck, his hands molding her breast and butt. Her sip of wine was even larger.
Billy took similar liberties with her body when his dance came, and still she didn't object to his fondling her. Things had advanced from a little butt feel, to serious kissing, to feeling her breasts. First and second base in like fifteen minutes.
She asked me, "Did you see them feeling me up? A little grab-ass is one thing. Openly grabbing my boobs is very different. That's going a lot further. That's beginning to be real sex."
"Yes, I saw them fondling you, lovingly. You didn't seem to mind much. You didn't make any move to stop him. Are you having fun making out like kids again? You know I won't mind, whatever you do. If you want to have fun, I won't mind." Sway, sway, sway. "Relax. Have fun. Isn't it exciting to know that all men want you?"
"So they say. They've both been whispering to me while kissing my neck or ear. Saying how beautiful I am. How attractive. How sexy. How slinky. How they love to hold me. They're getting all hot and bothered. And it's getting to me, too."
"I agree with them. You are incredibly attractive and slinky and sexy."
"I can feel their cocks when they press against me. They're both hard. They press their hard-ons into my mound and my belly. I know what they want."
"Isn't it exciting to know that we all want you? I think it's great that they want you, and they want to touch you, and that they're hard against your delicious mound. Don't you want them to touch you?"
"Yes . . . well . . . mmmmmm. I'm getting so horny. Are you going to take me back to the hotel and fuck me silly tonight?" And she went back to Roger for the next dance.
This all developed slowly. There were probably six or seven rounds of her dancing with all the men. Fast or slow music didn't matter, they were all slow dances to us. The dancing couple just held each other close and swayed to some beat. And talked in whispers. And kissed. More kissing than dancing. And fondled. That and another bottle of good wine. She was on her feet the whole time with one or another of us, she didn't get to rest at all as we guys did. All she did was dance and drink, dance and drink. And get felt up by all of the men.
A couple more rounds with the guys feeling her all over. She stayed glued to them, front to front with no airspace in the middle, her arms tight around the neck of whichever male was with her. Kissing deeply, laying her head to the side to let a man nibble on her ear or kiss her neck. Guy's hands slid up from her waist to her prominent breasts, cupping one or both at the same time. She didn't pull away, but held on to her partner's neck and lips, or reached down to his back to pull him into her just as he did earlier.
Then the next escalation: hands went up under her sweater to feel her breasts more intimately, over or inside her bra. During my dances, she continued to tell me that they were feeling her up. How they cupped and kneaded and fondled her breasts, how they reached under her sweater to put their hands on her bare breasts, rolled her nipples in their fingers. And she told me that she was getting turned on. I answered that I was, too. Surely she could feel my erection in the front of my pants against her mound. "You know I like watching you. Seeing you turn on to sex is the most erotic thing in my life." I was also very turned on, feeling her and watching her be felt by the others.
She was feeling a little guilty about it. I told her that I didn't think there was anything to feel guilty about, we were just having some drinks and fun with a couple new friends. "Oh, honey, what if they want to go further. Should I let them? They're already feeling me up a lot."
